Conan: When Shinjiu and Maolilan swap bodies

He placed a heavy hand on the cold mirror, raised his eyes, and stared at the completely unfamiliar self in the mirror. The way he came had completely disappeared in the mist.

The eyes in the mirror ignited with a red light, and the mirror shattered.

Countless fragments flew everywhere, and each of them reflected the almost grotesque, insane grin that stretched across his lips.

Conan's gaze was fixed on the figure in the image, and as he looked at the madness on the man's face, his heart sank.

Is this what Koniak went through?

That organization is utterly despicable!

"Was Koniak ever this badly treated before?"

Looking at the figures in the human wall, Chianti turned her head and asked Cohen next to her in surprise.

Cohen is a veteran of the organization, having been there much longer than her, so he should know something about Koniak.

“I don’t know,” Cohen shook his head.

He only knew that Koniak was a fearsome figure not to be trifled with, but he had no idea what Koniak was like before he became a fearsome figure.

Vermouth muttered a curse under her breath; her voice was so soft that no one heard what she said.

Gin leaned back in his chair, looking at the scene before him, his hands clasped together, showing neither joy nor sorrow.

"Don't you guys think this song is pretty good?" Vodka asked, munching on popcorn.

Several people's eyes immediately fell on him, even Gin's gaze shifted over.

Where did you get the popcorn?

"If you want it, you'll have it."

As soon as he finished speaking, everyone except Gin had a bucket of popcorn in their hands.

Unable to leave, unable to attack, all I can do is eat popcorn and watch movies.

They were also quite curious as to why Koniak, the only character to appear in the song, was the protagonist.

The music continued, and the hoarse voice conveyed a sense of suppressed despair and sorrow.

They say justice should be illuminated.

But in my world, only the sound of gunfire remains.

【Red pupils reflect the abyss】

[A delusion where every step turns away from dawn]

The people on the screen look up, trying to reach for the unseen moon.

The cold bullet, gleaming with a chilling light, pierced through the darkness and penetrated the outstretched palm.

Fresh blood spilled from his palms, sliding down his hands to his cheeks and turning into bloody tears.

At the boundary between sunlight and shadow, he walked further and further away with his hands in his pockets and his back to the light.

They say conscience should have weight.

My mind is tearing apart, my brain is spinning.

The world keeps spinning, and invisible threads suspend his hands and feet, making him act like a puppet, doing things he shouldn't be doing.

But my heart is only left with wounds.

Invisible threads were pulling at him; his face was contorted in rage, and his bloodshot eyes were filled with rage.

He struggled to cover his head, resisting the invisible threads that left bloody marks.

A past that can never be returned to.

Every step is tinged with sorrow.

One by one, indistinct faces fell behind him, their spilled blood swirling around his body.

He staggered forward in the darkness, each footprint leaving a pool of bright red blood.

Like a silence that has been suppressed to its extreme, suddenly bursts forth with fierce drumbeats.

[Just get completely drunk]

Like a fleeting dream

Dancing amidst the smoke of battle

[Sailing into the deep sea to retrieve a sliver of moonlight]

The white-haired figure in the picture burst into wild laughter, his scarlet eyes revealing madness.

He opened his arms and looked up to receive the death and gunshot that felt like an arrow piercing his heart.

Surrounded by flames and smoke, he hummed a song, letting the flames scorch his body, licking the hem of his clothes and the ends of his hair, as light as a dance.

A lighter appears, and the invisible flames flow and converge as if attracted, transforming into a cluster of flickering, vigorous flames on the lighter.

Qingze stared silently at the scene before him, and before he knew it, he had stopped eating.

These scenes never actually happened; they are more like a stream-of-consciousness presentation.

But those changes in mindset and those emotional fluctuations were summarized with unparalleled precision.

Who wrote this song?

Is it this "god" who brought them in?

[Stubbornness goes unnoticed, clarity is not an honor, a passionate soul is imprisoned within high walls]

Those eyes, so clear-headed, seemed to be branded with a hot iron, with a raging fire deep within their pupils, a fire that was being suppressed but was powerful enough to incinerate everything.

However, what envelops the flames is a huge, cold cage.

The drumbeats resumed, growing increasingly intense.

