Kanjuro watched this "traitor-catching" drama with a face still devoid of ripples, as if he had just casually disposed of a piece of trash. He said indifferently to Gin, whose eyes were spitting fire and who was almost about to pull the trigger:
"It seems the FBI's hand reaches quite far as well."
This sentence further solidified Bourbon's (Furuya Rei's) complex identity as a multi-agency mole.
"Clean it up properly." Kanjuro took one last look at the deathly pale Furuya Rei as if looking at a dead man, then turned around, no longer paying attention to this little interlude. He said to Vermouth, "Don't let this trivial matter delay us from seeing Rum."
In his world, exposing and dealing with an undercover agent was like brushing away a speck of dust from his sleeve—insignificant. The real "game" had just begun. And the unlucky Furuya Rei became the first seemingly brilliant pawn to be casually crushed after Kanjuro's arrival in the organization. The Beretta in Gin's hand made a cold click; it was the sound of the hammer being cocked. Kanjuro's "Clean it up properly" echoed outside the cold archive room like a final sentence.
Killing intent surged in Gin's eyes without any hesitation. At the moment Furuya Rei (Bourbon) closed his eyes, his face flickering with the unwillingness of a failed mission and a hint of liberation—
Bang!
The gunshot sounded particularly piercing in the enclosed space, followed by the dull sound of a body hitting the floor.
Furuya Rei, the elite undercover agent who had once navigated between the organization and the outside world, walking on the edge of a blade, had his life come to an abrupt end just like that, following a casual remark from Kanjuro. He didn't even manage to put up any effective resistance; in the face of the absolute power gap, his intelligence and his skills appeared utterly pale and powerless.
Blood slowly spread across the floor, reflecting in Vermouth's suddenly constricted pupils.
She looked at the corpse on the ground that was rapidly losing its warmth, and then at Kanjuro's profile, as he hadn't even lifted an eyelid. A bone-chilling coldness rushed from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. This man... he not only possessed terrifying power, but his insight was also sharp to a hair-raising degree! Based on just a look, he had dug out a senior mole that the organization hadn't detected for years and decided his life or death so casually.
Must never become his enemy! This thought had never been so clearly and strongly branded into Vermouth's heart. Her fear of Kanjuro reached its peak at this moment, even mixing with a hint of twisted awe for an absolute dominator.
"Clean up," Gin put away his gun and instructed Vodka, his voice returning to its usual coldness, but if one listened closely, a subtle, more submissive tone toward Kanjuro could be detected. Kanjuro's act of casually outing the mole had invisibly consolidated his authority once again.
Vodka nodded hurriedly and began to process the scene.
Kanjuro acted as if he had only done a trivial little thing. He looked at the pale Vermouth and spoke in his usual flat tone: "Now, lead the way. Don't keep That Person waiting too long."
Vermouth jolted, immediately collecting herself and bowing her head respectfully: "Yes, Mr. Kanjuro. Please follow me."
The group set off again, the atmosphere even more oppressive than before. Akemi Miyano followed Kanjuro closely, the admiration in her eyes growing even stronger. Ai Haibara kept her head down, the gunshot from earlier echoing in her mind, her body trembling slightly. The organization's cruelty and Kanjuro's indifference filled her with deeper fear regarding the upcoming meeting with Rum and the truths that might be revealed.
They took that black Porsche, left the organization's stronghold, and merged into the evening traffic of Tokyo. No one spoke in the car; there was only the low growl of the engine and the clamor of the city outside the window.
The car eventually slowed to a stop near a relatively quiet commercial street in Beika Town's 5th Block. From a distance, they could see the storefront hanging a noren curtain that read "Iroha Sushi." The shop was brightly lit, and the silhouettes of customers could be vaguely seen; it looked no different from any ordinary roadside sushi restaurant.
"It's right there," Vermouth said in a low voice, pointing toward the shop.
Kanjuro's gaze swept through the car window across the seemingly ordinary sushi restaurant, a barely perceptible curve touching the corner of his mouth. He could feel that beneath that calm storefront lay a sophisticated and deep aura, like a giant beast lurking in the deep sea.
"Park the car further away," Kanjuro instructed. "Everyone spread out; don't go in together, it's too conspicuous."
He did not fear Rum, but he liked this feeling of a cat playing with a mouse, gradually closing the net. Charging in with a full force would be straightforward, but it lacked a bit of fun.
"Gin, Vodka, stay on alert nearby. Watch for any suspicious people or backup plans."
"Akemi, take Shiho and go in with Vermouth first, pretending to be ordinary diners. Find a place to sit."
Kanjuro arranged everything methodically, like a director about to step onto the stage.
"I'll be there shortly."
