A deafening explosion echoed through the quiet outskirts, and the shockwave from the suitcase blast rattled the ground beneath them.
Fragments of debris sliced past Tequila's cheek.
He belatedly wiped at the stinging pain and stared at the blood smeared across his fingertips—but there was no time to care. His whole body was slick with sweat.
It really was a bomb…
Judging from the power of the blast, had he opened the suitcase directly, there wouldn't have been a body left to identify.
"It actually exploded!" Vodka gasped, eyes wide."You think public security found out about the deal and planted the bomb?"
"No."Gin shook his head calmly.
Hands stuffed into his coat pockets, he gazed at the smoking crater a short distance away. His sharp eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Then, without another word, he turned back toward the car.
"This much noise will attract attention. We're leaving."
Vodka jumped behind the wheel and started the engine. Tequila, still stunned, got in silently.
He said nothing during the ride back. His mind was spinning—but above all, he felt nothing but raw relief.
They returned discreetly to the cocktail bar hidden atop the Daikoku Building, the Organization's underground haven.
At the bar, Cohen and Chianti were already lounging. Chianti lifted her glass as the trio entered:
"Yo! So, the suitcase really blew?"
"Big time," Vodka confirmed.
"Damn, you're lucky to be alive, Tequila!"
"...Yeah."Tequila nodded stiffly, still pale.
Behind the counter, the bartender silently got to work—he wasn't one of them and knew to keep his head down.
When Tequila sat, the bartender reflexively began preparing his usual drink without asking.
A 30ml shot of tequila poured over ice into a classic glass, then topped with Sprite to about 60% full. A pinch of sea salt. A lime slice.
He carefully placed a napkin over the glass, slammed it down once, and let the foam rise violently to the brim—
"Tequila Bomb, as requested."
But before the bartender could even slide the glass over, Tequila's face darkened. The name of the drink sent a shiver down his spine.
With a loud clatter, he slapped the glass aside.
"DON'T. EVER. SERVE ME THAT AGAIN!" he growled.
"Y-yes, sir!"The bartender jumped in fright.
"Oi, why are you snapping at him?" Chianti teased.
"Yeah, this was your signature drink," Cohen added with a shrug.
Tequila said nothing.
At the bar, Gin was quietly scrolling on his phone. Vodka, more relaxed now, said to the bartender:
"Clean that up. Vodka martini, thanks."
The atmosphere was tense. For a while, the only sound was Chianti's drunken rambling.
The doorbell chimed as the door opened.
"My, what a lively place today."
Chianti waved, eyes lighting up at the arrival of Hayashi Yoshiki.
Vodka straightened in his seat.
"Cointreau," he nodded in greeting.
Gin said nothing. Cohen acknowledged him with a nod.
Tequila, on the other hand, stood up in surprise.
He remembered that face clearly.
"Good evening."Hayashi smiled politely.
Tequila, a massive 190cm man with a bristly beard and intimidating features, had always looked terrifying—but now, he looked almost grateful.
"You saved our lives, Cointreau."
He took his seat again but kept his eyes on Hayashi.
"If not for you, I'd be dead. I'm not the kind who forgets favors. If you ever need anything, just say the word!"
His thick Kansai dialect gave the words an even stronger weight.
"I'll keep that in mind."Hayashi answered casually.
Then he turned to the bartender:
"An orange blossom, please."
As the bartender got to work, Gin finally spoke:
"How did you know there was a bomb in the case?"
Hayashi's smile didn't waver.
"Don't worry—it had nothing to do with public security. Just a case of mistaken identity."
He watched the bartender prepare the cocktail as he continued:
"The person Tequila was supposed to meet was named Hideaki Nakajima, right? Turns out, another employee had a grudge against Nakajima and secretly swapped his briefcase with one containing a bomb."
"And that swapped briefcase happened to be picked up by Tequila."
Everyone around the bar froze for a beat.
After a stunned silence, **Tequila's shoulders began to tremble—**this time with fury.
"So I almost died... because of some petty internal sabotage?!?"
Gin's expression was unreadable.
He looked at Hayashi Yoshiki, voice flat:
"And how did you know someone had planted a bomb for Nakajima?"
"Hmm, how did I know..."
Hayashi never looked directly at him. Instead, he thanked the bartender, took a sip of his cocktail, and said cheerfully:
"After all, I'm a detective."
"A detective who solves murders before they happen?"Gin sneered.
You've got to be kidding.
To Gin, the implication was laughable—but also telling.
If this was true, then that meant Cointreau had orchestrated the entire chain of events.
He wasn't just discovering crimes—he was sowing the seeds, manipulating people like Nakajima's rival into becoming his proxy killers. Then, he'd swoop in as the "detective" who always solved the mystery.
That's why he always had cases to solve.
He's using others to do the killing... and using the aftermath to build his reputation.
Even Gin was a little chilled by that thought.
Gin suddenly smiled—a dangerous, satisfied smile.
He's definitely no undercover agent.
Anyone capable of such ruthless manipulation couldn't possibly be working against the Organization.
And more than that—he saved Tequila, protected the Organization's secrecy, and prevented a fatal PR disaster.
I really picked a good one.
"I'll report this incident."Gin stood up and said plainly:
"Your monthly funding will be increased by one level."