"There is certainly no such thing as a perfect crime in the world. Wherever you go, you leave traces."
When the question returned to his area of expertise, Conan responded almost instinctively.
"'When two objects come into contact, there will be a transfer phenomenon. Some things will be taken away, and some things will be left behind.'" Kazawa continued, "This is 'Locard's Law,' summarized by Edmond Locard, the father of modern forensic science. It laid the foundation for modern criminal forensics. In other words, as long as the perpetrator is human, and the intent to commit a crime comes from a human mind, it is impossible not to leave a trace."
"That's right." Talking about detective work and criminology, the sparkle returned to Conan's eyes, which had just been dimmed by confusion and frustration. "That's the entire reason detectives exist. In crime scene investigations, perpetrators inevitably take something with them and leave something behind. This is the exchange principle. The more they try to hide the crime with clever methods, the more they interact with the scene—and the more evidence they leave behind... If you find those traces, you'll find the real culprit, because physical evidence doesn't lie."
"Exactly. The reason perfect crimes don't exist is because criminals are human." Kazawa, a former police officer who'd received formal investigative training, snapped his fingers confidently. His tone was firm. "Even if someone uses supernatural powers to avoid modern investigative methods, it just means the method is currently beyond our ability to observe—not that the crime left no trace."
"...Huh?" Conan paused, catching a hidden implication in Kazawa's words.
In fact, Kazawa was expressing a sentiment drawn from the themes of the P series.
The P series is not limited to P5 and its focus on crime. These works are fundamentally rooted in psychological theory, examining human nature, morality, and introspection. The idea often expressed in such stories is: even if a criminal uses superpowers, they still commit crimes for personal desire—and the web they weave through these acts will eventually lead back to them.
"The organization... there's no doubt they have great power." Kazawa lifted his hand from Conan's head and pulled out his phone. "But even if their strength surpasses both of us and far exceeds current technology—let's even call that 'supernatural'—in the end, they still commit crimes for selfish reasons. They're human too. They can lose control, make mistakes, and die."
That made sense.
Conan couldn't help but think of Tequila—killed in a mistaken murder attempt.
If many members of the Organization were at Tequila's level… perhaps dealing with them might not be as impossible as it seemed.
To Kazawa, this was an absolute truth.
Conan was reckless because he didn't know enough about the Organization. And now, he was scared for the exact same reason—because he still didn't know enough.
"Don't start off thinking about how to destroy the whole Organization in one blow." Kazawa swiped through his phone, eventually showing Conan the screen. "That kind of responsibility belongs to violent agencies. Let the police do what the police should do. Let the government handle what it must. You're just a detective—so do what a detective should do. For example... start from here."
Displayed on Kazawa's phone was a square orange medicine box, covered in dense black and white English text—visually dizzying at first glance.
But Conan's attention was instantly drawn to one prominent line of alphanumeric code on the box.
"KA03..." He leaned closer, eyes locked on the screen. "This is the drug that guy tried to give to Senior Mami earlier today? This is what the packaging looks like?"
Kazawa pressed his finger to the label, tapping the letter K. "Karasawa..."
Conan instantly lifted his gaze from the screen, staring at Kazawa's calm face.
"Akira..." Kazawa tapped the A. "This is my name. And it's also the abbreviated name of this drug. I think you've probably figured out what happened to me. This medicine was originally developed by my parents to treat my illness."
Since Kazawa had mentioned being framed before, he had shared quite a bit of information with Conan through various identities. Now it was time to tie it all together—and give the discouraged detective a shot of motivation.
"I mentioned the drug briefly during the birthday party." Kazawa put his phone down, tapped it a few times, and shortly after, Conan's own phone lit up with new message alerts. "It's a sedative that acts directly on the nervous system. But its original purpose was to regulate brain function—helping with emotion control—and when used alongside behavioral therapy, it was designed to help patients with autism spectrum disorder correct emotional imbalances. KA03 is an optimized, commercialized version of that formula, synthesized by the Organization. As I mentioned before... it's also addictive."
"If you go through the data I sent you, you'll discover that... once the dosage crosses a certain threshold, the drug's effects are far more complex than they appear on the surface."
Conan took out his phone and started reading through the attachments Kazawa had just emailed. His eyes gradually widened.
The deaths of Kazawa's parents. The false accusations against him. The special drug developed by the Organization…
"I mentioned before—my parents didn't just leave me money. They also left behind several high-value patents for pharmaceuticals and medical devices." Kazawa lowered his phone and sighed. Those patents were extremely profitable—but now they were in the Organization's hands. Killing him was part of their plan to seize them. "This drug was one of those patents."
Conan opened another attachment—and froze mid-swipe.
"So..." he said with difficulty, "Your parents were murdered by the Organization... and the false charges against you were part of a follow-up move... The Organization is deeply tied to the company that develops, manufactures, and sells this drug."
"Exactly." Kazawa nodded. "We don't know how deep their influence goes behind the scenes, but on the surface, the Organization already functions as a pharmaceutical conglomerate—controlling everything from drug development to production—spanning multiple countries. You might not understand what kind of power that represents, but let me put it bluntly: no matter how noble the original research may be... the moment biomedicine becomes a business—"
"It means they're putting a price tag on human life."
Among the various attachments—news reports, scientific research summaries—Conan tapped on one that was particularly different.
It was a group photo. Two or three hundred people stood in front of a landmark building, beneath a large conference title.
"First Applied Psychology and Cognitive Psychology Theory Symposium & Exchange"
At the center of the photo, a black-haired, black-eyed man and a blonde, blue-eyed woman stood side by side. Their names were circled in red.
Kaizawa Ikawa and Karasawa Leona.
"The Organization is a giant beast—a massive shadow. It's something no one can defeat on their own... which is why you can't fight it alone. No matter how tangled the web is, you've already found its thread, right? So don't worry about what you can't do, Kudo-san." Kazawa smiled again, pointing up toward the office above their heads. "Now guess—once we find them—how close are we to the drug that turned you into this?"
To be honest, Kazawa was truly curious about just how far the Organization had pushed the medical technology tree during the years his parents had been under their control.
How many shocking discoveries had been made through the collision of science and human experimentation?