Chapter 39 p1
Well asked.
If it were the old Scotch Whisky, he would indeed have to act cautiously under Gin’s tyranny.
However, the one standing in line now is the new Scotch Whisky, the chief spokesperson for the Black Organization’s body-double literature. Standing behind him is the distillery’s number one Gin-hater, Pinga!
Vodka, there’s no need to feel inferior for losing to Twisted Deep-Closet Bro.
…
Fan An had spotted Hiromitsu long ago.
The moment she stepped onto the cruise ship, her ability had displayed the location of her Crime Mentor, Scotch, as conspicuously as the brightest star in the night sky.
The sudden encounter had greatly surprised her. Why was Hiro here?
After some thought, Miss An believed there were several possibilities:
First, like the Working Emperor next door, he had developed a work addiction. In addition to being a body double at the distillery, he had found a part-time job shaking milk tea on the cruise ship.
Second, this was a distillery team-building event. Whether you were an introverted liquor, an extroverted liquor, a real liquor, or a fake liquor, participation was mandatory. A seven-day, seven-night “Who is the Mole?” battle royale game on the cruise ship. The loser would be chopped up and thrown into the sea to feed the fish.
Third, on the surface, it was a company-funded team-building trip, but in reality, it was an excuse for the Black Organization to trick its employees into working overtime. Scotch Whisky had lost his labor arbitration case and had no choice but to work illegally for the distillery on the cruise ship.
“Let me deduce,” Fan An pondered carefully. “Hiro in the line is empty-handed. He didn’t bring me any milk tea. Option one is eliminated.”
“If he were in the middle of a tense and exciting battle royale, instead of lining up to get my autograph, he would more likely be waving a ‘Building, Window, Escape Quickly.jpg’ meme at me. Option two is eliminated.”
The scheming frog keeps touching your belly—there’s no mistake. By process of elimination, the answer is option three!
Hiromitsu was lining up to meet Fan An to remind her: there are organization members on the cruise ship. Be careful.
A cruise ship, like an isolated island far from land. The Black Organization, with ulterior motives, hiding among the crowd. A program sponsored by the Suzuki Group. The three major elements were all present. This was a heaven-sent stage for a movie-level plot.
The only regret was that Edogawa Conan wasn’t here. But it wasn’t a big problem. Suspect An was!
Fan An took the autograph board from Hiromitsu. As she signed, she understood his unspoken message and followed the direction he was looking.
At the cruise ship’s open-air bar, the figures of Silver-Haired Model Bro and Sunglasses Bodyguard Bro were so conspicuous, a single glance was a lifetime.
Besides them, there was also a short-haired rock-and-roll hot girl with a butterfly tattoo at the corner of her eye, and a fishing enthusiast in a fishing vest.
What a unique group. Just like the Silver-Haired Model Bro + Sunglasses Bodyguard Bro combo, the visuals were extreme.
The dark-haired girl’s gaze touched and left. Even Gin didn’t notice he had been watched.
The silver-haired man looked impatiently at Scotch Whisky at the front of the autograph line, only feeling that this team was difficult to lead.
A star-chasing Scotch Whisky, a noisy Chianti, a silent Korn, a brainless Vodka, and…
Gin looked around, his aura growing even gloomier.
“Where’s Bourbon?”
Vodka answered honestly, “Bourbon said the sea breeze gave him a headache. He went back to his room first.”
The distillery’s team-building was like a plate of sand. It didn’t need the wind to blow; it just scattered on its own.
…
In a room on the cruise ship, the phone held in its owner’s palm displayed the live broadcast of the variety show.
The chat was scrolling by at high speed. Half of it was shouting the same person’s name. The camera was particularly fond of her, lingering on her face for a long time.
The screen reflected the face of the phone’s owner. The blond, dark-skinned young man ran his fingers through his hair, his purple-gray eyes filled with a complicated expression that said, “I want to be alone.”
“An’an…” Amuro said, almost in a groan. “Why are you here?”
He had just sent the girl a message saying, “I’ll be busy with detective work for a while, so we might not be able to meet for a long time.” The message was still warm.
With a snap, in the blink of an eye, the two of them met again on the cruise ship.
Who wouldn’t say: Fate is a mysterious and wonderful thing.
Of course, being busy with detective work was just an excuse. In reality, he was busy working for the distillery.
Amuro opened the text message. His fingertip hovered over the words “we might not be able to meet for a long time,” unable to fall.
