Chapter 5
“Kazuya and the others should have left the safe house by now.”
On the empty rooftop, Vodka glanced at the signal on his phone. Only after the silencer vibrated and he witnessed his Big Brother finish off the target with a single shot did he hesitantly speak.
“The last drug is still under observation. Is it really okay to let Bourbon and the others keep an eye on Kazuya?”
With his special ability, Asuka Kazuya had become the perfect test subject for “that gentleman” since joining the organization. Vodka heard that he had volunteered, saying he wanted to taste what the new drug tasted like.
However, not dying didn’t mean there were no side effects. During missions, Vodka had seen that unidentified creature exhibit a series of reactions, including fever, vomiting blood, and writhing darkly on the roof of Big Brother’s car.
Of course, Vodka sometimes thought that Kazuya might genuinely hate Big Brother.
After all, even during fights, Kazuya would sneakily run to Big Brother’s side and then deliberately spit blood on him.
But this doubt quickly disappeared one day when he witnessed Kazuya chasing after Big Brother, saying he wanted to wash his clothes. Vodka felt that this must be Kazuya’s cunning way of pursuing someone—although he didn’t know why Kazuya had to use colored laundry detergent and wash Big Brother’s shirt green.
The sudden incident opposite them quickly attracted the attention of others. After a brief moment of stunned silence, ear-piercing screams erupted from the office building.
Gin expressionlessly put away his gun, only glancing back coldly after hearing Vodka’s words.
“You talk too much.”
Vodka, warned, immediately shut his mouth. Vermouth, hidden in the shadows, clapped her hands.
“Oh my,” she straightened up, half her face exposed to the sunlight. “It’s not entirely Vodka’s fault, Gin. Isn’t it because you spoil him too much?”
Gin snorted indifferently.
He casually tossed the sniper rifle in his hand to Vodka, putting his hands in his pockets, the hem of his trench coat swaying slightly with his movements.
“Get to the point.”
Vermouth smiled, tipping the brim of her sun hat with her finger, making eye contact with Gin through her sunglasses: “I’m just saying, be careful with how you’re scheming against him. He might prank you like last time if he finds out.”
Matsumoto Yamato’s escape was too suspicious.
Although someone in the organization had already confessed, Asuka Kazuya, who had met with Matsumoto in the interrogation room, couldn’t be ruled out.
Unlike Vodka’s previous guess, Gin entrusted this mission to Asuka Kazuya solely to assess his loyalty to the organization.
Vodka, seemingly understanding something, was moved to tears. Gin, feeling this gaze, was slightly annoyed. He narrowed his eyes, not commenting on Vermouth’s words, only replying, “He’s more useful than you think.”
In other words, if Calvados was truly useless, Gin wouldn’t have kept him around until now.
Korn and Chianti inexplicably missed their shots, Vermouth didn’t follow orders, Rum tried to catch him and use it against him. Although that idiot Asuka Kazuya was sometimes disgusting, Gin didn’t deliberately try to get rid of him during missions.
“That’s what you say,” Vermouth shrugged, “but if Calvados really did it, you would be the first to execute him personally, right?”
Gin wasn’t sentimental in this regard.
“I have no habit of showing mercy to traitors.” The gun in his pocket remained loaded throughout the mission. Gin walked past Vermouth without looking sideways, not forgetting to remind her, “Vermouth, don’t forget, your own suspicions haven’t been cleared either.”
Rather kill a hundred by mistake than let one go. Raised as an assassin from a young age, Gin’s difference from others was that he equally suspected everyone.
Vermouth watched Gin’s departing figure, understanding the meaning and chuckling softly.
She had even thought of asking him for a drink after the mission.
“What a heartless man.”
Inside a certain Tokyo club, Asuka Kazuya had earned a million in just ten minutes. The chips piled up in front of him were eye-catching, surrounded by onlookers two layers deep, buying Bourbon and the others considerable time and space.
Matsumoto Yamato would appear here tonight—this was the information Asuka Kazuya obtained after hacking into his old computer.
Although Bourbon doubted his hacking skills, given the current situation, there wasn’t really a better way.
Thinking of this, Bourbon, searching for Matsumoto on the second floor, couldn’t help but glance down.
There were no signs of cheating.
Either Calvados’s luck was ridiculously good, or he not only memorized the order of every card but also recombined the order based on the dealer’s shuffling technique.
Neither scenario was good for them.
“Don’t space out, Bourbon.”
The game at the gambling table was still in full swing. Amidst the noisy clamor, Bourbon barely made out Calvados’s voice in his earpiece.
“Someone from the Port Mafia has also infiltrated. Before that guy finds us, if you can’t find poor Matsumoto-kun, I’ll have to leave you guys behind.”
Bourbon didn’t take this childish threat seriously. He glanced up slightly and memorized the distribution of surveillance cameras around him.
Scotch’s task was to erase their traces from the surveillance footage after the incident, and he was probably already lurking on the third floor. Rye was on the roof of the opposite building. If their mission failed, shooting Matsumoto Yamato through a sniper scope was also an option.
Bourbon’s expression remained unchanged, quickly blending in with the surrounding guests. He merely bumped shoulders with a guest in a black suit at the corner, and a USB drive appeared in his hand the next second.
