He turned and left, his gaze sweeping across the evening sunset.
It really is.. quite interesting.
Gin murmured in his heart, a hint of an ambiguous curve tugging at the corner of his mouth.
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Author's Note: (1) The pronunciation of the character "Zhen" in Kurosawa Zhen is "Jin," which is similar to "Gin."
..
The Brandy?? dungeon has officially opened!
As a side note (though I assume no one needs a reminder), as mentioned previously: Gin's interest in Miyano Shiho is not because of the Miyano couple's research, but because he is investigating Shiratori Midori.
As for the rest.. I won't give away any Spoilers for now.
Don't ignore the details.
Also, Akai will appear quite frequently in the next few chapters; Touko will have to wait a bit longer, as he is a specialist for a certain incident.
..
Speaking of which, I suddenly had a brain hole today, so I used it to write a side story for my upcoming novel, "Detective Agency," but after finishing the two thousand words, I don't feel like writing anymore..
Then I looked at the comments from the Little Angels, decided to write out an update.
I put the side story in the Detective Conan short story collection; consider it an easter egg for everyone!
By the way.. I've started writing some drafts for "[Zong] Detective Agency".. Actually, the original name was "Handyman Cafe." Which one do you think is better?
Everyone can go check out the synopsis; those who are interested can add it to their collection. Also, please tell me how I should fill in the perspective and sexual orientation QAQ
..
Thanks to Meow Unspeakable Little Angel for the landmine, love you mwah~
Thanks to Infor Little Angel for the landmine, love you mwah~
Chapter 42: Chapter 40: Gin, like a prankster whose scheme had succeeded, slightly raised his eyebrows..
Gin considered himself a tolerant person.
Just like Vodka, although he clearly couldn't keep up with Gin's way of thinking and speed, Gin was still willing to bring him along. Although there were many times when this little brother's bizarre ideas made Gin wish he could just shoot him in the head to see if fish could be raised inside his brain.
Of course, there were others with even lower intelligence than Vodka, but he couldn't be bothered to count them.
Korn and Chianti were relatively better, as they were, after all, decent action-oriented characters who wouldn't do anything to leave him speechless.
The newcomer, Rye, is quite outstanding in many respects, but since he is a snitch, Gin cannot trust him.
He wouldn't bother with routine missions, but he wouldn't entrust missions involving the inner workings of the Black Organization to Rye either—if any problems arose then, he would be held responsible.
Even so, there were still many high-difficulty missions, he was willing to bring a high-quality "thug" along on the field.
After completing several missions together through intermittent periods of gunfire and pursuit, a certain level of connection had been established, but Gin knew clearly in his heart that this connection was as fragile as a single drop of clear dew on a bud in the middle of the night—shimmering under the moonlight, barely clinging to life in the darkness, only to vanish once the sun rises and everything is brought to light.
The phone in his coat pocket vibrated incessantly, the Owl in the cage let out continuous, eerie cries; the two created a magnificent duet, their discordant sounds echoing, enough to make anyone who heard them want to bang their head against a wall or weep. Gin felt a slight headache from the commotion; he frowned, walked over, impatiently shook the cage. The Owl spun around wildly inside the cage before shrinking into a corner, whimpering silently.
Looking at the pitiful, adorable owl, he suddenly felt it was somewhat amusing; why was he even bothering with a bird?
He unlocked his phone with one hand, a dozen eye-catching message notifications immediately came into view. Aside from the casual inquiries from Vermouth, there was a Mission Report from Vodka, all the rest were from the same person.
Hine。
He casually replied to Vodka while using one hand to pry open a bottle of Brandy from the liquor cabinet. As the colorless liquid poured into the glass filled with special ice cubes, Gin swirled the glass toward the window. The sunlight pierced through the window and passed through the liquor, revealing a hazy, dreamlike gilded hue, as if counting the passage of time; it made him squint his eyes slightly.
He placed the wine glass on the side table, where the ice cubes made a crisp, pleasant clinking sound against the glass. With the afternoon's languor, Gin sank into the sofa in a lazy posture, his left hand tapped open an unread text message from Heine.
