Chapter 46
In the nick of time, his professional instincts as a Public Security officer saved him. The correct wire was cut with a clean snip. The blood-red countdown and the ticking sound fell silent.
The air was suddenly, frighteningly still.
It was as if what Amuro had just heard was a mere auditory hallucination.
“An answer?” An’an asked, puzzled. “Why are you ignoring me?”
Amuro: Right. It wasn’t a hallucination, and I didn’t imagine it. It was a question that could get you killed.
The undercover Public Security agent tried to calm down.
…He couldn’t calm down.
The high-EQ conversational tactics he had accumulated over the years had suddenly vanished. The vocabulary bank, composed of polite yet courteous phrases, was now secured with eighteen heavy locks. His mind was blank.
I have to say something. This isn’t something that can be bluffed through with silence. Any ambiguous attitude is disrespectful to the girl. I have to think of an answer.
I should probably just refuse…
The reason was ready-made. The blond young man had not boarded this cruise ship as “Amuro Tooru.” In the cabins above the cargo hold, Vodka, Chianti, Korn, and Scotch were waiting for Bourbon to report on the Black Organization’s work.
Can an active-duty Public Security officer, in the middle of an undercover operation, date an innocent, ordinary citizen while hiding his identity?
Although An’an and the word “ordinary” were a million miles apart, and although everyone has the right to be with the person they like and the qualification to pursue happiness, to rashly agree to date someone was, no matter how you looked at it, an irresponsible act.
An’an didn’t even know his real name.
That would be too unfair to her.
Refuse. Phrase it as tactfully as possible, so as not to upset her.
“Isn’t An’an in the rising stage of her career right now?” Amuro said softly, his eyes fixed on the floor. “Getting caught in a scandal would have a very negative impact on you.”
“It wouldn’t,” An’an said with complete frankness. “My criminal record and police reports at the station haven’t brought me any negative impact.”
Her fans had first gotten to know her from the front-page headlines of the crime section. What storms hadn’t they seen?
“Can’t a person have it all?” she said with supreme, unshakeable confidence. “I just want to have a bountiful harvest in both my career and my love life. What’s so excessive about that?”
Amuro was speechless.
He tried his best to find another reason. “But my work is very busy, and An’an will be busy too after she joins the cast. I’m afraid we won’t have much time to spend together.”
An’an: “Aren’t we neighbors?”
The only thing separating them from living together was knocking down a load-bearing wall.
The blond young man suffered defeat after defeat. The soft strands of his hair falling beside his ear made him look a little pitiful.
“Mr. Amuro, you keep looking for excuses.”
The dark-haired girl straightened up, her hands on her knees, and looked down at the half-squatting Amuro.
“If you want to refuse, just say so,” she said, holding out her hand, her expression showing no sign of displeasure.
Amuro could have stood up on his own, but he didn’t want the girl’s outstretched hand to be left empty.
He placed his hand in An’an’s palm and used the leverage to stand up.
An’an pulled back!
The distance between them suddenly shrank to zero. The girl tilted her head back and met Amuro’s eyes.
“Do you really, really want to refuse me?”
From this angle, looking up at him, her already stunning beauty was flawless, a magical charm.
“Then say ‘I don’t like you’,” An’an whispered, her voice like a bewitching spell. “Say you don’t like me, and I’ll never bring up dating again.”
The excuses he had just found had no persuasive power with her.
And if they weren’t enough to persuade her, they couldn’t possibly make her give up.
An’an wasn’t an unreasonable person, nor would she pester someone endlessly. She had always been sincere and frank.
Honest with others, honest with herself. When she realized the feeling in her heart was “like,” she didn’t hesitate to express it, never hiding it away.
If it were just a one-sided crush, she wouldn’t have confessed so easily.
Her neighbor was exceptionally handsome, had a good personality, was patient and gentle, kind to others, and a great cook. Liking him was as easy as breathing.
From the fact that Amuro Tooru had single-handedly turned Café Poirot into a famous internet-famous shop in Beika Town, it was clear that if this person were to debut as an idol, his fans could vote him into a world-class top star.
A popular person who knows he is popular is always very measured in his dealings with others.
When she had first met Amuro, An’an could clearly feel this polite, courteous sense of propriety.
For example, even if she went out in a blood-stained raincoat, holding a knife dripping with the blood of some unknown creature, the blond young man would only gently offer her some kitchen tips, without interfering too much in her actions.
But she didn’t know when it had started. His sense of propriety had disappeared.
An’an was frequently invited to her neighbor’s house for meals. Sometimes he would say he had accidentally cooked too much, sometimes he would ask her to help him taste-test a new dish, and sometimes he would say there was no particular reason today, but it was dinner time, did she want to eat together?
The number of times she had been treated to a meal seemed to have crossed the boundary of being just neighbors. An’an would sit on the sofa in Amuro’s apartment, the two of them watching the drama she was in together. She had once had the illusion, “Doesn’t this count as living together?”
It didn’t, because after the ending theme song finished, she would still get up, walk the dozen or so steps, and return to her own apartment, just a wall away.
If it were just the disappearance of his sense of propriety, An’an could have understood it as them having become friends, no longer needing to be so polite.
But Amuro’s gaze lingered on her for a long time.
The girl would casually turn her head and always be able to catch her own reflection in those purple-gray eyes.
