Oritis in the world of Detective Conan

Conan was racking his brains in the dimly lit basement trying to figure out a way out. Just when he was about to give up, a door of light opened behind him.

Conan looked back in surprise and saw a blonde woman walking out of the light gate.

Her golden hair was tied into a bun, a silver sun-like halo dangling behind her head. She wore a dark blue dress with shimmering silver embroidery. Her face was painted with blue tear marks, and a faint blue flame lingered around her. Most importantly, she held an exquisite sterling silver gift box in her hands.

"Who are you?" Conan felt that she was somewhat similar to the little girl when she grew up.

"The person who stays forever on the border of life and death." The reporter (Eternal) said to Conan indifferently.

She slightly opened the box in her hand, and a foul smell escaped.

“He has warned me to judge without mercy.”

"Those who kill should have their swords broken, and those who are greedy should have their blessings taken away."

The foul air in the box dissipated, replaced by a dazzling silver light.

“Only in this way, when the fire of sin is burned out, can the atoneed person regain their piety.”

Conan: "What does that mean?"

"Have you met the 'sinner'? He is still struggling in pain. Guide him to salvation, and everything will return to peace."

Conan: Is the sinner Jack the Ripper? Struggling in agony? Oh, he had a dual personality. Hasn't the other personality given up yet?

The reporter stretched out his hands and pulled Conan into the light door. In a blink of an eye, Conan was back in the restaurant where Jack the Ripper was killing people.

The wax sprayed by Philip had mixed with the blood, solidifying on the ground in a bright red mass. Not far away was Philip's body, his entire body covered in blood and wax, and he still held the wax spray gun tightly in his hand.

Cogan's body lay beside the chair, and the files and records she had been holding in her hands were scattered all over the floor, wet with blood and then dried on the ground. Her glasses slipped to the side, and her eyes seemed to still carry an obsession with justice and judgment.

Jack was sitting in the main seat, his head lowered, his expression unclear, his shoulders slightly shaking, and soft sobs could be heard.

"Mr. Jack?" Conan realized that this should be the original Jack, not the cruel and brutal Ripper.

"It's you, Mr. Detective." Jack raised his head and what Conan saw were a pair of wet, red eyes.

"Little sir, it's great that you survived. That devil, he killed almost everyone and claimed it was art..."

"Do you want to hear about my past?"

Conan sat down in the chair across from Jack. "I'd like to hear more about it."

"Ever since I was a kid, there was a strange voice in my heart that kept urging me to do things that went beyond the boundaries."

"I once had a beloved doll, and that voice came on and said, 'Aren't you curious what's inside it?'"

"I cut the doll open with scissors and got nothing but a ball of cotton, but the doll could never be repaired."

"He's dedicated to destroying everything beautiful, and only becomes quiet when I'm concentrating on painting."

"But sometimes after I go to sleep, he wakes up and uses my body to do something..."

At this point, Jack's voice became even lower.

"What happened next?" Conan motioned for Jack to continue.

"Until one day, I woke up in a pool of blood. My parents were killed by him."

"The police thought it was a burglary and hastily closed the case. Ever since then, I have lived alone in that house filled with the smell of blood."

"I could feel my waking hours becoming less and less, and he was taking the initiative step by step."

"I've tried to fix all this, but, as you can see, I can't."

As Jack spoke, he stabbed himself with the finger blade, but a mist appeared and clamped the tip of his knife that was about to stab.

"I had no other options until I received that invitation."

"Why was Mr. Jack invited here?"

"The invitation letter the manor owner gave me said it would solve my dual personality problem once and for all, but now it seems that this invitation letter might have been written for that 'him', not for me..."

"He's an absolute murderer, and I'm also a sinner for not being able to stop him..."

Jack dropped his hands and slumped in his chair: "Maybe next time I won't wake up again."

"I'm sorry, young sir. I'm so, so sorry."

"No, Mr. Jack, you are not the sinner. The sinner should be Jack the Ripper." Conan retorted.

"You worked so hard to stop him. If it weren't for you, he might have committed countless crimes."

"Mr. Jack, you are righteous. Don't lose yourself because of 'his' instigation."

"If you give in like this, no one will be able to stop the Ripper!"

"Is that so, I... am righteous?" Jack looked at Conan in disbelief.

"Recall Ms. Cogan's trial of 'him'. He did all of that. It's his crime, not yours!"

"Thank you, little detective. I'm really happy to finally get your recognition." Jack slowly stood up and picked up the blood-stained candlestick.

"I won't dream about him anymore. It's time to end this." Jack smiled at Conan.

Then Jack lit the candlestick and stabbed himself in the chest.

The fog appeared as usual to block Jack's movements, but this time it was unsuccessful.

The flames burned the mist, and Conan could hear a shrill and unwilling roar coming from the mist.

Blood mixed with wax dripped down, Jack coughed twice, and the broken organs were coughed out along with the blood.

"Goodbye, little detective." Jack's face, which had been immersed in self-blame and guilt, showed a grateful smile. Then he fell to the ground.

The candlesticks set the table on fire and the floor ablaze. Conan hurriedly left the restaurant and ran all the way to the hall. In front of the main entrance of the hall, the reporter was waiting for him with a box in his hand.

"Congratulations, Mr. Detective, who upholds the truth and pursues truth and justice. You are now the only judge representing justice." There was no emotion in the reporter's voice.

"Wait, who are you?" Conan was eager to know the identity of the person in front of him.

"You will get the answer in the future." The reporter did not give an answer, and then handed the box in his hand to Conan.

Before Conan could say the next word, the box opened by itself, emitting a dazzling fluorescent light and sucking Conan in.

At this time in the outside world, Kudo Yusaku and the novelist have cracked the truth of the case. The murderer of Mr. Kenmura is Sindora, and his motive is to cover up that he is a descendant of Jack the Ripper.

As the "cocoons" were opened one by one, parents rushed forward excitedly and hugged their children.

Only Conan is still pondering everything he experienced in the game. According to the reporter's final statement, he, Ms. Cogan, and Mr. Philip all represent "justice", while Mr. Jack represents "sinners".

Ms. Cogan's procedural justice and Mr. Phillips' vengeful justice both failed. So, in the end, only I, who persisted in seeking the truth, succeeded in "judging" Mr. Jack...

At this moment, he seemed to hear a whisper in his ears: "For a detective, truth is justice."