Detective Conan: Becoming a Tycoon in Tokyo! [34]

Bang!

Satō slammed her glass down hard on the table.

Everyone turned to look at her.

Fujiwara Nao felt his chest tighten.

What now—still not satisfied?

Too much. This was too much.

Even a clay figurine has limits—she was pushing him past his.

If the price dropped any lower, he wouldn’t even be able to pay off his father’s debts.

“Inspector Satō, have you perhaps had a bit too much?” Shōichi asked calmly, crossing one leg over the other.

Satō rose to her feet and said, word by word, “Do you always do business like this?”

“Of course,” Shōichi replied evenly. “This is the power of sincerity. I’ve shown Mr. Fujiwara my sincerity, and he’s felt it—that’s why he chose to lower the price himself.”

“This is how business works: honesty and openness on both sides.”

Fujiwara Nao forced a smile. “Yes, business works exactly like that.”

He shot a covert glance at Shōichi.

If anyone actually believed that talk about honesty, they’d have to be a lamb ready for slaughter.

Business sincerity—flowers shrouded in mist. Pretty to look at, but behind them hid sharp knives.

And the knife Shōichi wielded had already terrified him to the core.

Dismemberment or an “accident”—who could stand up to Shōichi’s kind of sincerity?

Satō stood aside, at a loss for words.

She knew full well that Shōichi had threatened Fujiwara Nao, but since he hadn’t said a single explicit threat, there was no way for her, an outsider to the deal, to step in or protect him.

“If anyone’s being threatened, you should report it to the police,” Satō finally said.

Fujiwara Nao shook his head hard. “Impossible! Tokyo has an incredible detective like Mouri Kogoro—and police officers who work tirelessly to protect people like Shōichi. How could there be any coercion?”

That was clearly aimed at her.

Under the table, Fujiwara Nao clenched his fists tight.

Humiliating—but necessary to stay alive.

Shōichi raised his glass of juice. “Then, let’s toast to our future.”

“To our future.” Fujiwara Nao reluctantly lifted his glass.

At last, he exhaled in relief.

Now I have a future too—one where I don’t have to worry about being erased at any moment.

The atmosphere around the table loosened.

Only Satō stayed gloomy. She couldn’t change a thing.

Shōichi still got the business for a low price, and Fujiwara Nao could only smile and go along.

Satō downed another drink without touching her food.

Since Shōichi didn’t drink, dinner ended quickly. Fujiwara Nao and his mother saw them off downstairs.

Crack!

As soon as the police car pulled away, Fujiwara Nao could no longer hold back—he hurled his phone to the ground.

“Too far!” he roared.

Mrs. Fujiwara sighed. “The cinema was barely staying afloat anyway. Selling it might actually be the best thing. Your father already lost a fortune speculating on copper prices.”

“If we don’t sell, we’ll never pay off those debts. And it’s not like many people are lining up to buy.”

Those capitalists were all wolves. They knew how deep the Fujiwaras were in debt—no one would offer a fair price. It was just a question of how much lower they could push it.

Fujiwara Nao snorted. “I can’t accept this! I refuse to believe Sumitomo Shōichi can really control everything!”

“The MPD practically protects him,” Mrs. Fujiwara said.

“Not necessarily!” Nao snapped. “If he truly had that much control, news about him committing murder wouldn’t be in the papers. I’ll appeal to higher authorities—someone out there can rein him in!”

Mrs. Fujiwara studied her son’s cold, determined expression.

Knowing it was useless to try to dissuade him, she sighed again. “Then at least go to America. Your hands aren’t clean either. Don’t end up failing to take Shōichi down and landing yourself in prison instead.”

“Besides, Shōichi’s methods are ruthless.”

“He doesn’t solve problems—he removes the people who cause them.”

...

Inside the police car, Satō stayed silent. Haibara stared down, lost in thought. Shōichi idly played with his phone.

“Inspector Satō,” Shōichi said politely, “you didn’t eat much back at the hotel. Would you like to come in for a meal when we reach my place?”

“No,” Satō replied curtly.

“Oh.”

Shōichi nodded, then looked up to see a traffic officer ahead, flashlight beaming toward their car.

Satō felt her heart jolt.

Several police motorcycles had already blocked the road; traffic officers lined both sides. Confused, Satō pulled over.

A female officer in uniform opened the door, handcuffs in hand.

“Why is it you?” she exclaimed upon seeing Satō.

“Yumi? What are you doing here?” Satō asked, guilt flashing across her face.

Miyamoto Yumi frowned at Shōichi in the back seat. “I got an email from Sumitomo Shōichi. He said someone stole a police car and was drunk-driving at high speed.”

“He even taunted me—said he’d see if I could catch him before he got home. So I came to make the arrest.”

She looked at Shōichi expectantly.

Shōichi pointed straight at Satō. “Officer Miyamoto, it was Inspector Satō who drank and drove. I warned her several times, but she wouldn’t listen. For the sake of justice, I had no choice but to report her.”

“But your email didn’t say that,” Yumi said.

“That was just to keep the police from covering for one of their own,” Shōichi explained helplessly.

He was just an ordinary Tokyo citizen—if he’d reported a detective inspector directly, it probably would’ve been ignored.

So he’d had to rely on the police’s irritation toward smug civilians to make sure they’d respond.

Yumi turned to Satō, who lowered her head in silence.

It seemed she really had taken a sip or two.

“Please blow here.”

“Huu~”

...

Satō was detained. Shōichi and Haibara walked the rest of the way home.

“Good thing that last time Miyamoto Yumi caught me, I didn’t have a license,” Shōichi said, still a bit shaken. “Otherwise, I’d be in Satō’s position right now.”

Since Satō’s blood alcohol level was low, her license was only suspended for three months.

Three months later, she could still return to being Shōichi’s driver.

Haibara said nothing, wondering what exactly Shōichi was so relieved about.

He was talking as if he would’ve gotten the same punishment himself.

“Why did you report Inspector Satō?” she asked quietly.

“Why?” Shōichi thought for a moment. “Maybe I was just born with a strong sense of justice. I can’t stand seeing anyone break the law.”

---

This is a fan translation of 柯南：我在东京当财阀 by 倒霉的菜狗. Rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!