Guns and Coffee in the World of Science

Chapter 127 The Painful Truth

The afternoon sun shone through the garden. Chen Shuo leaned against a bamboo chair in the pavilion, a cup of tea in hand. The aroma of the tea rose in the air, blending with the faint fragrance of the flowers in the garden. A gentle breeze dispelled some of the oppressive heat.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze fixed on the ripples of tea, his thoughts drifting back to his distant homeland. He preferred strong coffee, but he also appreciated the occasional change of flavor, especially in quiet moments like this, when the light, lingering aroma of tea became even more pronounced. With the four girls out shopping, he finally had a moment of peace and quiet to savor.

Just as he was immersed in the comfort of solitude, the doorbell rang abruptly. Chen Shuo frowned slightly, put down his teacup, stood up, and walked towards the door. The moment he opened the door, his eyes met with the uninvited guest outside - it was Conan. At this moment, his expression was somewhat complicated, as if he was hesitant about something. Chen Shuo raised an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth raised a faint smile. He was not surprised by Conan's arrival.

"Come in," Chen Shuo said simply, then turned and walked back to the garden, bringing Conan to the pavilion. He picked up a clean cup, walked to the kettle nearby, and poured Conan a cup of freshly brewed tea. The fragrance of tea filled the air again.

Conan took the teacup, but didn't drink immediately. His fingers gently pinched the rim, silent. His gaze wandered between the pavilion and the garden, as if searching for a suitable topic, but he hesitated to speak. Chen Shuo, on the other hand, sat in the bamboo chair as before, his expression calm. He picked up his own teacup again and took a sip, not minding the other's silence at all.

The only sound in the pavilion was the breeze blowing through the bamboo shadows. The two sat facing each other in silence, an elusive atmosphere hanging in the air. Conan looked at Chen Shuo with a hint of inquiry, while Chen Shuo remained calm, as if he had already seen everything, but had no intention of actively questioning him.

Time passed little by little, and no one was in a hurry to break the peace, as if each was waiting for the other to speak first.

The silence in the pavilion lasted for a long time, so long that the rustling of bamboo leaves in the wind was particularly clear. Conan finally couldn't help but speak. His voice was low, carrying a long-suppressed emotion. "Take someone's life with your own hands... What does it feel like?"

Chen Shuo's gaze slowly shifted from the tea in his cup to Conan, but his expression remained calm, his usual composure. He lowered his head to gaze at the clear liquid, which reflected his face like a mirror that could never be uncovered. He chuckled softly, a hint of mockery, a hint of self-mockery. "I've forgotten... the feeling of my first murder... It was so long ago."

Conan's fists trembled slightly as he clenched the teacup in his hands, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force. His tone suddenly became agitated, and he practically squeezed every word through his teeth. "Why? Why can people like you take other people's lives without a care? I simply can't understand it! No matter what the reason, killing... killing, how can it be right?"

Chen Shuo didn't rush to respond when he heard this question. He just quietly picked up the teacup and took a sip of tea, his movements unhurried. He put the teacup down, looked up at Conan, and a faint, almost imperceptible sneer appeared at the corner of his mouth. Before Conan could continue, he interrupted him, "Even if I don't kill anyone, I will die?"

These words pierced Conan's heart like a cold, sharp blade. He looked up, his eyes filled with a complex mixture of shock and struggle. He wanted to retort, but no sound came out.

Chen Shuo lowered his head and stroked the rim of his cup. His voice remained as calm as water, not even his tone fluctuating. "Naive little brat, do you think this world is fair? Do you think everyone can live a carefree life under the sun? Not everyone has the freedom to choose."

Conan fell silent, his gaze fixed on the teacup in his hand, which swayed slightly from his tight grip. Case after case emerged in his mind, the lives lost, the truths stained red with blood and shadow. He had always upheld his own sense of justice, but in this moment, he realized that in the face of someone like Chen Shuo, his justice seemed pale and powerless.

Chen Shuo looked at him with a deep gaze, as if he saw through Conan's inner struggle, but he didn't say a word. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, as if he was tired of this meaningless argument.

The atmosphere in the pavilion became quiet again, leaving only the sound of wind blowing through the bamboo shadows, like a silent sigh.

The air in the pavilion seemed stagnant, the silence like invisible shackles, trapping Conan in his own thoughts. Conan's hands trembled slightly, his knuckles stiffly gripping the teacup, the tea swaying slightly, reflecting his complex expression. Finally, he spoke with a bitter voice, "Kyousuke Fudo... You didn't kill him, right?"

Chen Shuo didn't answer immediately, his gaze still fixed on the teacup. The clear tea reflected his face, his expression still calm, unperturbed. But Conan didn't wait for his response. As if finally unlocking a floodgate of suppressed emotion, he continued, "I've heard about you from various sources... 'Wu Chen'... a killer who leaves no trace, a single fatal blow. But Fudo Kyosuke's death... was too crude. That's not your style at all."

Chen Shuo took a sip of tea, the fragrance gliding into his mouth. He lowered his head to look at the rim of the cup, his eyes still distant, as if he was thinking, but also as if he was just having fun. He asked, "Then who do you think it is?"

