His voice carried a faint trace of weariness and casualness, the sharp hostility that usually defined his features was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by steadiness and benevolence.
"Speaking of which, this truly is a good show!" He spoke to the people over there while walking downstairs, not caring even if he received no response.
The man's voice was thick and deep. Having seemingly heard an unexpected answer, he gave a silent laugh, as if he were speaking to a junior or merely chatting with a friend. "If I couldn't read lips, I'd probably have missed quite a lot."
“Don't say that.. I really do feel that way.” He replied softly, his eyelids fluttering slightly. “Regardless—"
Mission completed.
And—
Don't forget what you promised me, Gin.
-----------------------
Author's Note: You thought it ended like this? How could it?!
Note: The last person to appear has appeared before, but I feel you might not remember him QAQ
PS: By the way, Bourbon's story isn't over yet.. I'm suppressing my urge to post spoilers..
..
When I opened the story today and saw that the collection had surpassed 7,000, I was so happy!
Seeing the comments exceed 4,000—my emotions are complicated, a mixture of joy and worry.
I am happy, however, when I think about the extra chapters..
Okay, the 4,000-comment bonus chapter will be out either today or tomorrow.
To be honest, I've already become a useless pigeon QAQ
..
Thank you, Little Angels, for nourishing me with your nutrient solution~
Little Angels who provided nutrient solution: Ye Ling 10 bottles, Weihuan Jihe YY 4 bottles, Kongshan Jue 1 bottle, Guizhidao Zhege 1 bottle
Thank you all so much for your support, I will continue to work hard! ^_^
Chapter 82 Chapter 78 Hello, ICPO—..
Don't forget what you promised me, Gin.
The moonlight was hazy, a thin veil of silver gauze shrouding the city. People of all kinds moved along the streets, some dressed in suits with briefcases, others walking leisurely in light coats. Some youths had a touch of uninhibited spirit in their features, while some middle-aged men bore faces weathered by the elements.
Gin listened to the slightly distorted noise coming from his ear and remained silent for three seconds: "I won't forget."
But speaking of which, Tennessee." Gin's long fingers tapped the windowsill nonchalantly, he lowered his eyes slightly. "Your choice has never changed.
“Single men can't understand me,” the man on the other end replied with a leisurely tease, a hint of warmth appearing in his eyes as if he were thinking of something. “I'm not young anymore; I've spent half my life in the Black Organization, now I don't want to live like this anymore.”
“A life like that?”
“Living day to day, perhaps dying in the next mission; taking the lives of others; and.. being feared and despised by the public, never knowing when I might be arrested." She slowly listed the words he had long hidden in her heart, with a sigh: "My wife is a good woman, she is honest and has never broken the law; my son is still young, he always thinks I am just busy with work."
"I don't want them to be implicated because of me.. I suppose it's selfish of me, but I want to start my life over and be there for them." As he spoke these words, Tennessee felt the case containing the Sniper Rifle on his back grow even heavier.
So—" Gin raised his eyes, looking toward the moon on the horizon—so clean, so bright: "You intend to.. 'turn over a new leaf'?
I suppose you could say that, but the Organization certainly won't agree to it either." Tennessee forced a bitter smile before letting it fade into a dull expression. "So, I'll have to rely on you.
Is that so?
Gin thought about it nonchalantly, feeling that something he had never taken seriously—perhaps something he had known for a long time but had subconsciously ignored—was resurfacing in his mind.
He paused, his words missing the mark: "Tell me.. what happened between them before—I remember you can read lips."
The other person froze for a moment, then laughed heartily, "You, being like this.."
What is it?
It's nothing—" Tennessee smiled but remained silent, ultimately following the advice of this junior who had already attained a high position at such a young age: "Actually, not much has happened.
..
The moment Heine opened the door, sunlight poured out, forcing him to squint slightly to adjust to the sudden, intense glare.
Gin looked at him against the light.
That man's cold and indifferent expression was just as it always was. It was as if so many heart-stopping things hadn't happened the night before, Heine thought indignantly.
In comparison, with dark circles under his eyes, he looked like an idiot.
The fool gave a light huff and, without changing his expression, found a chair and sat down calmly.
Gin's Safe House was quite well-hidden—he had only discovered it by chance—and in contrast, the decorations in the house were extremely simple; aside from the essentials, everything else was as sparse as it could possibly be.
There was no sign of life; even a run-down hotel would have been cleaner than this.
The lights were off in the house, Gin had uncharacteristically drawn the curtains. He stood by the window, lost in thought. The midday sun was incredibly intense, momentarily flooding the entire Safe House with light.
"I thought you would arrive a little earlier." Looking at the uninvited guest who showed no courtesy, Gin responded with no courtesy of his own.
The two had not agreed on a meeting place beforehand, but just as Gin had been able to find Heine's Safe House before, Heine also knew that Gin would definitely be here waiting for him.
It could be considered a kind of tacit understanding.
"It's too hard to find here.." Heine muttered in rebuttal—he had arrived looking quite aggressive, capable of a fierce rebuttal even over the phone. However, upon meeting Gin, setting aside everything else, his momentum had already weakened by a significant margin.
Heine shook his head—if things continued like this, he certainly wouldn't get anything useful.
The playfulness faded from his Blue eyes as Heine looked at Gin's slightly pale face with a serious expression, getting straight to the point: "When did you find out?"
