"Are you joking?" Scotland asked, his voice filled with both urgency and shock.
"Don't be in such a hurry, I haven't finished speaking yet." After a half-hearted complaint, Gin calmly put down his handgun. He wasn't worried that Scotland would fight back, so he naturally adjusted his black trench coat, casting a regretful glance at the delicacies on the dining table.
Forget it, it's not like I'm the one paying anyway.
"You can choose to stop it, or you can choose to say 'no'—" The Silver-haired youth sat down quite leisurely, his green eyes carrying a hint of playfulness, and..
“Of course, I'll give you a free reminder: the Organization has noticed you lately.” He looked down at the amber liquid spilling across the table, stating flatly, “If you choose to stop us, there is a ninety percent chance you'll be exposed; if you don't go, then hundreds of lives will be at stake.”
He looked up, his interest piqued: "These are the stakes on both sides of the scales; which will you choose?"
A spy for 'Justice'?
And malice.
..
The liquor on the table meandered and flowed until it came to a silent standstill, the amber liquid slowly seeping into the surface of the classical wooden table, merging with its grain.
The aftermath of the previous fight lay quietly on the table, a testament to how much those two guests had wasted such precious things; even the most carefully prepared and exquisite food, once stirred together, was a true waste of sustenance.
The messy remnants on the table could still vaguely make out their original appearance, with Sauce and the food's own juices flowing across the tabletop.
I imagine it would be hard to wash off, right?
-----------------------
Author's Note: Setting a small flag.
Once Volume 2 concludes and the comment count exceeds three thousand, I will add one extra chapter for every two hundred comments.. The extra chapters will count as me catching up on previous ones..
I looked at the current number of comments, felt that my burden shouldn't be too heavy..
Chapter 63: I Can Kill You Right Now—Or..
The moonlight was beautiful that day.
A cold, round moon hung in the pitch-black, deep sky, casting a faint, slightly yellowish white light. Perhaps because the Milky Way was more than three hundred and eighty thousand kilometers away, those looking up at the moon could not see it clearly, which added a touch of hazy poeticism to the scene.
Under the bright moon and sparse stars, the night was beautiful enough to be called a fine one.
Gin looked up at the moon, yet for some reason, he perceived a hint of desolation in it.
He actually disliked those state machines that claimed to represent "Justice."
It was simply a matter of stance.
After all, when people like them clash with these "messengers of Justice" and "servants of the people," one word can basically describe it—'life or death.'
It would be best if it were you die, I live.
Who doesn't want to live?
To be honest, those who survive in the underworld, especially those who have fought their way up from nothing to stir up storms, all cherish their lives.
They might not fear death, but that doesn't mean they don't value their lives.
Those who truly have no desire to live would have died long ago; losing one or two more wouldn't make any difference, they wouldn't have been able to reach their current status.
Now that the Black Organization's influence has grown so vast that Gin can bomb public facilities with an Osprey without a second thought, the darkness has become like a web, ensnaring every corner of the shadows of society, even reaching the upper echelons of the government.
To them, those Public Security undercover agents even seemed somewhat laughable—you hate our evil, we laugh at your stubbornness.
Even so, at times, does there not also hide 'Evil' within the Justice you claim for yourselves?
If it were an ordinary person, they would be able to distinguish between good and evil. Even if they were engaged in illegal activities themselves, they would know in their hearts that it was wrong—they simply could not stop in pursuit of profit.
However, for Gin, it was a different story.
If you lived in an illegal organization since your youth, started killing and committing arson as a minor, have now climbed to the high-level members of power.
Among those around you who are doing the same things you do, those who perform poorly remain obscure or are even arrested and imprisoned, while those with great ability instead rise steadily through the ranks.
In this place, everything you hear and see is about slaughter, darkness, death, betrayal.
Here, the so-called Police and Public Security are the enemy; they are fools who do not know how to seek profit for themselves, they are people who harbor corruption within their own ranks.
In this place, kindness is not a virtue worth praising; only ruthlessness can help one survive better.
Even if the world outside is incompatible with you, even if you know that you are actually the one who is "wrong," even if you understand that you are the one who is meant to be defeated by "Justice"—
—Deep down, do you truly have the feeling that "you are in the wrong"? (1)
Of course, even if his various actions could not be described as committing every possible evil, they were certainly enough to earn him the reputation of being "full of wickedness," and no matter how clean those fair, slender hands appeared, they could never wash away the faint scent of blood.
But even though he now had a vague desire to leave the Black Organization, deep down he lacked any real sense of "I have murdered others, I am wrong, the sins I have committed are enough to kill me many times over."
So he asked Scotland this question; in truth, no matter what choice the other man made, he could mock him to his heart's content.
If you choose to stop them, there is a ninety percent chance of exposure; if you don't go, then hundreds of lives will be lost.
What will you choose?
Scotland's choice was within the realm of reason, yet it was also beyond his expectations.
Even more inexplicably, looking into those eyes—which had once been as gentle as soft moonlight but were now as blazing as the morning sun—the mocking words suddenly became impossible to utter.
