I'm in Detective Conan, and I start with the Grand Theft Auto system.

When Shuji Kano woke up, his head was still hurting.

He frowned, slowly opened his eyes, and his vision gradually became clear.

Then he found himself still lying in the corner of the living room, but everything in front of him had completely changed.

The living room was full of people.

Not two, not three—it was more than a dozen people!

Police officers in uniform, detectives in plainclothes, and others squatting on the ground taking photos and searching for things while wearing gloves; footsteps and the static of walkie-talkies were everywhere.

Under the warm orange light, his living room looked like a drawer that had been turned inside out.

Shuji Kano jerked his feet up, his voice hoarse and panicked from just waking up: "What's going on? You—you police officers, what are you doing in my house?"

A young police officer glanced at him, didn't answer his question, and turned to call out towards the door, "Inspector Sato! The suspect is awake!"

A series of hurried footsteps came from the entrance hall.

Sato Miwako quickly walked up to him, squatted down, and looked him straight in the eye.

Her expression was complex, showing regret, sadness, and an indescribable heaviness.

She spoke, her voice much lower than usual: "Uncle Luye, our police received a report that someone saw you possessing firearms in your home."

Shuji Kano paused for a moment, then almost instinctively retorted, "Nonsense! Why would I possess firearms? I'm just an honest, law-abiding citizen who runs a restaurant; why would I possess such things?"

Miwako Sato did not speak.

She stood up, turned to the side, and pointed to the open space in the center of the living room.

Shuji Kano looked in the direction she was pointing, and for a moment his voice seemed to be stuck in his throat.

In the center of the living room, a neat array of firearms was arranged: pistols, rifles, submachine guns, sniper rifles, and even a rocket launcher tube!

They were placed side by side on a dark blue waterproof sheet, gleaming with a cold metallic luster under the living room ceiling light.

Shuji Kano's mouth opened, closed, and opened again.

He abruptly turned to Sato Miwako, his voice rising several octaves: "None of these are mine! Someone framed me!"

"Oh! I remember now!"

"When I came back, there were two men in black in the living room!"

"Judging by their figures, they were probably women! One of them came up and knocked me unconscious!"

"They must have put these weapons in my house while I was unconscious!"

Miwako Sato stood there, her gaze filled with a kind of incredulous scrutiny.

She frowned, her tone tinged with reluctance, but she still spoke up: "Uncle Luye, you mean, those two men in black went to so much trouble to move so many guns to your house?"

"Is it not for any other reason than to frame you?"

Shuji Kano nodded vigorously: "That's right! That's exactly it!"

"These guns aren't mine! They're framing me!"

Sato Miwako was silent for a few seconds, then slowly shook her head: "Uncle Kano, it's not that I don't believe you."

"But this reason is really far-fetched."

Shuji Kano wanted to say something more, but his gaze was suddenly drawn to the commotion on the other side of the living room.

Several police officers were carefully moving the altar in the corner of the living room, and then someone squatted down and began to pry the floorboards in the original position of the altar.

Shuji Kano's pupils suddenly contracted.

He practically lunged forward, his voice trembling with uncontrollable panic: "Wait! What are you doing? Don't destroy my house!"

But he had only taken two steps forward when he was stopped by two policemen on either side of him.

He struggled for a moment, but couldn't break free.

Inspector Megure stepped out from behind the crowd.

He stood before Shuji Kano, his expression serious, his tone calm and businesslike: "Mr. Kano, we suspect that there are a large number of firearms hidden in the basement of your house, so a thorough search is necessary."

Shuji Kano grew agitated, his voice becoming shrill: "This is an illegal search!"

"Crossing someone's home without a warrant is illegal!"

Inspector Megure did not argue with him.

He slowly took out a piece of paper stamped with a red seal from the inside pocket of his coat, unfolded it, and showed it to Shuji Kano:

"The search warrant has been issued. A full search can now be conducted."

As Shuji Kano stared at the clear handwriting and seal on the paper, he felt as if his spine had been ripped out, and his shoulders slumped.

But his mouth was still moving, his voice filled with an almost desperate struggle: "I'm innocent—I'm innocent!"

Inspector Megure did not respond.

He stood there, hands on his hips, watching the police ransack the living room.

His expression was calm, but he knew exactly what was going on in his mind.

He knew that Shuji Kano was most likely innocent.

Even if a normal person wanted to hoard weapons, they wouldn't just stuff them in a closet, a sofa compartment, or behind a bookshelf.

This method of hiding seems more like someone deliberately placed it here waiting for someone to find it.

But what's the use of knowing that?

So many big things have happened in Tokyo lately—the Valentine's Day gun incident, the Metropolitan Police Department being stormed, the killer going on a rampage with an RPG, and yesterday someone using a Barrett to kill a prosecutor…

The pressure from above is like a mountain pressing down, with each level exerting downward pressure.

Now, finally, someone "suspected of having ties to terrorists" has appeared before everyone.

No one cares whether he is the real culprit or a victim of injustice.

The key words are "solving the case"!

Thinking of this, Inspector Megure sighed silently in his heart.

"Inspector Megure!" a police officer crouching beside the altar suddenly raised his voice, "Found something! We dug a travel bag under the altar!"

"It was filled with bundles of cash!"

Upon hearing this, Sato Miwako was as if she had been electrocuted and was the first to rush over.

She pushed aside the police officers surrounding her, squatted down next to the canvas travel bag that had just been dug out from under the floor, reached out and opened the bag to reveal stacks of banknotes sealed with plastic film.

The old-style 10,000 yuan banknotes have yellowed edges and corners, bearing the marks of time.

Miwako Sato's hands began to tremble.

It starts at the fingertips and spreads all the way down the arm.

She suddenly looked up, her eyes already red-rimmed, her voice trembling with barely suppressed excitement: "The evidence... has been found!"

Inspector Megure strode over, glanced down at the banknotes in the bag, then turned to Shuji Kano, his tone becoming extremely serious:

"Mr. Kano, how do you explain this money?"

Shuji Kano stood between two policemen, his face as white as a sheet.

He opened his mouth, and a dry laugh escaped his throat, a laugh filled with a sense of despair and relief at having completely given up resistance.

His shoulders slumped completely, and his voice was so low it sounded like he was talking to himself: "That was... the money I took from robbing a bank eighteen years ago."

After saying that, he raised his head, his eyes filled with an indescribable weariness. "I am the culprit in the case of the Sorrowful Man."