This was the Public Security’s retreat signal—Bourbon had just confirmed the presence of other armed groups besides the Port Mafia and the organization. Once the first shot was fired, the situation would become uncontrollable. Involving Public Security in such a situation was clearly not a good idea. To minimize casualties, the Public Security’s secret division received orders to withdraw to the perimeter of the club after a brief exchange of information.
However, as things stood, neither the Port Mafia nor Calvados seemed to have any clues about Matsumoto Yamato’s disguised appearance.
The only one who knew his face was Bourbon, also from Public Security. He took a deep breath, not wanting to shoot his colleague unless absolutely necessary.
Bourbon’s figure disappeared from Asuka Kazuya’s sight. Asuka Kazuya propped his chin, feeling that something was strange about Bourbon, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He thought for a long time, finally deciding to focus on the matter at hand.
[Report: No suspicious individuals found on the second floor. Did Dazai-sama specify what the target might be disguised as?]
[Traces of intrusion on the third floor… haven’t found Matsumoto yet.]
[Can’t contact Dazai-sama. Should we report to Hirotsu-san?]
[…Shut up, Fujiwara. Hirotsu-san said Dazai-sama is thinking, just too lazy to reply to us.]
Useful information continuously came from the eavesdropping device. Asuka Kazuya propped his chin, using the crowd to hide himself while playing with the chips in his hand.
Just as things were getting a bit boring, Hirotsu Ryuro’s voice came through.
[Orders from Dazai-sama: Form pairs and check each other for eavesdropping devices.]
[Repeating, form pairs, everyone…]
Another burst of static. The button planted on an innocent member was removed. Then, Asuka Kazuya heard that familiar voice.
“Hi~ Kazuya.”
Unlike the previously overheard intel, the voice came from above.
Asuka Kazuya leaned back slightly, making eye contact with Dazai Osamu standing behind him.
“Although I kind of guessed it, it’s really a headache that you keep planting eavesdropping devices on my subordinates.”
White bandages, excessively pale skin, and those emotionless auburn eyes—Dazai Osamu, appearing under the light, smiled, giving off a harmlessly beautiful impression.
But this guy’s heart was black, his blood was black too. Asuka Kazuya narrowed his eyes, not understanding why he was here.
Among those Black Lizard members, only Hirotsu Ryuro was somewhat useful. Bourbon and Scotch’s information hadn’t been exposed. Probability-wise, without Dazai Osamu, the Port Mafia only had a 40% chance of winning.
Was the Port Mafia’s boss that carefree? Could it be that killing him took priority over tracking down Matsumoto Yamato?
“Can’t you just do me a favor and kill a few people for me?” Asuka Kazuya, unable to figure it out, looked away and replied indifferently. “Besides, this is just compensation for you backstabbing me last time.”
“Why would I do such a superfluous thing?” Dazai Osamu’s eyes drooped. Standing at the boundary of light and shadow, he showed no change in emotion as he spoke. “Besides, Gin-kun isn’t an idiot either. If your companions are killed by the Port Mafia at the same time, even a three-year-old could see through your intentions.”
Asuka Kazuya: “…”
His card playing slowed down by a second, while his breathing and heartbeat quickened.
Dazai Osamu stared at Asuka Kazuya for a moment, guessing what the other was enduring.
He heard there were similar cases in the special forces Hunting Dogs—once defection was confirmed, they would die from full-body decay. This was the price they paid for undergoing long-term body modification surgery.
“What’s wrong, brat!”
Seemingly noticing the abnormality here, the man across the gambling table let out a disdainful laugh.
“Scared to wet your pants? If you obediently admit defeat now, I might let you off the hook. Otherwise, you’ll lose even your pants later, hahahaha.”
Dazai Osamu spoke slowly, just before Asuka Kazuya played his card: “I wonder how Chuuya would react if he knew you not only joined the mafia but are also gambling here?”
…Was Dazai’s brain broken? What did A5158 have to do with him?
Asuka Kazuya listened to the latter’s question with a blank expression, unusually not provoked.
“Hey,” he lowered his voice, a hint of threat in his tone this time. “Just because I’m also from the slums, you assume I know your gravity user? What did your workaholic boss mislead you about this time?”
If Dazai Osamu hadn’t gotten his information from the Sheep, he might have believed his lies. But he pondered, observing the other’s expression for a moment, before coming to a conclusion.
So that’s it, he “ran away” from the Sheep because he didn’t remember.
Dazai Osamu blinked innocently, about to speak, when he saw Asuka Kazuya stand up.
[Dazai… Dazai Osamu? Isn’t that the Port Mafia’s executive?]
[Why do you look so malnourished? Hey, don’t tell me your new boss can’t pay off the old boss’s debts and sold you here?]
Kazuya’s hair had grown a bit longer than when he was in the dungeon, a few strands of golden hair swaying in front of his forehead, his clear irises illuminated by the light, arrogant and proud.
“Dazai.”
After a while, Dazai Osamu heard his rogue-like voice.
This name exploded like a thunderbolt in the crowd. Amidst the chaos, as they brushed past each other, Asuka Kazuya smirked, briefly hooking his arm around his neck before quickly letting go.
“Wish me luck.”