But so what?" The Silver-haired youth lowered his eyes, his green eyes chillingly cold, as he murmured, "Anyway, everything is within my plan.
..
Nana remained silent for a long time, so long that Niwang thought she would continue to stay silent, until the black-haired young female detective finally spoke: "I'm so hungry, let's go eat."
Unfortunately, the answer she gave was not what Niwang wanted.
The silver-haired youth sighed helplessly, knowing in his heart that he likely wouldn't get an answer this time. If he were to truly compare it to what his girlfriend said, regardless of whether Nana was willing or not, he would feel heartache himself.
So the youth let go of Nana, his eyes lowered and looking somewhat dejected, bearing no resemblance at all to the Swindler who dominated the court: "Okay.."
Nana's green eyes quietly traced her boyfriend's face, she suddenly laughed. "I can't say it yet, but if there comes a day when I can, I will definitely tell you."
Yaji lifted his gaze, his green eyes brightening bit by bit, "You must be the first to tell me."
“Yeah, definitely.” The black-haired female detective nodded solemnly. "I will definitely tell you first."
..
Everything was within Gin's plan.
Except for the conditions Scotland proposed later.
Gin had to admit that Scotland was actually quite an interesting person—at least at that time, he was still able to negotiate terms with him.
EXM？？？
However, this indirectly reflects that when it comes to psychological resilience, the undercover sent by Public Security is a cut above those terrible teammates from the Black Organization; after all, the people they sent were carefully selected elite members.
A sincere thanks to the generosity and magnanimity of the Japanese Public Security.
“Can I add one more condition?” Scotland's handsome face flickered in the dim, yellowish light, but his expression was incredibly resolute. "If I die, will you help me sweep up the remains?"
To sweep up the tail, without implicating other Companions.
This was the second time today that Gin felt something was unbelievable; he widened his green eyes and stared fixedly at the man before him for three seconds, then burst into uncontrollable laughter.
Scotland did not say a word.
The laughter gradually subsided. At that moment, Gin tilted his head, covering his forehead lightly with one hand. His fine, scattered bangs fell against his hand, cool and devoid of any warmth.
He looked up, his eyes filled with interest. "What makes you think I would agree?"
These were words he had not spoken before, but now they finally escaped his lips.
Perhaps it's because I had no other choice?" Scotland answered sincerely. "And, if you truly analyze it, my request isn't entirely impossible—after all, you didn't expose me before, you didn't kill me later, now you've even gone out of your way to make an agreement with me, haven't you?
"Just because of that?" Gin lowered his hand, his fingertips tapping lightly on the tabletop.
"Of course not. Do you want to hear the analysis?" Scotland looked so relaxed that if Gin hadn't known what they had 'discussed' earlier, he would have almost thought they were just making small talk.
"I could kill you right now—or expose you later," Gin quipped, half-jokingly.
Just endure it for a little while," Scotland smiled, his expression carrying a hint of indulgence. "To watch a good show, one must pay a price, mustn't they?
He made this decision not only because of the lives of nearly a hundred people, but also because Gin had already discovered his identity.
This was a time bomb that could detonate at any moment, the detonator was held by Gin—his enemy.
In fact, he didn't even know when he had been exposed, nor did he know if, if things continued this way, Furuya would also be exposed just like him—after all, their relationship within the organization was quite good.
Therefore, he couldn't even ask his colleagues for help.
—He seemed to have choices, but he truly did not have many options.
So much so that, just to be safe, he would even ask Gin to help with the cleanup—after all, considering the secrets Gin kept from the Black Organization regarding his identity, there was a high probability the latter would agree.
Rather than keeping this time bomb, he might as well choose when it explodes to save more people.
And Gin's actions might become his downfall in the future.
Gin changed his train of thought and understood Scotland's concerns, but this did not affect his mood in the slightest—in fact, he even felt a hint of admiration for the man.
So he said sincerely, "If you and I weren't in this situation, we might have gotten along."
Scotland also laughed. "That's not necessarily true."
Gin understood Scotland well; he estimated that not throwing a punch at him right now was already being quite polite—of course, it was highly likely that even if he did throw a punch, he still wouldn't be able to beat Gin. Tilting his head slightly, the Silver-haired youth's eyes blinked slowly. "True enough."
..
Perhaps because he thought there was an eighty or ninety percent chance this man would die, Gin felt a slight sense of regret.
In essence, he still held a certain fondness for the strong—after all, praise from a fool meant nothing to him.
So, perhaps it was because he felt a sense of kinship with Scotland that he felt it was such a pity?
Gin, who had attributed his vague discomfort over the past few days to this, quickly decided not to make things difficult for himself. Driven by the mindset of "if I'm unhappy, you won't have it easy either," he made an appointment with his new subordinate at the training ground.
After all, the origin of this matter was somewhat related to him.
What he had told Scotland before—that the Organization had already noticed him recently—was not an empty threat.
Bourbon's previous investigation into Sherry had not only struck a nerve with Gin, but had also actually drawn the attention of the Black Organization.
—You have to understand, Gin only knew about this because Madra had specifically tipped him off.