Conan: When Shinjiu and Maolilan swap bodies

Shuichi Akai lit another cigarette, its crimson glow flickering in the dim room.

We can preliminarily rule out Qingze as a suspect.

The possibility that the "Koniak" in the surveillance footage is the real person has been greatly reduced; it is more likely that he is an imposter, someone skilled in disguise.

Who is the imposter? Besides seducing him, is there another purpose? How will they use Zhen Chun next?

Kiel's death virtually cut off the FBI's sources of information within the organization.

The true state of affairs and relationships within the organization are now shrouded in mystery for them.

Should we contact Bourbon...?

The man's hostility and malice towards him were considerable. Although they had cooperated before, that cooperation had long since broken down. He might very well turn around and use him as a springboard to advance further within the organization.

But if transactions are only conducted using surveillance video...

Regardless of whether the people in the video are posing or not, the irrefutable evidence from the surveillance footage confirms that the Koniak attacked and kidnapped people.

With this surveillance footage, the police can use this evidence to impose certain restrictions on Koniak, such as issuing a regular arrest warrant or adding his face to a list of people under close surveillance.

This is a huge benefit for the public security authorities.

After a moment's hesitation, he stubbed out the cigarette he had only taken a few puffs of and picked up the phone again.

Chapter 440 The Cruel Truth

Tooru Amuro is doing the final cleaning at Poirot Cafe.

It was nearly 9 p.m., and the store was already empty, with only warm yellow lights and a faint smell of cleaning agents remaining.

He put down the mop, straightened up, and subconsciously rubbed his lower back.

That damned Koniak got beaten up; he's still throbbing with pain.

The phone rang in my pocket.

He picked up his phone and saw it was an unfamiliar number. He answered it with a gentle voice and a kind smile.

"Hello, this is Amuro."

"it's me."

The voice coming through the receiver was one he could never mistake.

Amuro Tooru's smile vanished instantly, and he gripped his phone tighter.

He sneered, "Ha, the FBI's top investigator called me specifically because he finally realized something was wrong with my sister?"

With the map he provided showing Sera Masumi's usual route home from school, it's likely that Sera Masumi has already fallen into Gin's hands by now.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

Shuichi Akai could hear the undisguised sarcasm and hostility in his words.

But the situation is urgent; he needs intelligence, and even more so, he needs to minimize resistance.

He hesitated for only a moment before making a decision to try to resolve the conflict with the police officer, or at least temporarily bypass this deeply buried hidden danger.

Shuichi Akai's voice came through, lower and deeper than usual:

"I'm sorry about what happened in Scotland."

These words were like a red-hot needle, piercing directly through the cold shell that Amuro Tooru maintained.

Suppressed anger erupted instantly, each word seemingly ground out from between his teeth.

"How dare you mention Scotland?!"

His expression was sinister and terrifying, his eyes swirling with a horrifying storm, and his other hand gripped the back of the chair beside him as if he wanted to crush the hard wood.

Scotch whisky—his childhood friend, his best friend, Morofushi Kagemitsu.

They entered the police academy together, harboring similar ideals and passion, and fatefully received similar undercover missions, going undercover in the organization together.

He, Jingguang, Shuichi Akai.

The three bottles of whiskey were obtained almost simultaneously, along with the code name that symbolized sin and danger.

Three years ago, Scotch Whisky's undercover identity was exposed, and he died at the hands of Shuichi Akai.

His best friend died at the hands of this FBI investigator.

How could I not hate? How could I not despise?

Shuichi Akai on the other end of the phone clearly felt the almost tangible anger and hatred, and sighed softly.

"At that time, he took my gun..."

He spoke clearly and slowly, each word distinct, as if recreating a long-forgotten, blood-stained scene.

Back then, Scotland's identity was exposed, and Shuichi Akai was tasked with eliminating the undercover agent in Scotland.

"On the rooftop, he took my gun and tried to commit suicide. I confessed my identity to him, tried to stop him, and promised to let him live, but he didn't trust me."

"He fired his gun to protect his true comrade and cut off all possible leads pointing to you."

The scene from that time reappeared in my mind, and even after three years, it was still vividly clear.

After locating Jingguang, he hurriedly climbed to the rooftop, only to find his dead friend standing before him.

He was shot in the heart and has lost his voice.

And next to him was Shuichi Akai.

Shuichi Akai remained silent, giving Tooru Amuro time to process this information and also giving himself a breather.

They could have had a little more time. He might have been able to present more evidence to convince Scotland of his case.

But... footsteps.

The hurried footsteps of Amuro Tooru, rushing towards them, echoed on the empty and silent rooftop like an invisible death knell, pounding on their taut nerves.

Just as the footsteps approached, causing Shuichi Akai to become distracted and wary of the approaching figure—the gunshot rang out, and everything was beyond redemption.

Shuichi Akai can't say this detail. Never.

Once it's said, Amuro Tooru... no, Furuya Rei, will suffer a far more devastating blow than what he's experiencing now.

