Chapter 86
There was no way to knock it down. The wall between the apartments was a load-bearing wall.
Fan An insisted on letting her fans have a taste of her reading list. She had to give away the complete set of the “Beika Town Murderers’ Collaborative Publication” series.
This was a precious forbidden book that had been preserved with great difficulty under the relentless pursuit of the Public Security. It was practically the daily record of Sleeping Kogoro. Those who knew, knew its value.
The fans, while saying, “Can you stop giving away that broken book?”, were all retweeting like crazy. Fan An went online to take a look and saw many IPs from the Metropolitan Police Department in the retweet list.
Tsk, tsk, Suspect An shook her head. You police officers all say you want to ban the “Beika Town Murderers’ Collaborative Publication” series, but when it comes to the lottery, you’re more devout than when you’re praying to the God of Wealth.
“A just person like me would never rig it for anyone,” the girl said with conviction. “Even bribing me is useless.”
In the kitchen, Furuya Rei was tasting a new sauce. He thought it was not bad, thickened the sauce, and turned off the heat.
“Who needs rigging? Is it someone I know?” Furuya asked as he picked up a small lamb chop and fed it to her.
The freshly cooked lamb chop was very hot. An’an blew on it and swiped her phone a couple of times to show him.
The retweeter’s ID was [Okino Yoko is my true love]. Most of their homepage was support for Okino Yoko, with a small part being the rants of a corporate slave who was on the verge of death.
The latest post: “When can I give up sleep like my boss (marmot holding its head and crying.jpg)”
Below, a person with a glasses avatar had liked it. The ID was [On Decadence].
Also an acquaintance, the proposer of the famous corporate slave theory “as long as you don’t get off work, you don’t have to go to work,” the beast of burden among beasts of burden, Mr. Sakaguchi Ango of the Special Division for Unusual Powers.
Furuya didn’t know when Kazami had added Sakaguchi Ango as a friend. True soulmates will never miss each other. This was the great friendship of corporate slaves!
“He has the energy to complain. It seems he’s not busy enough,” Furuya commented on his slacking subordinate.
Unjust! Kazami Yuya, unjust!
The entire Public Security had been in a state of chaos lately, working overtime until they were dazed.
Really dazed, because the work content was so bizarre that it had left a group of Public Security police officers stunned.
What? The Black Organization’s second-in-command, Rum, had been arrested?
What? He refused to cooperate, but Zero Division said it was fine, no need to bother with the old man, it didn’t matter if he was there or not?
What? Our people have disguised themselves as Rum and infiltrated the distillery?
What? The distillery’s secret files have been deciphered? Rum had a breakdown in the interrogation room and went crazy!
What? The person disguised as Rum is a Public Security mole, the formerly deceased police officer Hiromitsu Morofushi?!
Kazami was dumbfounded. Kuroda Hyoue was not much better. Everyone had a dazed expression, like a group of confused calico cats.
Furuya’s mentality was balanced.
Everyone had to be equally persecuted by An’an’s ability. No exceptions. No one could escape.
“And I’m definitely the most miserable one,” Hiromitsu said, wearing Rum’s skin and retrieving Rum’s secret emails with the organization’s high-ranking members, while writing a report with a look of deep-seated hatred.
His death certificate had not yet been revoked, and his household registration and the like had not been restored. Because it involved an ability-user, Public Security couldn’t intervene in this part. He had to go to the Special Division for Unusual Powers with An’an one day to register.
The report Hiromitsu had to write was about what he had done in the distillery after his resurrection.
Hiromitsu got stuck on the first word and couldn’t write anymore.
Furuya: “What’s wrong? It’s just a report. Just write what you’ve done in an official capacity.”
Mentor Scotch looked at his friend silently.
Bourbon, who had suddenly remembered the past, was speechless. “…”
Furuya hesitated several times, trying to use his high-EQ words to embellish it for Hiromitsu.
To no avail. The two undercover Public Security officers were defeated by Suspect An’s flashy maneuvers.
“Just write the truth,” Furuya said, patting Hiromitsu’s shoulder heavily. “Write that you were recruited by Twisted Deep-Closet Bro, uh no, Pinga, and decided to infiltrate the organization again with a new identity that even Gin couldn’t suspect.”
“With the help of a mysterious person, a plan with the codename ‘Pure-Hate Black-Moonlight Body-Double Literature’ is on the rise in the distillery…”
Hiromitsu: This isn’t a report. This is a dog-blood romance.
Mentor Scotch struggled and struggled. The report was deleted and rewritten, but the progress was always stuck at a new folder.
Kuroda Hyoue didn’t know the complex inner story. He urged Hiromitsu’s report: Hurry up and submit it! Let everyone see how much trouble you’ve caused.
Hiromitsu gave up. He closed his eyes and wrote the report, and submitted it with his eyes closed.
At the joint red-side meeting specially established to destroy the Black Organization, Kuroda Hyoue opened the report sent by Hiromitsu in front of the FBI representative, the CIA representative, and the detective representative.
<My Life as a Body Double in the Distillery> — by Scotch Whisky
Akai Shuichi: “?”
Hondou Hidemi: “?”
Edogawa Conan: “?”
Only the famous mystery novelist Kudo Yusaku was amazed. “Heavens! What a novel theme!”
He had a burst of inspiration!
As everyone knows, meetings are inevitably boring, and reports are inevitably dry. Everyone’s mentality when reading documents is usually not so positive.
Click, click!
Click, click, click, click!
The mouse was clicked frantically. Everyone in the meeting room, with great enthusiasm, opened Hiromitsu’s report and immersed themselves in reading it, not lifting their heads for a moment.
