Detective Conan: Becoming a Tycoon in Tokyo! [33]

Inside a white Mercedes-Benz.

Fujiwara Nao couldn’t sit still. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.

“Calm down! Your father just died—this family still needs you to keep it together!” Mrs. Fujiwara snapped.

“How am I supposed to calm down?!”

Nao slammed on the brakes outside a café, jumped out, and lit a cigarette with shaking hands, dragging furiously.

“That damn old man wrecked the whole business and then went and killed himself—dumping all the debt on me?”

His father, too proud to sell the family’s legacy, had chosen suicide instead, leaving Nao to clean up the ruin.

“I don’t think it was suicide,” Mrs. Fujiwara murmured.

“Hm?”

“Do you remember Shōichi, the man who came to our house last night?” she asked.

“I barely recall. Just some arrogant rich brat,” Nao spat. “He wanted to buy our cinema chain at half price. Does he think the world revolves around him? Like we’d let him rob us blind.”

“Sell it to him,” Mrs. Fujiwara said suddenly.

“You must be kidding.” Nao gave her a sideways glance.

You’re already divorced from Dad—stop meddling in my affairs.

“Do you want to end up like your father?” she shot back. “You really think he killed himself? He never once showed suicidal tendencies—why die right after meeting Shōichi?”

Nao frowned. “Who goes around announcing they plan to kill themselves?”

“Then think carefully about the rumors surrounding Shōichi,” Mrs. Fujiwara pressed.

Those rumors weren’t exactly secrets in Tokyo.

Nao had always brushed them off—people exaggerated about zaibatsu heirs all the time. Nobody could truly act above the law.

But remembering his father’s mangled body, his certainty began to crack.

Still, pride made him stubborn. “Even so—”

“Watch out!”

Mrs. Fujiwara yanked him forward just as a truck barreled down the hill and smashed into the Mercedes, crushing it into twisted metal before plowing into the café.

Nao froze, staring at the wreck.

One second slower, and he’d be a corpse inside that car.

In his daze, he thought he saw a ragged man pulling a small child as they darted into the ruined café.

“I want to meet with Shōichi-san,” Nao said hoarsely.

“Hello? Yes, dinner invitation? Of course, no problem.”

...

In Satō’s car, Shōichi ended the call and turned politely to her. “Fujiwara’s son just invited me to dinner. Could I trouble you, Inspector Satō, to drop us off at the Beika Hotel?”

“Fujiwara’s son?” Satō’s instincts sharpened immediately.

His father’s barely gone, and he’s inviting the main suspect to dinner?

“Would you like to join us, Inspector Satō?” Shōichi asked mildly.

“No, thank you,” Satō said coldly.

The Beika Hotel wasn’t far—closer than Shōichi’s home, thankfully. The sooner she could be rid of him, the better.

“Fair enough,” Shōichi said easily. “Having you there might make business discussions with Fujiwara-san’s son… inconvenient.”

Inconvenient?

Satō’s eyes narrowed.

So he was planning to threaten him after all.

Screech—

The police car stopped sharply in front of the Beika Hotel.

After pulling Haibara out, Shōichi turned back. “Inspector Satō, sure you don’t want to join us? You helped close his father’s case today—I’m sure Fujiwara’s son won’t mind an extra guest.”

“…Fine. I’ll go,” Satō said evenly.

“Eh?”

The surprise on Shōichi’s face almost made her smile.

What’s wrong? Worried you can’t make your threats with me sitting beside you?

...

Upstairs, Fujiwara Nao and his mother looked up as Shōichi arrived—accompanied by a uniformed policewoman.

Their expressions froze.

Was collusion between big business and the police really this blatant now?

Mrs. Fujiwara’s anxiety spiked.

If the dinner went poorly, would they be hauled off right here?

If Shōichi could spin her ex-husband’s murder into a suicide, then flipping it back—blaming Nao or even her—would be child’s play.

They’d heard the rumors: Tokyo’s MPD was in Shōichi’s pocket. Apparently, not rumors at all.

“You’ve finally arrived,” Nao greeted with forced cheer.

Shōichi took off his jacket and sat, perfectly at ease. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No, not at all—we were rude for calling you on short notice,” Nao said quickly.

He waved over a waiter with a bottle of wine, pouring Shōichi a glass. “This was flown in from France—please, have a taste.”

Shōichi swirled the glass, then slid it toward Haibara.

“My apologies—I’m only nineteen. And with a police officer here, I can’t exactly drink illegally,” he said lightly.

“How careless of me,” Nao said, forcing a laugh. “Shōichi-san is so impressive, I almost forgot your age.”

Satō’s frown deepened. The insincere flattery was nauseating.

Haibara, however, barely reacted anymore.

At first, this kind of talk had made her sick. Now she’d learned to tune it out—and focus on the food instead.

The dishes were exquisite, far better than anything from the Organization cafeteria. She ate quietly, gathering strength for the day she’d avenge her sister.

Across the table, Nao’s voice trembled as he spoke, trying to sound humble.

“My father just passed, and I know I lack his business sense. So I’d like to entrust the company to you—at the same price you offered him. Would that be acceptable?”

He bowed deeply.

Shōichi shook his head gently, a rare glimmer of pity in his eyes. “That won’t do.”

“If the price’s the same whether your father lives or dies, then his death would’ve been in vain.”

He smiled faintly. “Let’s raise my offer by ten percent. We can’t let Mr. Fujiwara feel disappointed in the afterlife.”

Nao’s eyes widened. Relief washed over him.

He was still losing, but not as badly. Ten percent more was better than nothing.

He opened his mouth to agree—when Mrs. Fujiwara tugged sharply on his sleeve.

Nao turned to her, frowning—then froze.

The truck. The crushed car. The close call.

If that truck had hit him, Shōichi wouldn’t have to pay anything.

He clenched his teeth. “Actually… how about we lower your previous offer by ten percent?”

---

T/N: conan is such a great benefactor!

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!