Meanwhile, inside the police academy infirmary.
The sharp scent of disinfectant was softened slightly by the cherry blossom fragrance drifting in through the window, but it did nothing to ease the heavy tension in the room.
The black-haired youth lay quietly on the hospital bed. The red ribbon tying his hair had come loose, sprawling across the white pillowcase like a winding trail of blood.
"Doctor, is he really going to be okay?"
Furuya Rei stood by the bedside, a rare flash of anxiety flickering in his gray-purple eyes.
The school doctor, a woman in her forties, pushed up her wire-rimmed glasses. She lifted her stethoscope from Hisano Kuno's chest and turned to face the five-man group gathered around the bed.
Her voice was steady and reassuring. "According to all his vitals, his test results are completely normal. You don't need to worry too much."
Wataru Date frowned deeply. "But if everything is normal, why did he just collapse like that?"
"It could be that his usual diet and lifestyle are unhealthy, causing his blood sugar to fluctuate, or it might be extreme exhaustion," the doctor explained. "Right now, his state is closer to someone in a deep sleep."
"A deep sleep?"
Hagiwara pressed further. "Meaning Little Kuno is just sleeping? He'll wake up fine as long as he gets some rest?"
The doctor nodded. "Exactly."
Hiromitsu Morofushi remained silent for a moment, looking worriedly at Kuno's deathly pale face.
"So... all we can do is wait?"
"For now, yes."
The doctor closed her medical log. "However, you're welcome to take him to the city hospital for a more thorough checkup. Our medical equipment here is limited, so I can't say for certain... whether he might have some rare, hard-to-detect underlying condition."
Matsuda Jinpei couldn't help but reach out to feel the black-haired youth's forehead. There was no sign of a fever.
For him, it was incredibly hard to accept that this "little monster"—who was arrogant enough to tear the roof off the academy and could easily pin both him and Furuya to the ground—was now lying here like a doll whose soul had been completely hollowed out.
"Should we... just take Kuno to the hospital to get a proper look?"
Hagiwara Kenji couldn't shake his worry either. "Yeah, it's better to be safe. What if there really is some hidden condition?"
The other three nodded in agreement, preparing to move.
Just then, the infirmary door swung open, and Instructor Onizuka strode in with a stern expression. "How is he?"
After listening to their brief report, he thought it over for a moment and approved the trip to the hospital.
"Hagiwara, you drive. Matsuda and Morofushi will go with you. Furuya and Date, you stay behind. Whether the doctors find anything or not, call and report back to me."
Furuya Rei asked in confusion, "Instructor, why can't the Class Leader and I go?"
"Three people are more than enough for a hospital run," Onizuka replied. "There are still exercises later today that require the two of you to help assist."
Furuya wanted to protest further, but Date gave his shoulder a steadying pat. "It's fine. We can go visit him later."
"I'm sure... Kuno will be perfectly fine."
Onizuka said grimly, "Alright, stop burning daylight. Hagiwara, you three get moving."
Five minutes later.
Hagiwara focused on the road, driving the temporarily assigned car toward the city hospital.
In the back seat, Morofushi and Matsuda sat on either side of their "patient," keeping him upright while keeping an eye on the traffic.
"This guy is usually such a handful, isn't he? Now look at him, sitting there like a mannequin in a store window..."
Matsuda's grumbling tone made Hagiwara glance up at the rearview mirror. "I say, you're actually really worried about Little Kuno, aren't you?"
"Who said that? I just wanted an excuse to skip class."
Morofushi had long since grown used to Matsuda's habit of hiding his true feelings behind a sharp tongue. He turned to comfort the other two instead. "Who knows, maybe by the time we hit the hospital, he'll just wake up on his own, look at us completely blankly, and ask, 'Why are you guys so worked up?'"
Matsuda snorted. "If he does that, I'm going to punch him."
Morofushi shook his head helplessly, though his gaze softened a bit.
The neon sign for "Velvet Haze" flashed along the commercial street, its Gothic lettering framed by a subtle rose trim.
