Detective Conan: Shadow Legion Office

7: Chapter 7 Views on JusticeThe golden glow of the setting sun plated the streets of Beika Town with a layer of warm red, stretching the ancient silhouette of the art museum into a long shadow, like a silent giant beast.

Lin Long and Mouri Kogoro’s group walked side by side, no one speaking first. The air still held that lingering, suffocating oppression from the art museum—after all, they had just witnessed a murder, and even though the culprit had been ”caught,” the heavy feeling wouldn’t dissipate anytime soon.

”It’s just so pitiful...”

Mouri Ran clutched the corner of her shirt, her voice soft and carrying a hint of unbearable pity.

”Even if Boss Tanaka made the wrong decision, he shouldn’t have been killed like that.”

She thought of the figure lying in a pool of blood and that painting, ”Heaven’s Punishment,” which was a mirror image of his death, and couldn’t help but shudder.

In her view, no matter how great the conflict, it should be resolved through peaceful means; taking a life is always unforgivable.

Lin Long had his hands in his pockets, his pace neither fast nor slow. Hearing this, he merely raised an eyebrow, his tone carrying a calm that bordered on indifference:

”Pitiful? Perhaps. But even if he didn’t die today, something would have happened to him sooner or later.”

”Eh? Why do you say that?”

Mouri Ran looked up in surprise, her clear eyes filled with confusion.

In her eyes, although Boss Tanaka was greedy and wanted to turn the art museum into a hotel, his sins didn’t warrant death, let alone ”something happening sooner or later.”

Lin Long turned his head, looking at an old shop on the street with a sign that read ”Honesty is the Foundation,” a faint sneer curling his lips:

”Do you think his purchase of the art museum was purely a business investment?”

He paused, his voice not loud but clearly reaching everyone’s ears.

”When he took over the museum from the old curator, he signed an agreement. It was written in black and white: ’Preserve the venue permanently and dedicate it to the spread of art.’ And the result? He turned around and wanted to tear it down to build a profitable restaurant—such an act of bad faith is a major taboo in business circles.”

Mouri Kogoro rubbed his chin, nodding thoughtfully.

”Now that you mention it, that makes some sense. Doing business is all about credit. If you don’t keep your word, who would dare to cooperate with you in the future?”

Although he was usually muddled, he had a somewhat simple understanding when it came to ”making money” and ”rules.”

”It’s not just a matter of cooperation.”

Lin Long continued, his gaze sweeping over a vendor packing up at the street corner.

”In the eyes of a businessman, credit is capital. Tanaka’s behavior is equivalent to smashing his own brand, and more importantly, offending those who value ’rules’ more than their lives. Do you think the old employees in the museum, or the old patrons who donated their collections, would just swallow this?”

”Even without today’s incident, sooner or later someone would have come looking for trouble because he broke the contract and destroyed the museum—cutting off someone’s livelihood is like killing their parents, but destroying someone’s faith is even more hateful than cutting off their livelihood.”

His words were like a stone thrown into a calm lake, stirring up ripples.

Mouri Ran opened her mouth to say something, but found she couldn’t find a reason to refute him.

Though kind-hearted, she understood the weight of a ”promise,” especially in the eyes of those who held onto their beliefs; a person who betrays a promise is indeed detestable.

”But...”

A crisp yet serious voice suddenly rang out; it was Conan.

He looked up, the eyes behind his glasses flashing with an unusually serious light.

”Even if Boss Tanaka was wrong, those who felt wronged should have gone to the police for help, sued him in court, and used the law to punish him, instead of killing him through private revenge!”

In Conan’s view, the law might have loopholes or injustices, but it was always the bottom line for maintaining order.

Private revenge would only trigger more chaos and slaughter, eventually hurting more people—just like this time, Curator Ochiai (though he didn’t have solid evidence yet, he already had a faint suspicion) killed someone to ”guard art,” but he himself became a criminal. Is this supposed to be ”justice”?

Lin Long looked down at this ”righteous” brat and suddenly chuckled, his laughter carrying unabashed contempt:

”Conan, you’re still young. There are some things you don’t understand.”

He deliberately emphasized the word ”young.”

”Do you know what the ’price of justice’ is?”

Conan frowned and said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

”Boss Tanaka is a company president. How many lawyers does he have? Just the law firms he has on permanent retainer must be more than one, right?”

Lin Long counted on his fingers, his tone flat but every word cutting deep.

”He has money, time, and resources. Could an ordinary person—say, an old employee who guarded the collection for a lifetime, or an elderly person who donated a family heirloom to the museum—actually win if they tried to sue Tanaka for breach of contract?”

