Chapter 28: Conan: Not Necessarily—He Really Does Seem to Be a Good Person

Tang Ze’s words were, in truth, quite cryptic, and carried a hint of being deliberately provocative.

However, Conan’s father, Yusaku Kudo, was a master of the cryptic, excelling in vague and obscure speech that rarely resembled normal human conversation. Conan was well-adapted to this style and quickly formulated several interpretations of the statement in his mind.

"Is it because of your case?" Conan made the connection quickly, sensing that Tang Ze was implying that the justice of the judicial system had failed him. He seized the opportunity to probe for information, hoping to find a path to steer him back toward a more conventional outlook. "You haven’t told me in detail what actually happened yet."

"I intended to organize it into a document for you. I’ve been reflecting on and analyzing the details lately, but if you’re interested in hearing it, I can tell you now." Tang Ze recalled the events with focus, starting with the most difficult hurdle. "I think you’ll have a massive amount of investigating to do, because I don’t know who the plaintiff is, who the witnesses were, or which police officers and judges handled the case. I was the defendant, yet I can truthfully say I know absolutely nothing about the proceedings."

"…Huh?" Tang Ze’s single sentence left Conan dumbfounded.

Tang Ze rubbed his chin. "Unbelievable, right? But it’s the truth. While I could probably describe their faces to you, I suspect it won’t be of much use."

Then, Tang Ze recounted the entire course of the case.

Conan’s brow twitched as he listened. He glanced down at Tang Ze’s shoes—a pair of simple fabric sneakers, soft and flat, appearing entirely harmless. Yet, moments ago, Tang Ze had used them to dent a metal door several centimeters thick.

"Your physical technique—I can’t quite place the style, but your level of proficiency is very high. Are you sure that when you 'pushed' him, he only suffered a scratched forehead?" he asked tactfully.

Given Tang Ze’s strength—the way he could kick a door a meter away—kicking a person three or four meters should have been effortless…

"Freestyle kickboxing." No sooner had Tang Ze finished speaking than he noticed Conan’s gaze shift suspiciously from his feet to his hands, clearly implying that his manual strength must be even greater than his legs. He couldn't help but add, "I hadn’t even studied kickboxing back then. I might have had some natural strength, but I really didn’t cause any serious injury. After he fell, he was still able to stand up and point at me while cursing…"

Conan hesitantly accepted this explanation and asked, "You haven’t been learning kickboxing for very long, have you? It looks like you’re quite skilled."

"Just practical experience," Tang Ze replied, having prepared for this question. He remained entirely unruffled.

"Do you... fight often?" Conan found his train of thought stalled yet again.

"On the contrary, I was a model student," Tang Ze tapped him on the head. "It feels like you’re thinking something very rude… I spent over two months in a detention center. If I hadn’t learned some techniques, I’m afraid I would have been beaten to death in there."

This was the excuse Tang Ze had prepared for the kickboxing skills he had "hacked" into his repertoire. This explanation wouldn't fool someone like Toru Amuro; if Amuro saw him move even twice, he would find it all too familiar. That was why Tang Ze had to pretend to be weak in his presence.

Fortunately, the team tracking him was led by Shuichi Akai. There was no way those two would compare notes, so the probability of Tang Ze’s cover being blown was slim.

However, what Conan heard was a much more serious issue: "Were you subjected to violent interrogations in custody?"

"No, I suspect they wouldn't leave such evidence behind. It was just a 'coincidence' that every day, some thugs or hoodlums were placed in my cell and, by another 'coincidence,' ended up in a conflict with me." A phantom pain made Tang Ze instinctively rub his ribs.

The most severe injury the original body had sustained was a suspected cartilage contusion on his ribs, which had ached for over half a month.

Conan clutched his chin in deep thought. Perhaps it wasn't a lie that Tang Ze knew nothing about the case. Looking at the paperwork and the procedures that ultimately resulted in the conviction, it was a miscarriage of justice where everything from the witness testimony to the physical evidence had been forged, yet it surprisingly adhered to procedural justice.

Conan: "..." Great. The more he heard, the less standing he had to tell Tang Ze not to be so extreme. It was truly a miracle of his upbringing over the last decade that he remained a decent person at all.

"Alright, talking and worrying about it won't change anything. Let’s wait until you have the resources to investigate; maybe I’ll recall more details by then." Seeing the young boy walking with his head down in silence, Tang Ze felt that burning through his brain cells like this wasn't good for his development, so he patted his shoulder comfortingly. "Come on, go pick out what you want."

"Eh?" Returning to his senses, Conan realized Tang Ze had brought him to a bookstore in the shopping district. It dawned on him slowly that Tang Ze had indeed used the excuse of taking him out to buy books to get him away from the Mouri residence.

"I promised to take you book shopping, so go take a look." Tang Ze gently pushed Conan toward the display shelf stacked with new arrivals.

Conan looked up and saw a newly released mystery novel right in front of him. He couldn't help but reach for it, only to suddenly shake his head as he realized his situation. "No, no, I don't have the money to buy books right now." He felt a pang of sadness as he said it.

Ever since he had turned into a child, he couldn't carry much cash on him for fear of raising suspicions. Although he still had savings, he couldn't very well ask Tang Ze to take him to the bank just to buy a book…

"It's fine, I'll pay for them." Tang Ze, who truly wasn't short on money, waved a hand dismissively. He grabbed a hardcover collection of Agatha Christie and a selection of Edgar Allan Poe's works from the shelf and handed them to Conan.

Seeing the thickness and binding of the two books, Conan knew they were expensive and waved his hands repeatedly. "Forget it, forget it, this isn't really appropriate…"

As he spoke, he noticed the covers of the books and, remembering their previous discussion about *Murder on the Orient Express*, he paused in a daze.

"Since this was the excuse we used to leave the house, it would be strange if we didn't bring any books back, wouldn't it? People might think we just made up an excuse to wander around." Tang Ze looked at the price tags nonchalantly and shoved the books into the boy's arms. "If anyone asks, just say I bought them and lent them to you. That way, it’ll be easier to find a reason to come out again next time."

Books in Japan were quite expensive, and royalties of 5% to 15% could make an author quite wealthy. Tang Ze strongly suspected that the high status and respect accorded to writers in Japan were, in part, due to the fact that it was a high-income profession.

But no matter how expensive they were, how much could they really cost? Tang Ze could rake in over a million yen in a single night by forging a new mask; a few books were truly a drop in the bucket. If he needed money, he could just go beat up some Shadows—or rather, perform acts of justice to earn it!

Conan hugged the books tightly, his heart warmed by the scent of ink wafting from the pages.

Ever since he had shrunk, he had felt keenly that he was a child with no agency—nobody believed what he said, and nobody listened to what he did. It had been a long time since he had felt the respect of being treated as an equal by a high schooler. Tang Ze was even worried that he might get scolded for not bringing books home…

And… Conan looked carefully at the price tags on the three books, and he pulled them even closer to his chest.

He really was being very generous!

It seemed he had overthought things. It wasn't strange for Tang Ze to have a bad attitude after such a sudden turn of events in his life. Look at how he helped solve murder cases and find missing children—even if he had some psychological baggage, he was truly still a good person!