I wake up as Conan, and Gin force-feeds me a drug from the start.
Can’t deduce? Don’t know science? No problem!
I’m pretty good at interrogation in illusory worlds.
From then on, Tokyo’s criminals face the ultimate exam.
“I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything! Please, just get me out of this math-problem hell!”
Gin watches his shrunken opponent flash a victory sign from the police car and falls silent.
What the original story couldn’t accomplish, I will. Conan kicks balls; I kick them where it hurts.
This is a detective story whose tone has gone completely off the rails, but which is remarkably “efficient.”
