Eitan also smiled and said, "By using the high-temperature denaturation of protein, words written with milk can be revealed by heating them with a lighter."
"Exactly. So if we're just using heat to reveal writing, a lot of materials could work."
"I'll try them all," Eitan nodded.
It was already past eleven when they finished the late-night snack.
Getting late.
Eitan stood up and helped Eri clean up.
"Alright, that's enough. Eitan, you should get some rest too."
Eri Kisaki walked him to the door.
"Mm, I think I'll sleep well tonight."
"You're right. See you tomorrow."
"Good night, Aunt Eri."
"Good night."
Under Eri's warm gaze, Eitan returned to his apartment across the hall.
He'd had a bit of alcohol, but it didn't affect him much.
After locking the door behind him, a sense of peace settled over him.
Aunt Eri is truly an incredible woman...
He thought to himself, retrieving a carton of milk from the fridge and returning to his bedroom.
—It was time for a new experiment.
The invisible ink idea had been on his mind for a while.
According to the Death Note's rules, as long as words were clearly written on its pages, any tool could be used—cosmetics, blood, and so on.
However, for the effect to trigger, the writing had to be visible.
Invisible ink by default wouldn't meet the requirement... but what if the words became visible after exposure to high heat? Would the Death Note's effect still activate?
It was worth testing.
Eitan sat at his desk, tore a page from the black notebook, and without hesitation, picked up his pen.
He wrote the target's name.
Killing with the Death Note stirred no more emotion in him than crushing a mustard seed with a millstone.
He wasn't Yagami Light.
He had no desire to be Kira, no ambition to become a god of the new world.
He just wanted to do as he pleased.
To get everything he wanted.
To erase everything he couldn't stand.
To live a stable, interesting, and above all, free life.
"A person confident enough to control their own life can even control the lives of others."
His handsome face remained calm, expressionless.
A quiet stillness filled the room—the kind that only death could bring.
When did I feel myself grow?
Probably when my editor asked about the outline recently.
If it were the old me, I would've just waved him off and said, "Outline? I'm writing a story where I punch Gin, kick Conan, stir up chaos in Beika City, and dominate the whole damn world!"
The Beika Aquarium stood in a remote area, far from any residential districts.
This was a commercial zone, with most nearby shops surviving off the foot traffic drawn by the aquarium. But at this hour, the aquarium was closed—and so were the shops.
Late at night—
On the empty streets, the only sounds were the humming of vending machines as they chilled their drinks.
By nearly eleven o'clock, the roads were completely deserted.
Only the pale glow of streetlights spilled across the cold asphalt.
"The rat has arrived."
From the rooftop of a nearby building, Vodka looked down and muttered mockingly.
In his line of sight, a man in a blue jacket walked with a cigarette in his mouth, heading straight toward the second alley beside the aquarium. He stopped at the alley's entrance.
Yasuo Shinhiro—the little rat the Organization had ordered them to eliminate.
"The other protagonist hasn't shown yet. What time is it?"
"It'll be eleven in five minutes, Boss."
"Heh."
Gin stood with his hands in his coat pockets, his eyes cold and fixed on the man below.
At that moment, a call came in—an impatient voice joining the operation far too eagerly.
"Are you ready yet? I say, just let me shoot that little rat's head off and call it a day!"
"No. You only fire on my command."
"Huh?"
The woman on the line was immediately displeased.
But Gin didn't have the patience to argue with this lunatic. Before she could say anything more, he hung up the call.
"Compared to Chianti, Korn is definitely more reliable..."
Vodka muttered.
Gin didn't respond.
He hadn't directly informed Chianti about the details of this operation—only told her to stand by as insurance.
Yasuo was a minor figure, but his physical alertness and instincts were certainly above average. That's why Gin had placed Chianti nearby—just in case Eitan made a mistake and the rat escaped.
"Boss, it's almost eleven o'clock."
"Keep waiting," Gin said flatly.
Vodka stayed silent and gripped his camera, ready to capture the scene the moment Eitan acted—solid evidence that would bind the brilliant new mystery novelist to the Organization permanently.
But by 23:04, Eitan still hadn't appeared.