His arrangements seemed casual, yet they dispersed his people, avoiding alerting the target while forming an invisible encirclement. Vermouth, Akemi, and Shiho, acting as the vanguard, could draw most of the attention inside the shop, while Gin and Vodka could seal off the perimeter to prevent any surprises.
Akemi Miyano nodded and tightly held her sister's hand. Ai Haibara took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She knew that the moment to face Rum was fast approaching.
Vermouth adjusted her slightly messy hair and her mood, donned her mysterious and charming mask once more, and was the first to push open the car door and walk toward the Iroha Sushi Restaurant. Akemi Miyano followed closely behind, leading Ai Haibara by the hand.
Kanjuro remained alone in the car, his gaze deep as he watched the restaurant's entrance like a patient hunter. He was waiting for the perfect moment to appear, to deliver a fatal blow to his prey and uncover the long-buried final truth regarding Miyano Elena.
Beika Town under the night sky seemed calm and ordinary, but a meeting capable of overturning the organization's structure was about to quietly unfold in this small sushi restaurant.
Inside the Iroha Sushi Restaurant, warm yellow lights created a cozy atmosphere. A few scattered diners sat at the counter and in tatami booths, talking in low voices. The air was filled with the faint aroma of vinegared rice and seafood. Everything appeared perfectly normal.
Akemi Miyano, holding Ai Haibara's hand, followed Vermouth inside like ordinary customers. Vermouth scanned the room with a practiced gaze, her eyes finally landing on the pudgy man busy behind the counter, wearing a chef's hat and an eyepatch over one eye—Kanenori Wakita.
The moment they stepped inside, Kanenori Wakita—or rather, Rum—faltered almost imperceptibly while molding sushi. His single exposed eye, like a precision radar, quickly swept over the three people entering.
When his gaze passed over Vermouth, a flicker of recognition flashed through it; he clearly recognized her. But when his eyes fell upon the two faces behind Vermouth that absolutely should not have been there—especially not with her—Akemi Miyano and Sherry (Ai Haibara), his lone eye widened suddenly, and a storm of shock erupted in the depths of his pupil!
Akemi Miyano?! Isn't she supposed to be dead?!
And that little girl... strawberry blonde hair, icy blue eyes... it's Sherry! Why is she here?! And with Vermouth?!
The immense shock and disbelief caused the salmon slice in his hand to nearly slip. He forced himself to regain his composure, but the momentary bewilderment and the sudden change in his expression did not completely escape Vermouth's watchful eyes. Vermouth sneered inwardly; it seemed the great Lord Rum wasn't always composed.
Just then, the sushi restaurant door was pushed open again, and the wind chime made a crisp sound.
A figure walked in against the light from the doorway. He was dressed in simple casual clothes, with a tall stature and a face so handsome it seemed out of place in this common sushi restaurant. It was Kanjuro.
His entrance instantly drew every eye in the shop, including the ordinary diners, who couldn't help but stare at his exceptionally striking appearance.
Kanjuro seemed completely oblivious. His gaze swept through the entire shop like a casual stroll, passing over the slightly nervous Akemi Miyano and Ai Haibara, over the forcedly calm Vermouth, and finally, precisely and without error, landed on the fat chef with the eyepatch behind the counter—Kanenori Wakita.
Their eyes met.
The corners of Kanjuro's mouth slowly curled into a faint smile, one that carried the weight of total insight and absolute control. That smile seemed to say: 'Found you.'
The moment Kanenori Wakita (Rum) made contact with Kanjuro's gaze, his entire body stiffened as if pierced by invisible ice needles! His lone eye stared fixedly at Kanjuro, filled with extreme horror, scrutiny, and a trace of primal fear that he didn't even want to admit to himself!
Who is this man?!
That look... a look that seems to see through all disguises and dissect a person from the inside out! And this suffocating, invisible pressure... Vermouth brought the Miyano sisters... because of him?!
Rum's brain worked at high speed, countless thoughts and alarms ringing frantically. He realized that this handsome young man who had suddenly appeared was an extremely dangerous existence far beyond his expectations! Perhaps even... more dangerous than Gin, more dangerous than Vermouth, more dangerous than any enemy he had ever known!
Kanjuro did not immediately walk toward the counter. He simply found an empty seat near the door and sat down, as if he truly were just an ordinary customer. But his very presence was like a giant boulder thrown into a calm lake, completely shattering the superficial peace of the sushi restaurant.
He spoke toward the counter in a clear, steady voice that was just enough for the entire shop to vaguely hear:
"Chef, I'd like an order of... the Special Premium Sushi Platter."
His gaze, still carrying a hint of a smile, remained locked on Kanenori Wakita.
"I'm quite curious about the craftsmanship of a place specifically recommended by a 'regular customer' like Miss Vermouth."
"I hope... it doesn't disappoint me."
These words sounded like a normal order, but terms like 'regular customer' and'specifically recommended' coming from Kanjuro's mouth carried a tacit understanding of implication and provocation.
