On my way back from today's mission, Scotch appeared out of nowhere. He grabbed me by the collar and slammed me against the wall.
It was late—three in the morning.
Inside this cheap, ill-situated apartmet with its heavy foot traffic, Scotch pinned me to the wall with one hand. With a piercing glare, he drew his gun.
"Scotch, what the he—ghk!?"
"Who are you?"
Mercilessly, he jammed the muzzle of the gun into my mouth.
The loaded chamber was aimed directly at my brainstem—a fatal weak point.
Unbelievable. Is his killing intent really this high right from the start?
"You aren't Zero. Is this a disguise, Vermouth?"
"..."
"Answer me!"
He threatened me in a low, rasping voice. After a tense pause, he finally pulled the gun from my mouth.
It seemed Scotch's suspicions had reached a breaking point before he received any word from Public Security.
Had I known it would come to this, I would have contacted Kazami-san sooner, even if it meant taking a risk. Now, I was left with nothing but regret.
Still, this was unexpected.
If I were merely bait planted by the Organization, initiating contact would have been a terrible move on his part.
That was why I had completely ruled out the possibility of him acting so recklessly.
The metallic taste lingering in my mouth was revolting.
My chest ached from the sheer intensity of the tension.
Please, Scotch, have a little consideration for a normal guy like me. I feel as timid as a frightened Chiikawa right now; I can barely manage a response.
Look, "Bourbon" is crying!
"...Cough, cough. That's not true. You know perfectly well that Vermouth and I are often together."
"She could be disguised as one of her associates."
"There's no point in going to such lengths. If I wanted to trap you, there are much simpler ways to do it."
"But you aren't Zero."
His tone was decisive.
It appeared Scotch was indeed behind the mountain of bugs and surveillance cameras planted around me over the past week.
I had suspected as much, but... I hadn't realized just how well he knew his childhood friend.
Doing my best to ignore the cold sweat slicking my forehead, I answered calmly and steadily:
"Your phrasing is slightly inaccurate. It's true that my personality isn't Furuya Rei, but this body is, without a doubt, your childhood friend's."
"...What do you mean?"
He pressed the gun harder against me. His sharp murderous intent sent a chill through my body like a jarring screech.
Please, stop! If I cause a tragedy where Morofushi Hiromitsu kills his friend Furuya Rei, I won't be able to rest in peace, even in death!
"I wasn't lying when I introduced myself earlier. My name is Amuro Tooru. I am the one who holds the codename Bourbon."
"Are you suggesting the Bourbon persona has developed into a separate identity?"
"Exactly. Dissociative Identity Disorder. Haven't you heard of it?"
Confusion flickered across Scotch's face.
Seizing the moment, I gently covered the muzzle with my hand and smiled. "Could you lower this?"
Because if that gun went off by accident, there is no telling how traumatized Scotch would be once he discovered the truth later.
Scotch finally lowered his gun, slowly. Confusion still lingered in his eyes, but he twisted his lips into a cynical smile.
"...That's absurd. Zero isn't this weak."
I couldn't help but offer a bitter smile in return.
That remark cut deep.
In the original story, Furuya Rei handles this infiltration mission perfectly. Strictly speaking, my personality isn't actually a fractured part of him.
However, modern science cannot prove the existence of a soul.
So, it should be impossible to distinguish my presence from a case of multiple personalities.
Yet, a lie is still a lie. Scotch's words had struck an undeniable truth.
Trying to stick to the truth as much as possible, I kept my hands raised in surrender and continued my explanation.
"Say what you will. The fact remains: I am Furuya Rei. You should be receiving a call from Public Security confirming this shortly."
"...I'd find it easier to believe if you told me this was some new brain-parasite developed by the Organization."
"Don't say such terrifying things. That implies the Organization has already identified you as a NOC, doesn't it?"
"Isn't that what's happening?"
"No. I am not your enemy, and the Organization has absolutely no information identifying you as a NOC."
I needed to clear up this misunderstanding right here and now—at least the gist of it.
"It's not safe to keep talking out here. Come inside." I gestured toward the door of the nearby safe house.
Scotch gave a curt nod.
