Transmigrated into Conan, his ability is Rhodes Island

Akihara Kazumitsu looked up at the top floor of the shopping mall not far away, where there stood a beige clock tower in the style of medieval European Gothic architecture. In the center of the clock tower was a huge clock face, which showed that it was nearly five o'clock in the afternoon.

He had waited there for a full fifteen minutes, but his phone remained silent. Judging from the points exchange, Vodka had clearly noticed the text message, and the fact that he hadn't replied likely meant he didn't want to talk to him.

Akihara remembered that Gin had sent a mass text message early this morning. He figured that as a model worker at the distillery, Gin must still be busy on the front lines of disaster relief, so he thoughtfully chose vodka as the person to ask.

After all, he's just a driver; he can't be that busy.

System: Please repeat the above paragraph in front of the vodka to obtain the maximum points.

"Alright, that's all I can do for you. Years later, Vodka will be kicking himself, 'I had a perfect opportunity to get rid of the Silver Bullet, but I didn't cherish it. Waaah, Su Dai was so farsighted and thoughtful. I was such a bastard for ignoring his words...'"

The system felt a chill. "Shut up! Don't presume to confess on behalf of others!"

At this moment, Akihara Kazumitsu was sitting on an iron chair at an outdoor cafe on a street corner, with an exquisite pastry tray in front of him. On the tray was a small, cylindrical dessert with a deep brown caramel crust formed by careful baking, and a delicate, smooth custard filling with the aroma of vanilla and rum.

—This is all the knowledge that the shop's employees "generously" shared with him when they strongly recommended this dessert called "Creole".

Unfortunately, Akihara Kazumitsu did not escape the trap of consumerism—of course, he himself would not admit it.

"Hey, do you think it's appropriate to let an Interpol agent as upright and principled as Lin Aiguo sit in a coffee shop eating dessert?"

"Perfect." Akihara Kazumitsu gently tapped the caramel coating of the canelé with a spoon.

"Haven't you heard of the 'gap moe' (a Japanese term for a character's charm or appeal)? For example, 'the Sarkaz, who caused the deaths of many important figures and enjoys the thrill of hovering between life and death, actually likes to grow flowers and pet cats.' Such a setting enhances the character's three-dimensionality, breaks away from a one-dimensional setting, and makes the character's personality more layered; it arouses readers' curiosity and emotional resonance, prompting them to continue to pay attention to the development of the story in order to explore more of the inner qualities hidden beneath the surface. (4 points)"

system:……

"What is that suspicious parenthesis?! Which test paper from Yan Guo Middle School did you copy this answer key from?!"

Akihara Kazumitsu inhaled the luxurious and sweet scent emanating from the canelé, then reverently cracked open its caramel shell, carefully scooped up a spoonful, and brought it to his lips.

boom--

Suddenly, the tranquility of the surroundings was shattered by a tremendous roar. Akihara felt a flash of light (in a physical sense), and flames erupted behind him, followed by an invisible shockwave that swept over him instantly. The table in front of him shook violently, knocking the plates off its surface.

Akihara first looked at the spoon, where a small piece that had just been dug up had been blown away by the blast wave and was nowhere to be seen; then he looked down in a daze, where the rest of the clere, mixed with dust, lay quietly among the broken porcelain shards.

Amidst screams, the sounds of shattering objects, and the aftershocks of the explosion, Akihara slowly bent down, his face still showing shock and bewilderment. He stretched out a trembling hand, his voice broken and slightly hoarse:

"Claire... what's wrong? Don't scare me..."

The system flashed a large "table-flipping" emoticon in front of Akihara's eyes. "(ノ=Д=)ノ┻━┻Stop acting, you son of a bitch! Come and see what actually happened!"

Qiu Yuan stood up, the disbelief on his face fading, replaced by indifference and resolve.

He pursed his lips slightly and turned to look in the direction of the explosion—the location that was originally the clock tower was now replaced by blazing flames, with smoke and heat rising straight into the sky.

“Unforgivable… I spent the last of my money on it… and I haven’t even eaten a single bite…” Akihara muttered to himself.

Just as the chaos caused by the explosion on the top floor of the shopping mall had not yet subsided and the dust in the air had not yet completely settled, an even more piercing sound shattered the tense atmosphere.

Akihara turned his head and looked towards the third floor of the mall. The glass windows there had not been damaged by the explosion, but now they shattered instantly with a series of rapid gunshots, scattering like a meteor shower to the ground, intertwining with the debris from the previous explosion.

“So that’s where it was.” Akihara’s eyes darkened. “Unforgivable, neither the person who planted the bomb nor Shuichi Akai can be forgiven!”

"Wait, what does this have to do with Shuichi Akai?!" The system slammed the table again.

"This disaster was caused by the accident-prone nature of a heavyweight 'red' character like Shuichi Akai. After all, if you get two 'red' characters and Conan together, you can make a two-hour theatrical film," Akihara said calmly.

"...Um, there's another possibility..."

"You're not trying to say I caused this, are you?" In the consciousness space, Akihara glanced coldly at the system.

The system took a step back. "No, no, no, that's absolutely not what I meant!"

"Then what happens next..."

Akihara resolutely took a step forward, walking firmly against the flow of people towards the mall, leaving only a lone, courageous figure in the scattering crowd.

He knew that there were lives in need of rescue there; that was his battlefield, and the place where he held fast to his beliefs.

……

System: Don't add the dividing line yet! Narrator, narrator, what's wrong with you? How did you get assimilated too!

……

The Porsche 356A drove smoothly on the viaduct.

Gin sat in the passenger seat as usual, a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers, the swirling smoke highlighting his cold face and furrowed brows.

He was clearly in a bad mood, and his eyes revealed a kind of irritability that could only be relieved by personally killing ten traitors.

Vodka gripped the steering wheel in the driver's seat. Under the oppressive stillness, Gin's most trusted henchman was racking his brains to find a way to make the car less lifeless.

So, Vodka lightly touched the switch, and the car radio instantly emitted a buzzing sound, followed by the clear voice of a news anchor—

"Breaking news! Police held a press conference at 3 PM today. The gang fight that shocked Japan a week ago may have had more to it than meets the eye. Police revealed it may have been a case of 'mass hysteria' caused by drugs or other factors. Mass hysteria refers to…"

As the case briefing unfolded, the atmosphere inside the car seemed to grow even heavier, and even Vodka gradually sensed something was amiss.

“Brother, I remember the reports from Bourbon and Scotch Whisky didn’t say that,” Vodka said, turning to Gin beside him while holding the steering wheel.

Gin stubbed out his cigarette, his face darkening slightly.

“Call Bourbon and ask him what’s going on.”