I'm in Conan, I'm not a gangster

Chapter 369 Setting a Trap (1rd Update)
I do not know how long it has been.

A blinding white light pierced through his eyelids, and Conan struggled to open his eyes. At the same time, he felt a splitting headache, and a dull pain in the back of his neck made him groan involuntarily.

Then he found himself handcuffed to a metal chair in a small interrogation room filled with the smell of disinfectant.

"Awake?" A strange voice came from the rooftop loudspeaker.

Conan struggled to look up, trying to see the figure behind the one-way glass, but could only see himself bound.

He opened his mouth, but found his throat too dry to make a sound.

The handcuffs on his wrists rattled, their cold touch a stark reminder of his predicament.

The person behind the glass continued, "Shinichi Kudo, 17 years old, disappeared half a year ago. I never expected you to turn into a child!"

"At first, the fingerprint matching results startled me. I thought there was something wrong with the machine."

"But after repeated verification... it actually is true, which really surprised me!!"

Upon hearing this, Conan's heart sank, and he even felt a strange sense of panic.

All the initial ambition and determination were gone, leaving only endless frustration and regret!

"You guys... what exactly?" Conan finally managed to squeeze out a few words, his voice hoarse and unlike his own.

A soft chuckle came from behind the mirror, followed by the question: "You've already broken into an FBI and Japanese Public Security base, and you're still asking who we are?"

These words made Conan's heart sink, and his nails dug deeply into his palms.

He should have realized it sooner!

They are special agents, more professional than us. How could they not know how to infiltrate the building from the outside?

They deliberately left this passage open, waiting for someone to crawl in on their own.

"Tell me, how did you become like this?" The man's voice came through the loudspeaker again.

Conan was silent for a moment before speaking, "I don't know what happened. I was forced to take drugs by that guy named Gin, and that's how I ended up like this."

He quickly explained the whole story of how he shrunk.

The reason he confessed so readily wasn't because he lacked backbone, but because he had absolutely no idea what was going on.

I unknowingly turned into a child.

Arguing back makes you look silly and is pointless.

With the capabilities of the police and the FBI, they can easily investigate one's family situation; struggling is futile.

If you take the initiative to confess, you might get a lenient outcome... and maybe the two sides can even cooperate.

"I'll send someone to check the situation and see if what I told you is true," the person behind the mirror replied, and then fell silent.

Conan believes that the other party felt they couldn't get any more information from him, so they stopped talking to him.

This left him feeling helpless, but there was nothing he could do.

After all... he really couldn't provide any more valuable intelligence.

squeak-

The iron door to the interrogation room suddenly opened, and three researchers wearing white coats and medical masks pushed in an equipment cart.

The wheels screeched against the concrete. The lead female researcher's eyes, visible through her mask, were as cold as if she were scrutinizing a laboratory animal; the syringe in her hand gleamed coldly under the light.

"Wait! What are you doing?" Conan struggled uneasily, the metal chair legs scraping against the ground with a screeching sound. But the restraints didn't budge; instead, they tightened around his wrists, causing them to ache.

The female researcher did not answer, but instead winked at her colleague.

A burly male researcher immediately stepped forward and roughly rolled up Conan's sleeve.

The cool touch of the alcohol swab on his elbow sent a shiver down Conan's spine.

"Stop! I didn't agree—"

The moment the needle pierced his skin, Conan's protest came to an abrupt halt.

Even though he had prepared for the worst beforehand.

But it wasn't until it happened that Conan realized thinking and doing are two different things. He watched helplessly as dark red blood flowed into the blood collection tube through the transparent catheter, and an unprecedented fear swept over him.

This is not an interrogation. This is a live experiment!

Conan heard the rustling sound of papers being turned over by the researchers next to him; they were even taking notes!

"Muscle tone is normal, and pain sensitivity is consistent with children's characteristics," the female researcher mechanically recited the data while drawing blood, as if describing an object.

When the sixth tube of blood was drawn, Conan began to feel dizzy.

The researchers then took samples of his hair, nails, and saliva.

When someone forcibly scraped his oral mucosa with a cotton swab, he heard people behind the mirror discussing "cell activity" and "telomere length".

“Sample number A-17, suspected successful case of APTX4869,” the female researcher said into the recording equipment, a hint of excitement finally showing in her voice.

"Pupillary light reflex is normal; a nerve reflex test is recommended."

Conan felt a sharp pain in his stomach.

He became a guinea pig in the laboratory, and these people didn't even bother to hide their intentions.

Conan gritted his teeth, trying hard not to tremble.

All he can do now is pray that his father and Shiraishi can find this place through some other means.

Perhaps tracking devices were hidden among the equipment confiscated by the police?
"Prepare the syringe," the voice behind the mirror suddenly commanded.

Conan's eyes widened suddenly as he saw the female researcher preparing a vial of pale blue liquid.

An unprecedented sense of crisis caused his adrenaline to surge, and his bound wrists were chafed and bleeding from the struggle.

"What is this? You can't—"

“It’s just a standard sedative,” the female researcher finally explained, but her eyes remained cold. “Cooperating will make you suffer less.”

Conan watched as the needle approached and pierced his arm. Soon after, he felt a wave of confusion and eventually lost consciousness.

Behind the one-way mirror, Shiraishi E gazed at the unconscious Conan in the interrogation room through the glass, shaking her head repeatedly and saying, "This kid's mouth is really unreliable."

"He confessed everything before even using his real skills; he has no backbone at all!"

He turned around and picked up a can of coffee from the table, the "snap" of the pull tab particularly jarring in the quiet observation room.

Yusaku Kudo, who was standing to the side, also looked somewhat bitter. He hadn't expected Conan to be so straightforward in his explanation.

From a rational perspective, revealing what you know is indeed the best option!

But... if you confess so quickly without any resistance, people might think you're not a good talker.

Who would dare to do shady things with you in the future?

This child is still too young!
"It's alright." Yusaku controlled his emotions, his voice as gentle as if discussing the weather: "Even if he did, we can still continue with our methods."

"Whether you believe it or not," he said, pulling out a cigarette and twirling it between his fingers, "isn't it up to us?"

Upon hearing this, Shiraishi E laughed heartily: "It really comes down to you, Mr. Kudo, you're so ruthless!" He tilted his head back and gulped down a mouthful of coffee, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with each swallow... He's got quite the knack for all this."

"I only learned some techniques from the FBI," Yusaku said modestly, waving his hand as the cigarette traced an elegant arc between his fingers.

If he had previously planned to throw out a fake address to catch Conan and scare him, then...

Now, he's really going to teach Conan a lesson!

Let him see the cruel side of the detective world.

That's not something you can do just by being smart!
Professor Agasa stood to the side, constantly wiping the cold sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, his eyes filled with sympathy as he looked at Conan.

This poor kid... got tricked by his own dad and his friend.

Although he felt sorry for the other person and sympathized with him, he also knew that Yusaku was doing this for Conan's own good.

If you can't even handle this little bit of pain, then what are you talking about fighting against the Black Organization? You might as well just be a good detective and solve cases for the police.

(End of this chapter)