Under the tree, on the bench.
It was the same old spot.
On his way back, Chi Feichi had picked up a newspaper and sat down to flip through it.
Since he was certain this was the world of Detective Conan and he was bored anyway, he might as well check the current timeline.
The news should offer a clue or two.
In the past week's papers, there were no reports regarding Kudo Shinichi.
With such a low rate of appearance, he had likely already been force-fed the drug and shrunk.
There were reports on Mori Kogoro, however. A front-page headline from two days ago read:
[The Clash Between a Mystery Writer and a Real Detective: Detective Samonji Series Author Shinmei Nintaro Passes Away; Famous Detective Mori Kogoro Solves the Mystery Based on Codes within the Work!]
Is this the early stages? He just didn't know if this world's timeline followed the anime or the manga...
If it followed the manga, Haibara Ai should have already appeared. If it followed the anime timeline, it would probably be a while longer.
He was somewhat curious about that little girl...
Chi Feichi thought for a moment.
Given the Black Organization's secretive style, they likely hadn't exposed much information to the outside world. This meant their members were unlikely to be listed on any bounty boards—at least, not on any publicly accessible ones.
And Sherry = Researcher = Unknown Shut-in... = Not worth any money!
Hmm... that is my thinking as a former 'Cleaner'.
Cleaners, also known as Bounty Hunters, were primarily tasked with capturing heinous criminals and handing them over to the police or government.
To carry out a cleaning operation, one had to first obtain a license issued by the International Investigation Bureau.
Logically speaking, his homeland in his previous life was very safe, with almost no room for this profession to operate.
But he still went ahead and did it...
That year, seven children gathered together. The oldest was ten, the youngest only six.
They were martial arts students.
Those sent to martial arts boarding schools were either kids their parents found impossible to discipline, or kids whose families had suffered some kind of upheaval.
Given the culture of the country, very few parents sent their children to martial arts schools purely out of sentiment or passion.
If you wanted to learn martial arts, wouldn't a hobby class be enough?
Those seven children had all lost their parents to accidents or tragedies. With no one at home to manage them, relatives had shipped them off to the school. Because of this, they got along well.
One day, one of them—he didn't know which chunibyo brat it was—learned about "Cleaners." The moment it was mentioned, it ignited the adolescent delusions of the group.
No one wanted to be mediocre. Or perhaps, they just wanted to find a goal for survival. A goal that... even if they didn't understand it well, they could strive for with nothing but hot-blooded enthusiasm.
Ten years later, seven people, carrying a decade of blood and sweat and possessing skills far superior to their peers, left the country with a flourish.
At that moment, they were indeed dashing. But reality is often cruel.
Even if they found the channels and identified their deficiencies, not everyone could make up for their lack of firearms training with raw talent.
Seven people. After several years of continuous trials, only three remained.
Less than a year after that, the other two gave up one after another. He was the only one who persisted.
Why persist? He wasn't sure either.
Perhaps because he had treated it as the meaning of his survival since childhood. Or perhaps it was the lost, dejected look in his companions' eyes when they left. Or maybe... it was that sense of freedom and spontaneity that was so intoxicating he forgot the way back...
However, it really wasn't a good profession.
The companions who went home became bodyguards for the rich or martial arts coaches. Perhaps not as lucrative as being a Cleaner, but it won out on stability and safety.
He, who stubbornly saw it through to the end, made a lot of money over the years. But he also paid with his life. Yet, he had never regretted it.
Those scenes—free, spontaneous, crazy, unique, and novel—carried a fatal beauty.
Chi Feichi looked away from the newspaper he hadn't really been reading and gazed at the wall opposite him.
It was much, much more beautiful than the scenery here...
You six liars. I don't want to miss out on those scenes in this life either... Who asked you all to say I was the most talented one when you left?
Go ahead and keep envying me.
Chi Feichi lowered his eyes to hide the faint smile within them. Just as he was about to resume reading the paper, massive chunks of unfamiliar memories flooded into his mind, accompanied by a wave of envy and relief.
It was the memories of this world's Chi Feichi.
Parents combined by profit, devoid of affection. Their relationship went completely cold in less than five years, and they lived separate lives.
Out of consideration for corporate interests, they didn't divorce. They guarded a marriage that existed in name only, and consequently, didn't care much for their only child either.
In the memories: a cold, deserted home. School anniversary performances where his parents were the only ones absent. Time and again, he tried to trade excellent grades for a little attention, only to receive a single sentence of praise followed by the backs of them rushing away...
There was no melodramatic soap opera plot. The original consciousness was simply too introverted and withdrawn. In his entire life, he never dated, had no friends, no goals, no hobbies. Eventually, he got sick.
Right at the end, an emotion of envy mixed with relief was transmitted, and the memories terminated with a fragment from three days ago.
Chi Feichi understood. The original consciousness had likely completely dissipated.
It was a pity. Perhaps due to his nature, even though he experienced those emotions along with the memories, they only flashed by for a moment. There was a trace of resonance, but it wasn't intense.
So, you see, even two consciousnesses inhabiting the same body cannot fully understand each other. When those doctors say "I understand, I get you," what a gentle lie they are telling.
