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

Tokyo, a high-end apartment building, penthouse duplex.

A middle-aged man in a bathrobe sat on the sofa, holding a glass of champagne, his eyes fixed on the television screen.

The news of the bomb threat was being repeatedly broadcast on television, and the screen showed a crowd of reporters packed in front of the Metropolitan Police Department.

He chuckled, "Go ahead and bomb, no matter how much you bomb, it won't hit me."

He swirled his wine glass, pulled his lover closer, and took a sip with a smug look on his face.

Behind the bathroom door.

His wife stood behind the door, holding a cell phone in her hand, her knuckles white.

She peered through the crack in the door at the couple in the living room, her face filled with hatred, her eyes growing colder and colder.

Finally, the lady silently closed the door, leaned against the door panel, lowered her head, and gently pressed the button on the screen.

boom--!

The top floor of the entire apartment building looked as if it had been smashed by an invisible fist.

Glass shattered, load-bearing walls broke, and champagne glasses, sofas, and televisions in the living room were all reduced to fragments in a fraction of a second.

The middle-aged man and the person in his arms didn't even have time to react before they were engulfed by the high temperature and shockwave, leaving not even a bone fragment behind.

The lady stood in the ruins of the bathroom, her hair disheveled by the airflow, her face covered in a layer of dust.

She laughed heartily, relieved, and then immediately disposed of the phone after she finished laughing!

……

At the entrance of the villa.

A president of a large corporation, in his fifties or sixties, wearing a custom-made suit, was about to get into his car.

The bodyguard next to him opened the back door and bent down to check the seats, chassis, floor mats, and even touched the seat belt buckles before the president got into the car.

After confirming that everything was alright, he stepped back and said, "President, it's safe."

The old man nodded and prepared to get into the car.

At that moment, a woman in a kimono walked out of the gate, carrying an exquisite wooden box in her hand, with a gentle smile:

"Darling, could you please give this to Mrs. Yamanaka for me? I've put it in your trunk."

The old man glanced at the wooden box: "Alright, put it down."

The bodyguard walked over, took the wooden box, opened it and inspected it; inside were several boxes of exquisite pastries.

He made sure everything was okay before putting the wooden box in the trunk.

After placing it, he casually took out two plastic-like objects from his pocket, which were probably two C4 explosives, and stuffed them under the spare tire in the corner of the trunk.

The movement was so quick that no one noticed.

He closed the trunk and respectfully opened the car door: "President, we can go now."

The old man got into the car with satisfaction and closed the door.

The car slowly drove out of the gate and merged into the street traffic.

Then, a loud bang.

The rear of the car suddenly flipped up, the whole car was overturned, rolled twice and crashed into a roadside utility pole, flames shooting into the sky.

The woman still standing at the villa entrance looked at the fireball and a slight smile appeared on her lips.

Her bodyguard reached out and gently put his arm around her shoulder.

The two exchanged a glance.

……

On the other side, on the top floor of a multinational corporation's office building, in an office with an extremely sophisticated layout.

A man in a dark gray suit stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the black smoke rise in the distance, the color draining from his face. He had just received news that another acquaintance had died.

It wasn't a car accident, it wasn't a heart attack, it was a bomb.

That guy was his old rival in the business world for over a decade. He was making waves in the stock market in the morning, but by the afternoon he was gone.

The more he thought about it, the more frightened he became. He turned around abruptly and shouted to his secretary, "Tell the driver to go to the safe house! I'm not seeing anyone for the next few days!"

He didn't even put on his coat before quickly walking out of the office.

The secretary quickly made a phone call to arrange it.

He took refuge in the safe house, which he had spent a lot of money to renovate, complete with explosion-proof doors, an independent ventilation system, a backup generator, and a satellite phone.

He locked the door, slumped onto the sofa, and let out a long sigh. Now he should be safe, right?

Outside the safe house, his son and daughter sat in the car, looking at the tightly closed blast door. After exchanging a glance, they revealed strange smiles.

The son took out his phone, opened a mobile app, and pressed a button.

boom--!

Although the explosion-proof door is sturdy, the connection between the ceiling and the floor is not that secure.

The shockwave from the explosion seeped in through the weakest point in the structure, turning the entire interior of the house into a furnace.

Three minutes later, all that remained at the scene was a pile of charred metal frames.

The son put his phone away, glanced at his sister, and said, "Let's go. Go back and pack up; we'll be in charge of this company tomorrow."

The car started and slowly drove away.

……

Within three hours, seventy or eighty explosions occurred in various parts of Tokyo.

The frequency was ridiculously high, completely exceeding the "once every half hour" stated in the notice.

The images on the TV news were increasingly horrific, the anchors were deathly pale, and their voices trembled as they read from their scripts.

Now, those wealthy people who initially thought it was none of their business can no longer sit still.

They realized the police weren't joking.

And they discovered an even more terrifying situation.

Wealthy businessmen who had bodyguards around them died even faster.

Those bodyguards were utterly useless; they still bombed the place.

Some people hid in the basement, but they were still blown to pieces by the gunpowder.

Someone chartered a plane overnight to try to escape, but the plane exploded on the runway before it even took off.

Someone spent a lot of money to hire a private security team from overseas, but the moment the security team arrived at the door, the employer was gone.

All the wealthy people were frantically making phone calls and trying to pull strings to get into the Metropolitan Police Department.

A row of luxury cars was parked in front of the Metropolitan Police Department. The big bosses who usually walked with an air of superiority were standing in the lobby looking disheveled, followed by a group of family members carrying suitcases.

Someone shouted at the police officer on duty, "We want to see our superiors! We need protection!"

The Metropolitan Police Department is also under tremendous pressure.

The higher-ups kept calling to inquire, the media reported on it frantically, and public opinion was in an uproar.

The Metropolitan Police Department had no choice but to yell at the criminal, accusing him of being untrustworthy!

They said they'd bomb once every half hour, but how come there are already seventy or eighty explosions in just three hours?!

They couldn't withstand the pressure either and immediately started shifting the blame.

This case is no longer a simple bomb threat; it's a terrorist attack!

Terrorist attacks fall under the jurisdiction of the Public Security Division of the National Police Agency!

Our Metropolitan Police Department is only a supporting department; we cannot take the lead!

The police officers are usually so capable, so why do they chicken out at crucial moments?

Is he just someone who steals credit?

The police department's public security division was called out, and they were furious, but they couldn't refute it.

They gritted their teeth and gave a direct order: Everyone, mobilize!

The Metropolitan Police Department is cooperating with our work!

They wanted to show off their skills and let everyone see that the police department was the one that really got things done!

However, the explosions continued.

The police never imagined that the bomb and detonator were in the hands of the victims' wives and children.

They investigated the suspects, going back and forth, from enemies to competitors, from partners to employees, but not a single person considered the possibility of family members.

-

Meanwhile, Lin Shen led Conan, Miwako Sato, and Wataru Takagi into a small coffee shop next to an upscale restaurant.

He sat down by the window, casually ordered an Americano, and pointed out the window: "Tokyo Tower is right outside."

Sato Miwako glanced in the direction he was pointing, looking puzzled. "What are we doing here? Shouldn't we be at the crime scene when investigating a case?"

Takagi Wataru was also puzzled. He sat down and looked around, but found nothing unusual.

Conan immediately realized what was going on.

He stared at the Tokyo Tower outside the window for a few seconds, then turned back and blurted out, "President Lin, do you mean the prisoner used to sit in this coffee shop, looking at the Tokyo Tower?"

Lin Shen smiled and nodded: "Smart."