Chapter 128: Beika Town — The Demonic Lair of Crime
Perhaps because Shinichi Kudo's shrinkage was fundamentally different from the original work, he emerged from the process already wearing a set of perfectly fitted children's clothes. In this world-bubble, such a setting was quite reasonable. After all, characters in the original work basically "one-click" changed outfits between scenes, with very few actual dressing sequences.
The only problem? Shinichi's new outfit was a summer set.
Shinichi shivered in the wind and snow, utterly bewildered by the chaotic climate. Even more baffling was that the homeless people living in the park seemed perfectly adapted to it. They had been in summer clothes yesterday, but were bundled up thickly today, showing zero reaction to the erratic weather shift.
Ever since Japan's bubble economy burst, workplace and family pressures had skyrocketed, leading to a massive influx of the bankrupt, debt-evaders, or those simply unable to adapt to society. The Japanese government had formulated various "supportive" policies for these homeless groups. For example: paper-box houses built by the homeless must never have a roof, or they face arrest. Spiky, uneven triangular studs were installed in parks and under bridges to prevent them from sleeping there. They were even prohibited from collecting aluminum cans to avoid impacting the performance of waste management corporations.
As for the official relief shelters? Entering for a meal or two was fine, but applying for residency usually met a wall of excuses—typically that the shelter was "full." The truth was that while specific funding existed for homeless relief, those funds often became a "mystery" before any homeless person actually benefited from them.
When the Japanese media investigated, the shelters gave a refreshing reason: they claimed the homeless possessed the "noble Japanese spirit"—that even if displaced or ill, they insisted on self-reliance and refused to "waste" taxpayer money. Thus, all the shelter could do was give these "noble" individuals a heated, cheap, expired instant meal and watch them leave with tear-filled eyes.
Malicious support policies, absent relief, and a government that narrowed its statistical definitions to make the homeless "disappear" on paper had turned the group into a marginalized, suppressed fringe of society. Shinichi knew this so clearly because the homeless people nearby had spent half the night cursing loudly about it. He wasn't deaf; he heard it all.
Faced with this social phenomenon he had never truly understood before, Shinichi could only offer a sympathetic silence. He could do nothing. In fact, he was currently worse off than them: he had no identity, no income, no home, and no ability to work. Aside from being relatively healthy, he had nothing. To him, the familiar Beika Town had become a desert island for wilderness survival. And worse, the unexpected snow was putting his "health" at risk.
Shinichi hadn't wanted much contact with the homeless—explaining why a child was living in a park was a headache—but the climate change forced him to ask. The inquiry went smoothly; the park's inhabitants were relatively friendly.
"What was the date yesterday?" "May 13th. Exactly one month after the Great Shinichi Kudo died. I remember clearly." "And today?" "December 3rd, kid. Why?" "Don't you find it strange? One day apart, and we jump from May summer to December winter?" "What's strange about that?" "Then... how long has it been since Shinichi Kudo died?" "Last month had thirty days, plus today makes thirty-one. Kid, are you testing my math?"
Shinichi fell silent. A single day had passed, but they had jumped seven months. In the minds of these people, this was normal. Their perception of time and actual time had diverged, and yet, the two tracks remained connected.
"What's the date tomorrow?" "Tomorrow? Should be June 8th. It'll be hot tomorrow, kid. Don't eat too much ice cream!"
Shinichi was beyond confused. He wanted to find the Magical Die and grab it by the neck: Why did everyone else get the "version update" for the world-line shift, but I was left behind!?
His frustration stemmed from realizing that not only was his time perception "normal" (and thus out of sync with everyone else), but the Stand setting seemed to have skipped him entirely. Even a homeless man could summon a blurry Stand to help with heavy lifting, yet Shinichi could call forth nothing.
He had noticed this last night and felt relieved then. Now, he felt helpless. After talking to the old man, he realized that in this "全民 (Universal)" Stand era, you needed a Stand for everything. Without one, he wasn't just broke and homeless—he was effectively a "super-cripple" with a perception disorder.
He could only smile bitterly, recalling his thoughts when he threw the die. He had wanted to get rid of Moriarty and distance himself from his loved ones. Steins;Gate had granted his wish: it stripped away the ultimate Stand, Moriarty, but forgot to give him a replacement. Or rather, according to the news, his power had been distributed to all of humanity as the foundation of this era. He was a child, cut off from his past. He had everything he asked for, but the price followed him like a shadow.
