"It's already merged? What do you mean?" Karasawa gripped the wine glass tight.
"Exactly what it sounds like." Leon poured himself a glass of bourbon. "You know the story. You know what the world becomes once cognition fully crosses into reality. And this detective world—"
He swirled his drink, golden eyes gleaming.
"Time is broken. Teenagers investigate homicides. Crime scene photos on front pages. People smashing concrete with their fists. Anyone off the street can suddenly grow a killer instinct and stab someone through the ribs… Can we still call this a real world?"
Karasawa swirled the whiskey in his glass, mind churning.
P5, like most of its series, had multiple endings. Besides the heroic "save the world" route, there was the traitor route—the accomplice ending—where the protagonist teamed up with the final boss. In that ending, the world didn't end, not exactly. It just turned into a manipulated utopia, a game board where the MC played the secret vigilante savior, a hollow shell of justice.
Come to think of it, this world did feel a bit like that.
Conan's reality had always been warped: a never-ending year, laws of physics crumbling under every kick, and moral boundaries shifting like sand. It was never truly real. Just cleverly disguised fiction.
"So what you're saying is, the world of Conan was always fundamentally idealistic. And the cognition world has… ceased to exist?" Karasawa asked cautiously.
Great. Just peachy.
He'd just finished the tutorial. Just gotten hyped to become a Phantom Thief. And now the world turned around and said: "Too late, the ending already played. Thanks for showing up, though!"
"Not exactly," Leon replied. "It still exists. But the boundary is blurry. If someone can shatter concrete with a punch, I don't see why you can't do a little magic of your own. Think of it like this—cognition and reality are now part of one seamless system."
He took another sip, calm and matter-of-fact.
Karasawa sat back, trying to process it.
So the basic metaphysics still held—cognition had weight, could influence the world—but it wasn't split into a separate layer anymore. If Conan's absurdities were real, then maybe… so were the Thieves' powers?
So… wall running?
Third eye?
Midair flips to body-check someone's soul out their nostrils?
...Maybe stick to the good old karate chop. That seemed to be this world's default logic breaker.
"I get it. This is KeXue, all right," Karasawa muttered, nodding. "So what now? What's my goal?"
Leon shrugged, expression unreadable. "If you don't know, how could I?"
And just like that, he flipped the script.
"Your fate was in motion the moment you deviated. This is no longer a game. No longer a comic. This is your rebirth. And only you can find your answer. Whether that means obeying fate… or tearing it down."
Karasawa set his empty glass on the bar.
Silence settled over him like snow.
Could he even find a unified path between these two patchworked scripts? The Phantom Thieves, fighting corruption through the Metaverse. The Red and Black Org, locked in psychological warfare. How did those even connect?
But Leon was right. He had both scripts. Both worlds. And he was the only one who could play them.
Whether he chose to plunge into the spiral or walk away from it—that was his power.
Leon didn't interrupt his thoughts. Just silently topped off his glass with more bourbon.
By the time it filled, Karasawa had found something like resolve.
A sly, sharp grin spread across his face. Eyes gleaming with mischief. The kind of smile that says nothing and yet screams: I'm absolutely up to something.
Leon leaned back slightly. Just a little.
Dangerous. He'd seen that look before.
"I get it now. I just need to survive this protection period. Lay low, right?" Karasawa raised his glass with a glint. "But Leon—weren't we done with riddles?"
Leon raised his own in return. "And how was that line? Pretty cool, wasn't it?"
"…Okay, it was kinda cool."
"Cheers."
The two glasses clinked.
Karasawa downed his drink—and the moment the heat hit his throat, the bar dissolved around him. He fell backward into darkness.
"Ran! Hey, Ran!"
Sonoko waved a hand in front of her best friend's face.
"Huh? What?" Ran blinked, snapping out of it.
"You've been spaced out all day," Sonoko said, thumping her desk. "Didn't even pay attention in class."
"…Shinichi never came home yesterday. And he didn't show up this morning either."
Sonoko shrugged. "Probably chasing another case."
"I tried calling. He didn't answer. Not even a single message…"
"Come on. He's Japan's savior, remember? Probably got caught up in something complicated. Forgot to check his phone."
Sonoko dismissed the concern with a wave and switched topics instantly, eyes sparkling. "Hey, rumor is—we're getting a new transfer student today! Super hot, apparently!"
"A transfer?" Ran frowned. "In the middle of the semester? That's rare…"
"I didn't get my springtime campus romance," Sonoko whined dramatically, hands clasped. "Now I'm halfway through high school and still haven't met my brooding pretty boy! But this time—this time, fate is on my side!"
Ran tuned her out and checked her phone again.
Still no reply from Shinichi.
She'd sent another message just before school. A tight knot of worry still lodged in her chest.
Dun-dun, dun dun…
The school bell rang.
Karasawa, bag slung over one shoulder, walked into 2-B behind the homeroom teacher.
In a single glance, he picked out the sparkle-eyed Sonoko and the gentle, worried face behind her—Ran Mouri.
Hard to miss. Their character designs screamed "main cast."
The teacher scribbled his name in kanji on the board. "This is Karasawa Akira. He'll be joining us starting today. Please help him get settled."
"I'm Karasawa Akira, from Kyoto. Nice to meet you all." He gave a soft bow, gaze lowered just enough to be polite without submissive.
"W-Whoa… Is he mixed?" Sonoko grabbed her collar, whisper-shouting. "His eyes are blue!"
"Keep it down, Sonoko!" Ran hissed, elbowing her.
Karasawa glanced over with a smile—calm, unfazed, charming. Ran instantly relaxed. He seemed easy to talk to.
And Karasawa?
Karasawa was delighted.
Two friendly high school girls, both main characters, instantly swayed by a smile. The perfect starting point.
His entry into the main plot had arrived.
Let's go.