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Author's Note: Hmm..
There will be another chapter in a moment.
..
Thanks to Muqiu Little Angel for the landmine, love you, mwah~
Thank you to the Little Angels who provided [Nutrient Solution]: Guiyuan, Mutong, Weihuan Jihe YY, Di, Yizhan Si Kan, Kongshan Jue, the previous account was forgotten, Guizhidao Zhege, Huaxiu Yuan, love you all~
Chapter 82: Just Make Up a Reason..
Takao Haruki said, "That person who was just beside you, I feel like I've seen him somewhere before."
Gin froze for three seconds before finally realizing who Takao Haruki was referring to.
Then, he slowly let out a single syllable: "Oh?"
As for the specific meaning hidden within that single syllable, even Gin himself might not be able to explain it clearly, but fortunately, human language is just that wonderful.
In some situations, language is so inadequate that even the most elaborate words seem pale and powerless; yet at other times, a few short words can express a thousand complexities.
Takao Haruki didn't harbor much suspicion; he simply tilted his head slightly with a smile, his demeanor incredibly calm and composed: "I remember seeing him once when I was in the USA."
"I think there might be some hidden truth behind his identity," the Hell Puppeteer kindly reminded him.
Or perhaps he just simply wanted to watch the show.
He looked at Gin's expression with a half-smile, only to find with regret that the other man's expression remained exactly as it had been a few seconds ago; even with the Hell Puppeteer's extraordinary insight, he could not discern anything unusual.
Gin's expression remained unchanged.
He tilted his head slightly, a hint of poorly concealed laziness leaking through the small movement: "Oh."
It was a soulless "oh," brimming with all sorts of emotions like "I get it," "Is that what you're saying?", "I've read it."
Takao Haruki gave a dissatisfied pout and lightly rested his forehead in one hand; within his eyes, a faint, lingering gaze revealed a hint of deliberate disappointment.
In truth, one couldn't blame Gin for not giving him any face; the news was something he had known for a long time and was hardly surprising, so naturally, he couldn't show the expression Takao Haruki wanted to see—he had no intention of letting himself be played like a monkey just to satisfy someone's twisted sense of humor.
If Takao were to mention Sera Mari, perhaps Gin would show a bit of interest.
Speaking of which—
Gin lifted her eyelids and made a very kind suggestion: "When you were in the UK, did you 'seem to have seen' someone named Sera Mari?"
"Sera Mari?" Hell Puppeteer repeated the name softly, a hint of uncertainty mixed into his memory.
After a long while, he gave up the futile effort of searching for this unfamiliar person within his mind palace and shook his head. "I'm not sure. What does she look like?"
"I'll send you the images in a few days." That's right, images, not photos.
Following his previous words, Gin took a few steps forward. His legs were long and powerful, his strides both fast and steady; in just a few seconds, as his voice trailed off, the Silver-haired youth arrived before Takao Haruki.
Perhaps because of his Western mixed heritage, Gin was very tall—at least significantly taller than the renowned Hell Puppeteer. Due to the close proximity, Takao had to tilt his head back to look at him.
With a low, thick voice laced with a trace of a faint, almost imperceptible smile, Gin reached out and deliberately brushed his hand against Takao Haruki's face, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'll leave it to you."
As his words fell, Gin took advantage of the other man's moment of suspicion to take two steps back. When he looked up again, his face had already returned to its usual cold indifference.
Recovering from his shock, the Hell Puppeteer looked at Gin speechlessly. After a few seconds, he let out a sneer and remarked, "Vindictive."
"So what?" Gin replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Although the matter regarding the Silver gift had officially been put behind them, he still needed somewhere to vent the frustration in his heart, didn't he?
He was merely trying to intimidate the opponent while simultaneously passing along a trivial bit of trouble; by comparison, his subordinate Rongqing was much more reliable.
Gin's intentions were far too obvious, Takao Haruki understood them perfectly, having no intention of refusing.
Rather than being remembered by someone and having him bring up old debts at some point in the future, it would be better to settle the account cleanly and decisively right now.
However—
"It seems you knew all along." Takao Haruki was no fool; Gin's blatant attitude naturally allowed him to make some guesses about certain matters.
On second thought, a half-smiling expression surfaced in his eyes once again.
He took a step forward and placed his hand on Gin's shoulder, completely ignoring—or perhaps intentionally ignoring—the slight frown on the other man's brow.
“Keeping a wolf by your side—” A faint glimmer flickered in the Hell Puppeteer's eyes as he deliberately lowered his voice. The youth's unique voice echoed in the night wind, while his long Finger casually brushed the stray hairs on his forehead. "I am becoming more and more interested in you."
Gin stared back at him without flinching, his black coat nearly blending into the night.
He had made an Arrangement for this long ago, but he had no intention of telling this unsafe partner.
And so—
You have to cast a long line to catch a big fish.
I'll just make up a random excuse.
..
According to Takao Haruki, the source of that "Gift" was the mysterious B. W. he had once crossed.
After all the twists and turns, it felt as if everything had returned to the starting point, but fortunately, at least there were some fragmented clues now.
Gin has never lacked patience.
On Nana's end, things were progressing very smoothly—this was perhaps partly due to Kimie's cooperation.
Neither of the two girls had procrastinating personalities. Since they had already reached a consensus, they naturally chose to settle things quickly—after all, neither wanted a Sword of Damocles hanging over her head, ready to fall at any moment.
