Conan: When Shinjiu and Maolilan swap bodies

He leaned down slightly, his gaze lingering on the old man's face.

That face no longer resembles its youthful appearance; only the marks of time remain.

Beside him stood a person in a kimono, holding a long sword, whose hawk-like gaze was fixed on him, watching his every move.

Kuroba Toichi didn't care about the other person's gaze. He straightened up and gently exhaled.

Immortality...

He slowly pondered those four words in his mind.

Seven years ago, he joined the organization with this goal in mind.

At that time, he had already stood at the top of the magician's world, enjoying applause, flowers, and adoration—everything that ordinary people dreamed of.

In that elaborately designed "fake death" escape magic trick, he felt the fear of death in the second before the explosion.

Once life ends, the applause will stop, the flowers will wither, and the adoration will be replaced by a new name.

This feeling of being "easily erased by time" became more and more obvious and intense with the disappearance of Toichi Kuroba.

So he chose another path—

Join the organization hidden in the shadows of the world and get close to the legendary man who has lived for over a century.

The word "immortality" is a fairy tale in the eyes of ordinary people, but in his eyes it is a "technology" that can be dissected, studied, and taken away.

He walked to the window, his back to the hospital bed.

The heavy curtains blocked out the night, leaving only a thin gap through which a sliver of dim light shone.

The light fell on his profile, clearly outlining his features—calm, restrained, yet with a sharp edge ready to be drawn at any moment.

The ward was quiet, with only the regular ticking of the medical equipment.

Kuroba Toichi's gaze pierced through the heavy curtains, looking up at the boundless night sky.

So-called "immortality" is never a free gift.

It inevitably comes with a price—physical decay, indescribable pain, mental distortion, a morbid fear of death, and an obsession with "living."

Karasuma Renya, a living legend.

He was ambitious in his youth, ruthless in his middle age, and paranoid in his old age, and now he is obsessed with "immortality" to the point of madness.

He spent over a hundred years transforming himself into what he is now, forcibly keeping his soul inside his body with drugs and electricity.

What ordinary people spend their whole lives pursuing is nothing more than a bargaining chip that can be discarded at will in his eyes.

What he pursued throughout his life was nothing more than an absurd legend in the eyes of others.

But it was this legend that made Black Feather Thief willing to do it.

The person in the hospital bed twitched their finger slightly.

The next second, those eyes slowly opened.

It was murky, yet unusually clear-headed.

Like a deep pool of water churned up by time, though the bottom is unclear, one can still sense the undercurrents lurking beneath.

The ventilator tube was in front of his mouth, filtering his voice into a broken, mechanical tone, yet it still carried an undeniable authority.

"……Brandy."

Kuroba Touichi walked to the bedside and bowed slightly, his voice low and steady:

"BOSS".

Those eyes slowly focused on him.

Even lying in bed, even with his body restrained, the gaze of a superior that emanated from his very bones was like an invisible knife, scraping from his head to his toes, scrutinizing him from head to toe.

"...About the organization," the old man's voice came through the ventilator, each word drawn out but unusually clear, "How have you been lately?"

Black Feather Thief remained standing, his tone calm:

"Gin clashed with the FBI. Gin was injured, one FBI agent died, and Shuichi Akai survived..."

"We have made arrangements with the U.S. military stationed in Japan, but progress has stalled due to a lack of suitable personnel."

"Vermouth has already obtained access to the Pacific Ocean float, but hasn't yet infiltrated the research and development team..."

"The transcranial magnetic harmonic interferometer is still under repair, and it is expected to be completed within three days..."

"Progress on the Aptx series of drugs remains slow..."

The old man listened quietly, his expression indifferent.

"It's too slow, it's all too slow!"

He doesn't have that much time to wait.

"Ignore the FBI. Speed ​​up the interferometer project. You handle the negotiations with the US forces stationed in Japan. Put the AptX series into human trials. I need to see progress immediately..."

He gave instructions quickly, clearly and logically.

Kuroba Toichi carefully considered his words, "aptX probably won't have any effect on ordinary people."

“Use my descendants.”

"Yes."

“Brandy,” Karasuma Renya suddenly exclaimed.

"exist."

"Why did you join the organization?" he asked slowly.

He actually already knew the answer to this question.

But he wanted to hear Kuroba Toichi say it himself.

Kuroba Toichi paused for a second, then raised his head, his eyes calm:

"In order to achieve immortality."

—For immortality without any side effects!

