The Winery's Lavish Lifestyle
The Organization—known in code as the "Winery"—had always been generous when it came to paying members with codenames.
Think about it: Gin still drove around in a Porsche 356A, a model from the 1940s. Maintaining a vintage car like that in pristine condition—especially one regularly involved in shootouts—wasn't cheap. For any regular working-class person, that kind of upkeep was astronomical.
But in the Winery? That kind of money was just part of the job.
And when Gin said "Your funding will be upgraded", it basically meant adding another zero to the end.
"When I got here earlier, all the cars downstairs looked unfamiliar," Hayashi Yoshiki said casually, sipping his drink."Which one were you driving before?"
After a brief pause, Vodka glanced toward him and answered:
"…Brother's car is gone."
"That highway shootout. We left in a helicopter. The police towed the car afterward."
No wonder Gin hadn't been seen driving his prized vintage car lately.
That said… wasn't it kind of absurd?
Gin had used that Porsche for countless illegal activities around Beika, but no one had even issued a warrant for it. Beika's authorities must have nerves—or intelligence—of steel.
Maybe that's why Gin suddenly stood up and stepped outside to take a call.
"I keep telling him to ditch that fossil already." Chianti huffed."Every time we're on a mission, I'm already kilometers away and he's still chugging along."
"That's because you're too damn impatient."
Their usual bickering.
Hayashi Yoshiki just smiled as he observed the chaos around him.
Suddenly, Tequila raised his glass and clinked it against Hayashi's.
His voice was deep, his Kansai accent clear.
"Don't forget what I said. If you ever need help— anything —just ask. No need to be polite!"
With that, Tequila drained his glass and headed over to Vodka, murmuring something.
Hayashi took a small sip of his own orange blossom. The rich citrus flavor was nicely balanced by the bittersweet bite of alcohol.
Just then, a slender arm wrapped around his neck.
Chianti leaned over from behind and pressed Hayashi's face against her chest.
"Hey, Cointreau, don't be like Gin! Why so cold all the time?" she purred.
"Wanna come out with me?" Chianti's grin widened."I promise you won't regret it."
Hayashi didn't immediately refuse.
"Tonight, huh? Let me think about it."
Chianti had clearly had a lot to drink.
He waved at the bartender for another round—this time:
And a half-glass of Chianti red wine
"Ooh~!" Chianti's eyes lit up.
She seemed genuinely delighted. Beyond his looks, what she liked about Cointreau (Hayashi) was that he had just saved Tequila's life. That mattered to her.
She had always loathed Vermouth for what happened to Calvados, after all.
But before she could get too smug—
Hayashi pushed both glasses toward her with a soft smile.
"If you can down both of these, I'll go with you."
"Pfft, that's it?"Chianti scoffed and raised the red wine.
She finished the first glass in one smooth gulp. But when she threw back the neat Cointreau...
She choked halfway through.
Her pale face turned blue, and she staggered toward the bathroom without a word.
"She failed," Vodka noted flatly.
After a beat, he nudged Vodka with his elbow, and the two exchanged a glance. Tequila's gaze then slid back toward Hayashi.
Clearly, they were cooking up something.
Hayashi didn't pay much attention—until Tequila slid back into the seat beside him.
"Brother," he said seriously."That Chianti woman's no joke."
"I figured. She's hot-headed, but I don't dislike her."
"No, I mean she's actually crazy."Tequila lowered his voice further."Anyway, Vodka and I are heading out later. You coming?"
He glanced at Vodka, who suddenly seemed embarrassed, adjusting his sunglasses and clearing his throat.
"You catch on quick." Tequila grinned.
"Mr. Vodka invited me once before. I passed."Hayashi smiled again."Why not bring Cohen or Gin?"
"Big brother Gin doesn't go to places like that," Vodka replied without hesitation.
From across the room, Cohen chimed in:
"So that's what you guys were talking about."
Cohen stood up and calmly moved his drink over to sit with Vodka and Tequila.
Hayashi blinked again.
Is this really the Black Organization? Or a boys' club of murderers planning a group outing?
Watching the three of them sipping vodka and browsing "escort service websites" on a phone, Hayashi felt... deeply surreal.
He drained the last of his orange blossom, thanked the bartender, and quietly stood to leave.
The doorbell chimed as he stepped out.
Just as he entered the hallway, he bumped into Gin, who had just ended his call.
The silver-haired man returned his phone to his coat pocket.
Hayashi looked over his shoulder, smiled faintly, and added:
"You might want to wait ten minutes before going back in—unless you want to kill the mood."
But Hayashi Yoshiki was already gone.