[Just messing around for once]

If there is no sun

【Use dazzling firelight】

[Bomb a massive wave]

The person in the picture suddenly looked up, all restraint on his face replaced by pure madness. He turned around, with a cathartic desire to destroy everything, and attacked the unseen wall.

Bloodstained fingers brushed against the lighter's roller, and a cluster of bright, blindingly golden flame suddenly leaped up.

The lighter flew out, tearing a hole in the dense darkness, and the leaping flame grew larger and brighter.

The world exploded at the center of the field of vision, with fire as its heart. The raging flames roared, expanded, and rolled, transforming into a terrifying wave that devoured everything.

[Clasp]

Invisible threads reappeared, the figure like prey bound in a spider web, yet also like the ropes pulling him.

[Fall]

The ropes snapped one by one, and the figure plummeted into the void.

[Silence]

The hood covering his face slipped down, and his scarlet eyes slowly closed.

[Long]

Time seemed to stand still. He lay on the boundless, scorched wasteland, like someone in a long, peaceful slumber.

Ran Mouri gripped Aozawa's hand tightly, and the grief and sorrow in her heart welled up again.

She was terrified that Qingze beside her would fall into that long, despairing slumber, just like in the scene.

Qingze watched without joy or sorrow, his mindset somewhat similar to that of Ran Mouri when she first told him she had seen his memories.

All of that is in the past for him.

He doesn't dwell on past memories.

He even took the time to study how the video was made.

He doesn't recall ever making that move.

Whispers could be heard in the cinema lobby.

Sonoko wanted to talk to Ran, but couldn't find her anywhere, so she could only hold onto Makoto Kyogoku's hand tightly.

Hinoki gripped Kogoro Mouri's hand tightly, her eyes filled with a palpable sadness.

Regardless of who that person is, pain and sorrow are something we can empathize with.

Amuro Tooru watched all of this without joy or sorrow, as if he were watching a movie that had nothing to do with him.

His feelings toward Koniak had become increasingly complicated ever since Koniak set himself on fire in front of him.

There is a sense of relief about everything, and an undeniable sense of respect.

Without a doubt, he was a ruthless man, an enemy who commanded respect.

He ended everything, and he ended himself.

And now, he is looking back at his story.

The music softened, and the vibrant red screen also calmed down.

When the moonlight illuminates the heart

A beam of moonlight, cool as mercury and pure without a trace of impurity, gently fell upon my chest.

The cold moonlight seemed to penetrate his clothes, casting a soft spot of light on his heart.

The white-haired youth slowly opened his tightly closed eyelids.

Loneliness is not the only shape.

The moonlight outlined her profile, smoothing out the icy lines with its cool light. It was no longer pure numbness or madness, but a bewildered tranquility touched by something.

He sat on the scorched earth bathed in moonlight and silvery glow, looking down at his two shadows.

The sun shines into my heart.

The sky gradually cleared.

That peculiar shadow gradually rose, transformed into a ray of light, and entered the heart.

The whole world was bathed in a warm, dazzling, and infinitely vibrant pure light.

I stand in the past, looking back.

The sunlight lengthens the shadows.

Sunlight shone on him as he looked back at the path he had come from, shrouded in darkness and smoke.

There are forests shrouded in rain, collapsed ruins, cold walls of people, shattered mirrors, and winding trails of blood...

That was his scarred, mad, and fiery past.

[Movie Viewing] 01 Multiple Choice Questions

When the music ended, Qingze took a bite of popcorn and gave his evaluation.

"It fits quite well."

Ran Mouri turned her head to look at the calm and composed Aozawa, her tension from the impending doom fading considerably.

Instead of visuals, new text appeared on the screen, along with the sounds heard upon entering.

Do you have doubts? Do you have too many unanswered questions?

Do you ever feel like you're on the edge of a fog, but can never quite grasp the truth?

Those unsolved mysteries, those obsessions that even death cannot quell—all can be answered here, provided you have enough points.

Here, you are the observer.

The spectator does not play. The spectator does not participate. The spectator does only do one thing—

[Watch and choose.]

[In the following viewing, you will encounter stories you have heard before, or stories you have never heard before. Some will make you angry, some will make you sad, some will make you feel overwhelmed, and some will leave you speechless for a long time.]