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

Inside the izakaya, smoke swirled and the air was thick with the smell of alcohol.

At the corner table, four veteran detectives sat together, their skewers barely touched, though several bottles of beer were empty.

After a few drinks, the conversation flowed freely.

One of the older detectives, a man with a fierce face, slammed his glass on the table with a loud bang, his voice so loud it drew the attention of those at the next table: "Damn it! How dare a woman ride roughshod over us!"

"What makes Sato Miwako qualified to be our leader? Does she even deserve it?"

The tall, thin guy opposite him chimed in, his tone full of disdain: "Exactly, exactly!"

"She just got incredibly lucky! She happened to stumble upon a criminal in the restroom. I could have arrested him too!"

The bespectacled man next to her sneered, adjusting his glasses: "Exactly. Solving a case just by using the toilet? That's a windfall, what does it have to do with her actual ability?"

The oldest detective took a swig of beer, wiped his mouth, and muttered, "I've been doing this for over twenty years!"

"She's risked her life countless times, braving wind and rain; she's arrested more criminals than she's eaten meals!"

"What right does she, a mere girl, have to climb above me? Just because she's lucky? Are you kidding me!"

The tall, thin man quickly nodded in agreement: "Exactly! She's a woman, why doesn't she stay home, be a good wife and mother, instead of running around as a detective? Does she even know how to do it properly?"

The man with glasses added, "Exactly! When has a case ever been solved without us on the front lines?"

"We're the ones doing the real work, and she's sitting in her office giving orders? Does she even have the ability to command us?"

"..."

The four men got angrier and angrier as they talked, and the angrier they got, the more they drank, emptying one bottle after another.

These men are all veteran criminal investigators who have been working for over ten or twenty years.

The fire in their hearts burned fiercely.

They didn't care whether Miwako Sato was truly capable or how many cases she had solved before.

They only saw one thing: a woman younger and less experienced than them had climbed above them.

In their minds, women are simply incapable; women should stay at home and never show their faces in public!

This is an idea they never intended to change in their entire lives.

After a few more rounds of drinks, one of them put down his glass, a smug smirk on his lips: "Hmph, let me tell you, I haven't taken her seriously at all these past few days."

"I'll do the tasks she assigns if I want, or I'll just do them half-heartedly."

"I even argued with her a few times in front of her during the meeting yesterday!"

"You didn't see her expression? Her face turned pale and then green, but she didn't dare to retaliate. It was so satisfying to watch!"

Upon hearing this, the tall, thin man slapped the table with delight: "Haha! I saw it!"

"Her face turned pale, and she could barely speak, she had to hold it in! I almost burst out laughing!"

The man with glasses chuckled, "You really think you can boss us around just because you've become the department head's assistant? How naive!!!"

"Doesn't she realize who's in charge in this department?"

The oldest among them raised his glass, a hint of smugness in his voice: "That's right, the few of us teamed up and refused to listen to her, making it impossible for us to complete any of the tasks she assigned. Let's see what she can do to us now!"

"It won't be long before she has to leave on her own!"

The group became increasingly excited as they talked, as if they could already see Sato Miwako slinking away in disgrace.

They clinked glasses a few more times, until they were about 70-80% drunk, before they staggered to their feet, paid the bill, and left.

The curtain of the izakaya was lifted, and the four people, supporting each other, parted ways at the intersection.

It was late at night, and there were hardly any people on the streets.

The old detective, his face full of scars, walked unsteadily down the path home, his hands in his pockets.

Just as I reached the entrance of an alley, several figures suddenly appeared beside me.

Before he could react, an arm had already gripped his neck, and he was dragged into the alley.

Immediately afterwards, punches and kicks rained down like raindrops.

He instinctively reached for his gun, only to find his waist empty, then remembered that he had turned in his service weapon when he left work.

Several punches landed on his face, his vision blurred, and he was kicked to the ground.

At the same time.

The same thing is happening in the other three directions as well.

The tall, thin man was stopped by a van, and several people jumped out and dragged him into a nearby alley without saying a word.

The man wearing glasses was walking home when he was struck on the back of the head with a blunt object, fell to the ground, and was then subjected to a barrage of kicks.

The oldest one was physically strong, but he couldn't withstand the sheer number of opponents.

Four men held him down, punching him repeatedly in the stomach.

He was bent over, in so much pain he could barely breathe.

The thugs continued hitting and yelling, "So arrogant, huh? You won't listen to me, will you?"

"Does he really think he's something special just because he's been a detective for twenty or thirty years?"

"If you were truly capable, you would have been promoted long ago. Why would you be wasting your time there, just loafing around and waiting to die?"

He kicked again, knocking the old detectives to the ground.

They fought for a good two or three minutes before slowly stopping.

One of them crouched down, patted the other person's face, and said in a low voice, "Listen carefully."

"Someone asked me to tell you that if you don't behave properly and work hard next time, you can prepare to spend the rest of your life lying in a hospital."

After saying that, the group stood up and ran into the night.

The alleyway fell silent again.

Only a few veteran detectives remained lying on the ground, their faces bruised and swollen, their bodies aching so badly they couldn't move.

Some people struggled to remember what the other person looked like, but they were all wearing baseball caps and masks, their eyes hidden in the shadows of the brim, so they couldn't see anything.

They lay there for quite a while before being discovered by passersby.

The kind person called the police and an ambulance.

The sound of sirens grew louder as they approached, followed by several ambulances stopping at the alley entrance. A few uniformed paramedics rushed in and carried the veteran detectives onto stretchers one by one.

No one speaks.

Inside the car, the lights were a stark white.

The old detective on the stretcher stared at the roof of the car with his eyes open, his chest still aching intermittently.

Those words kept swirling in their minds—"If you don't behave next time, you'll be spending your life in the hospital."

Who sent that message?

They had a pretty good idea of ​​what was going on.

----------

The next morning, the atmosphere in the Metropolitan Police Department's Third Investigative Division office was a little off.

The four veteran detectives appeared at the door one after another, and the way they walked had all changed.

Some people were limping, some were holding their backs, some had bruises around their eyes, and some had bandages on their lips.

Nobody dared to look straight ahead.

Miwako Sato had arrived long ago, sitting in her seat with a cup of coffee in her hand, her expression unchanged.

She glanced at the miserable state of the four people and understood what was going on.

Lin Shen made his move!