"What the hell is Eri thinking!" Kogoro Mouri slammed his beer can onto the table. The moment he heard that his estranged wife, Kisaki Eri, had taken on a case that was clearly unwinnable, he couldn't help but worry.
Ran bit her lip, torn between concern for Officer Satou and for her mother's reputation. She knew about Satou's case — she'd read the reports and seen the evidence. Satou really had shot a criminal who had already surrendered. The facts were airtight. So why on earth would her mother take it? Wasn't that basically asking to lose?
Even Conan couldn't make sense of it. "The undefeated queen of law… walking straight into a loss?" he muttered under his breath.
"That's it, I'm calling Mom," Ran said, pulling out her phone.
But no matter how many times she tried, the call wouldn't connect. "Her phone's off. I can't get through."
Kogoro snorted and took a long gulp of beer. "Of course you can't. She's probably drowning in this mess. A case like that's doomed from the start. Let her handle it."
His words were harsh, but his expression betrayed him — worry flickered behind his irritation.
Something about this felt off to Conan. His instincts told him this wasn't just another high-profile trial. Something deeper was going on here.
And indeed, it wasn't ordinary at all. The winds of public opinion were starting to shift.
Where once the media had almost unanimously condemned Satou for "abusing police power," new voices were starting to emerge.
People were beginning to look back at the bomber himself — the so-called "victim." He was a murderer, a terrorist who had taken innocent lives. Satou, they argued, had only eliminated a monster. Among these voices, the most powerful came from the victims' families — those who had lost loved ones to the bomber's attacks.
The dead can't speak, but their families still cry for justice.
The battle for public sentiment had begun.
Ada watched as Liu A'dou orchestrated the media storm from behind the scenes. "You always claimed heroes shouldn't manipulate public opinion," she said coolly. "And now look at you — doing exactly that. You don't seem much like a hero anymore."
Liu A'dou chuckled bitterly and took her hand. "It wasn't supposed to be this complicated. But people here… they're all too selfish."
Ada raised an eyebrow. "I'd say the selfish one is you. You're the one who insists on meddling in everything. And seeking peace for yourself isn't selfish — it's human."
"Not caring about what I think is selfish," Liu A'dou said with mock seriousness. His tone was so self-righteous it made Ada sigh and shake her head.
"Don't act like a child," she scolded lightly. Then her tone softened. "But really, how are you planning to defend her? Satou already confessed. Even with your silver tongue, you can't change the facts."
"I'm not trying to change the facts," Liu A'dou replied calmly. "I'm trying to make people accept them. If they can't accept reality, Satou will never stop blaming herself."
Ada's eyes narrowed slightly. "Satou, Satou… you sure talk about her a lot. Don't tell me you've got feelings for her?"
"Hey—ow!" Liu A'dou winced as Ada pinched his waist sharply. "Ada! Easy, easy! I swear, it's not like that!"
"Mm-hmm," Ada said, unimpressed. "You always say that, but your actions…"
"Ada, please, you've got to believe me!" he pleaded dramatically. "You're my one and only happiness. Having you by my side is all I need."
Her lips twitched — she tried to look stern, but she was smiling.
Still, her suspicion didn't fade. "You're being way too eager about helping Satou. How do I know it's not because you've taken an interest in her?"
"Come on, heavens above can testify!" Liu A'dou said quickly. "Ada, my dear sister, my only goddess — there's nothing romantic about it. Satou just has potential. It'd be a waste to let that talent rot behind bars, that's all."
Ada folded her arms, not convinced. "If that's the case, couldn't you just take the easy route? Fake some evidence, rewrite her memories, make it all disappear? Instead you're dragging this out with a full trial. Makes me think you are up to something."
Liu A'dou couldn't help but grin. Watching his cool, composed wife show a flicker of jealousy was just too adorable. "Relax, Ada. My heart only belongs to you."
Ada's expression softened slightly, though she still didn't trust his plan. "Even if I believe that," she said, "you're still going to blow this. It's an open-and-shut case — how can you possibly convince a court to set her free? It's impossible."
