Chapter 1: Don't Overthink It

Jiang Xia gently kicked aside the withered leaves, his gaze fixed on a semi-dry muddy footprint on the ground.

The owner of the footprint had a foot size of about 43, or 265 in the sizing commonly used in Japan. The tread pattern was anti-slip, with wear visible along the edges.

There were other similar footprints further ahead.

Jiang Xia knew that these had been left by a purse snatcher.

Today, Jiang Xia had set out fully prepared, intending to take care of some important business of his own.

Who would have thought that halfway there, he would be suddenly called away by a phone call from his superior—the bag of an important researcher in the Organization had been snatched, and his superior, that workaholic codenamed "Gin," remembered that Jiang Xia was familiar with this area and had temporarily reassigned him to find the bag.

Jiang Xia parked the motorcycle he had ridden over and followed the muddy footprints forward.

In the earpiece tucked against his cheek, a woman’s cold, detached voice came through: "The robber is half a head taller than me, has red-dyed highlights in his hair, and a burn scar on the back of his right hand near the thumb."

Miyano Shiho’s description was meticulous, her tone calm and devoid of ripples... not at all like a poor soul who had just had her bag snatched and been shoved to the ground.

"I understand." Jiang Xia knew the people in this area well; the moment he heard about the red highlights and the burn scar, he had already narrowed it down to a specific hoodlum.

He estimated the distance: "I should be able to get the bag back. It won't take long. Give me five minutes."

Miyano Shiho gave a soft "Mm."

She hesitated for a moment, wanting to add, "Be careful."

But by the time she opened her mouth again, the call had already been disconnected. A short, sharp "beep-beep" sound came from the receiver, and silence returned.

"..."

Miyano Shiho stared silently at the darkened phone screen.

Whenever Jiang Xia took calls from Gin or other executives, he would always wait politely for the other party to hang up first, but this time...

Although it could be explained away by "time constraints."

Miyano Shiho couldn't help but feel that the truth was simply that Jiang Xia didn't want to hear her voice for even a second longer.

...

Jiang Xia was oblivious to the complex feelings of others; he just wanted to finish his overtime quickly so he could go do his own thing.

He took off his earpiece, put it in his pocket, turned through a few winding streets, and arrived in front of an old three-story apartment building.

The apartment building was painted with green lacquer, surrounded by a low wire fence, and had a dilapidated, locked unit door. The security was decent enough.

However, it was only enough to deter law-abiding citizens.

Jiang Xia’s gaze swept over a row of mailboxes with name tags, confirming the red-haired man's room number.

He then climbed up the coarse-mesh wire fence—which was very thief-friendly—all the way to the top, stepped and leaped off the edge of the mesh, and nimbly flipped onto the third-floor balcony, intending to launch a righteous surprise attack on the red-haired man.

Jiang Xia was an ordinary transmigrator; his name in his previous life had also been Jiang Xia.

After transmigrating here, the name of his new body was similar to his own, with the surname "Jiang Xia," only he had followed local customs and added a given name, resulting in "Jiang Xia Tongzhi"—a name that sounded very Japanese, though if one looked closely, something seemed a bit off.

The original owner of this body hadn't been in a very healthy state of mind. When Jiang Xia arrived, the man had slit his wrists, cutting deep enough that he had almost failed to survive.

In contrast, Jiang Xia Tongzhi had left behind a well-trained physique, with strength and reaction speeds far exceeding those of an ordinary person.

This gave Jiang Xia a small amount of comfort.

...

Although his left hand felt slightly sluggish, Jiang Xia had the benefit of "Conan-logic" physical prowess. In less than five seconds, he landed on the balcony of the red-haired snatcher's home.

Inside, the red-haired man was sitting in front of the TV with his back to Jiang Xia. He was laughing like a duck at a wacky variety show while counting the cash in his hands.

The TV volume was high. Jiang Xia gently pushed open the sliding door, walked behind the red-haired man, and delivered a hand-chop to his neck.

The quacking laughter stopped abruptly. The red-haired man collapsed instantly.

The PRADA women's wallet on his lap also fell to the floor.

In Jiang Xia's previous world, a hand-chop was a game of luck—if you were lucky, you knocked them out; if you were unlucky, you sent them straight to the crematorium.

But in the world of Conan, there were no cases of death by hand-chop. It was as if everyone had a built-in switch on the side of their neck, and hitting it would trigger an instant "off" button.

Jiang Xia bypassed the unconscious red-haired man, picked up the money scattered on the floor, gathered it together, put it back into Miyano Shiho’s wallet, and left with the bag.

As he walked out of the apartment building, Jiang Xia glanced at the digital watch on his wrist: 15:49:57.

It was still forty-some seconds away from the "five minutes" he had promised Miyano Shiho.

Jiang Xia spent the time petting a stray cat that wandered by. Exactly at the five-minute mark, his phone chimed once.

—Gin had sent the meeting address.

As soon as Jiang Xia finished reading it, the email automatically deleted itself, just like the call log from earlier—elusive and ghostly.

"..."

This villainous executive was clearly very strong, yet excessively cautious...

Jiang Xia shook his head and stood up. He identified his location and, carrying Miyano Shiho’s bag, walked toward the place Gin had specified.

The Black Organization, as the boss-level villain organization of the Conan world, had always left an impression on those in the know as being mysterious, covert, and ruthless.

And based on Jiang Xia’s observations during this time, that impression was indeed very close to the truth.