Sighing, Shinichi rallied. He had to survive in this "Beika Wilderness." He found water at a park tap and obtained some old clothes and biscuits from the old man, who patted his head.
"Kid, your eyes are mature, like you've been through a lot. I won't ask why you're here instead of home. What's your name?"
Shinichi was moved. Shinichi Kudo was dead; there was no need for him to return. He paused, then said:
"Grandpa, my name is Edogawa Conan!"
As he spoke the name, he didn't notice that the colors of the world seemed to grow more vivid and vibrant. The Eternal Protagonist of the world was officially born.
Mo Yu watched this through his screen and smiled. At the moment Conan was born, the world's timeline had reverted to the chaotic state Mo Yu recognized.
This wasn't just a "OCD Cosplayer" world-bubble trying to mimic the original; it was an "Evolution." Before the transformation, the timeline was linear like Bleach. After Shinichi became Conan, the world "exploded" its own timeline. Mo Yu couldn't quite describe the operation—it was like taking the shards of time and tying them into a complex knot.
The result was clear: seasons were a mess, dates were random, and time would never end. It was an Eternal Stage prepared for the Eternal Protagonist.
Mo Yu called it an "evolution" because of an incredible side effect: everyone had become immortal. Thousands of years could pass in this chaotic timeline, but no one would die of old age. They wouldn't even realize how long they'd lived. Of course, the world still progressed—technology advanced, and society changed.
The catch? There would never be another generation. It wasn't that they couldn't have kids, but with the "Immortal Lock" of chaotic time, the cycle of generations had stopped. Just like the original work, Kogoro Mouri would gamble and drink with a pager, then a flip phone, then a smartphone. Even if they developed brain-chips and space travel to Mars, Kogoro would still be drinking and betting on horses every day.
Mo Yu's expression was complex. This wasn't a natural setting; the world had forced itself to become this way to mimic the source material. It was the strongest "cosplay" Mo Yu had ever seen—the world was literally risking its own life to stay "canon."
Because the time-processing wasn't perfect. Edogawa Conan could "perceive" the chaos.
This was a fatal flaw. If Conan couldn't perceive it, he could live happily through endless cases. But being aware of the discrepancy... a few years might be bearable, but decades? Centuries? He would eventually face numbness, or a total mental collapse.
Mo Yu's fingers stopped tapping the desk. What if Conan goes insane?
He thought of the "Heavenly Killing Intent" permeating the world. He had wondered why it was so persistent. A horrifying possibility emerged.
"Is it possible... that Conan has already gone insane once?"
In his mind, the Authority suddenly donned a Conan outfit, pointed forward, and shouted: "There is only one truth! There is a 50% probability that the 'Murder of Humanity via Heavenly Killing Intent' was committed by Edogawa Conan!"
Mo Yu shook his head to clear the vision. The Authority was getting cheekier, giving him a 50/50 probability that was functionally useless—though it clearly agreed Conan was the prime suspect. Still, the uncertainty made being a "detective" fun. He'd find the clues, peel back the lies, and if necessary, "rub the culprit's head against the pavement" until the truth came out. His "God of Fighting" habits were still there.
In the park, the old man warned Conan: "Be careful, kid. Don't sleep in parks anymore. I saw some thugs hanging around lately—their eyes are bad. They've been attacking lone homeless people."
Conan didn't ask why he didn't call the police. Trust in authority had long vanished for men like him. He thanked the man and began his "Wilderness Survival" in Beika. He needed to understand this Sixth Divergence and find a way to forge a new identity.
But as he walked the streets, he felt uneasy. The pedestrians looked... wrong. They were gloomy, full of hostility. Shadows seemed to cling to them.
Perhaps because he once held the Emperor of Crime Stand, he was now hyper-sensitive to "Criminal Factors." To his eyes, dozens of people in his immediate vicinity were potential suspects. If his senses were right, the current Beika was a Demonic Lair of Crime.
Passing a high-rise, Conan stopped. The "Criminal Aura" there was skyrocketing. This time, his senses were verified: the aura was turning into a physical, roiling black mist.
End of Chapter
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