The storefront wasn't particularly large, but the decor had a distinct charm. The bar rarely saw customers during the daytime, and even if it did, they were strictly restricted to the first floor.
As for the second floor, that was exclusive territory for Organization members.
Gin led Gojo through a few narrow back alleys, arriving at the bar's rear entrance, and pressed his hand against the metal biometric scanner.
Beep—
The instant the electronic chime sounded, a burly bodyguard in a suit flung the door open, tensing up the moment he realized who it was.
It's Lord Gin...
This man was entirely different from a low-level underling like himself. Though he had arrived in Tokyo less than a decade ago, he had already become one of the Organization's most notorious executioners and one of That Person's most trusted hands.
The bodyguard's voice carried a distinct trace of awe. "Please, come in."
Gin walked straight past him without offering so much as a glance.
The guard just began to breathe a sigh of relief when he noticed the tall man wearing an eyeeye mask walking right behind the silver-haired assassin. His breath instantly caught in his throat.
A sudden chill raced up his spine, instantly soaking his shirt in cold sweat.
Though he had never set eyes on this person before, his survival instincts screamed at him...
This was a man even more terrifying than Gin—
And without a doubt, a high-ranking figure within the Organization!
An underling of his status simply didn't possess the clearance to know this man's codename.
The bodyguard shuddered, quickly dropping his head, displaying an even deeper level of deference—and absolute terror—than he had shown Gin.
Gojo tilted his head, finding the reaction utterly bizarre.
Hey now, man, I literally haven't even done anything? He paused, glancing at the frozen, statue-like guard, and asked, "Is there something on my face?"
The guard began to shake even harder. "N-No..."
Having successfully entered the bar, Gojo was still pondering the interaction with an amused confusion.
"Gin-chan."
He leaned in close to Gin, dropping his voice. "Does the Organization have poor vision screening for its recruits? Why did that guy look at me like he just saw a ghost?"
Gin shot him a sideways glance. "Are you truly that blind to your own profile?"
Gojo was taken aback. "???"
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Could it be because I'm just too incredibly handsome? No wonder you're jealous."
Gin: "..." As expected, he really should have just shot him earlier.
The system popped up to remind him: [Host, did you forget about the buff I mentioned back when we were discussing Haibara Ai's "Organization Radar"?]
[A buff? You mean...]
[Whenever you wear an eye mask or bandages to cover your Six Eyes, the "Villain Aura" is automatically toggled on.]
The system explained cheerfully in Gojo's mind: [This is a custom aura tailored specifically for you by the Time-Space Administration to keep you from blowing your cover too early~ Its primary effect is to make ordinary bystanders or righteous characters instinctively feel intense fear and aversion toward you, like smelling a natural predator.]
[Of course, people like Gin or Karasuma Renya won't be affected by it. After all, they're top-tier villains themselves.]
[On the flip side, whenever you leave your eyes uncovered or just wear sunglasses, the Villain Aura completely deactivates!]
[So, based on what you're saying, if I wander around a police station dressed like this, will I get slapped into handcuffs immediately?] Gojo's train of thought took a characteristically odd turn.
[...That is actually highly probable,] the system coughed. [I strongly advise against the host testing that hypothesis.]
On the bar's second floor.
A bartender, who was also an Organization member, stood behind the counter wiping down a snifter. The liquor cabinet behind him displayed an array of bottles that glowed with an amber hue under the backlighting.
A few black-framed prints hung neatly along the walls, mostly featuring vintage movie posters or silhouettes of jazz musicians, leaving a tasteful amount of negative space.
"What's taking the boss so long?"
Sitting on a leather sofa, Vodka checked his wristwatch, finding the delay unusual.
He knew Gin was incredibly punctual and never broke a time parameter.
Shortly after they had met up with Caesar earlier, Gin had suddenly told him to head to the safehouse first, while he off went to do who-knows-what.
Could it be...
That because he and Caesar hadn't seen each other in six months, their old flame had suddenly reignited?
The thought made Vodka incredibly restless.
