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

Chapter 452 Reminiscing and the Basement (1st Update)
Kogoro Mouri gripped the steering wheel tightly, speeding along the highway outside Tokyo in his black sedan.

In the back seat, Masuyama Kenzo, bound hand and foot, fell into a coma.

After removing her mask, Shiraishi took out a cigarette, put it in Kogoro Mouri's mouth, and lit it for him.

"Thanks..." Kogoro Mouri said, then took a few deep drags on his cigarette. The familiar smell of the cigarette gradually calmed him down.

"Turn left ahead and go into that alley," Shiraishi E said, lighting a cigarette for herself.

“Ahead? Okay…” Kogoro Mouri nodded, glancing at the rearview mirror to make sure no vehicles were following them before relaxing his shoulders slightly.

The car slowly drove onto a secluded side road and eventually stopped next to an abandoned warehouse.

After the engine was turned off, the car fell silent instantly, with only the sound of each other's breathing remaining.

"Leave the gun, the bulletproof vest, and anything else that might reveal your identity." Shiraishi E unbuckled her seatbelt, turned to look at Mouri Kogoro, and said calmly, "I'll handle these things."

Without asking any questions, Kogoro Mouri quickly removed his equipment—pistol, spare magazines, tactical vest, and even the cell phone and ID he had taken from Kenzo Masuyama—and neatly piled them all on the passenger seat.

He checked his sports backpack one last time to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything before opening the car door. A blast of cold air rushed in, making him shiver involuntarily.

"Go back, take a hot shower, have some drinks, and get a good night's sleep." Shiraishi E moved from the passenger seat to the driver's seat and said, "Let's pretend tonight's events never happened."

Kogoro Mouri opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he just nodded and whispered, "...Understood."

Shiraishi closed the car door, restarted the engine, waved goodbye, stepped on the gas, and drove the black sedan quickly into the night.

Kogoro Mouri stood there, watching the red taillights gradually disappear into the distance until they were completely out of sight, before letting out a long sigh.

He took out his phone and glanced at the time—10:17 p.m.

Only two hours have passed since the other person came to the gym to find me.

But Kogoro Mouri felt as if those two hours had been stretched into two days, two weeks, or even longer.

Every second was filled with tension, danger, and the thrill of an adrenaline rush.

His brain was still working at high speed. He could still hear the gunshots, the roars of fighting, the whistling of bullets grazing his ears, and the unwilling roar of the ninja before he subdued him.

"I actually...did it?" Kogoro Mouri muttered to himself, looking down at his hands, his fingertips still trembling slightly.

Exciting! So exciting!
He had solved countless cases in his life, but never before had he truly found himself amidst a hail of bullets, brushing shoulders with death like tonight.

The excruciating pain of being shot, the suffocating feeling of being choked, the icy touch of a blade against his throat—these images kept flashing through his mind, making his heart pound again.

"Am I crazy?!" He suddenly laughed self-deprecatingly and shook his head. "How could I dare to do something like this... If there had been even the slightest mistake, I might be the one lying on the ground right now!"

A wave of fear washed over him, and his back was instantly soaked with cold sweat. A night breeze sent a chill down his spine. He vowed never to get involved in such a life-threatening operation again.

……

When Kogoro returned to the Mouri Detective Agency, the house was quiet. A dim light was on in Ran's room, and the faint sound of turning pages could be heard—she was still reviewing her lessons. Kogoro tiptoed upstairs and, as usual, called out, "I'm home!"

"Dad? Why are you so late coming home tonight?" Xiaolan's voice came from the room, tinged with sleepiness and confusion.

"Ah, I took on a last-minute case, which took up a bit of my time." He replied casually, his tone relaxed, as if he had just dealt with an ordinary case.

"Oh...then you should get some rest." Xiaolan didn't ask any more questions and quickly immersed herself back in her studies.

Kogoro Mouri breathed a sigh of relief and quickly walked into the bathroom.

Hot water poured down, and steam quickly filled the entire space.

Only then did he truly relax, the soreness and fatigue instantly washing over him. He looked down and gasped in shock—

His body was covered in bruises, with several obvious bruises on his arms and ribs, a bullet wound on his shoulder that had scabbed over, and his knees and elbows were covered in abrasions. After taking a shower, he quickly went to get his first-aid kit and secretly went back to his room to treat his wounds.

Immediately afterwards, he quietly put the medicine box back, then went down to the office on the second floor, took a few cans of ice-cold beer from the refrigerator, slumped onto the sofa, and casually turned on the TV.

The screen is showing Yoko Okino's new suspense drama. Okino's character stylishly dodges bullets and knocks down the villain with a single punch.

Normally, he would have cheered enthusiastically for Yoko Okino, but tonight, he felt utterly bored.

Compared to real life-or-death battles, these fictional scenarios are ridiculously childish.

His thoughts returned to tonight's operation—how many mistakes had he made? Too slow to react, exhausted, almost killed in close combat... If it weren't for Shiraishi E's timely support, he might have already perished there.

"My physical fitness is terrible..." He pinched his soft belly and sighed.

I haven't exercised in a long time, and my eight-pack abs have all merged into one.

That guy, Shiraishi E, doesn't look particularly strong, yet he can fight continuously without showing any signs of fatigue, while I was already panting heavily after only a few rounds.

This cannot go on.

He took a big gulp of beer and secretly made up his mind: starting tomorrow, I must exercise properly!
------------------

The basement of the Miyano villa.

An incandescent light bulb illuminated the entire space brightly.

As Kenzo Masuyama gradually regained consciousness, he did not panic but immediately assessed his condition.

His hands were firmly fixed to the iron pipe behind him with specially made metal handcuffs, and his feet were also locked with heavy iron chains.

Now there's no need to worry about escaping.

"woke up?"

A familiar voice rang out from the basement staircase.

Masuyama Kenzo looked up and saw the bandit Azu walking down carrying a plastic bucket full of water, the water in the bucket swaying gently with his steps.

"Wait! I'm awake!" Masuyama Kenzo knew at a glance that it was meant to splash him, and he shouted anxiously.

Shiraishi E walked over carrying a bucket of water, a playful smile playing on her lips: "Since we've already brought it all, it would be a shame not to splash some water."

"No, no, no! My old bones can't take this." Kenzo Masuyama shook his head repeatedly: "This basement is cold enough as it is. If my clothes get soaked... I'll definitely catch a cold and get sick."

"In the end, you'll be the ones who get into trouble!"

"Hmm, now that you mention it, it makes a lot of sense." Seeing this, Shiraishi E abandoned her idea of ​​splashing water and casually put the bucket aside.

"Speak," Shiraishi E pulled over a metal chair, sat down opposite him, casually crossing her long legs, and said, "What do you want from me?"

Kenzo Masuyama smiled wryly and moved his bound wrists: "I originally wanted to collaborate with you. I just didn't expect that we would meet in this way in the end."

"Cooperation?" Shiraishi E chuckled as if she had heard something amusing.

He stood up, looking down at Kenzo Masuyama with undisguised contempt in his eyes: "With your abilities, what qualifications do you have to talk to me about cooperation?"

Masuyama Kenzo cursed inwardly for his opponent's lack of martial ethics in ambushing him, a 71-year-old man!
Of course, he also realized that if the other party didn't launch a surprise attack, he would definitely not be a match for the ruthless bandits.

During the half-night raid, the enemy only used RPGs; they did not use tanks for heavy bombardment or fighter jets for firepower coverage.

This level of sneak attack is already quite considerate.

(End of this chapter)