In the dimly lit room, a blonde beauty wrapped only in a white bath towel walked up to the computer.
"Really? You didn't regroup with them after the retreat?"
After hanging up the phone, Vermouth sat down and opened her inbox. As expected, several new unread messages had arrived overnight.
With a flick of her mouse, she clicked open the latest email.
Inside were multiple video files—mission footage of the new member, Cointreau. She had retrieved them herself, directly accessing the database using her high-level clearance in the organization.
Though these files were highly classified, Vermouth had the authority to bypass most restrictions. Still, the act of accessing intel at this level left a visible trace—something Gin was sure to notice.
To be honest, this was the first time Vermouth had ever seen Gin "care" so much about someone.
Not only had he personally overseen the protection of Cointreau's identity, but he'd even gone so far as to exclude Calvados, fearing the man might unintentionally leak details to her. She knew full well that Chianti and the rest were holed up in a safe house—and only Calvados thought they had gone into hiding.
She opened the videos in chronological order.
—It began with an "accident" at the Beika Aquarium.
As she watched, Vermouth frowned slightly.
Next video: a car loses control on a highway and is crushed by a rolling steel coil.
Every single one was an accident.
Not a single frame showed Cointreau's face—only mission targets dying one after another in bizarre, seemingly unrelated incidents.
And the further she watched, the more unbelievable it became.
Especially the highway incident during their last mission: multiple cascading traffic accidents perfectly timed, allowing the team to retreat with barely any effort.
Such precise calculations.
Staring at the repeating scenes on her screen, Vermouth's eyes narrowed.
The timing, the location, and even the reaction patterns of the people involved had all been anticipated and manipulated. The targets were mere props in a screenplay authored by someone else.
Cointreau was terrifying.
No wonder Gin kept such a close eye on him.
This man… needed to be watched very, very closely.
When Hayashi Yoshiki awoke, it was already past ten.
He showered before stepping out of the room. When he entered the safe house's main area, he found everyone still gathered in the living room.
"Good morning, everyone."
He greeted them lightly.
Ireland, still sporting a bandage from the night before, blinked.
That smile—so gentle, so sunny—it felt completely disconnected from the eerie genius he'd witnessed last night. Especially with his long black hair now untied, Hayashi Yoshiki's entire aura felt almost angelic.
Split personality? Ireland wondered.
"Morning, Cointreau," Vodka greeted him first.
"Good morning," Hayashi responded again with a nod.
"Come on, breakfast's ready," Tequila added, pointing to a pile of McDonald's bags on the table.
Hayashi Yoshiki walked over, took a sandwich from a wrapper, and sat down casually.
"Brother, the website's still not fully restored."
Vodka, munching on a pork-and-egg McMuffin, grinned as he glanced at the browser on his laptop.
Gin, who had just finished his own burger, crumpled the wrapper in his hand and let out a cold snort.
Hayashi glanced at the screen. He knew immediately they were talking about the Zoo's killer platform.
The data center they'd destroyed was a central hub for Asia. Its physical servers were enormous and cumbersome—primitive by today's standards. Their destruction had wreaked havoc on the entire system.
Hayashi knew how it worked. He'd used the platform under the alias Kira before.
When a job was completed, the money wasn't deposited directly to a bank—it went into a website wallet, withdrawable via various masked methods. Many assassins kept their savings stored there for the sake of anonymity and convenience.
But now… much of that data was gone.
"Oh... they put out a notice," Vodka said with a mocking tone. "'Data under maintenance. We'll restore services soon.' Heh."
Gin didn't believe the entire platform would collapse, but the loss of credibility, plus the exposure of their arms smuggling and trafficking operations, would deal a massive blow to their organization.
For now, business would be severely disrupted.
Hayashi Yoshiki remained unbothered, sipping his drink, until he noticed Chianti storming toward him with a bitter look.
"Good morning, Chianti."
"Why do you lock your room at night like that? Don't you trust us or something?!"
After a beat, Hayashi Yoshiki smiled softly.
"So... were you planning to sneak into my room last night?"
"I would've been embarrassed in front of everyone."
Chianti's tone suddenly turned coy.
Wait... does that mean it's not that he didn't want me? It's just that he didn't want to do it in front of everyone?!
He's so reserved... so refined...
As Chianti stood there, flushed and dazed, Hayashi Yoshiki turned to Gin.
Gin was currently coordinating with his subordinates. He had recently noticed that Cointreau frequently used billboards and signage to facilitate "accidents," so he was now ordering teams to investigate the possibility of placing more structures like those in key city locations.
Additionally, Vermouth's recent inquiry into Cointreau's data had annoyed him to no end.
"Then... is it okay if I go get my hair trimmed?"
Hayashi ran a hand through his long black hair, twirling the ends thoughtfully.
Gin, distracted with his phone, glanced at his own reflection—his silver hair was starting to look wild.
"…Let's go together."
After all, his flowing silver locks required maintenance too.
"Okay," Hayashi Yoshiki nodded with a smile.