I don't know how this girl Nani spoke to her girlfriend, but the next day, without even packing her things, she moved into Niwang's dormitory with nothing but her credit card and a backpack.
Fortunately, the Silver-haired youth was also living alone at this time, making it quite convenient to discuss anything.
Over the years, Nani's detective career has become quite respectable; at the very least, her current savings are enough to allow her to be idle for a while.
Kimie was in no hurry; back when she and Nana swapped identities, Gin had already handled the discharge procedures for the former and subsequently arranged for her to be admitted to another hospital.
Naturally, some minor "tricks" were used to make the medical records appear flawless, as if she had been admitted to this hospital from the very moment she was first injured.
No one doubted the identity of the patient, Hashimoto Nana.
However, as a few days passed and everything seemed calm, it couldn't help but cause Gin to have his doubts.
Could it be that a flaw has been exposed somewhere?
Or perhaps it was—
"By the way, Gin, is our cooperation with Assemblyman Ono really reliable?" Chianti, sitting in the passenger seat, finally put down his sniper rifle and turned his head with great interest.
A murderous light shimmered in her eyes, echoing the faint reflections dancing upon the Sniper Rifle.
Gin, whose thoughts had been abruptly interrupted before he could even organize them, did not get angry; he merely cast a nonchalant glance at the Thickly-made-up woman, a butterfly-shaped pattern fluttering at the corner of her eye. The Silver-haired youth spoke with a cold tone, "This is not a matter for you to worry about."
The Black Organization has some involvement with certain high-level members of the government, something he had known for a long time.
This mysterious shadow lurking in the Dark World is, in a sense, indeed a behemoth—otherwise, so many people would not have suffered, lost their lives, lost their families, or been displaced because of it.
Similarly, there would not be so many who became incredibly wealthy, rose to great heights, or achieved immense fame because of it.
As a current beneficiary, Gin does not want to challenge it for the time being—after all, shouldn't he wait until all the actors have arrived before the show begins?
Korn drove in silence without saying a word. Unlike his Partner, this man was even more taciturn and acted even more decisively.
By comparison, he still preferred Korn a bit more—don't misunderstand, this had nothing to do with sexism; he just wanted some peace and quiet.
Chianti, having been splashed with cold water, did not feel depressed by it. Although Gin was cold and ruthless, he did not interfere much with his subordinates' personalities—as long as they did not interfere with him.
The silver-white sports car came to a halt at the intersection. On the street, pedestrians moved in disorganized, bustling crowds; it was the morning rush hour, they surged across the crosswalk like a swarm of locusts.
Once the red light flashed and the green light turned on, the silver-white Vehicle was started once again.
So she only remained quiet for a short while, once the vehicle had passed through the red and green lights, she spoke up again, this time at least changing the subject: "I heard that Malibu seems to have been caught by the police."
Gin's eyes flashed.
"Heard about it?" Korn finally spoke up.
Exactly." Chianti carefully placed his Sniper Rifle into its case, then leaned the case carefully against his leg. "It's not like I saw it with my own eyes.
Korn looked straight ahead, not dwelling on that flaw, "Who is Malibu?"
Rum's subordinate—at least on the surface.
Gin repeated it to himself in his mind, not speaking in response.
It seems to be one of Rum's subordinates," Chianti said, frowning slightly with a hint of uncertainty, before quickly dropping the subject. "But it doesn't matter.
The Black-haired woman shrugged, her posture weary. "It doesn't really have anything to do with us, anyway."
Is he dead?
If he isn't dead and falls into the hands of the Police, will the Organization choose to rescue him, or to silence him?
However, this hypothesis did not hold up, because: "It seems he had already breathed his last by the time the police found him."
Chianti reflected for a moment before adding, "Maybe he died while on a mission? The corpse was discovered by the police."
He died quite miserably; he must have been tortured," Chianti added, feeling a sense of resonance with the situation. "But the fatal wound was a single, decisive strike, the corpse didn't seem to have any other marks—it was most likely done by someone from the underworld.
Probably a veteran," Korn judged calmly after hearing Chianti's description. "I just don't know if he leaked any intelligence regarding the Black Organization.
Who knows? The Black Organization is also looking for the Killer—maybe we'll find him much faster than those idiots at the police station." The woman said with disdain, her expression carrying a hint of arrogance. "As for the one who did it.. maybe they know about the Black Organization's existence as well.
The shadow of the Crow loomed over layers of bones.
An experienced veteran of the underworld, he knew there was a significant possibility that the Organization was currently in a state of chaos.
Gin spoke lazily, asking as if casually, "Does the Black Organization plan to clean up the aftermath?"
Chianti turned his head to glance at Gin, his eyes showing a hint of surprise, as if she hadn't expected Gin to join their conversation—but she didn't harbor any suspicion: "I suppose.. but I heard that Malibu isn't highly valued under Rum, so Rum doesn't seem to care much about this matter."
The Silver-haired youth lowered his eyes slightly, the woman's voice continuing in his ear, faintly interspersed with the subtle sound of the air conditioning inside the sports car.
It abruptly cut off.
Thus, nothing remained but the sound of the air conditioner working.
"In that case—" Not long after Chianti's voice fell, Korn's low and indifferent voice rang out again, like a stone cast into a seemingly calm and rippleless lake.