Chapter 41
<Shocking! A Rising Actress’s Late-Night Tryst with a Mysterious Man, Suspected to be a High-Ranking Member of a Criminal Organization!>
“What do you think of this headline?” An’an inquired. She was already a mature professional in the entertainment industry. “Does it have the potential to be a front-page story? Can it make the front page of both the entertainment and the crime sections?”
Hiromitsu Morofushi sincerely believed that her mere presence was a walking headline. She really didn’t need any extra embellishment.
Also, if he might be so bold as to correct her, the room number he had sent in his message was not his own.
The distillery’s logistics team had booked the cruise tickets with absolutely no regard for the lives of the undercover agents. Hiromitsu’s neighbor was Gin, and across the hall was Bourbon. Every time he left his room, he had to have an 800-word essay prepared in his head as an excuse. How could he dare to bring someone into his room?
The truth that a double agent gets grief from both sides was something Scotch Whisky had also come to understand.
Fortunately, the Black Organization did not interfere with its employees’ nightlife. With Chianti rocking out at the water music festival and the fishing enthusiast Korn as precedents, Scotch Whisky had quietly arrived at the meeting point.
He hadn’t seen An’an for a few days. The person on the screen was different from the person in real life. Hiromitsu studied her carefully and came to a conclusion:
After he had left, the girl’s complexion had gotten even better.
It was clearly the result of being doted on.
Hiromitsu didn’t even have to think to know that the person feeding her now paid no attention to nutritional balance, completely making whatever the girl wanted to eat. If she whined and pestered him, he would lose all his principles. He had none of the backbone of a super chef.
Is this how I taught Zero to cook? Zero is the worst class I’ve ever taught!
“Hiro, you’ve lost weight,” An’an asked with sympathy. “Are the kickbacks for the distillery’s employee meals really that outrageous?”
Hiromitsu: Not really, but the distillery cafeteria serves white people food.
The cafeteria manager had mastered the art of sucking up. He took one look: Gin, pale skin; Vermouth, pale skin; Rum, hadn’t seen him in person, but his name sounded like a middle-aged white man—the back kitchen prioritized serving the leadership. The Black Organization didn’t need political correctness. Eat the white people food or don’t!
After the menu was launched, the second-in-command, Rum, had remained silent. The cafeteria manager had thought his flattery had hit the mark, little knowing that Rum was secretly eating scraps in the kitchen when no one was looking during his part-time job making sushi.
Abusing an eighty-year-old man. The distillery cafeteria’s sins were deep.
Hiromitsu hadn’t been mistreating himself when it came to food. While his distillery colleagues were painfully chewing on lettuce leaves and watching vlogs of Korean university cafeteria meals to get their food down, he could be cooking a steaming hot bowl of river snail noodles with extra pickled bamboo shoots, a fried egg, fatty beef, bacon, ham, and a few fried tofu skin rolls.
Being able to cook is amazing.jpg
His haggardness was purely from working overtime late at night.
Scotch Whisky had been away from the distillery for four years and could no longer keep up with the organization’s work intensity. Every day at work, he felt like he was being thrown into a washing machine and spun around. A scallion pancake roll wasn’t as rolled as he was.
In terms of work intensity, Scotch admired Bourbon. As expected of the final winner of the whisky battle royale. Amidst the internal competition, he never forgot his work as a Public Security mole, keeping a firm grip on both the black and red sides.
Scotch: It would be even better if Bourbon wasn’t planning on throwing the blame for the information leak on me.
“An’an,” Hiromitsu said, choosing his words carefully. “I have some workplace troubles, and I’d like to hear your opinion.”
The dark-haired girl was all ears.
Scotch Whisky first described Gin’s evil plan. Silver-Haired Model Bro’s crimes were too numerous to count. An’an listened with righteous indignation. What a terrible person!
A waste of a male model’s face.
Next, Hiromitsu began with “I have a colleague” and lightly described the unfortunate future of Scotch Whisky, who was about to take the fall for a massive crime.
“I don’t blame that colleague,” Hiromitsu couldn’t reveal Furuya Rei’s identity and could only speak vaguely. “He has his reasons. There are some misunderstandings between us that can’t be resolved right now. If I have to say it, it’s my fault.”
A person who had been dead for four years suddenly coming back to life, brazenly rising from the dead as a pure-hate black-moonlight body double. The mystery of the new Scotch Whisky’s origin alone was enough to film a few hundred episodes.
Hiromitsu understood Furuya Rei very well. He hoped An’an wouldn’t misunderstand either.
“Hiro,” the girl said, hesitating. “What you just said sounds like you’re making excuses for a scumbag.”
He had even said, “It’s not his fault, it’s my problem.” It sounded like he had been severely manipulated.
Hiromitsu: “…”
He thought he could hear the sound of a large black pot being slammed down on Furuya Rei’s head.
I’m sorry, Zero, Hiromitsu thought sorrowfully. You were the one who wanted me to take the fall first. It’s just returning the favor.
“Ahem,” Scotch Whisky coughed twice and changed the subject. “The situation is now at a stalemate. I want to know if there’s a way to pass on the information without arousing Gin’s suspicion, and without me taking the blame?”
The troubles of the young whisky were far greater than the sorrows of young Werther. After confiding in An’an, Hiromitsu realized he was asking for the impossible.
“I was thinking of throwing the blame on Pinga,” Scotch Whisky immediately explained. He already had a preliminary plan. “Although Gin claims that only he knows the details of the mission, as long as it’s related to Gin, Pinga is likely to meddle.”