He skillfully skimmed through the meaningless nonsense and accurately found the point.
An invitation.
Alright, it is about time I met this big spender who was treating everyone not too long ago.
..
If Sherry has a personality that is cold on the outside but warm on the inside, then Heine has a personality that is the complete opposite: warm on the outside but cold on the inside.
He was slightly older than both Gin and Cavendish, in his mid-thirties. As a person of mixed Japanese and Italian descent, his height rivaled Gin's, his posture was upright yet somewhat lean; however, one could still see thin layers of muscle even when his clothes were lifted. His facial features were not particularly handsome—his lips were a bit thin and his eyebrows slightly thick—but his Western heritage gave him more prominent and defined features than an ordinary Japanese person, his eyes were exceptionally exquisite.
His deep blue eyes were a mixture of a youth's innocence and a grown man's charm. When joking, they were clear and bright like an innocent child; when profound, they were as turbulent and brooding as an undercurrent in a river; and when flirting, they exuded the unrestrained decadence of a rogue.
Even Gin had to admit that those were the second most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.
—The most beautiful ones are Shiratori Midori's, though we shall refrain from discussing just how much of a filter was applied there.
Someone had once mentioned something to Gin; there was a saying that people with thin lips are often quite heartless.
Gin didn't know if that saying was actually reliable, but Heine sat there lazily with his legs crossed under high-waisted jeans. With his tall, long-legged frame, his blue eyes narrowed slightly and his thin lips curled into a half-smile, exuding an unmistakably frivolous aura.
By the way, he was also wearing a red shirt, yet it didn't look out of place; instead, a sense of decadence wafted toward him.
Gin: ……
He was somewhat speechless.
There were many customers in Starbucks, although they maintained their composure and stayed quiet, pairs of curious eyes swept over them from time to time, their implications clear. As for a certain someone, whether it was out of ignorance or intentionality, he showed no sign of embarrassment and greeted Gin quite casually.
Or was he just thick-skinned?
A smoke-gray trench coat paired with a dark brown thin-knit sweater; the way the two of them sat together was a literal clash between asceticism and debauchery, their styles completely mismatched.
Anyone who didn't know would think they were a pair of gay men bravely coming out despite the barriers of society.
Heine stood up and went to the counter, skillfully ordering a caramel macchiato under the curious gazes of certain people, then ordered an Americano for the silver-haired youth sitting not far away.
Gin faintly heard the sighs of several girls—the kind filled with regret.
He felt a bit of a headache.
Walking back with two drinks, he turned a short distance into a runway walk, the potential romantic nature of an Italian fully embodied in him. The Girl's gaze was like the spotlights on a stage, but unfortunately, Gin, acting as the decisive judge, gave him a poor rating.
He leaned down to hand the Americano to Gin, placed his own cup on the opposite side, then took a seat.
Heine was of mixed Japanese and Italian descent; when he spoke Japanese, he had a strange accent and a slight drawl at the end of his words, which somehow lent a rich, intoxicating quality to his voice, making it sound even more tender when he lowered his tone: "Are you angry?"
"Speak properly." Gin tapped the table, signaling him to restrain himself.
He smiled, as expected, he returned to normal, his deep male voice becoming a bit more crisp and decisive: "Are you angry?"
"I have no desire to be mistaken for a homosexual for no reason," Gin said coldly.
But from the looks of it.. you don't seem to care about gender, do you?" He joked, then quickly waved his hands away under Gin's dangerous gaze. "Never mind—actually, I think you might be bi—no, you're probably asexual.
The silver-haired youth chuckled, his tone mocking. "I don't mind men, but I don't want to lose face."
Heine's mouth twitched: Is it really that embarrassing to be mistaken for being a couple with me?
However, he didn't dwell on the topic for long. Although Gin didn't care much for idle chatter, he certainly didn't hold back when it came to shutting someone down, not to mention—
He didn't like mindless chatter because he was much better at taking direct action.
"I did you a favor once before, so is it really okay for you to say that?" Heine complained, half-joking.