The muscles on Kanenori Wakita's (Rum's) face twitched slightly. He took a deep breath, struggling to suppress the storm in his heart, and responded in a steady, simple-minded tone with a Kansai accent:
"Yes, sir! Rest assured, the sushi in my shop is absolutely fresh. You'll be satisfied!"
He lowered his head and began preparing the sushi, but the vigilance and coldness deep within his lone eye were like reefs hidden beneath the sea—dangerous and profound.
The atmosphere in the shop became eerie. Ordinary diners continued to enjoy their food, oblivious to the dangerous vortex they were standing on the edge of. Meanwhile, those who knew the truth—Kanjuro, Rum, Vermouth, and the Miyano sisters—engaged in a silent but life-and-death struggle of secrets within this seemingly ordinary sushi restaurant.
Ai Haibara sat beside her sister, her small hands ice-cold. She could feel the aura of the organization emanating from the fat chef—an aura similar to Gin's but more seasoned and sinister. This was Rum... one of the masterminds behind her mother's disappearance... She stole a glance at Kanjuro and saw him looking calm and composed, as if everything were under his control.
Kanjuro picked up the teacup on the table and took a light sip, his gaze never truly leaving Rum behind the counter.
The hunt had begun. The prey was already in the net. Now, it was only a matter of when the hunter decided to pull it in... and how he would enjoy his trophy.
Before the Special Premium Sushi Platter could even be served, Kanjuro lost his patience. He hadn't come to taste food; he had played enough of the prelude to this cat-and-mouse game.
While the other diners in the shop were still eating or chatting quietly, Kanjuro stood up without warning. His movements seemed casual, yet they possessed the precision and speed of a pouncing leopard. In a few strides, he reached the counter.
Kanenori Wakita (Rum) was looking down, processing a silver mackerel. Seeing Kanjuro approach out of the corner of his eye, alarm bells rang in his head. He was about to look up and use his simple Kansai accent to ask if the customer needed anything else—
When a cold, hard object was pressed silently and heavily against his slightly bloated abdomen through his white chef's uniform.
It was the muzzle of a gun!
Kanenori Wakita's lone eye instantly bulged. It felt as if all the blood in his body rushed to his head and then drained away in an instant! He could clearly feel the icy touch of death through his clothes!
"You..." He instinctively wanted to cry out, to alert any other undercover personnel in the shop (whom he might have arranged)!
However, just as he opened his mouth and before the sound could escape his throat, Kanjuro's other hand shot out like a steel pincer, his fingers accurately and brutally covering Rum's mouth and nose, choking back the cry! The immense force nearly suffocated him, and the fat on his cheeks was squeezed out of shape.
"Mmph—!!!" Kanenori Wakita could only let out a muffled, pained whimper, his lone eye filled with a mix of shock, rage, and disbelief. He had never expected Kanjuro would dare to take action so recklessly and directly in a public place where there might be ordinary customers!
But this was only the beginning.
Kanjuro's eyes were as cold as frost, without a hint of emotion. He shoved the gun muzzle harder into Rum's abdomen and, with the hand covering his mouth, used his strength to forcibly drag the massive body out from behind the counter!
Then, as Vermouth's pupils contracted, Akemi Miyano held her breath, Ai Haibara watched in horror, and a few other diners who noticed the situation looked on in terror—
Kanjuro's knee, like a heavy hammer, slammed violently into Rum's abdomen!
Thud! A dull sound of impact against flesh.
"Ugh—!" Even with his mouth covered, the intense pain forced a suppressed scream from deep within Rum's throat. His body curled up like a shrimp, his eyes bulged, and cold sweat instantly broke out on his forehead.
He wasn't finished. Kanjuro grabbed him by the collar to keep him from falling and, with the hand holding the gun, used the butt to strike him hard across the side of the face!
Bang! Another sickening thud.
Rum's head was knocked sharply to the side, his eyepatch went crooked, his lip split, and blood immediately seeped out. His single exposed eye was filled with humiliation, pain, and towering rage, but even more so, a sense of helpless fear and bewilderment in the face of absolute, crushing violence.
It all happened too fast. From the moment Kanjuro stood up to Rum being beaten until his face was covered in blood, barely ten seconds had passed. The other diners finally reacted, letting out low gasps, and some even stood up in fright.
"If you don't want to die, sit down and be quiet." Kanjuro didn't even look back. He simply swept his cold gaze around the room. The killing intent in his eyes was almost tangible, instantly freezing the diners who wanted to scream or run in their tracks, making them as quiet as cicadas in winter.
He turned his attention back to the nearly limp Rum in his grasp, leaned into his ear, and spoke in a voice like a demon's whisper that only the two of them could hear:
"Mr. Rum, or should I say... Chef Kanenori Wakita?"
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