"If we fail," Liu A'dou said with a shrug, "we'll just pack up and leave. It's not like this world is our home anyway."
Ada gave him a long look, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "You wouldn't be saying that if you didn't already have a plan."
Liu A'dou stretched lazily. "Honestly, it's simple," he said, half-joking. "We just have to bribe the entire court system. You know how bad Japan's corruption can get."
Ada blinked — then burst out laughing despite herself. "You're impossible."
"You can't be serious—are you really planning to do that?" Ada stared at Liu A'dou in disbelief. He was being so blunt, so reckless, that for a second she wondered if the man in front of her was an impostor.
"Of course not," Liu A'dou replied casually. "That's just the last resort. What really matters now is public opinion."
Ada sighed. She knew full well that his whole plan to stir up a media storm was to sway the crowd. But even if the people sympathized with Satou, the court still had to follow the law. "Public opinion alone won't change the judges' minds," she pointed out.
"There's also the jury," Liu A'dou reminded her.
"Right," she said, crossing her arms. "So what's your actual plan?"
"Satou is guilty. No doubt about it," Liu A'dou said suddenly.
Ada blinked. "Excuse me?"
"But Satou being guilty," he continued with a faint grin, "doesn't necessarily mean Satou is guilty."
"...What?"
"She's guilty in the legal sense, yes. That's a fact. But guilt only truly exists once a verdict is rendered. Before that, everything depends on the judge and the jury. As long as I can convince them not to convict her, she isn't guilty—at least, not officially."
Ada rolled her eyes. "That's just empty talk."
"Ada," Liu A'dou said patiently, "think of it this way. Before the verdict, Satou exists in two states at once—guilty and not guilty. The moment the court declares one of them, reality collapses into that outcome."
Ada cut him off before he could get any more philosophical. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. The verdict decides everything. You don't need to turn it into a science lecture. What I'm asking is: how exactly do you plan to convince them to declare her innocent?"
"I don't know," Liu A'dou admitted with a shrug.
Ada's eyebrow twitched. "You're asking for a beating, aren't you?"
And she delivered. A flurry of light punches rained down on him—more playful than violent, but enough to make him wince.
In truth, Liu A'dou really didn't know. He talked like he had a plan, but in reality, there was no easy way to twist the facts. Not in court, not where everything came down to evidence. He couldn't erase the truth, couldn't fabricate new proof. The only path left was to change how people felt about that truth—to shift the perception of guilt itself.
It was going to be hard. Maybe even impossible.
Maybe bribery really would be the only way.
Still, this was a battle of wits and words now, and Liu A'dou thrived on that kind of challenge. He was ready to test himself, to walk the line between success and disaster, to feel that rush of uncertainty when both victory and failure were possible outcomes.
And who knew? Maybe, if the people in that courtroom had an off day and their reasoning took a nosedive, he might just pull it off.
Until then, he'd keep preparing. There were still a few days left before the hearing. Enough time to keep pushing public sentiment, to make sure Satou earned as many sympathy votes as possible. Even if he couldn't get her acquitted, he could at least lessen her sentence.
When the trial finally began, all eyes turned toward the courthouse. Reporters crowded the steps, cameras flashing, microphones raised high. Everyone waited anxiously for the outcome.
Most of them didn't expect any miracles. At best, they thought, the famous "Queen of Law" might delay the inevitable for a few days. But to actually change the result? Impossible.
After all, the defendant had already confessed. There was no basis for appeal. Everyone agreed: this would be the case that finally broke the undefeated record of Kisaki Eri, crushed by the young and fiery prosecutor, Kujo Reiko. For once, the two queens of the courtroom were evenly matched.
Kogoro Mouri arrived at the courthouse with Ran and Conan in tow. The place was packed—too many spectators, too much attention. Even with special permission, they could only find seats in a far corner of the gallery.
Most of the people filling the benches were Satou's colleagues from the police force. They didn't speak, but their eyes said everything—they were all silently praying for the same thing.
They wanted Satou to walk out of that courtroom free.