He did not explicitly say what he had discovered, but Gin knew exactly what the other man was referring to.
Yesterday, being spun around by his commands, clearly unwilling but forced to compromise—wasn't it all just for that person?
Sheila.. or rather, Heine's sister.
Gin had no intention of hiding it: "The direct reason for my suspicion was you."
Huh?" Heine let out a confused sound, then suddenly understood. The moment he realized it, the man's Blue eyes dimmed slightly, like the fading light of Stars on the Horizon, a bitter smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. "True, my story was far too obvious.
He was clearly somewhat regretful; however, unable to find a time machine, he had no way to go back to the past to give his dazed, blunder-prone self a good beating.
"It's such a pity I couldn't kill you back then." Blue eyes narrowed slightly, flashing with coldness in the sunlight, while Heine spoke the dangerous words with a calm and composed expression.
As if you haven't tried yourself," Gin said, completely indifferent to such remarks, expressing his disdain: "Don't talk about things you cannot do.
"And the indirect cause?" Knowing he was the one who had courted death, the man no longer obsessed over his previous mistake. He looked up at Gin and pressed for an answer.
“There are many.." Green eyes met Heine's clear blue eyes, a slightly mocking curve pulled at the corners of Gin's mouth.
..
The most obvious thing was the tattoo on Sheila's arm.
The first time he met Sheila, the Black-haired girl opened the door and looked up at them, a small section of skin exposed below her rolled-up sleeve; beneath the smooth texture was a layer of lean muscle, neither exaggerated nor weak, but fair and graceful. The Dove wing tattoo was faintly visible at the edge of his sleeve, lifelike, as if it were about to take flight.
“Dove wing tattoo.” Gin paused, looking at Heine with a half-smile. The other man's slightly annoyed expression was his source of amusement for the day. "You mentioned imagery regarding doves more than once that day."
"Oh?" Heine's bright blue eyes were filled with confusion.
Probably unconscious." Gin found a chair and sat down, leaning back against the backrest in a somewhat lazy manner. "But for me, it's enough.
The song you were humming at first, those last few lines—'Dammi il tuo amor'—it's an Italian melody. I went out of my way to look it up later; it's a Cuban folk song called 'Dove'.
“Columba is the literal meaning of 'Columba,' and she was born in Cuba.” Gin explained nonchalantly, the backlight casting a white glow around him in Heine's eyes. "That's probably why you hummed that song, isn't it?"
"You're right.. but I think it's more than just that, isn't it?" Heine asked weakly, resting his head in one hand as he looked up.
Gin paused, then answered him, "The first thing I thought of was Sheila, because of his eyes."
Eyes?" This unexpected answer startled Heine: "What about his eyes?
When I first saw him, I always felt his eyes looked familiar." Gin raised his eyes to meet the blue eyes of the person in front of him, a hint of a playful smile appearing at the corners of his mouth. "Later, I realized why.
The blue eyes of the man before him possessed a powerful presence, a mixture of innocence and debauchery. Whether he was an innocent and kind youth, or a profligate wanderer in his prime.
How much they resembled that other pair of eyes—eyes like mist over cold water and moonlight over desert sands, shimmering with the luster of autumn waters and flawless light.
“Heine, I have to say, your eyes—" the Silver-haired youth [male] let out a sigh of admiration, even though Heine [male] had no desire for this praise at this moment: "are all quite beautiful."
Heine rolled his beautiful blue eyes without any politeness at all, saying irritably, "I really can't thank you enough!"
Gin ignored him, but his behavior pleased the somewhat sadistic Silver-haired youth—it even somewhat alleviated the displeasure of yesterday's failed plan: "So, I had someone look into it."
The story you're telling is truly.. half-truth, half-lie!
..
What Heine told was a complex story.
The French girl, who appeared innocent and pure, was actually a girl with deep schemes; she used her disguised innocence to lure an inexperienced youth, never suspecting that the youth was in the same situation.
One was a hollow pretense, the other a false facade.
The Youth controlled her Ex-wife's family, Heloise also left Sicily, only to be placed under house arrest by her own family—or more accurately, by her Brother.
However, at that time, she was pregnant with Heine.
What followed was a chaotic mess of complicated relationships: the stunningly beautiful Columba, a powerful Mafia leader, Heloise, who was pregnant—the three were entangled in a messy, inextricable web of fate. Their triangular connection was so solid that even a single side of it would have been problematic on its own.
However, the true story is actually even more complex than what Heine recounted.
Heloise was indeed pregnant, but the child was not Heine's.
Because of the child in her womb, Heloise was placed under house arrest. At first, she even resented the child; however, the child was innocent after all, Heloise did not take her resentment out on him. Instead, she intended to welcome the child while harboring a subtle, conflicted mood.
But it was destined to be nothing more than a phantom.
She had miscarried.
The ex-husband far away in Sicily used a favor to secure the highly capable Columba for Heloise—for the child in her womb, but by then, Heloise had already lost her child.
When that agile youth appeared before her, claiming to be sent by her ex-husband, Heloise could only manage a silent, bitter smile.
And the youth did not leave.
"It doesn't matter, just consider it working for free this time," the Black-haired mercenary said nonchalantly, his features unruly and his expression dashing and carefree.
Right.." Heine sighed helplessly, "Heloise likes her because of this.