No way. He couldn't just sit by and watch his boss dive straight back into a toxic pit!
"What's the rush?"
A woman with short, orange-red hair sat with her legs crossed, the swallowtail butterfly tattoo over her left eye looking exceptionally striking under the dim lights.
She traced the rim of her glass with a fingernail. "More importantly, is that Caesar you keep talking about actually going to show up?"
This was Chianti, a core sniper for the Organization. Her usual partner, Korn, sat quietly in a dim corner, remaining completely silent.
They weren't assassins raised by the Organization from childhood like Gin; they had joined halfway through their careers. Although they had never personally interacted with the legendary Caesar before, they had heard plenty of rumors.
"Hey, Chianti, take this as a piece of friendly advice..."
Vodka adjusted his sunglasses. "You'd better be exceptionally polite to Mr. Caesar. Otherwise, I can't guarantee you'll live to see tomorrow."
It was true that Caesar always had a smile on his face and seemed easygoing, but if anyone actually thought he was harmless, they were an absolute fool.
"The White Phantom," "The Black Emperor," "The FBI's Nightmare"... which of those titles wasn't built on a mountain of bodies?
And yet...
Vodka sometimes felt that Caesar was far too soft-hearted when it came to certain individuals who held absolutely no value to the group.
"Is that so?"
Chianti raised an eyebrow. "But I heard a rumor somewhere that the guy is just an indiscriminate playboy? Back when he was in New York, he supposedly hit three different strip clubs in a single night. Is that true?"
Cough, cough.
Vodka swallowed a mouthful of whiskey. "You shouldn't listen to unverified gossip."
He sounded like he was warning her, but in reality...
Those exact rumors had been quietly started by him in the first place.
To help his boss get a little payback against Caesar for running wild abroad, Vodka had willingly taken the risk to diligently spread rumors—no, not rumors, just a little creative embellishment at most!
"From the tone of your voice, Vodka, it sounds like you know quite a bit, don't you?"
Even the most cold-blooded sniper couldn't resist a bit of gossip regarding a high-ranking official's love life.
Chianti narrowed her eyes. "Come on, dish. It's not like it'll kill you."
"Hmph... what a pain," Vodka grunted. "Are you familiar with Pinga and Curacao under Rum's command?"
"Yeah, ran into them during a joint operation a while back," Chianti asked. "What about them?"
"Rumor has it that Mr. Caesar has a rather... complicated history with both of them," Vodka said in a low, conspiratorial whisper. "Supposedly, while out on a mission, Pinga and Curacao got into a massive, ugly argument over Mr. Caesar because they were jealous."
"Both men and women? That's wild." Chianti was genuinely shocked.
"Not to mention Chianti and Seishu, who are currently stationed over in Mexico. They would absolute lay down their lives for Mr. Caesar," Vodka sighed. "Too bad that man never stays in one place for anyone."
Korn, who had been completely silent until now, suddenly spoke up. "And Calvados."
His voice sounded like sandpaper rubbing together. He dropped that single name and immediately closed his mouth again.
"Yes, exactly!"
Vodka slapped his thigh. "That guy Calvados, every single time he gets drunk, he cries to the boss about how heartbroken he is that Lord Caesar abandoned him to go back to Japan."
He wasn't lying, he had just conveniently left out a few details.
"What? I thought Calvados was head-over-heels in love with Vermouth?"
Chianti and Korn traded a look. "Don't tell me that's just a cover story? The person he really loves is actually..."
"Well, who knows," Vodka shook his head.
Chianti let out a low whistle. "Hearing all this, I'm getting more and more curious about this Caesar guy."
She really wanted to see what kind of legendary player could drive so many codenamed members absolutely out of their minds.
"Hey, hey, what do you mean 'hearing all this from me'..." Vodka had no desire to let Caesar trace this back to him. He shouted, "Don't go spreading this around to anyone else!"
The next split second, a sudden chill washed over his back.
A deep, smooth voice drifted down from the top of the stairs.
"Oh? Spreading what around?"
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