His voice was not loud, but it was exceptionally clear.

There was no attempt to conceal anything, nor any sense of shame.

The old man stared at him for a long time, and then let out a very soft laugh.

The mechanical sounds, broken into intermittent patterns by the ventilator, carried a kind of all-knowing mockery.

“…Very good. Only ambitious people deserve to stand beside me.”

He paused for a moment, as if gathering his strength.

"But you must remember, immortality is not a gift."

His gaze fell on his body, which was encased in the instruments, and his eyes showed no fear, only a kind of cruel calm.

"It's a shackle."

Chapter 473 She liked it so much, her face turned red.

At 2 a.m., the banquet hall on the top floor of the East Tower of the Sky Gate was pitch black, with only the emergency indicator lights still glowing a faint green light.

The elevator doors slid open silently, and a man wearing a baseball cap and a mask stepped out.

He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.

Outside the window, Yokohama Port unfolds in the night, the lights of the pier like a glowing ribbon stretching along the coastline.

In the distance, Tokyo Bay rippled gently in the darkness, with the occasional ship's lights moving slowly, like a lost star.

He stayed in this building for five years.

From the foundation excavation to the main structure's completion, he climbed up and down here every day, watching the steel bars and concrete gradually accumulate to their current height.

Back then, when he was standing on the scaffolding, he would often look up at the sky during breaks and feel that the building was like a hand reaching from the ground to the sky.

Now, standing on the top floor, overlooking the city's night view that he helped build, he feels no pride whatsoever.

His blurry figure was reflected in the glass, overlapping with the dazzling lights behind him.

He suddenly found it a little funny—those tiny specks of light that looked insignificant on the ground appeared like a sea of ​​stars from here.

And he was once just a shadow under that sea of ​​stars, illuminated by lights and quickly forgotten.

He withdrew his gaze and turned to walk towards the load-bearing wall on the north side.

There is an access panel left over from the construction, which is covered by decorative panels.

He skillfully removed the decorative panel, stuffed the metal box from his backpack inside, secured it with tape, and connected the timer.

Next, he went down to the stage, fixed the second, slightly smaller bomb to the steel beam, and placed the third bomb in the ceiling above the entrance, connecting each to its respective triggering device.

After finishing the arrangements, he went to the window again.

The outline of the Sky Gate is particularly clear in the night, with the two towers resembling a giant door that frames the lights of Yokohama.

From this angle, the entire city seems to be locked inside this door—the skyscrapers, the port, and the traffic all become part of the scenery inside the door.

He suddenly remembered a sentence in the project brochure:

The Gate to the Sky is the gateway to the future.

He recalled the line of text that had once stirred his blood, remained silent for a few seconds, and then a barely perceptible smile appeared on his lips.

"Then let the future begin with the sound of an explosion."

He turned and left, his thin figure disappearing into the night.

......

Ran Mouri got up early, quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth, and then picked out the clothes she would wear to go out and play.

The completion banquet is held indoors, where it's warm and we don't need to wear so many layers.

However, one should not dress too casually when attending a banquet.

She changed into a simple red dress, put on a coat and socks, and twirled in front of the mirror with satisfaction.

It's both lively and elegant, and beautiful.

Not long after, Qingze sent a message. Ran Mouri opened the window and looked down. His car was already downstairs.

Qingze got out of the car and casually leaned against it.

He casually adjusted the cufflinks on his wrist with one hand, a gentle breeze ruffling his hair, exuding a relaxed yet elegant air.

Amuro Tooru as seen from the coffee shop: "..."

She was dressed like a peacock and posing for photos.

Loading!

Ran Mouri's eyes lit up instantly.

“Aze!” she shouted.

Qingze looked up in surprise, as if he had just noticed her there.

He lightly touched the ground with his toes, straightened up, and with a slight smile, waved.

Soon, Ran Mouri came downstairs.

She ran to Qingze in a few steps, her gaze falling on him, and a blush rose on her face.

Although I saw photos and videos last night, they are nowhere near half as good as the real person.

It's different from the simple black suit I wore to the funeral last time.

Qingze looked exquisite, gorgeous, and elegant today.

The collar was tight, the sleeves were neat, and the gold pocket watch chain on the chest extended inwards. It was clearly very ascetic, but it still exuded a unique kind of allure.

"My lapel pin doesn't seem to be buttoned properly, can you take a look?"

Qingze bowed slightly and brought his collar close to her eyes.

Ran Mouri reached out and checked, but found nothing wrong.