"We're heading to the safe house now."
"Remember, don't bring Calvados."
The black sedan was speeding down the street as Gin ended the call.
He could already foresee that after this operation, that woman Vermouth would grow increasingly interested in Cointreau. In that case, there was no need for Calvados to see Cointreau's true face—that idiot never kept secrets from Vermouth anyway.
Even after the mission report was submitted, Rum himself had a good chance of becoming interested in Cointreau.
Glancing at the contact list on his phone, Gin let out a cold snort.
—Though Rum may be the second-in-command, Gin only obeyed one man: Karasuma Renya.
Still, Cointreau's ability truly shone in the realm of intelligence coordination. If he had access to sufficient intel and a full team to work with, Cointreau would become a horrifyingly efficient weapon of assassination.
Imagining the implications, Gin gave a sidelong glance at Hayashi Yoshiki—Cointreau—resting in the backseat.
But the real issue now... was Cointreau's mental state.
If Cointreau could cause this much chaos operating nearly alone, Gin shuddered to think what would happen if the man had unlimited organizational support.
Vodka had been driving like a chauffeur on best behavior—smooth braking at red lights, steady turns, no jolts at all. With his practiced driving and the car's premium suspension, it was like gliding.
As they stopped outside the safe house, Vodka got out and opened the door for Hayashi Yoshiki.
"Wake up, Cointreau."
"…Did I fall asleep?"
"It's really late now."
Hayashi Yoshiki stepped out, following Gin into the safe house.
Inside, the rest of the crew had already arrived.
Chianti, who had clearly enjoyed the night's chaos, was lounging with a bottle in each hand, nodding to loud rock music.
Tequila laughed, slapping the table as he stood up.
Across the room, Ireland—having a wound on his arm tended to by Cohen—looked up to study Hayashi Yoshiki, who entered quietly in a tailored black suit, his long black hair combed back and dark eyes sharp.
This wasn't someone from Tequila's world.
Still, Tequila was practically glowing with admiration, calling Cointreau "brother" with excessive warmth.
Ireland, a loyalist brought into the organization by Pisco, had never liked Gin much (especially after Pisco's death). But after escaping pursuit thanks to Hayashi Yoshiki's guidance, even Ireland had to admit the man's ability.
"When I heard your voice giving those retreat commands, I felt invincible! It was insane!"
Tequila had even cracked open a tequila bomb—something he'd been guarding earlier like gold.
Chianti growled, "That's also thanks to me! If I hadn't hit those three shots, you and Ireland might be fertilizer by now!"
"Bull! You weren't the only one with a gun."
"Shut up," Gin cut in coldly.
He turned to Hayashi Yoshiki. "If you're tired, go sleep. The room's inside."
"Thanks. Good night, everyone."
Hayashi Yoshiki offered a light smile and headed into the room to rest.
The others returned to their conversations.
Gin walked over to the minibar, poured himself a drink, and checked his phone.
As expected, Vermouth had sent him a message, vaguely asking about Cointreau.
Moments later, Chianti headed off to the bathroom.
The room went quieter without her shouting.
Then, about ten minutes later, she emerged—and unusually, she didn't make a sound. She simply wandered toward Hayashi Yoshiki's door.
Tonight's a good night for a hunt.
She crept toward the room.
I'll crawl into his bed. Whether he resists or not, I'll have my way!
Drunk and brimming with bravado, Chianti reached for the doorknob.
She immediately scowled.
The hell!? You actually lock the safe house room? Don't you trust us at all!?
She nearly pulled her gun to blast the lock off...
But Gin's cold voice cut through the room.
"What do you want, Chianti?"
Startled, she snapped back—
"Cointreau! What's wrong with you!?"
The woman looked furious.
And everyone else froze mid-sip.