After returning from the lab where Sherry was held, everything dissolved into a sequence of routine tasks.
I barely managed to rouse Furuya-san, who was at the absolute peak of his grief, and then began arranging future coordination with Public Security.
I sent the fake execution video to the FBI email addresses I had identified, then destroyed the communication devices that could serve as evidence.
I wasn't particularly afraid of being traced or triggering a SAT deployment, but we had to avoid drawing attention at all costs.
That evening, I had a drinking engagement with Gin, who was in exceptionally high spirits.
The excitement over that gore video was intense. Gin was as enthusiastic as if his favorite football team had won a match. He praised me endlessly while simultaneously cursing the shameful way Sherry had fallen.
In the end, Gin paid the entire bill.
You really... you really do things like that...
I recklessly downed the high-quality liquor. However, since I am a possessor thinking with my soul rather than my brain, it is impossible for me to get drunk.
All that happened was Furuya-san beginning to slur his words incoherently at the bottom of our shared consciousness.
Vodka, who called me later, is another oddball.
He kept repeating: "Big Bro was happy," "Big Bro praised the Wolf Dog," "Big Bro," "Big Bro"... Are you that infatuated with Gin?
We really all need to forget that tragic incident now.
Every time the subject comes up, Furuya-san tries to retreat and hide. Put yourselves in my shoes, having to drag him back by force every single time.
Conversely, Kir was direct and harsh, cutting the conversation short by saying, "I've thought this for a while, but... you have terrible taste."
Of course, for an undercover agent like you, it is natural to see it that way... but please stop looking at me with those frozen eyes full of contempt. The intensity might actually kill me.
Additionally, my relationship with the lower-ranking members has shifted.
They now tremble whenever I pass them in the corridors.
After coaxing it out of them, I learned they have started using my execution video as an "orientation film" to demonstrate what happens to those who consider betrayal.
The idea belonged to Gin. That silver-haired bastard did it again! (I was forced to use an expletive internally).
My only remaining psychological crutch is my fateful duels with Goemon-sensei.
That is not a typo. What I mean is that there are things you can only see after crossing the line of death.
The memory is still fresh of Goemon suddenly dragging me into one of Lupin's cases, declaring, "It is time to learn through actual combat."
It was a battlefield fully stocked with military weaponry—from flying grenades to anti-tank missiles fired without mercy. It was intense enough that Lupin, who was with us, laughed and said, "Don't die, Wolf-Dog! I won't take any responsibility if you do!"
It was a storm of modern violence beyond imagination—something impossible to experience within the Black Organization, where the primary goal is stealth and secrecy.
I had underestimated real conflict zones. The mere experience of sprinting through a minefield on instinct alone—and surviving—nearly shattered my fragile heart.
Furuya-san was strongly opposed, declaring, "Participating in a thief's private mission is absolutely unacceptable."
However, when Public Security issued official permission under the pretext of monitoring Lupin's movements, he was forced to retract his words. Despite his slight annoyance, he began assisting the thief in stealing a national treasure.
"Your name is Furuya Rei, isn't it? A detective with a split personality—that's a rare find! Let's get along, shall we?"
"Where did you get my name?! ...Honestly, if it involves Lupin, I wouldn't put it past him to get information from anywhere, Original."
"That's just it. Things like this are a piece of cake for me."
"If it's about intelligence work, wouldn't it be good to ask Lupin for guidance? Right, Lupin? ...No, that is out of the question. My status as a police officer forbids it."
"Hmm, what should I do... I am busy, too."
While he toyed with me like this, the one-week training period flew by in a flash.
As a result of the training there, Goemon-sensei's teachings bore fruit. I recently mastered an ultimate skill: completely deflecting the concentrated fire of a combat helicopter using my iron claws.
Lately, I get the feeling this has turned into a completely different anime series.
"...Eh? Was dodging heavy helicopter fire actually in the original story? Have you watched The Darkest Nightmare?" I recall something like that happening... but what exactly was that scene?
And so, the infamy of Bourbon, the "Wolf-Dog"—the Organization's savage claw—continued to grow, though entirely in the wrong direction.
I received a blunt warning from Director Kuroda, the man at the apex of Public Security: "Tone down the recklessness."
It seems the "Bourbon Threat Theory" is circulating within Public Security as well. Rumors suggest the higher-ups are debating whether it would be better to cut me loose now, considering the diplomatic headaches my presence might cause.
While our physical safety is secure, if Public Security were to abandon Bourbon now, it would be tantamount to gifting a lethal combat asset to a criminal organization for free.
Undoubtedly, this would make our operations significantly more difficult.
Every time Kazami-san files a report, he looks like he is suffering from severe gastric distress. I feel genuinely sorry for the man.
Perhaps my relentless activity inspired him. Since meeting Lupin, Furuya-san has begun seizing every opportunity to hone his espionage and persuasion skills, determined not to be outdone.
In the intervals between my operations, he has been highly active across various fields as "Private Detective Amuro Tooru."
He obtained permission from the Organization using a flimsy excuse like "gaining social experience." I have to wonder: Is the Organization really this lenient?
When Vodka heard this, he looked like a mother attending her son's graduation ceremony. "You've grown up, Bourbon...!" he said. I nearly burst out laughing.
Consequently, we are on leave from Organization duties this week. Instead, we are currently handling an infidelity investigation requested of Amuro Tooru.
It is grueling, tedious work—slowly tracking the target undetected to secure evidence.
This job requires the intellect to analyze the subject's lifestyle and behavioral patterns to determine the optimal time and place to strike. These are areas where I lack expertise.
Furuya-san wears his hat low to obscure his eyes, maintaining a steady pace as he tails the man fifty meters ahead.
I sense the man's presence from within and offer advice to the Original.
"Target is showing signs of caution. I suggest dropping back another three meters."
"Copy that."
Sensing presence is where a beast excels. Conversely, tailing skills based on technique rather than instinct are impossible for me to replicate.
It means we get the best of both worlds.
I provide honed instincts and senses, while Furuya-san applies the finest human techniques available.
"Original, it is noon. Shouldn't we eat lunch now?"
"The mission is still ongoing. Wait another hour. We must at least identify today's rendezvous point first."
"That's unfair! Can't we put it off until tomorrow?"
"Impossible! Stop chattering and focus."
"Roger..." I answer, feeling small and withered, obeying Furuya-san's orders. I am starving.
Ah. If this were Vodka—who tends to be soft on me anyway—he would have said, "I can't say no to you," and let us eat.
Only a few moments remain before the start of the original storyline.
I wait patiently for that moment from within, like a beast stalking its prey, believing that this path will lead us to a better future.
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