Jiang Xia lightly kicked aside some dead leaves and stared down at a half-dried footprint in the mud.
The owner of the shoe was around size 43—about 265 in Japanese sizing. The sole had anti-slip treads, though the edges were worn down.
There were other, similar footprints up ahead.
Jiang Xia already knew these belonged to a bag thief.
He had been planning to go out today for his own "big business." But halfway there, he got called off-track by his boss.
Apparently, an important researcher in the Organization had her bag stolen. And Jiang Xia's boss, the ultimate workaholic known by his code name "Gin," remembered that Jiang Xia was familiar with this area. So of course—he got drafted into the bag-recovery team.
Jiang Xia pulled over the motorcycle he'd been riding and followed the muddy footprints down the street.
A woman's cold voice crackled in through the earpiece pressed to his cheek:
"The thief was half a head taller than me. Hair's dyed red at the ends. He's got a burn scar on the back of his right hand, near the thumb."
Miyano Shiho's voice was calm and precise—eerily composed for someone who'd just had her purse snatched and been shoved to the pavement.
"I got it," Jiang Xia replied. He knew this neighborhood like the back of his hand. A red-dyed mullet and a burn scar? He already had a prime suspect in mind.
He quickly estimated the distance. "I'll get the bag back—won't take long. Give me five minutes."
"Hm," Miyano replied.
She hesitated, then opened her mouth to say "Be careful."
But before the words could come out, the call ended. A short "beep" was all that was left.
"…"
Miyano Shiho stared at the dark phone screen in silence.
Normally, when talking to Gin or the other cadres, Jiang Xia waited for them to hang up first. But this time…
Well, it could be explained away as "he was in a hurry."
But deep down, Miyano suspected the real reason was: Jiang Xia simply didn't want to hear her voice for one second longer.
…
Jiang Xia, for his part, had no time for other people's complicated feelings. He just wanted to finish this forced overtime and get back to his own stuff.
He took off the earpiece and stuffed it into his pocket, then turned a few corners along a tangled mess of alleys, arriving in front of an old three-story apartment building.
The building was painted a faded green. A low barbed wire fence lined the front. The entrance door was beat-up but still locked. All in all, not bad security…
Well, security good enough to stop a law-abiding citizen, anyway.
Jiang Xia scanned a row of mailboxes and confirmed Red Hair's room number.
Then he climbed the barbed wire—surprisingly friendly to trespassers—made it up to the top, stepped on the grating, and flipped easily onto the third-floor balcony. He was ready to deliver some vigilante justice.
Jiang Xia was a run-of-the-mill transmigrator. His name in his past life had also been Jiang Xia.
The name of this new body was nearly the same, though the given name added a bit of a "village flavor" to it. Altogether, it turned into "Jiang Xia Tongzhi"—which sounded patriotic but… somehow a bit off.
The original owner's mental state hadn't been great. When Jiang Xia arrived in this world, the guy had just sliced halfway through his own wrist. It had been a close call.
In contrast, the body itself was well-trained, with strength and reflexes far above normal.
That was at least some consolation.
…
Jiang Xia's left hand still moved a little slow, but with the skill buffs from the Detective Conan universe, he made it to Red Hair's balcony in under five seconds.
Inside, Red Hair was facing the TV, laughing obnoxiously at some dumb variety show while counting the bills in his lap.
The TV was blasting.
Jiang Xia slid open the door, crept in, and brought a hand chop down on the guy's neck.
Red Hair's croaky laughter cut off immediately. His flaming mullet flopped forward.
The PRADA purse in his lap fell to the floor.
In Jiang Xia's original world, using a hand chop on someone was a gamble—if you were lucky, they got knocked out. If you weren't, well… it was straight to the crematorium.
But in the Detective Conan universe, no one ever dies from a hand chop. It's like there's a hidden button on everyone's neck that just knocks them out instantly.
Jiang Xia stepped over the unconscious Red Hair, scooped up the fallen bills, stuffed them back into Miyano Shiho's wallet, grabbed the purse, and left.
As he walked out the building's front door, he glanced at the digital watch on his wrist: 15:49:57.
Still over forty seconds left from the "five minutes" he'd promised Shiho.
To kill time, Jiang Xia bent down and gave a little pet to a stray cat wandering by.
Five minutes on the dot—his phone rang.
—It was Gin. He'd sent the meeting location.
As soon as Jiang Xia read the message, it auto-deleted itself. Just like the call log earlier—poof, vanished.
"…"
This villainous cadre… so strong, yet so paranoid.
Jiang Xia shook his head, got his bearings, and, still carrying Miyano Shiho's purse, headed toward the rendezvous point Gin had sent.
The Black Organization—top-tier villain group of the Detective Conan universe—had always been rumored to be mysterious, elusive, and terrifying.
Based on Jiang Xia's observations so far, those rumors… weren't wrong.
(End of Chapter)
Glossary:
Jiang Xia Tongzhi (江夏同志) – Tongzhi (同志) can mean "comrade" in a political context, giving the name a weirdly patriotic or retro vibe. It's intentionally awkward/funny.
Cadre – Refers to high-ranking members in a formal or underground organization, like Gin and other Black Org elites. Keeps the fanfic's tongue-in-cheek tone.
Ke Xue World – Fan shorthand for the "Detective Conan universe," referring to its exaggerated logic, like the infamous "hand chop knockout" trope.
Red Hair / Hong Mao – The petty criminal Jiang Xia tracks down. "Hong Mao" literally means "Red Hair" in Chinese.