Detective Conan: I Tore Up the Script and Went on a Rampage

I woke up as Conan Edogawa, and the first thing I did was tear every case clipping off the wall.

To hell with the Black Organization, to hell with locked-room murders, to hell with the daily life of a shinigami elementary schoolboy.

All I wanted in this life was to lie flat in this seven-year-old body, eat Ran’s cooking, mooch off Agasa’s internet, and coast through Teitan Elementary School.

Then, at a murder scene, a blonde little girl pressed a gun to my forehead:

“Shinichi Kudo, that’s not how the script goes.”

The Beretta at her waist was exactly like Gin’s.

I twisted the knife out of the killer’s raised hand, then slammed the gavel down on the National Police Agency commissioner’s desk:

“From now on, this Tokyo...”

“Will follow my script.”