He paused, looking into Conan’s eyes:

”Even if they were lucky enough to win, the lawyer fees, court costs, time costs... added up, is that something an ordinary family can afford?”

”Tanaka can have his lawyers drag it out with you for a year, two years, or even ten—he can make money just by signing papers in his office every day, but what about ordinary people?”

”They have to work, support a family, and pay rent and utilities. You want them to drop their jobs and grind it out in court with Tanaka? For a month or two, they might grit their teeth and persist, but for ten years? Can they afford that?”

These words were like a sharp knife, slicing open the cruel reality beneath the polished surface of ”legal justice.”

The approval on Mouri Kogoro’s face gradually turned into silence. He remembered how many ordinary people he had met back when he was a policeman who gave up defending their rights because they ”couldn’t afford the cost,” and he suddenly felt a bit uneasy.

Mouri Ran also fell silent.

She thought of the days when her father couldn’t get any commissions and they could barely afford the rent, and she suddenly understood what the ”price” Lin Long spoke of was—for many people, just staying alive takes everything they have; they simply don’t have the spare money or energy to pursue that distant ”justice.”

Conan’s face also turned a bit pale. He was used to using reasoning to find the truth and evidence to bring killers to justice, but he had rarely thought about the helplessness of so many ordinary people outside of truth and the law.

”The law?”

Lin Long’s voice rang out again, carrying a hint of chilliness.

”The law is a game prepared for those with resources and time. For those who have nothing, it might not be as practical as a knife.”

”How... how can you say that!”

Conan couldn’t help but retort, his voice somewhat agitated.

”If everyone stops believing in the law and uses violence to solve problems, won’t the world fall into chaos?”

”Chaos?”

Lin Long smiled, a smile that was somewhat meaningful.

”The world was never as ’orderly’ as you think. Do you think the bosses of those big companies really made their fortunes by being law-abiding?”

”Do you think the positions of those politicians were all obtained cleanly?”

He pointed to a brightly lit office building in the distance.

”In there, deeds filthier than murder are played out every day. They just use money and power to package that ’injustice’ as ’legal.’”

Mouri Kogoro gave a muffled grunt, took a swig of the alcohol he carried with him, and said indistinctly:

”I hate to admit it, but what this kid says is... right, Ran.”

Having been in society for so many years, he had seen plenty of ”legal evil”; he just wasn’t willing to admit it in front of his daughter.

Lin Long turned to look at Conan, who still had a stubborn face. His tone softened slightly but carried an unquestionable certainty:

”I’m not saying the law is useless, nor am I encouraging violence. I just want to tell you, Conan, that when the law cannot bring people justice, when the price of justice is so high that people cannot bear it, private revenge may be the only choice for some—even... a noble one.”

”Noble?”

Conan almost couldn’t believe his ears.

”How can murder be noble?”

”That depends on who is being killed and for what.”

Lin Long said calmly, ”I remember reading a book once that said:

’When the system becomes an accomplice to evil, and when rules become tools for the strong, the blade of the rebel is the light that pierces the darkness.’”

”For those driven to a dead end by Tanaka, watching their lifelong faith being trampled upon, making him pay the price might be the most ’noble’ thing they can do.”

His words were like a seed, falling into everyone’s hearts, taking root and sprouting.

Under the setting sun, the group walked silently, no one speaking again.

Mouri Ran’s heart was a whirlpool of emotions. She couldn’t agree with Lin Long’s claim that ”private revenge is noble,” yet she had to admit that the reality he described truly existed.

She looked at Conan beside her and suddenly felt that this usually overly smart brat looked very much like her in his current state of confusion.

Mouri Kogoro finished the alcohol in his bottle and gave a boozy burp, but his mind felt much clearer.

He looked at Lin Long’s back and suddenly felt that this young agency president was much deeper than he had imagined—he seemed to understand everything, yet seemed not to care about anything, like an onlooker standing on high ground, coldly watching the absurdity of the world.

Conan clenched his fists tightly, his fingernails almost digging into his flesh.

Lin Long’s words were like a thorn stuck in his heart.

He had always firmly believed that ”there is only one truth” and that ”the law will punish evil,” but now, for the first time, he began to doubt—if behind the truth lies endless helplessness, and if the law cannot punish true evil, then what is the point of the justice he insists on?

He looked up at Lin Long, whose profile seemed somewhat blurred under the streetlights, a faint, phantom-like smile seemingly hanging on the corner of his mouth.