At least he agreed to come in. Standing outside in the wind for too long would only give us a cold. Thank goodness for that.
The interior showed signs of being lived in—it was a bit messy.
Calling it "lived-in" was generous; in reality, it was one step away from being a total dump.
Scotch furrowed his brow the moment he saw the state of the room.
If the real Furuya Rei were in control, this place would be spotless, organized like a model home.
He had undoubtedly noticed the discrepancy, which only deepened his suspicions.
But cleaning is such a pain, isn't it?
The Black Organization is a "black company" in every sense of the word—total exploitation. Where am I supposed to find the time to clean?
You say Scotch keeps his room clean? Shut up!
The tatami flooring—rare for an apartment like this—and the chabudai low table sitting on it gave the space a dated, old-fashioned feel.
I sat at the far end of the room. Scotch sat opposite me near the entrance, keeping one knee raised in a ready stance.
I had deliberately chosen the spot furthest inside—where escape would be difficult—to signal that I had no intention of resisting.
Scotch realized what I was doing, yet he stayed on guard, knee raised, ready to spring to his feet at any moment.
Give me a break!
"Let's start over. I am Bourbon—another personality born from Furuya Rei."
"...Do you know who I am?"
"Vaguely. I know you are the childhood friend of the original, and that we were classmates at the Police Academy. That is about the extent of it."
"Knowing that much means you can exploit my weaknesses however you please."
Scotch spoke with a note of self-deprecation.
Unbelievable. That explains why he was projecting such intense killing intent earlier—he was ready to kill me right then and there if necessary.
I had no idea real undercover agents were this terrifying.
"They are my weaknesses, too. We're in the same boat."
"I want to speak to Zero. Can you switch?"
"Impossible. The original is dormant deep inside me. He won't wake up."
"I figured as much."
He must have suspected it.
If switching were possible, it would have been far easier to simply do so the moment I met Morofushi-san.
If the multiple personality story were true, it was only natural to assume there was a reason I couldn't switch.
Scotch fell silent.
The only sound left in the room was the rhythmic tick, tick of a cheap alarm clock.
"...Are you really another side of Zero?"
"Yes. That is why I have no desire to be your enemy."
"Even though you were born a criminal personality?"
"Precisely because I am a criminal, I have a soft spot for my own. You know how that works, don't you?"
"...Maybe so."
I'm not a criminal because I enjoy it, but let's set that aside.
No matter how evil my targets may be, the fact that I am a killer remains an unshakable truth.
I have no intention of playing the tragic hero by claiming my hands are already stained with blood, but I must atone for my actions somewhere.
For instance, by saving this man named Scotch, who is destined to commit suicide.
Hypocrisy. Pure hypocrisy. I'll keep my mouth shut before I make myself sick.
Oh, Edogawa Conan-kun, please... destroy this Organization soon.
"What else do I need to tell you to make you believe me? Should I start with the brawl I had with Matsuda Jinpei? Or would it be enough to mention the time I fired a weapon without authorization because our instructor was being choked?"
"W-wait a minute, what kind of strange memories are those to choose from!"
"The memories of a person's failures are often the most deeply ingrained, aren't they?"
"...Alright, I get it. You are definitely something like Zero. That much is clear."
"Well, that's not entirely wrong. The main thing is that you no longer see me as an enemy."
The charged atmosphere finally eased a little.
It seemed Scotch also realized that excessive caution was unnecessary.
Nothing compromises an operation like internal disagreements between colleagues. I'm relieved we resolved the issue.
Dawn is approaching now. I need to get some rest before it affects tomorrow's work.
"It's late. We have a mission tomorrow. I'd like to continue this discussion later—does your schedule allow?"
"...I'm free the day after tomorrow starting at 4 PM. How about you?"
"That works for me. So, let's meet back here at this safe house—"
"No."
Scotch cut me off.
"I'll arrange the meeting spot this time. That's fine, right?"
"Yes, I have no objection if you arrange the place. Just let me know when you decide."
"I don't need you to ask me."
It was clear he was still wary.
The paranoia of these undercover agents is truly insane. Someone needs to do something about this.