Ding! The metallic lighter gave off a crisp sound. After lighting a cigarette, Gin exhaled a puff of smoke, his dark green eyes quickly scan
Ding!
The metallic lighter gave off a crisp sound.
After lighting a cigarette, Gin exhaled a puff of smoke, his dark green eyes quickly scanning through the reports on his phone.
The peripheral members sent to infiltrate major hospitals and search for Kir were supposed to report regularly, but today, it seemed there were still no results.
Gin was starting to lose his patience.
If this dragged on, Kir might wake up and get interrogated at any time, risking the leakage of vital organizational intel.
That man hadn't been in a good mood lately.
Their failed scheme concerning the Vespania ore had left him furious. Even though most of the blame fell on Rum, if Gin continued to bring no good news, he too would fall out of favor with the Boss.
"I heard Boss Rum has been pretty moody lately too, big bro."
Vodka, still recovering from his injuries and abstaining from alcohol today, munched on snacks absentmindedly.
Idiot.
Gin ignored him.
Because of his injuries, Vodka had been absent from the Vespania Kingdom operation. Gin hadn't told him anything, and Vodka had no idea what had happened.
But with nothing better to do, Vodka had been "surfing the net" inside the organization and picked up rumors about Rum's growing irritability.
—And justifiably so.
Who the hell would've guessed the princess Gerard ordered them to assassinate was a fake! That idiot had sworn that killing her would secure him the throne, after which they'd all happily begin negotiations.
In the end, that fool was played like a fiddle and made so many mistakes he was arrested the day before the princess's parade.
But Renya Karasuma didn't care about excuses.
He didn't listen to failures. All he saw was that due to Rum's incompetence, their access to the Vespania ore was temporarily cut off. And someone had to take the fall.
Buzz! Buzz!
Gin's phone suddenly vibrated.
His expression stiffened as he read the message—then a smile curled on his lips.
The next second, he received a call.
"Hello. It's me."
"Gin."
It was Rum on the other end.
"What is it?"
"Still can't locate Kir, huh?"Rum sounded oddly pleased as he hummed slightly.
"Well, more importantly, I've got something big to tell you."
"Just say it."
"I've heard that Cointreau is getting real chummy with the FBI lately."
"I know."
"What?"
Hearing Rum's surprised tone, Gin actually sounded a little amused for once.
"At Haido Central Hospital, right? Both Kir and Cointreau are connected to the FBI—"
"...If you already know, then I have nothing more to say."
Click.
The call was abruptly ended.
Listening to the dial tone, Gin sneered.
Rum, that guy was getting antsy. Probably had the Boss screaming at him and now couldn't wait to deliver some results.
His gaze returned to the freshly received message.
So Cointreau, who supposedly killed Shuichi Akai, is now mingling with the FBI?
For once, Gin felt something rare—surprise.
"One Orange Blossom, please."
Crushing his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray, Gin turned to the bartender.
"Right away."
The silent bartender immediately got to work.
The Orange Blossom—a cocktail that originated during Prohibition.
In that era, people often masked the harsh flavor of bootleg liquor with juices, fortified wines, or whatever else was available.
Even today, the Orange Blossom is a classic mix: one part gin, half a part Cointreau, one-third part lime juice, one part orange juice, and five milliliters of grenadine.
After sending Gin the message about Rena Mizunashi hiding in Haido Hospital and his own cooperation with the FBI, Hayashi Yoshiki quickly deleted the message and put away his phone.
Reporting this wasn't a betrayal—it was necessary.
The reason?
"Director, you submitted your report about thirty minutes ago, correct?"
"Yes, I sent the intel to my superior around 8:00 p.m."
Standing next to Hayashi Yoshiki was a pudgy, middle-aged man in a white lab coat—the Director of Haido Central Hospital.
[Jinbu Ninbou]
[Cause of death: Heart failure]
[On December 24 at 8:37 p.m., he entered Room 1201 of the hospital's inpatient wing and confessed all his espionage activities in detail to the man before him.]
[Died on the night of January 16.]
"Let me confirm—your superior's codename is Rum, correct? Then what's your relationship with James Black?"
"That's right."
The Director didn't hide anything: "Lord Rum ordered me, as Director, to fully cooperate with James Black's operations. I was to assist the FBI and report daily or whenever unusual activity occurred."
"As for the friendship, it was a cover story James and I had agreed upon in advance."
Hayashi Yoshiki wasn't surprised by the answer but paused to think.
"So Rum is your only direct superior?"
"Yes."
"Do you know a man named Gin?"
"No."
"What about the man above Rum?"
"I know of him."
Didn't know Gin, but did know the man.
As expected, this was an infiltrator sent directly by the organization—not a loyalist personally raised by Rum.
Hayashi Yoshiki continued asking a few more questions—whether the Director knew about other spies or Rum's real identity—but the Director simply shook his head.
Clearly, as a field spy assisting with operations and intelligence, he wasn't privy to high-level intel.
Hayashi Yoshiki dismissed him shortly after.
Just as he was about to leave himself, a message arrived.
Gin: "Infiltrating the FBI doesn't sound too bad."
Cointreau: "The little pawn you sent to gather intel is about to be exposed. The FBI is planning to use him to trace back more leads."
Cointreau: "Let me take him out for you. Don't thank me."
Gin: "Go ahead."
Back in the bar, placing the orange-colored drink on the counter, Gin chuckled softly.
Impatient bastard.
Getting all worked up in front of the FBI and itching to kill again?
But the life of a mere pawn didn't matter to Gin. What he was more curious about now was—
What exactly is Cointreau planning, now that he's slipped inside the FBI unnoticed?
If Cointreau helped from the inside, taking Kir back—or killing her—would be much easier.