No one spoke. Only the computer screens reflected everyone’s colorful faces.
After the report was finished, the meeting room was silent.
Edogawa Conan couldn’t speak for a long time. The terrifyingly detailed information was about to make his brain explode. He couldn’t help but take out his phone and open the chat with a certain person.
[Sister, you are my only sister!]
[Can you include me next time? Please let me participate!]
[Sister An’an, are you interested in Kaitou Kid? I have a brilliant idea.]
Kudo Yusaku leaned over to his son. “Send me Teacher An’an’s contact information. Her life experience is too suitable for a novel. I’ve already thought of the outline for my next work.”
Hiromitsu, who had personally written a masterpiece and knew that it would be forever preserved in the Public Security archives and be worshipped and studied by others, sat calmly to the side.
There was no one left in this world that he cared about.jpg
Once a person gives up their bottom line, they will find happiness. When it was Hiromitsu’s turn to speak, he gladly shared a few tips for cosplaying Gin under the gazes of his colleagues, who were looking at him with “this child is terrifying” expressions.
For example, the brand of shampoo is very important. The smoothness of the long hair must be up to standard. The hair care product brand that Gin loves to use is indeed very good, especially for long-haired men.
Akai Shuichi, who had been frequently mentioned, was speechless. “…”
The cool guy in the knitted hat had his arms crossed. He thought, Is it really that good?
I’ll buy it and try it later.
Kir had a better ability to digest information than the others. She had been undercover in the distillery for a long time and had heard of the famous “Body-Double Scotch” incident.
“I know the skills for cosplaying Gin. What about cosplaying Rum?” Kir asked humbly.
Hiromitsu: “…Keep your head clean.”
In a word, bald.
Kir glanced at Hiromitsu’s short hair.
A new entry was added to Mentor Scotch’s life resume: experienced various hairstyles (including short black hair, long straight silver hair, and a bald head).
When he cosplays Pinga one day, he can even try cornrows.
It was a very successful meeting. Everyone had eaten their fill of gossip, and even the overtime was filled with passion.
It’s unknown how many people secretly followed An’an’s account after the meeting. The number of followers of [Punny Name Deducts Money] saw a new surge.
Her pinned post was the lottery retweet. Several of the red-side moles, on the surface, sneered at the “Beika Town Murderers’ Collaborative Publication” series, but privately, they quickly retweeted, wishing they would win.
It’s just that they were more cautious and used smurf accounts, unlike Kazami, who surfed the internet with his real name and was caught red-handed.
An’an was engrossed in lurking, getting a glimpse of the bitter life of a top-tier beast of burden.
To be fair, Furuya’s work was much busier than Kazami’s. To avoid alerting the enemy, he was still working at Café Poirot. Bourbon was occasionally gathering intelligence at the distillery, and he didn’t miss a single Public Security meeting.
A very terrifyingly high-energy person.
Kazami complained that his superior had given up sleep. He was wrong. Furuya’s average sleep time during this period was far more than ninety minutes. He could even take a nap in the afternoon.
The lamb chops for lunch were delicious, and the sauce was particularly unique. The dark-haired girl praised her boyfriend again and again and patted her thigh.
“I have to go to a Public Security meeting soon. I only have thirty minutes. Just sleep here.”
Kazami felt that overtime was hard because he didn’t have a girlfriend to dote on him.
His soft blond hair brushed against her thigh, his lower abdomen buried in her with a sense of attachment. An’an’s eyes curved as she gently patted Furuya’s back and hummed a song.
Sleep, sleep. You’ve worked hard.
Half an hour later, at the meeting room, Kazami, who was chugging black coffee, saw his energetic and radiant superior and couldn’t help but doubt his life.
Was he really that bad?
…
In the dead of night, Furuya, who had worked overtime all day, gently pushed open the bedroom door. The warm light from the bedside lamp illuminated the girl who was buried in her pillow, fast asleep.
She clearly hadn’t woken up, but when the blond young man lay down beside her, she mumbled and turned over, falling into his arms.
Furuya chuckled and kissed An’an’s forehead.
The busy days continued for some time. An’an, as an insider, could see the turbulent sea rolling beneath the calm daily life.
The famous international movie star Sharon Vineyard had disappeared. Her friend in the industry, Director Yuko, had come to ask An’an if she knew what Sharon had been up to lately.
An’an: She’s wanted. She hasn’t been caught yet.
She had replied to Director Yuko with a white lie and the all-purpose answer of “I don’t know.” The only thing An’an could say was, “She hasn’t blocked me.”
The news of Rum’s capture was ultimately not kept a secret. Scotch Whisky had defected again, and Bourbon had also ruthlessly turned traitor during a mission, slapping the cruel fact that all three whiskies were fake liquor on Gin’s face.
Vermouth must have gotten the news. She must also know An’an’s position.
But Vermouth hadn’t blocked her. The blond woman quietly stayed in An’an’s friend list.
Furuya wanted An’an to delete Vermouth, but unfortunately, Her Majesty had always had a soft spot for blond beauties and was unwilling to do such a ruthless thing.
The deeply affectionate Her Majesty An’an had paid an unspeakable price. Her beloved concubine had reluctantly endured it.
“I heard the FBI is in contact with Vermouth. I don’t know what she promised,” Furuya said. He guessed it was information about that person.
The finishing work was still ongoing. But on this day, the red-side moles, the detective, and the black coffee-drowned Kazami all took out their phones and opened the lottery retweet page.
An’an rubbed her hands together in anticipation.
Let her see which lucky friend had won.