Chapter 3
Asuka Kazuya was thrown out of the base, luggage and all. Probably anticipating that he would waste time, Gin personally packed him up and tossed him out.
Asuka Kazuya sat in silence, exchanging stares with Bourbon.
“Go sit in the front,” Bourbon, finally breaking the silence after a while, couldn’t take it anymore. “Calvados, I’m not your chauffeur.”
Asuka Kazuya was wary.
“No,” he said. “Science has proven that this is the safest spot in case of a traffic accident. Give it up, Bourbon, I won’t give you the chance to secretly get rid of me and take my place in Big Brother’s heart.”
Calvados had a strange magic.
Bourbon thought blankly.
Every time he thought Calvados was playing dumb, Calvados would act like a genuine idiot.
He didn’t understand.
Maybe there was something wrong with his brain.
Bourbon sneered, watching Scotch open the passenger door.
Rye naturally sat in the back with Calvados.
“How did you join the organization?” Rye casually chatted with him as the car started.
“Me?” Asuka Kazuya hugged his laptop bag, surprised that someone was still talking to him.
“Hmm…” He thought for a moment. “Rum shot me during a mission. He picked me up after seeing I was still alive and kicking after being shot.”
“So you’ve met Rum?” Rye turned his head, making eye contact.
“It’s not strange to have met Rum. Gin and Vodka have also met him.” Hearing Rye’s words, Asuka Kazuya replied confidently. “But to prevent ill-intentioned rats, Rum’s appearance is a secret within the organization.”
The rats number one, two, and three in the car remained impassive, as if Asuka Kazuya wasn’t talking about them.
“By the way, I think this mission is more suitable for Vermouth. You should have met her, right? That hateful woman.”
Among the four, the one most familiar with Vermouth was Bourbon, another mystery shrouded individual.
He turned the steering wheel, memorizing the navigation route, but said, “What? Do you have a problem with Vermouth too?”
“Not really a problem.”
Asuka Kazuya nodded.
“But that woman actually said I wasn’t sincere to Big Brother. I even took a bullet for him, isn’t that sincere enough?”
Negative one hundred sincerity.
When Asuka Kazuya heard Vermouth’s words at the time, he was so shocked he had a stress reaction. He once suspected that Vermouth had mind-reading abilities, but she just smiled and mysteriously said, “It’s a woman’s intuition.”
Scotch was silent for a moment.
“Calvados,” he said, “If I remember correctly, you’ve only been in Gin’s group for a year. Time-wise, you seem to have spent more time with Rum.”
Asuka Kazuya had anticipated him bringing this up.
After all, since he started clinging to Gin, no less than ten people had asked this question.
“I’m a visual person, so what?” In the strange atmosphere, Asuka Kazuya said with a straight face. “Even if I liked Vodka, I wouldn’t like Rum—of course, I don’t like Vodka either.”
Alright.
The Whiskey Trio thought.
Rum not being good-looking was at least some useful information.
“What about you guys?”
As the car turned a corner, Asuka Kazuya suddenly asked.
“Why did you want to join the organization?”
“Because there’s something I want to obtain.”
Rye withdrew his gaze, smiling indifferently.
“Most people in the organization are working towards that, right?”
Any given mission could yield a fortune that ordinary people couldn’t earn in a lifetime. The Black Organization also had contact with some high-ranking officials in various countries, and as an FBI agent, Rye’s mission was to find the names of these people.
“That’s not the point.”
Seeing that there was no more information to be gleaned, Bourbon promptly brought the topic back on track.
“Calvados, why do you think Vermouth is suitable for this mission?”
Asuka Kazuya blinked innocently.
“Didn’t Matsumoto Yamato get the Port Mafia’s information by deceiving some poor soul’s feelings? Although I also hate Vermouth, she’s so good-looking, wouldn’t it be easy for her to deceive the Port Mafia’s feelings too?”
Bourbon: “…”
Bourbon: Really? Do you really think everyone is a visual person like you?
The black car stopped in front of the safe house. Bourbon stepped on the brakes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.
“There’s a signal jammer here, no risk of being eavesdropped.”
His grayish-purple eyes met Asuka Kazuya’s through the rearview mirror as he tried to change the subject.