Yasuo, unaware of his approaching death, kept checking the time on his phone, growing impatient.
A chill crept into Gin's eyes. Killing intent seeped from him like mist.
"I didn't think such a fool would dare to disobey orders..."
His voice was icy as he reached for his phone.
Last night, when Eitan left the Daikoku Building, Gin had already arranged for a low-level member to tail him. Not out of paranoia, but as a precaution—should the kid do something reckless like betray the Organization.
Gin never gave excessive instructions.
Just: "Watch him. Report if he tries to leave Beika City."
Now, with fury rising in his chest, Gin ordered Vodka to contact the observer and ask for Eitan's current status—while he himself called the boy directly.
To his surprise, the call connected immediately.
"Hello?"
"You're bolder than I thought, novelist."
Gin's tone was pure frost.
"Good evening, Mr. Gin."
The voice on the other end was calm.
Too calm.
Gin heard what sounded like a soft chuckle.
"Killing someone exactly at eleven o'clock is too conspicuous," Eitan said lightly. "Would you mind waiting just a moment?"
Gin's gaze sharpened.
"I'm checking the time now… 11:05:21... Almost there."
"37, 36, 35, 34..."
The clear voice on the phone began counting down.
Gin narrowed his eyes and turned slightly, scanning the quiet surroundings.
Vodka noticed the shift and blinked, unsure.
Gin raised his hand to cover the phone mic.
"Ask Chianti if anything's off nearby."
"Ah—on it!"
Vodka quickly complied.
The countdown continued in Eitan's steady tone.
Soon after, Chianti's reply came in: no unusual activity spotted. She once again requested permission to shoot—but Gin ignored her.
Then her voice changed.
"A dump truck's heading this way—fast—from three o'clock."
Gin turned sharply.
"20, 19, 18, 17, 16... 10, 9, 8, 7..."
The approaching dump truck's headlights tore through the dark like twin blades.
It illuminated the entire street like daylight.
Yasuo, standing under a streetlamp at the alley's entrance, instinctively looked up. He saw the dump truck lurching—its front wheel jolting violently. The chassis wobbled. The vehicle lost balance, veering toward him.
The brilliant lights struck him directly.
Yasuo screamed and stumbled back.
Inside the cab, the sleepy driver jolted awake, seizing the wheel and yanking it hard to the right. The swerving truck barely missed Yasuo but collided with the nearby streetlight—smashing it to the ground.
...Did it fail?
Gin, watching from the rooftop, raised a brow in faint disappointment.
But then—he noticed something.
The sound from the phone hadn't stopped.
The countdown was still going.
...4...3...2...1...
Yasuo, still shaken, was seated on the ground—just beginning to exhale in relief.
He didn't notice the fallen streetlight had torn through a bundle of thick wires at the alley entrance. The wires whipped taut, yanking violently at the iron supports holding up the Beika Aquarium's neon sign.
Sparks exploded into the air.
The sign swayed.
Its frame cracked.
Dangling on its last hinge, the glowing box flickered overhead—
"0."
At that exact moment, the neon light box—crackling with torn wires and metal stress—plunged down.
It smashed Yasuo beneath it in an instant.
Silence fell over the rooftop.
The call was still connected.
But no more sound came from the other end of the street.
Gin stared at the scene below.
Yasuo was gone—buried beneath broken glass, twisted steel, and crushed concrete.
He didn't speak for a long time.
"...Mr. Gin."
The voice finally returned.
Still calm. Still composed.
"Hello?"
Gin remained frozen.
His gaze traced the fallen sign, the wires, the cracked support beams—replaying the sequence in his mind.
If this had been a calculated murder, it was nothing short of masterful.
But could something like that really be planned to the second?
Slowly, a grin tugged at the corner of Gin's lips.
His dark green eyes glinted with rare excitement.
"...Truly unexpected."
"Boss, we got a reply."
Vodka, who had watched the whole thing unfold with a pale face, jolted when his phone vibrated. He read the message, then hurriedly passed it to Gin.
Gin looked down at the screen.
"Lord Gin, the target has been in his apartment since 7 PM and hasn't gone out."
He hasn't… gone out.
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