He will have to confront a truth that could break him, even cause him to collapse:

It was his own footsteps that indirectly prompted his best friend's resolute decision to die.

"You were the one who collected his body, the way he held the gun, the trajectory of the bullet... you should remember all of these. With your abilities, it shouldn't be difficult to draw conclusions by re-analyzing the events."

Shuichi Akai's voice didn't try to excuse himself; it was simply a frank presentation of the facts.

"I confessed to killing him back then because an 'executed traitor' was more of a deterrent to the organization than an 'undercover agent who committed suicide after his identity was exposed,' and it was also more likely to completely put the matter behind us and prevent it from being investigated again."

"This was the last thing I could do for him, and for you who were still lurking, under those circumstances."

Amuro Tooru remained silent, his suppressed breathing growing heavier and heavier through the receiver.

Shuichi Akai's words were like a cold scalpel, precisely cutting through the outer shell of anger that covered old wounds and had long since grown into his flesh, exposing the bloody possibility beneath that he had never dared to look directly at.

Did he not consider the possibility that Jingguang might have committed suicide?

He simply didn't want to believe it, and he dared not believe it.

You can't believe it either.

He needed to hate Shuichi Akai; he needed this specific target to bear the pain, self-blame, and helplessness that he had nowhere to put.

"so what?"

Amuro Tooru finally spoke again, his voice terribly dry and hoarse.

"Are you telling me all this to say that I hated the wrong person? Are you trying to make me grateful to you for 'covering up for him'?"

His voice suddenly rose, filled with a desperate roar:

"You were there! You could have stopped him! You could have—"

The last words caught in his throat, turning into a broken, breathy sound.

"Yes."

Shuichi Akai did not evade the accusation, and his answer was straightforward and weighty.

"This was my mistake, my failure. I couldn't save him."

"So, it's only natural that you hate me. I accept it."

"You can come and settle this score with me anytime you want. I will never run away."

"But now, Bourbon, Masumi and the Scottish affair have nothing to do with our grudges. She's just an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire."

“Let’s make a deal. I have a surveillance video of Koniak’s crime, it shows his face clearly. All you need to do is tell me where Jin Chun was kidnapped…”

After that, Amuro Tooru could barely hear anything. When the call ended, he felt as if all his strength had been drained, and he staggered and slumped into the chair next to him.

The phone slipped from his limp hand and fell to the ground with a thud.

He let his hands fall, his arms too heavy to lift. The warm yellow light shone on his drooping blond hair, but it couldn't penetrate the sudden, collapsing darkness in his eyes.

Although Shuichi Akai didn't say it, how could he not have thought of it?

If he hadn't heard his hurried footsteps, and if he hadn't been trying to cover for his childhood friend who was lurking deeper within, Jingguang might not have had to leave so hastily and resolutely...

All his hatred, all his anger and condemnation directed at Shuichi Akai, turned against him at this moment, turning back against him with tremendous force.

Chapter 441 Want a candy?

The foundation of hatred collapsed with a crash, revealing a bottomless void and an abyss of self-reproach beneath.

His heart felt like it was being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, the pain making it almost impossible for him to breathe.

My eyes felt uncontrollably hot, and a rush of soreness surged up.

He tilted his head back, clenched his teeth, and tightened his jawline, trying to force back the unexpected vulnerability that had come his way.

He is Rei Furuya, a public security police officer, Bourbon; he shouldn't... he can't...

But the scalding liquid defied all his will, stubbornly breaking through his defenses and sliding down his taut cheeks.

One drop, two drops... silently landed on the back of his clenched fist, which was trembling slightly.

No sound.

The café was deathly silent, with only the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and his own suppressed, broken breathing.

Qingze walked Ran Mouri to the top of the stairs and watched her go upstairs.

Once Ran Mouri's figure disappeared from sight, he took two steps forward and came to the glass window of the coffee shop.

Inside the coffee shop, Amuro Tooru stared up at the ceiling, his cheeks noticeably damp.

Qingze's pupils contracted slightly, and he paused in his steps, which were originally intended to go in.

He gazed at the person inside the glass window, watching him immersed in his own world, radiating an almost frozen, heavy sorrow, enveloped in a deathly stillness.

After standing there for a while, he pushed open the door and went inside.

jingle--

The crisp sound of the doorbell broke the stagnant air inside, like a pebble thrown into still water.

Amuro Tooru shuddered, jolting awake from that almost numb sorrow.

He instinctively turned his head hastily, quickly wiping away the tears on his face. When he saw who had come in, his pupils suddenly contracted.

It is too embarrassing and shameful to have one's vulnerability exposed by the enemy.

He kept a stiff face, trying his best to maintain an indifferent demeanor, so that the enemy would not see his disheveled and vulnerable state again.

You are not welcome here!

Qingze seemed not to hear his expulsion, nor to feel the almost tangible disgust.

He walked straight over, pulled out the chair opposite Amuro Tooru, and sat down, his movements as natural as if he were back in his own home.

He tilted his head slightly, looking at Amuro Tooru with curiosity, as if he had seen something rare and unusual.

"Oh, you're crying?"