Conan was still hesitating. Even though Kid was willing to shoulder all the blame, Conan was a man of strong principles. Without that, he wouldn't have impressed so many girls.
So Kid knew he had to say a little more. "Conan, let me put it this way. There are two apples—one sweet, one sour. Which would you choose? And what about a black horse, white horse, pegasus, and unicorn? What would you pick then?"
"…" Conan looked at Kid. What did those questions have to do with their current dilemma?
"Clearly, you don't get it. If you like sweet things, you choose the sweet apple. If you like sour, you choose the sour one. You like black? Pick the black horse. Like white? Go with the white horse. If you're into wings, you pick the pegasus. If you're into sticks, then you'll choose the unicorn."
That logic sort of made sense, but… why would someone who likes sticks choose the unicorn? Conan couldn't help mentally roasting him. Still, he was starting to get what Kid meant.
Kid continued, "Sure, human morality isn't as simple as sweet or sour, but in front of us stands a righteous officer, Satou, and a piece of trash. Anyone with basic common sense knows what the right choice is. I don't think I did anything wrong."
Conan actually did want to help Satou. But he still couldn't get past the hurdle in his heart. "But what about the justice of the law? We're not judges—how can we make that call?"
That was his final concern—justice under the law. As a detective, Conan had always believed the law was fair and impartial. If he covered for Satou now, then he'd be the one breaking that belief with his own hands.
"The law is fair," Kid said.
That line gave Conan a moment of relief. It was like the last barrier in his worldview held firm. Hearing Kid say that made him feel slightly reassured.
But Kid wasn't finished yet. This time, though, he didn't speak right away. Instead, he conjured a bright red rose out of nowhere and handed it to Conan. "Hold this. Let's do a little experiment."
Conan took the rose curiously. It was fresh, bright, and fragrant—as if just picked.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked.
"Grip the flower tight," Kid said.
Conan held the rose gently at first. The petals curled inward.
"Tighter. Tighter." Kid watched as Conan slowly crushed the flower. Finally, he clenched his hands together.
The flower was destroyed—twisted into a lump of ugly pulp. The beauty was gone.
Conan stared silently at the crushed petals in his hand. He still didn't understand. "What's your point?"
"Can you restore the rose in your hands to what it was?" Kid asked. Conan didn't move, because he knew the answer was no. So Kid went on, "Just like this flower, the dead can't come back to life. Sure, from your view the law is fair—but that fairness only applies to the living. Only the living have rights. Legal judgment is carried out on the living. It's the living who get held accountable. So tell me—can the law restore this crushed flower in your hands?"
A shattered mirror can't be pieced back together. Spilled water can't be scooped up again. The law can't undo the damage done to a rose, and it can't resurrect the dead.
"Who listens to the cries of the dead? Those killed by the bomber—did they willingly give up their lovers? Little detective, remember this: this case may very well be your 'Orient Express murder.'"
The Orient Express case—Hercule Poirot's most famous mystery. In that story, the killer wasn't just one person, but twelve. Each one stabbed a brutal criminal once. Poirot figured it out. He hated what they did, believed they trampled the law—but in the end, he stayed silent. He let all twelve of them go.
Maybe that case was foreshadowing Poirot's final one, where he took justice into his own hands.
"One day, you'll understand—there's no such thing as absolute justice in this world."
Conan's worldview took its final blow—everything he believed in shattered.
Kid had said a lot today, mainly because his opponent was Conan. If it were anyone else, he wouldn't have bothered going this far. Satou avenging her lover by shooting the bomber—in simple terms—wasn't a big deal. That's just how the world works. Talent matters most, and Kid had her back.
But because Conan was involved, Kid had to say more. Conan wasn't like Kid—he would never cover for a criminal. But after Kid's relentless verbal onslaught, Conan suddenly realized that the law couldn't solve every case.
Conan remembered Asou Narumi. After avenging her father, she chose to take her own life. Conan knew she wasn't a bad person. The man she killed was either a drug dealer or her father's murderer. But because she wasn't a bad person, her conscience eventually drove her to suicide.
And there were many other cases like that—killers with understandable reasons who chose to end their own lives. Conan wondered: if he hadn't pushed so hard, what would've happened to them?
This case was his own "Orient Express Murder." What choice should he make?
Why do good people feel guilty after killing someone evil? Because they're good. That's the problem—being kind is already a weakness. And when they meet a stubborn detective like Conan, it becomes a disaster.
Forget the argument that choosing to kill means giving up on goodness. If humans were that easy to define, evil people wouldn't exist at all.
Isn't it allowed for good people to be strong? Take Asou Narumi—she was a perfect example of strong kindness. It shouldn't be goodness that fears evil, but evil that fears goodness.
"Justice lives in the hearts of people." Seeing Conan looking mentally crushed, Kid threw out that all-purpose line to keep him from totally breaking down.
Sure enough, Conan heard it and finally made his decision. "I understand now."
The sound of police sirens was getting closer. Officer Satou had passed out. Even though the wound had been treated, she wasn't recovering that quickly. Her shirt was soaked in blood.
"Little detective, I'm off. Remember—it was me who killed the bomber. I was the one who injured Officer Satou."
"Yeah. I get it now." Conan's expression suddenly turned resolute. "Let me leave you with one thing."
"Oh? What's that?"
Conan looked at Kid's back and said slowly, "In the face of evil, either sit and watch until you become one of them… or rise up and fight. Kid, stop being a thief. You can be a hero."
Tch. Wasn't that Kid's own line? And now Conan had thrown it back at him. Kid was already standing at the edge. "I am a hero!"
Whoosh—
Unfolding his glider wings, Kaitou Kid soared high into the sky, disappearing into the clouds.
"Officer Satou!" It was Takagi. The scene was a mess—the bomber was dead, Satou was unconscious, and Conan was just standing there. Takagi had no idea what had happened. "We need an ambulance! Satou, please hang in there!"
"Officer Takagi, Officer Satou will be fine." Conan knew Kid had already treated her. And he also meant something else—he'd made the choice to cover up her crime.