The moment their eyes met, Amuro would smile at her, a look of concerned inquiry in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Is there anything I can help you with?”
He hadn’t realized his excessive attention on An’an. But as the person being watched, An’an had.
What is he looking at? The girl was filled with a curious desire to find out.
The blond young man’s gaze would sometimes linger on her eyes. When An’an smiled, they would curve, and his gaze would trace their crescent-like arc.
Sometimes, it would linger by the corners of her lips, his eyes reflecting the almost decadent crimson of her natural color, or the deeper crimson of her lipstick.
A gaze that was both light and burning hot. It would rest on her as briefly as a dragonfly skipping on water, only to dart away in the next instant as if he’d been startled awake.
An’an: Eh?
Why… does it look exactly like he’s captivated by me?
“Say ‘I don’t like you’,” the dark-haired girl said softly. “Say it, and we’ll pretend tonight never happened. I’ll start preparing to move.”
She had pulled Amuro with great force, but her grip on his hand was very light. If Amuro were to pull away even slightly, the two of them would be completely separated.
An’an seemed to have given him the choice, but Amuro knew he was standing on the edge of a cliff.
She wanted to hear him say it. That he didn’t like her.
Amuro had said all sorts of things against his conscience during his undercover career.
Even his self-introduction was a lie. What was one more simple sentence?
Amuro Tooru opened his mouth.
“…I like you,” he said. “I like you.”
The girl was greatly dissatisfied, her cheeks puffing up. “Mumbling doesn’t count! Say it properly.”
“I wasn’t mumbling.” After the words were out, the hesitation and conflict in Amuro’s eyes vanished like smoke, replaced by a bright, clear smile.
He pulled An’an into his arms and repeated in her ear, “I like you.”
“Will you go out with me?”
A faint mint scent lingered at An’an’s nose. Her forehead was pressed against the blond young man’s chest, and she could hear the deep vibration from his chest.
“I was the one who asked first,” the girl huffed and mumbled. “But in the end, I still had to be the one to answer.”
She was not like some people who say one thing and mean another. She was a very honest, good child.
“I like you too,” An’an said seriously. “Tōru-kun.”
The undercover Public Security agent said nothing more. He tightened his arms, holding the girl in his embrace even more firmly.
Let’s just leave it like this for now, Furuya Rei thought. Although I’d much rather hear her call me ‘Rei’, it’s not time for that yet.
There were still too many obstacles to be removed. But these were not things An’an needed to worry about. All she had to do was be happy by his side.
—Even if the boyfriend she knew was only one-third of his true self.
The girl in his arms let out a yawn and rubbed her eyes sleepily.
“Sleepy?”
Amuro Tooru glanced at the time. It was so late. No wonder An’an’s head was nodding like a pecking chicken, leaning limply against him.
“Newly appointed boyfriend, I have a mission for you,” the dark-haired girl said, wrapping her arms around Amuro’s neck and mumbling. “Transport the dangerous goods to the designated location. The dangerous goods are flammable and explosive. No bumps. No dropping…”
Before she could finish, she was asleep.
Amuro gently brushed the stray hairs from her cheek and saw the girl’s unguarded sleeping face.
“An’an really has no pity for me at all.”
The blond Public Security agent held her with one arm and picked up the backpack filled with bombs and defusing tools with the other, shaking his head helplessly.
He was slandering her. An’an was clearly very considerate. Her arms were wrapped around Amuro’s neck, and her legs were hooked around his waist. Such an energy-saving posture for him.
The cargo hold was stuffy. The girl had taken off her mask the moment she came in. As he carried her out, Amuro considered for a moment whether he should help her put it back on.
At this time, there probably weren’t any tourists wandering around on the cruise ship. It should be fine without it.
The young man’s broad palm gently cupped An’an’s cheek, turning her face slightly towards him and burying it in the crook of his shoulder.
This way, no one else will see her, Amuro thought, patting the girl’s back again and again, helping her sleep more soundly.
To get from the cargo hold to the cabins, they had to cross the deck. Amuro had calculated the route and frequency of the Coast Guard patrols. He was sure he wouldn’t run into anyone.
Unless someone was deliberately waiting for him.
In a remote corner, a tall figure was silhouetted on the deck.
The blond young man stopped. He frowned. “What are you doing here? Scotch Whisky.”
A ghost that won’t go away, Bourbon thought.
What in the world? Hiromitsu thought.
What did he see? What did he just see?!
Hiding her face was useless. The fresh, tender cabbage that Hiromitsu had nurtured for so long—he would recognize her even if she were reduced to ashes.
Is this right? Hiromitsu stared at the girl being held in Bourbon’s arms—is this right?!
He had originally introduced An’an to the apartment next to Zero’s, hoping his friend could look after her a little. The girl was too prone to getting into all sorts of accidents, all alone in the big city.
Hiromitsu: Zero, is this how you look after someone?
He had looked after her so well, they were already in each other’s arms. Clingier than superglue.
Hiromitsu swore on the bond of their childhood friendship that An’an had no idea of this man’s true identity.
I’m sorry. Although it was partly my fault for helping to hide it, I have my reasons. I’ve already died once. Just let him be.
“Bourbon,” Scotch Whisky began, then hesitated. “Do you know that divine punishment awaits those who deceive an innocent girl’s sincere feelings?”