Chapter 311: Dispersal After the Performance
Masumi Sera's brow furrowed as she mulled over the possibilities. "Could this 'Vision' be the symbol of some organization?!" she murmured to herself, her eyes tracking the stage.
Her mind immediately drifted to that syndicate—the one responsible for her family's fractured state. But she quickly dismissed the thought. The operating styles were too vastly different. The Black Organization thrived in the shadows, leaving behind nothing but corpses and ashes. Whoever these 'Vision' wielders were, they operated with a theatrical flair that completely contradicted the syndicate's secretive nature.
A quiet sigh of relief slipped past Masumi's lips. If the people who had harmed her mother truly possessed this level of inexplicable technology and widespread influence, taking them down would be nearly impossible.
From the corner of her eye, she studied Conan. The boy's oversized glasses reflected the stage lights, his expression far too serious for a first-grader. Her certainty that he was exactly who she suspected him to be ticked up another few notches.
The kid's observation skills were terrifyingly sharp. She hadn't even caught onto those unusual details regarding the glowing gems until he pointed them out. Knowing his insatiable curiosity, he definitely hadn't just stumbled upon this information today. He likely already knew a great deal about this hidden faction. Yet, looking at his current posture—relaxed, analytical, lacking any immediate sense of crisis—she deduced something crucial. If Conan wasn't panicking, it meant the Kamisato siblings and their associates weren't an immediate, lethal threat.
Onstage, the competition drew to a flawless close. Ningguang offered a final, graceful nod to the crowd before exiting alongside Ganyu, their silhouettes disappearing behind the heavy velvet curtains. Under the polite but firm guidance of the venue staff, the massive audience began to filter out of the arena in an orderly tide.
Blending effortlessly into the sea of departing spectators, Vermouth and Bourbon strolled toward the exits.
"The more I uncover about this Teyvat Organization," Vermouth murmured, her voice barely carrying over the ambient chatter, "the more I realize just how deep their roots go. They are far from simple."
Bourbon kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, a polite, unassuming smile plastered on his face. "I never assumed they were. Any faction capable of making Rum bleed and forcing the Boss into a compromise... simple is the last word I would use to describe them."
Beneath his calm exterior, Rei Furuya's mind raced. He needed to find a secure window to contact Yuya Kazami. The Public Security Bureau had to escalate their surveillance on Teyvat. He needed eyes on their high-profile members—specifically those with massive financial and political backing, like the Kamisato siblings, Diluc, and Ningguang.
The board was shifting too rapidly. Not only was Teyvat making aggressive public moves, but Bourbon had also detected massive restructuring within the Black Organization's overseas branches. His clandestine investigations pointed toward a sudden, intense focus on the nation of Fontaine.
He could only hope that these violent power shifts weren't directly tied to Teyvat's sudden rise. If the two behemoths clashed openly, the collateral damage would be catastrophic.
Vermouth cast a sidelong glance at him, a teasing smirk playing on her crimson lips. "It seems our intelligence officers still possess the sharpest instincts. Though, I must admit, I'm a bit disappointed that Glenlivet didn't make an appearance today. I would have loved to see his reaction to his former colleagues putting on such a spectacular show. Do you suppose our little Wanderer has a hidden talent for the stage as well?"
Bourbon smoothly shelved his tactical planning, meeting her teasing with a raised eyebrow and an easy smile. "You are more than welcome to ask Glenlivet yourself. Doesn't the boy suffer from a severe lack of maternal affection? If you approach him with that motherly charm of yours, he might just open right up to you."
The playful smirk on Vermouth's face shattered like cheap glass. A dangerous, icy glint flashed in her eyes. "Are you implying that I'm old?" she asked, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
"I said no such thing." Bourbon immediately raised both hands in a placating gesture, adopting a perfectly innocent expression as he shrugged.
He casually shifted his gaze away, scanning the departing crowd with practiced nonchalance. But a split second later, his eyes locked onto a specific spot near the exit. Bourbon's pupils narrowed slightly. Through the shifting gaps in the crowd, he spotted a familiar figure—a young woman with striking blonde hair. Natsume Natsuki. Though he had only crossed paths with her once, she had left an indelible mark on his memory.
A few dozen yards away, standing close to Natsume, Ai Haibara suddenly froze.
Her heart seized violently in her chest, as if an invisible, ice-cold hand had just clamped down around her ribs. Her pupils contracted to pinpricks. The air in her lungs vanished, replaced by short, ragged gasps. The suffocating, metallic scent of the Black Organization washed over her senses, triggering a primal wave of terror.
Her small fingers shot out, gripping Conan's sleeve with a desperate, white-knuckled intensity. Conan flinched in surprise, turning to look at her. The moment he saw her pale, sweat-slicked face and trembling frame, all the casual ease drained from his posture.
He knew that reaction instantly. Someone from the Organization was here. Right now.
Conan's eyes sharpened into daggers. He whipped his head around, his gaze darting frantically through the dense sea of spectators, desperately trying to single out a predator hiding among the sheep.
But it was a futile effort. The venue was a chaotic, tightly packed mass of shifting bodies and overlapping voices. Trying to pinpoint a single operative in this ocean of humanity was impossible. A moment later, the rigid tension in Haibara's shoulders broke. She let out a shaky breath, the paralyzing terror receding. The signal had vanished. The Organization member had already moved out of range.
Conan gritted his teeth, a bitter wave of frustration washing over him. A rare, golden opportunity to track a syndicate member had just slipped right through his fingers.
Still, the implications were staggering. Why was a Black Organization operative attending a public event hosted by the Kamisato Clan? Could it be that Ayato Kamisato, a high-ranking figure in Teyvat, possessed hidden ties to the syndicate? Was he playing a double game, just like Kaeya?
Across the concourse, Bourbon smoothly adjusted his trajectory. Having spotted Natsume, he smoothly engaged Vermouth in a trivial conversation, subtly steering the older woman's attention away from the blonde girl's direction. With practiced footwork, he guided their exit route in a wide arc, ensuring they bypassed Natsume's group entirely without raising any suspicion.
The lethal warning Cointreau had delivered to him back at the department store still echoed in his mind. It was a clear indicator that Natsume Natsuki's existence was a closely guarded secret. As far as he could tell, no one else within the syndicate was aware of her.
Bourbon had already laid the groundwork for his next move: infiltrating the orbit of Kogoro Mouri. His background checks confirmed that Natsume—who was undeniably connected to Cointreau—spent a significant amount of time with the Mouri family. By positioning himself as Mouri's apprentice, he could naturally close the distance to the blonde girl. Through her, he might finally unravel the mystery of Cointreau's true identity.
Until those pieces were in place, it was best to remain in the shadows. There was no need to trigger any unnecessary complications today.
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