You brought that on yourself, didn't you?" Gin raised an eyebrow, his long fingers brushing against the side of the coffee cup. "Accept your defeat.
“Your Sniping Skill is getting more impressive.” The black-haired man had a slight smile on his lips. He tilted his head, his Blue eyes appearing innocently naive from this angle, though his attempt at acting cute was entirely unconvincing. "Speaking of which, you aren't even in this line of work. Are you trying to steal my jobs?"
“Will you still have anything to do then?” Gin mocked, leaning back with a casual posture and a nonchalant tone. “If you have something to say, just say it.”
“I have already obtained what you want,” Heine said seriously. His voice was neither loud nor soft, controlled at a level where the other could hear him, but no outsider would catch even a single word: “When will you give it to me?”
Gin lowered his eyes, when he looked up again, his green eyes were calm and steady. "It is not very convenient for me lately; hand them over to Westgram first."
Fine." Heine agreed, his left hand tapping the table lightly and unconsciously; Gin knew this was his habitual movement when he was lost in thought. The black-haired man spoke with some hesitation, "You want those—
Equivalent exchange." Gin interrupted his inquiry indifferently. He raised his hand to take a sip of his black coffee, finding it truly inferior to the freshly ground coffee at his own home. "I won't ask what use you have for those files you requested earlier, you shouldn't ask me either.
Heine blinked and nodded candidly, then changed the subject: "How have you been lately?"
His relationship with Heine within the Black Organization was still quite good; while they wouldn't be called "friends," they were at least on speaking terms.
Not bad." He paused. "I went to see Brandy a couple of days ago.
"Brandy?" Blue eyes widened in surprise, as if Gin had just spotted a black cat.
"I played chess all day and did nothing else." He mentioned the final setbacks without intention, brushing past them with a casual air.
Is that so.." Muttering unconsciously, Heine's focus shifted. "You play chess too?
Gin fell silent for a moment, a rather gentle smile suddenly appearing on his face. Before he could even speak, Heine, sitting opposite him, expressed his terror, "Act like you didn't hear anything I said!"
He hurriedly diverted Gin's attention, fearing he would be dragged off to the Training Room for "training": "Brandy has always been quite mysterious, hasn't he?"
Which veteran among the core members isn't mysterious?" Gin was too lazy to expose his intentions, raising his hand to reach for his coffee. "Even among high-level members like you and Cavendish, there are plenty of people speculating in private.
“That's true.” Heine nodded, then as if remembering something, he smiled and said, "I remember back then, someone even went out of their way to inquire about Brandy's preferences—but that seems to have been a long time ago."
Indeed.
Gin knew this.
He also knew that Brandy liked Ruby.
Gin's hand holding the coffee froze for a moment, then he calmly withdrew it, his eyes indifferent. "Speaking of which, your codename is clearly Hine, so why aren't you one of Brandy's people?"
Heine twitched the corner of his mouth, feeling somewhat speechless. "That has nothing to do with codenames! Besides, Kressen isn't one of your people either!"
True." Gin nodded, his green eyes flashing with a hint of amusement, like a playful little fish surfacing from beneath green waves, blowing a string of bubbles before vanishing, leaving only ripples spreading across the surface. "But Borse is also my man.
You—" Heine was left speechless, but then his features relaxed. He let out a smile and a sigh, his eyes shimmering with a faint brilliance that, under the soft lights of Starbucks, looked like fractured phosphorescence. "I'm done talking to you.
He uttered that sentence, feeling both exasperated and amused.
Gin raised an eyebrow slightly, looking as if his prank had succeeded; he was clearly in a good mood.
..
The two of them clearly had no intention of lingering any longer. After Heine finished his caramel macchiato, he stood up.
Gin had only drunk one-third of his Americano. He was not a picky eater, but he would not force himself to consume things he did not particularly like; after taking a few distracted sips, he left the rest untouched.
It was already evening by the time he left Starbucks. Heine leaned against his Jaguar, casting a casual glance at the sky with his blue eyes.