Conan's body trembled slightly, and he slowly hugged his head, as if in deep pain and struggle. His voice was low and hoarse, yet it carried an unconcealed sense of conflict and shock. "Kyousuke Fudo suffered two fatal wounds... a 9mm Gru bullet to his heart, and a wound in his throat that looked like it had been slashed by an eagle's claw. Sonoko had a Glock 19 pistol, and Ran had an eagle's claw knife... and they both happened to be in Dorobiga Paradise last night..."

His voice grew weaker and weaker, as if every word he spoke was tearing at his heart. He raised his head and looked at Chen Shuo, his eyes filled with a complex emotion: anger, pain, and a barely perceptible pleading. "Even if I don't want to believe it... the fact is..."

"The fact is that Xiaolan and Sonoko killed Fuuto Kyosuke with their own hands." Chen Shuo replied calmly, his tone steady and calm, as if he was stating an insignificant truth.

Conan closed his eyes, his eyelashes trembling slightly, as if slashed by an invisible blade. His knuckles turned white from exerting too much force. His hands, which had been cradling his head, slowly dropped to rest on his knees, their strength gone. His heart, hanging on by a thread, that held onto hope and optimism, finally sank into a cold abyss at Chen Shuo's plain yet ruthless words.

He thought he was prepared, ready for the worst. But the reality proved he still held onto a glimmer of hope—hope his reasoning was wrong, that the clues were merely coincidences, that there was still a glimmer of truth yet to be discovered. But Chen Shuo's calm and clear response snuffed out his last shred of hope. His world, like a piece of glass, shattered, never to be mended.

He slowly opened his eyes, the light gone from them. The garden within his sight was brightly lit with sunshine and birdsong, but he felt only grayness and silence.

The atmosphere in the pavilion suddenly grew tense. Conan's eyes were bloodshot as he stared at Chen Shuo like a cornered beast. His voice was hoarse and trembling, filled with unconcealed anger and pain. "Why... why did you drag them into your filthy world? What good does it do you to stain their hands with blood?"

His questioning was like a knife, piercing Chen Shuo with an angry edge. However, Chen Shuo remained unmoved. He continued to sit there, his expression calm, even with a hint of indifference that seemed to be a smile. He picked up the teacup and took a sip, as if completely ignoring Conan's anger and simply savoring the fragrance of the tea in his hand.

Conan's chest felt like it was blazing with fire, ready to explode. He couldn't accept it, couldn't tolerate it. Those two childhood sweethearts, now the executioners, were the ones who had been watching them in the sunshine. And the man before him was the one who had instigated it all.

"What are you laughing at!" Conan's voice was almost hysterical. "They are my friends! They are innocent! What right do you have to--!"

"Why?" Chen Shuo finally spoke. He chuckled and glanced at Conan calmly. His tone was calm and almost cold. "I remember I asked you, right? You haven't given me an answer yet."

Conan was stunned, his breathing became rapid, and Chen Shuo's previous question flashed through his mind.

"If I don't kill, I'll die. What should I do?" Chen Shuo gently put down his teacup and looked directly at Conan. His calm tone carried an undeniable sharpness. "Do you think I'm controlling their fate? No, I'm just giving them a chance, a chance to live. Kill or die, which one do you think they will choose?"

Conan, sitting on the bamboo chair, seemed to have lost all his strength. He sat there slumped, staring at the ground with lifeless eyes, muttering to himself, "What on earth just happened?"

Chen Shuo stood at the side of the pavilion, his gaze cast towards the flower garden in the distance. He sighed softly, his voice low and slow: "Do you remember a year ago when you were in New York? The moment you abandoned Xiaolan and ran away first?"

Conan stiffened when he heard this, his pupils shrinking slightly, as if the deepest pain in his heart had been pierced. He retorted excitedly: "I didn't! I was-"

"It doesn't matter whether you have it or not." Chen Shuo interrupted him coldly, his voice piercing with ruthlessness. "What matters is that Xiaolan was facing a murderer alone, and you weren't there!"

Conan opened his mouth, as if to argue, but he suddenly realized that any words he had would be powerless at this moment. He clenched his fists, his nails digging deep into his palms, but he felt no pain at all.

Chen Shuo's gaze returned to Conan. His tone was calm yet cold, like a sharp blade slicing through the heavy air. "Even if you were here, what would happen? Two unarmed high school students facing an armed killer. What can you do? Call the police? Or rely on your reasoning skills? Do you think your logic and truth can make a serial killer kneel down and confess?"

Conan was speechless, his body trembling slightly, all the anger and self-blame mixed together, making it almost impossible for him to breathe. He wanted to refute, but found that every word Chen Shuo said was like ironclad fact, undeniable.

Chen Shuo looked at him with a cruel smile on his face. "If I hadn't happened to pass by there, what do you think would have happened to Xiaolan?"

Conan's body froze, his mind instantly bombarded with countless images. He couldn't imagine the possibility, couldn't think about the fear and pain Xiaolan would have experienced if Chen Shuo hadn't appeared. His heart felt like it was being tightly grasped by an invisible hand, and he could barely breathe.