Conan: When Shinjiu and Maolilan swap bodies

Secondly, the right to inherit the estate of his father, Akira Fukuda, was confirmed.

Then, deal with the current assets of the Fukuda family and take control of the entire Fukuda family during the power vacuum period.

The biggest legal obstacle had already been paved by Qingze before his "death."

When he was born, his parents preserved his umbilical cord blood, which was then frozen and sealed in a liquid nitrogen tank for more than 20 years.

That was his most original and purest biological identity card, preserved by an institution with a rigorous contract and coding system.

After regaining his memory, he immediately contacted a lawyer and applied to the court for the restoration of the identity of the deceased person, "Tomohiro Fukuda".

Under court supervision, the institution retrieved the tube of umbilical cord blood that had been sealed for more than 20 years from the liquid nitrogen tank and conducted a paternity test with Qingze's current blood sample.

The two samples came from the same individual—the moment the identification results came out, "Tomohiro Fukuda" was legally resurrected.

Step one complete.

The second and third steps are the real tough battles.

Although key members of the Fukuda family are all in prison, Aozawa's inheritance rights currently only cover his father's estate.

To gain more, they must take advantage of the power vacuum created by the imprisonment of key members of the Fukuda family to seize control of the family and the company.

This is not difficult for Qingze.

Not to mention, he also holds countless incriminating facts about the Fukuda family. Every single one of those dirty secrets revealed under the truth serum is a sword hanging over the heads of the Fukuda family.

In just one month, the head of the Fukuda family changed.

The day of the public trial finally arrived.

The courtroom was packed with reporters and onlookers, with rows of cameras set up like long, black lenses.

This was Qingze's first official appearance before the media and the public—he was dressed in a black suit and walked calmly into the courtroom through the main entrance, his pace unhurried, as if this was not the final chapter of a revenge, but an ordinary court appearance.

The camera flashed wildly, and the sound of shutters clicking incessantly.

The audience section was already quite full.

The front row was occupied by reporters from several mainstream media outlets, while ordinary citizens were scattered around in the middle and back rows.

But what really caught people's attention was the secluded special audience area on the side—where several influential figures in Japan's political and economic circles were seated.

There were members of parliament, executives of conglomerates, legal luminaries, and some unidentified individuals whose importance was evident from their security levels.

Most of them had indifferent expressions, but their gazes seemed to fall on Qingze almost imperceptibly.

Qingze sat down in the audience, ignoring the stares coming from those around him.

In the special viewing area on the side, a gray-haired councilor turned slightly to the side and said in a low voice to the person next to him, "Is that Fukuda Akira's son who came back from the dead?"

"Yes," the secretary beside him replied softly. "His real name is Fukuda Tomohiro, but he now uses the name Aozawa. It is said that the Fukuda family is now completely under his control."

The senator narrowed his eyes, his gaze lingering on Qingze's profile for a few seconds before he slowly exhaled: "How long has it been?"

A middle-aged man in a dark gray suit chimed in, his tone filled with deep apprehension, "Yes, it hasn't been that long... and he's still so young."

The man in the gray suit pushed up his glasses, his gaze behind the lenses deep and unfathomable.

"How much of what you think Fukuda's actions were orchestrated by him?"

"I'm afraid there are quite a few..."

Several people who had connections with the Fukuda family spoke in hushed tones, their gazes sweeping over Aozawa with deep apprehension.

To determine whether a person is scary or not, you should never look at appearances. You should look not only at what they have done, but also at what they have gained.

Although the Fukuda family is not as powerful as before, even a fallen camel is bigger than a horse.

No one can say for sure what the future holds for the Fukuda family under the leadership of this young head of the family.

As the trial began, all eyes turned to the defendant's dock.

When Fukuda Shin was escorted into the dock by bailiffs, the entire courtroom fell silent for a moment.

After being tortured in the detention center for more than half a year, the once arrogant man who could dominate his family is now like a spineless dog.

His hair was mostly white, hanging down in a messy, withered way like straw. His cheeks were deeply sunken, his cheekbones were high and prominent, and his eyes were filled with a pair of cloudy, fearful eyes.

He was pushed to the defendant's dock, his back hunched and his steps unsteady, like a dead rat being held by the scruff of its neck.

Then, he raised his head.

He saw Qingze in the audience.

In that instant, Fukuda Shin's cloudy eyes widened suddenly.

Qingze had no expression; he simply stared at him quietly, as if he were looking at a dying man.

The presiding judge began reading the indictment.

The Fukuda family's crimes were exposed one by one: intentional injury, premeditated murder, commercial fraud, bribery, obstruction of justice...

Behind every charge lies overwhelming evidence.

The internet may be forgetful, but the public has a memory.

The news of the Fukuda family's public trial has once again stirred up a huge wave on the internet, with every frame and every confession being repeatedly discussed, magnified, and scrutinized.

The pressure from public opinion was overwhelming, and no one dared to bend the law for personal gain at this time.

In order to silence public opinion and to demonstrate so-called "justice".

When the presiding judge read out the charges against Fukuda Shin, the air in the gallery almost froze.

Those who had worked with Fukuda Shin, those who had business dealings with him, and those who were afraid that he would speak recklessly in court—they were all operating in the shadows and fueling the flames.

