Kazawa pressed himself against the wall at the corner, cautiously peeking out to watch the street in front of the Maru family's gate.
On both sides of the street, rows of gray shadows lay silently on the ground, bowing as a few shadows carried a palanquin down the road.
These shadows were monsters that existed in the cognitive world. Ordinary shadows would be drawn to the desires of the palace's owner, reflecting some of the owner's perceptions and consciousness. But special shadows, like the one belonging to Maru Denjirou, the palace's owner here, were a concrete manifestation of his twisted personality — a reflection of his true inner self and character.
In the world of detective science, corrupt killers and victims were countless. Just by using the cognitive world, Kazawa could already operate in a huge space.
The shadows kneeling all over the ground here, and the samurai carrying the palanquin — these were how Maru Denjirou saw other people.
The palanquin's lacquered gold decorations shone brilliantly. In this old man's eyes, he was probably some big lord, like a shogun.
Ugly face, delusional thoughts.
Kazawa shook his head and didn't enter the street. Instead, he looked for a gap along the outer street around the Maru family's building.
Maru Denjirou's shadow was definitely inside that palanquin. Unfortunately, Kazawa hadn't awakened his power yet. Otherwise, he might have just kicked the door in from the front, finishing things quickly with violence.
…Speaking of which, according to the original story, doesn't he need to be in desperate circumstances or emotionally charged to awaken his ability?
The more Kazawa thought about it, the lighter his steps became.
The more he thought, the more he sensed a trap. According to the plot, he would eventually awaken his power, so better to be careful.
The Maru family's residence, transformed into a daimyo's mansion, was now richly decorated with painted beams and gilded halls. Groups of patrolling samurai shadows circled around the side and back of the mansion until Kazawa finally found a spot suitable for climbing the wall and sneaking in.
Taking advantage of a squad of samurai turning to head back, Kazawa tiptoed close to the courtyard wall and grabbed a tile, climbing up.
Unsure how many guards remained inside, Kazawa didn't recklessly jump down after climbing. Instead, he climbed onto a roof nearby, crouched, and carefully moved to the highest ridge to peek out.
His caution was justified. The courtyard inside was wide open, with almost no cover. Shadows stood at every doorway, and archers were stationed on the upper floors of the main building, watching the courtyard like hawks. The place was guarded tightly.
If he had blindly jumped in, he would have been caught immediately.
Why was there so many shadows packed into such a small courtyard? Did he think this was some game like Sekiro?
Kazawa complained inwardly but still quietly crawled along the roof like a stealth mission, moving toward the main building.
Twenty minutes later, Kazawa, now on the main building's roof, chose a good angle and peeked down at the courtyard below.
Thank heavens this was Japan — even a daimyo's mansion only had two layers of courtyards.
If he had to climb something like the Forbidden City, he wouldn't have finished climbing before tomorrow night.
This house was guarded the most strictly. There were sentries at the gate, and long-range archers on the front balcony. Most likely, this was where the palace's secret treasure was kept — the place holding the palace owner's most precious item, the origin of his desire.
Was Maru Denjirou just bad at this? How had Kazawa found the core location in less than an hour?
Without realizing it, Kazawa, relying on his stealth experience, had skipped class for the entire palace.
Well, finding it easily was a good thing. Unlike Persona 5, the Conan world wouldn't give you ample time to clear the palace. What if Maru Denjirou suddenly called Mouri Kogoro over tomorrow and killed him? That'd be awkward.
Thinking this way, not having awakened his power wasn't so important for now. If he didn't want to kick the door in, he could sneak out, send a warning, then come back tomorrow to steal the item — mission accomplished.
Better to avoid brute force. Kicking-door style phantom thieves just weren't authentic.
In front of the main building's door, something like a show was being prepared. Tables and carpets were laid out in the courtyard. Samurai shadows carried plates back and forth, placing them carefully on the tables.
Kazawa looked closer. The plates were filled with gold and silver treasures — stacks of paper money neatly piled in triangles, small mounds of golden sand and pearls sparkling brightly.
A loan shark with this kind of display fit the character well.
As Kazawa pondered this and surveyed the building structure to plan a good theft route, the samurai below suddenly all turned their heads and bowed toward the gate.
Kazawa immediately ducked his head tight against the side wall, peeking with only one eye.
Maru Denjirou was back.
Kazawa saw the palace owner's true self for the first time. The man was over fifty, dressed in a lavish Nara-style robe patterned with the clan crest, wearing a ceremonial crown. Surrounded by samurai, he staggered into the gate.
He walked to the table and sat down. From a golden cup, he grabbed a few jewels and toyed with them casually, shouting, "Where are the new servants? Bring them all in."
The kneeling samurai thundered in response. Soon, a few people in shackles, chained together, were pulled inside stumbling.
These people weren't shadows — they had clear faces.
Kazawa recognized the long-faced man with two side whiskers he'd bumped into that afternoon.
They were Maru Denjirou's debtors.
These weren't real people, but cognitive existences created by the palace owner's perception — NPCs modeled on real people, reflecting the owner's thoughts about them.
In Maru Denjirou's eyes, those who owed him money were prisoners and slaves.
They were dragged and kneeled on the ground before the table. The samurai shadows holding trays stood beside the fallen people, waiting for Maru Denjirou's inspection.
Maru Denjirou paced to the first tray, picked up a necklace, tossed it lightly, and sneered, "Too light, huh? At this age, this is all you can pawn? Scum like you are a waste of society's resources. Cut off his hands as punishment."
After speaking, he slipped the necklace into his sleeve and kicked the struggling old man aside. A samurai immediately swung his sword, cutting off the old man's hands.
Amid the old man's wailing screams, Maru Denjirou strolled over to the next person.
"Worthless trinket. Are you blind? Using this to pawn 1 million yen? You won't need those eyes anymore!"
"Huh? Fooling me with trash? Go chop off his head and put it on the tray — we'll pawn his life!"
"A broken sword as a family heirloom? You must be a desperate pauper. I'll sell it for your interest."
The once neat courtyard quickly turned into a bloody execution ground. Some victims collapsed silently, others rolled in pain clutching their stumps, painting a gruesome scene.
"What a hellish painting… Even a loan shark's heart is this bloody?" Though Kazawa knew these weren't real people, only dolls shaped from the palace owner's memories, the brutal scene made him frown deeply.
By now, Maru Denjirou was probably a wealthy man. Using low-level methods to seize collateral, beyond making money, his real goal was likely watching people struggle in pain and beg before him.
An old pervert, no wonder he could create a palace.
"Not a single valuable collateral found? Are the cops all this broke?" Maru Denjirou muttered, and Kazawa's heart clenched as he looked at the man in front of him.
A tall man in police uniform sat on the ground miserably, shackled. Beside him, a samurai shadow held a little girl tightly bound.
The man struggled a few times but couldn't stand. His right leg's pant leg was empty.
"Forget it, since your daughter's cute, I'll grudgingly accept this." Maru Denjirou's tone made the girl seem like collateral. "You're a cripple who can't stand up anyway. I'll finish you off. Cut off the other leg too."
Kazawa's temple throbbed. He gritted his teeth and pressed his hand hard against the roof tile beside him.