This cruise trip would only last a week at most.
And his work as an undercover Public Security officer wasn’t so busy that he couldn’t go home for ten days or half a month.
She and he were only a wall apart. If they wanted to meet, there were countless ways.
But why, then, had he still sent that message?
Amuro’s thumb brushed across his own cheek.
He stared at his clean fingertip. There was nothing on it.
The beautiful, moist crimson was indelible in his vision.
Something had been quickly wiped away, yet it seemed to have been left behind forever.
The birth of a hallucination is proof of a muddled mind. Amuro thought for a long time and felt he should remain rational.
And then gradually become restrained, polite, distant, and let everything go back to normal.
The girl, who was born to stand in the spotlight, had a brilliant future that was the envy of others. She should not be dragged into the struggle between red and black.
‘No matter what, I have to keep my distance from An’an for now.’
The closer she was to him, the more dangerous it was.
The night he had taken her home, Amuro had made a decision amidst his difficulty and wavering.
He had hardened his heart and ignored the fact that the girl would surely be starving after waking up from a hangover, and hadn’t left her any breakfast.
He shouldn’t have left the hangover medicine and water either, but that would have been too harsh on An’an… As Amuro thought this, he found the hangover medicine in his medicine cabinet.
Since he had already given her the medicine, pouring a glass of water was just a matter of convenience. And while he was at it, he might as well add two spoonfuls of honey and stir it well.
An’an had been clamoring for custard buns yesterday. Maybe he should make that for breakfast? And buy some chocolate chips, melt them, and drizzle them on top, to make the chocolate-crisp custard buns she had been dreaming of…
Wait. The blond young man suddenly came to his senses and shook his head forcefully.
“Didn’t I say I wouldn’t do anything?” he reproached himself.
Amuro looked at the hangover medicine in his left hand and the honey water in his right, and closed his eyes in resignation.
He placed the items on the bedside table, and finally looked down at the girl, who was passed out drunk on the bed, her very breathing making him uneasy.
“We won’t be seeing each other for a while,” Amuro said in a low voice.
He gently wiped the lipstick from the girl’s lips, turned around, and left without a sound.
A perfect farewell—if Amuro hadn’t received the text message notification for the live broadcast.
It had all started with Bourbon being bullied at work at the distillery. He had made up for it by binge-watching the drama An’an was in, and in the process, had followed Director Kawamura’s account.
Even if Bourbon hadn’t followed, Vodka, who was already a die-hard fan of the show, would have clicked into the live stream at the first opportunity and announced this terrible news to Bourbon.
“It’s just a coincidence,” Amuro hypnotized himself. “Just like how Conan shows up at every crime scene. It’s just a coincidence.”
He had to wonder if he even believed that himself. Amuro’s actions were faster than his thoughts. Before the crew arrived on the deck, he had found an excuse to leave the distillery’s main group.
The cruise ship was so big. An’an had to cooperate with the variety show filming. As long as he was careful, they wouldn’t necessarily run into each other.
Even if they did, she absolutely could not see him with Gin.
What if An’an asked, “Are these delinquents wearing our Fan family’s traditional attire the work friends you met at your part-time job, Mr. Amuro?” Everything would be over.
“It’s safest to just stay in my room and watch the live stream.” Running away is shameful, but it’s useful.
The girl on the screen was seriously signing autographs for every fan, with very neat elementary school student handwriting, in a perfect police report format.
The chat went from “AAAAAAAH SISTER WHAT ARE YOU DOING SISTER” to desensitization, to “I’m so jealous of the people at the scene! Sobbing, if I don’t win the lottery, the only way to get sister’s autograph is to steal it from the police station!”
The Blond Public Security Officer: “…”
Is this the legendary “fans are like their idols”?
A smile had unknowingly appeared on Amuro’s lips, until a plain but unforgettable face appeared on the screen.
Scotch Whisky.
The body-double version.
Bourbon stared blankly at the shameless person asking the dark-haired girl for an autograph.
He knew An’an was very popular in the Black Organization. If the person lining up for an autograph was Vodka, Bourbon could reluctantly accept it.
“What’s he doing here?” Bourbon gritted his teeth. He wished An’an would coldly refuse this ill-intentioned person and slap the autograph board on Scotch’s face.
“Thank you for your support,” the dark-haired girl said cheerfully after signing.
Scotch reached out his hand to her. She didn’t hesitate, taking it and shaking it up and down.