After silently roasting the psychiatrists in his heart, Chi Feichi collected his thoughts.
The plan needed to change.
He had stayed in the mental hospital previously because of the original consciousness's depression. He had been genuinely worried that the guy would try to off himself while controlling the body, taking Chi Feichi down with him.
In the hospital, even if his own consciousness was asleep, there were doctors and nurses watching. It was safer.
But if the original consciousness had dissipated, he had no intention of continuing this act with them.
Discharge?
To be discharged, either the doctor has to believe you are cured, or your family has to come pick you up.
The second path was a no-go. The doctors here were a bit too responsible. His parents had no intention of supervising him. Without certainty that he had recovered significantly, the doctors wouldn't agree to let him leave.
The problem circled back to the first path...
No need to even consider it; it was a dead end.
Leaving aside his "Time Perception Disorder," once you enter this place and meet a group of responsible doctors, everything you do looks like a symptom.
The only way was for his parents to take a stand. If he added a slightly tougher attitude to that, he could leave.
After all, he hadn't broken the law or committed anti-social acts. The hospital couldn't forcibly keep him.
But sneaking away when there were other options would be a stupid move—
You could leave by being firm, yet you chose to escape instead of communicating? Your condition has definitely worsened!Catch him! The high-security ward is waiting for you!
Chi Feichi flipped through the newspaper absentmindedly, considering calling his biological parents another day to discuss his discharge.
"Mr. Chi, are you looking for something?" The little nurse next to him leaned in with a smile.
He had been flipping through the paper while zoning out for a long time. It wasn't quite right. She had to watch for abnormal behavior in patients. Understand what she can, and record what she can't in the little notebook for the doctor to review...
Chi Feichi understood the nurse's thoughts at a glance. He was silent for a moment. "I was just spacing out for a bit."
"Is that so? I understand." The nurse nodded. Okay, patient experiences episodes of dissociation/spacing out. Need to record that later.
Chi Feichi was speechless. He glanced at the uncle leaning against the railing over there, looking up at the sky.
He heard that uncle had been in here for eleven years. There was probably no hope of discharge for him in the next year or two either.
Once you enter the asylum, there is no turning back... terrifying!
Normal meals, activities, sunbathing, eating, medicine, sleeping. A day passed.
Aside from the lack of freedom, it was the lazy life strictly dreamed of by slackers.
However, to prevent interference from outside information and dependence on electronics—and for safety—personal mobile phones and computers were not allowed. For slackers who wanted to laze around playing on their phones and watching dramas all day, this was probably unacceptable.
The next day, Chi Feichi went to Fukuyama Tomoaki's office to make a call.
The home phone, as usual, went unanswered. He dialed his biological father's mobile.
Beep... Beep...
The phone rang twice before connecting.
A deep, steady male voice spoke. "Hello, this is...?"
"Father, it's me, Chi Feichi."
There was a silence on the other end. "How is your recovery?"
"It's alright. I want to be discharged."
Chi Feichi went straight to the point.
Judging by the memories, it wasn't clear if his biological parents had lovers on the side, but they were both definitely money-making maniacs.
They were willing to spend money, too; at least his allowance was substantial.
Even regarding this hospitalization, the couple had dropped him off for the check-up and admission in the morning, and by the afternoon, they had rushed off to handle their business affairs.
A very bizarre family.
Addicted to making money, unable to extricate themselves...Body feels terrible if a day goes by without making money...I love making money, making money makes me happy...Besides making money, life has no other joy...Money brings happiness, and the process of making money also brings happiness...
Ahem. Thinking about it this way, Chi Feichi actually felt... it was kind of interesting.
After all, he was the transmigrator Chi Feichi now.
To this, he could only say: You guys live however you want.
"I'm going to France tomorrow. I won't be back for at least half a month," the man said calmly. "We can talk when I get back. Actually, it's good to be in the hospital. At least there are people to look after you. Doctors and nurses are more professional than butlers and maids."
To the side, Fukuyama, who was listening in, couldn't help but frown.
To put that in plain terms, wasn't he saying—"Son, we don't have time to manage you. You have food, drink, and care in the mental hospital. Isn't that great?"
Is that any way to talk? These parents were too cold...
Chi Feichi wasn't surprised. This answer wasn't far from what he had guessed. "And my mother? Hasn't she returned yet?"
"I don't know about her side," the man said.
Chi Feichi continued, "Then can you see if you can find someone to fish me out of here first? Staying here is too boring."
The steady male voice replied, "I've already requested a leave of absence from Toto University for you. If there's nothing important, why come out?"
Chi Feichi said calmly, "When I get bored, I think about calling you every day to ask how things are going..."
The phone fell silent for a second. "I'll ask if there's anyone who can help pick you up."
Chi Feichi: "Preferably a relative."
Male voice: "Understood. Wait for the news."
Chi Feichi: "How many days at the latest?"
Male voice: "Three days."
Chi Feichi: "Okay."
The call hung up, crisp and clean.
Chi Feichi looked up and met Fukuyama Tomoaki's thoughtful gaze. It looked exactly like that specific stare from a certain meme.
Fukuyama stared intensely. "Mr. Chi, does your... family have a history of hereditary mental illness?"