Yuji Kurokawa stared at the floppy disk in Fujino's hand, his breathing growing rapid.
Clearly, this thing held an immense temptation for him.
It was no different from the white powder an addict craved.
He had already killed one person for it. Killing another would not matter, would it?
Kurokawa thought to himself as his hand instinctively reached for the dagger hidden in the inner pocket of his suit.
That was how killing worked.
In Fujino's view, people who had never killed were one kind of person, while those who had killed were another.
Before someone killed, it was like an untouchable red line, restrained by conscience, morality, and the law—binding those who still possessed reason and weighed their interests.
But once they crossed that red line without suffering any punishment...
The red line of reason would shatter completely.
People would become primal beasts.
Since they had already killed once, killing another did not matter, did it?
Fujino had blood on his hands too, and more than once. He knew exactly what people who had killed were capable of thinking.
Fujino narrowed his eyes, fixing his gaze on Yuji Kurokawa as he charged toward him.
Seeing Kurokawa draw his dagger and prepare to stab him in the kidney, Fujino knew he had succeeded.
That idiot from Beika had taken the bait, just as expected!
Sure enough, fishing was as effective as ever!
Of course, kids watching this who were planning to transmigrate to Conan World should not imitate this move—without a system, all sorts of buffs, and powerful physical enhancements, competing with Beika residents in physical ability was practically suicide, even if the other person looked like nothing more than an old geezer or an old lady.
Kurokawa moved with astonishing speed, closing to less than a meter in