They wanted Fukuda Nobu dead more than anyone else. The dead can't speak, and the dead are the safest.

Not to mention he also insulted the Emperor and even the President of the United States in that damn video.

The presiding judge's voice echoed in the courtroom: "...Defendant Fukuda Shin, for multiple crimes, is sentenced to death."

death penalty.

In Japan, this is an extremely rare punishment; the death penalty is only imposed on cases with extremely serious crimes and extremely negative social impact.

The moment the verdict was handed down, Fukuda felt as if all the bones in his body had been removed.

He slumped down in the dock, his whole body sliding downwards, and the bailiffs had to support his arms to keep him standing.

His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out.

The last glimmer of light in those cloudy eyes has been extinguished—leaving only empty despair.

The person who once looked down on all living beings from a high position is now like a trampled dead dog, gray, twisted, ugly, and ashen-faced.

Qingze sat in the audience, quietly watching everything unfold.

Looking at that once arrogant person, now he's like a limp lump of mud lying on the ground.

His expression was calm, without any wild joy of revenge or any other unusual fluctuations.

He just watched quietly, as if he were watching the ending of a story that was already predetermined.

In the special section of the public gallery, the man in the gray suit spoke again, his voice so low that only the person next to him could hear: "Did he laugh?"

“No,” the congressman replied.

“That’s even more terrifying.” The man in the gray suit spoke with a hint of coldness in his voice. “To be able to keep one’s emotions hidden at such a young age and to have such composure, the Fukuda family is likely to rise again.”

They fell silent again.

Scattered applause broke out in the audience, but soon it turned into thunderous applause.

Qingze stood up and left.

Sunlight streamed in from outside, engulfing his tall, slender figure.

……

Qingze walked up the mountainside and arrived at his parents' graves.

The tombstone faces the sea, and a few withered flowers are placed in front of it, indicating that someone has been there.

He squatted down, replaced the flowers he had brought with the flowers, and poured half a bottle of sake onto the stone platform in front of the monument.

"Dad, Mom, I've come to see you."

The wind blew in from the sea, carrying a salty, damp scent.

"I'm doing very well now, and I've met a wonderful person..."

His fingertips gently touched his mother's name on the tombstone.

"I will live a better life in the future, so you can rest assured."

"She's in class; I'll bring her next time."

The wind suddenly softened, causing the daisies in front of the monument to sway gently, as if nodding.

He turned and walked down the stone steps, but after a few steps, he looked back again.

The tombstone stood silently in the sunset, its white petals trembling gently in the wind.

He withdrew his gaze and strode down the mountain.

[Bonus Chapter] Would you like to go with me to get our marriage certificate?

Eighteen is a special milestone.

It signifies adulthood in a legal sense, meaning that one must take responsibility for every choice one makes, and finally possess the right and confidence to independently face the world.

Ran Mouri's 18th birthday was a big celebration.

Early in the morning, Qingze brought over a cake.

Kogoro Mouri opened the door with a yawn and was somewhat surprised to see the cake box in his hand.

"Aren't you busy today, kid?" Ever since taking over the Fukuda family, Aozawa has been so busy he's barely able to keep up.

"Today is a special day, so no matter how busy I am, I have to make time for it."

"Thank you for your kindness." Kogoro Mouri opened the door to the side and let him in.

Qingze put the cake in the refrigerator and sat down in the living room. A short while later, Ran Mouri came out of the bedroom, paused when she saw him, and asked, "Why are you here so early?"

"Come earlier, so I can see you a little longer," Qingze said matter-of-factly.

Ran Mouri blushed slightly, but she couldn't suppress the smile on her lips.

In the morning, my friends arrived one after another.

Sonoko Suzuki always has the loudest voice; her voice arrives before she even enters the room: "Ran—! Happy Birthday!"

She rushed in carrying a huge gift box, followed by a helpless-looking Makoto Kyogoku.

"Sonoko, what is this...?" Ran Mouri looked at the box, which was half the size of her, and didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"A gift! Let's open it and see!"

Ran Mouri untied the ribbon and opened the box—inside was a huge plush toy, a pink rabbit, longer than her upper body when she hugged it.

“I know you like cute things!” Sonoko said, hands on her hips, looking smug.

"Thank you, Sonoko." Ran Mouri hugged the rabbit, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons with a smile.

Bai Yu also came over and gave me a hardcover book.

A few more people poured in through the door—the junior members of the karate club, carrying bags of various sizes, chattering as they squeezed in. Some gave protective gear, some gave headbands, and some gave a greeting card signed by the entire club, covered with countless blessings.

Surrounded by people, Ran Mouri smiled brightly, accepting each gift and saying thank you.

My phone rang several times; they were all text messages.

Shinichi Kudo: "Ran, happy birthday. Congratulations on turning eighteen."

Ran Mouri glanced at it, smiled, and simply replied, "Thank you."

Kazuha also sent a text message: "Ran-chan! Happy birthday! You're eighteen already, time flies! Let's go out and have fun together next time we meet!"

Sera Masumi also remembered Ran Mouri's birthday: "Happy Birthday!"

There were also a few messages of blessings from classmates, scattered across the screen.

Ran Mouri read through the list one by one, her smile never fading.