Bourbon narrowed his eyes, a dangerous edge to his tone.
“Now you can tell us, Calvados,”
“Who exactly is our opponent?”
“A-Achoo—”
Meanwhile, on the other side.
Dazai Osamu of the Port Mafia was tasked with hunting down Matsumoto Yamato, but he wasn’t interested and spent 99% of his time playing his game console.
The mafia was a group whose hierarchy was based on ability. Because of this, even if he only devoted 1% of his energy to serious work, Dazai Osamu was still respected.
“Do you have a cold?” Hirotsu Ryuro, who had blocked most of the attacks for Dazai Osamu, asked from under the shipping container.
“It’s summer, you know.”
Instead of directly answering Hirotsu’s question, Dazai Osamu replied indifferently.
His auburn eyes were empty, a lifeless body at his feet. The back of the head and jaw were destroyed, three shots in the center of the chest—Dazai Osamu stared at the blood spreading beneath him, suddenly letting out a light laugh.
“I heard they sent Kazuya-kun to participate in this mission.”
Hirotsu Ryuro was stunned: “Him? He actually survived that explosion.”
“Well, after all, the Boss’s opinion is that if Kazuya-kun’s power can’t be used by the Port Mafia, it’s better to eliminate him early.” Dazai Osamu said, putting his game console back in his pocket. He seemed to have thought of something, his voice trailing off with amusement. “But he’s really pitiful. If I had that ability, I’d rather have died at birth.”
Hirotsu Ryuro: “…Isn’t that contradictory?”
“That’s why it’s a disgusting ability.” Dazai Osamu shrugged indifferently, nudging the enemy’s corpse with the tip of his shoe, lost in thought. “Even betrayed, he wouldn’t reveal Matsumoto-kun’s information. At this rate, we’ll be overtaken.”
The Port Mafia member who had been tricked into revealing information was one of Dazai Osamu’s subordinates, and Dazai Osamu judged him a traitor based on the fact that he hadn’t revealed Matsumoto Yamato’s whereabouts even in death.
“What a nuisance.”
Dazai Osamu sighed.
“I already said I don’t want to lead subordinates. Can’t Mori-san persecute someone else?”
“This is a necessary quality for an excellent executive.” Hirotsu Ryuro said upon hearing this. “And according to the informant, Asuka-kun is already a prospective executive over there.”
Dazai: “…”
“…What does that mean?” The young man’s voice was faint. Dazai Osamu looked at Hirotsu Ryuro, a hint of complaint in his tone. “Are you saying I’ll lose to Kazuya?”
Hirotsu Ryuro, who had intended to subtly remind his boss to stop playing games, remained expressionless: “Of course not.”
“…And you guys seem to have some misunderstanding about Kazuya’s ability.”
After a moment of silence, Dazai Osamu looked back.
His tone was chilly, as if recalling something unpleasant.
“If I had to say, he’s probably a combat type.”
He usually played dumb, never getting angry no matter how much he was bullied. Back when they were both locked in the basement, a mafia member in charge of interrogating Kazuya died before even approaching him.
Dazai Osamu guessed that the person had probably dug up some information about Kazuya, because at that time, Asuka Kazuya had a serious expression and, unusually, didn’t joke with him.
The end result was a ruptured heart.
Although the mafia member in charge of interrogating Kazuya often tripped over his own feet or hit his head against the wall, a ruptured heart was a first.
If he guessed correctly, Kazuya’s real ability was probably devouring other people’s luck to compensate for something.
In layman’s terms, making other people unlucky.
“Maybe he’s an undercover agent.”
Dazai Osamu looked at the corpse of his subordinate under his feet and said lightly.
“Kazuya doesn’t seem as loyal to the organization as the intel suggests.”
Hirotsu Ryuro didn’t speak, bowing his head.
Immediately, all members of the Black Lizard stopped what they were doing.
“But it would be bad if Mori-san heard that.”
Dazai Osamu tilted his head, returning to his frivolous demeanor.
“After all, Kazuya-kun is different from Chuuya, he has no reason to be loyal to the Port Mafia.”
He smiled, his shoes stepping over the flowing blood, taking a step forward.
“Reasons… can be created, you know.”