Pinga was a man known as Twisted Deep-Closet Bro. His eyes were always on Gin: I will watch you forever… forever and ever…
Nominally, Scotch Whisky had been discovered by Pinga. He might be able to shift the blame for sabotaging the mission onto the workplace conflict between Pinga and Gin.
Backstabbing a superior is the romance of an undercover agent. Hiromitsu had no psychological burden.
An’an understood Hiromitsu’s meaning, and also knew why he had asked to meet her.
“You want me to use my [My Respected Crime Mentor]’s disguise ability to give you Twisted Deep-Closet Bro’s skin, right?” she asked.
Scotch, wearing Pinga’s skin, would wander the cruise ship, creating the illusion that Pinga was also here, opening up a new candidate for taking the blame.
Hiromitsu nodded.
Pinga also had a history of using disguises. Theoretically, he could have disguised himself as a tourist to board the cruise ship, and then met Gin in his true form.
Gin and Pinga didn’t follow each other, nor did they have a relationship where they would report their itineraries to each other.
He could only rely on his face and temperament to distinguish the real Pinga from a fake one. The disguise effect of An’an’s ability was impeccable. Hiromitsu just had to act out Pinga’s unique temperament.
An’an: The unique temperament of a twisted, deep-closet character?
Hiromitsu: “…Yes.”
He put on a pained expression.
Everything is for the sake of justice, Hiromitsu brainwashed himself. Nothing is too great a sacrifice, not even my integrity!
Mentor Scotch’s pain was visible to the naked eye. An’an was a professional actress. She could understand the despair of a layman being forced to perform.
Was a twisted, deep-closet character so easy to play? Pinga’s temperament was one of a kind in the distillery!
“Don’t challenge my profession with your hobby,” An’an said earnestly. “Trust me, Twisted Deep-Closet Bro is a very difficult role.”
Just the complex, lingering, love-hate eye-acting alone was more than a single pie chart. On the other hand, Sunglasses Bodyguard Bro Vodka was not difficult to play. Put on a pair of sunglasses, and you love no one.
“Mentor Scotch, your thinking is too narrow,” An’an pointed out sharply. “With such a powerful ability, such a vast pool of skins, are you only planning on using Pinga’s R card?”
Her ability had many other uses:
Hiromitsu could completely disguise himself as Mori Ougai, send a photo of himself tied up on the Yokohama citizen friendship network, with the caption: Port Mafia, your boss has been kidnapped. If you don’t want his indecent photos to appear on the cover of Icha Icha Paradise, come and hijack the ship now.
Hiromitsu could also choose to disguise himself as Dazai Osamu, shout “Farewell, oxidized, decaying world!” in front of the whole ship, and jump into the sea with a splash, causing the tourists to exclaim, “Stop the ship! Someone jumped overboard!” His character would be rock-solid, not OOC at all.
“Aren’t these two SSR cards better than Twisted Deep-Closet Bro’s one R card?” the girl enthusiastically recommended. “Which one do you prefer?”
Hiromitsu suddenly found Pinga more pleasing to the eye. He had an undercover background, after all, and had some acting skills. It was worth a shot.
“This won’t work, that won’t work. So difficult,” An’an shook her head.
“In short, the technical problem we need to overcome now is how to deceive Gin.”
According to the party involved, Scotch Whisky, this man was extremely suspicious and very difficult to deal with. Gin suspected everything, questioned everything, and had no trust in anyone but himself.
Anyone but himself?
The dark-haired girl’s mind suddenly cleared. “I know what to do!”
Without a word, she activated her ability. Hiromitsu was enveloped in a burst of light. He felt like he was being stretched, kneaded, and had his face pulled like plasticine.
The light dissipated. An’an looked up and down at her masterpiece and nodded with satisfaction.
“Perfect!” the girl snapped her fingers. “Alright, let’s go out like this.”
She pushed Hiromitsu towards the door, giving him no chance to refuse.
Hiromitsu couldn’t find a mirror for a moment and had to hastily open his phone’s front-facing camera.
A silver-haired, green-eyed man took a cold selfie.
Hiromitsu’s pupils quaked.
If it were his own cat eyes, his pupils would have been round when they quaked, like a startled big cat.
The same shocked expression on this face was like a ghost story.
“Wait! I—”
The moment he opened his mouth, the deep, mature male voice dealt another heavy blow to Hiromitsu. He was not okay.
“What’s wrong?” An’an cupped his face and looked at him from left to right. “Isn’t this very handsome?”
As expected of the man she had mistaken for a male model at first sight.
Hiromitsu, with Gin’s face: This isn’t a matter of being handsome or not!
“Why do I have to disguise myself as Gin?” Hiromitsu was on the verge of a breakdown. “Isn’t there already a Gin on the cruise ship?”
An’an was unconcerned. “It’s not a conflict.”
“Hiro, do you know how to defeat a suspicious enemy?” she said seriously.
Hiromitsu shook his head blankly.
“The answer is: if you can’t beat him, join him.”
The dark-haired girl clasped her hands together, a villainous mastermind’s expression on her face.
“It is known that once the information is leaked, Gin will spare no effort to find the traitor in the team.”
“The question is, what if the person who leaked the information was Gin?”
The time for the tables to turn had come.
The genius schemer Miss An patted Scotch Whisky’s shoulder and said in a bewitching voice:
“He who suspects others will always be suspected.”
“After being suspected of being a traitor by Gin for so long, it’s your turn to point at his nose and demand: ‘Speak! Are you a mole?!'”