Chapter 32 Chapter 32 Princess Ling Ling Jiang

While eating without any taste, Rena Mizunashi listened to Olga acting coquettishly to Bourbon.

behave in a spoiled manner.

This behavior actually happens to her.

Yes...

Rena Mizunashi lowered her eyes and swallowed the last mouthful of porridge of unknown taste. She thought to herself, a cruel and cunning guy like Bourbon is exactly the same as Arthas.

It's normal for two guys like this to be so close.

No, maybe Bourbon is even better than Alsace.

How good can a man be who can raise a child like that?

Rena Mizunashi believed that Bourbon definitely knew everything that happened today.

How could he not know!

*

The ringing of the telephone interrupted the tranquility of the night.

Olga, who had been sitting by the window waiting, picked up the receiver.

"How about it?"

It was Rum's voice.

Olga yawned silently. "What if I say none of them are that good?"

There was silence on the other end of the line.

After a while, Rum said in a low voice, "Arthas, this isn't something you can mess around with. Correct your attitude."

Olga curled her lips. These days, no one believes you when you tell the truth.

"Arthas," Rum said, perhaps because Olga hadn't said anything, sounding unhappy. "Are you going to tell me that the organization has three undercover agents?"

Maybe?

Sometimes, Olga really admired the organization's HR - each and every one of them was a rare little genius.

"Their background checks are flawless," Rum emphasized. "Furthermore, these three are highly capable, and that gentleman is keeping an eye on them. If you want to accuse them, find the evidence."

"Sorry," Olga said, not insisting any further. Instead, she slid down to her knees. "I'll examine it more carefully."

Rum seemed satisfied. "Don't waste time. Time is money, Arthas."

Olga said perfunctorily, but in a serious tone: "Yes."

After hanging up the phone, Olga looked out the French window at the sea not far away.

Late at night, the waves quietly beat against the beach, and the cold moon seemed to be infinitely magnified above the sea level.

These days, no one believes the truth anymore.

Olga tapped her forehead in embarrassment. She honestly felt that something wasn't right with those three guys. Of course, there was no evidence. After all, the organization, especially Olga, always judged by the heart, not the actions.

She prefers to follow her intuition.

"Evidence..." Olga looked up at the ceiling, "Tsk, trouble."

*

Adhering to the idea that "if I don't live well, then no one else can live well", Olga took out her violin and set it up in front of the floor-to-ceiling window facing the moonlight.

So, at three o'clock in the morning, the sad and heart-wrenching "Song of the Wanderer" echoed throughout the house through the penetrating sound of the violin.

On the second floor, Dai Moroboshi sat up from the bed with dark circles under his eyes; Rena Mizunashi covered her head with the quilt to try to block out the sound; Keimitsu Morofushi decisively took out the earplugs he had prepared long ago from the suitcase.

Even the most beautiful piano music would be disturbing late at night, let alone Sarasate's "Song of the Wanderer."

Toru Amuro, who lived next door to Olga, sighed helplessly, rubbed his brows, picked up the American coffee beside him and took a sip.

Elsewhere, Vermouth's brow furrowed, then quickly relaxed. She smiled, sat on the balcony, raised her glass toward something unknown, and emptied it in one gulp.

"As expected of you, Arthas."

At three o'clock in the morning, Vermouth was usually suffering from insomnia, and Amuro Toru was usually working overtime, so the only ones who were hurt were the three newcomers.

*

Olga decided to play badly.

She threw the three newcomers to Vermouth.

"Arthas, that gentleman will be angry." Vermouth reminded.

"What can I do? I've already reported everything I need to report." Olga impatiently adjusted her hat and looked through the dressing mirror at Vermouth standing behind her. "Also, why did you come into my cloakroom?"

Vermouth sat down on the simple dressing table with her arms folded, completely ignoring Olga's protests.

Her tone was unusually serious: "I'm serious. Your passive attitude of slacking off and wasting time, let alone that gentleman, Rum——"

"Oh no!" Olga covered her ears, refusing to cooperate. "Didn't I already report it? What can I do if they don't believe me?"

Vermouth made a "tsk" sound and said, "Are you serious about that conclusion?"

“Guaranteed authenticity.”

"evidence?"

"intuition."

Olga frowned and continued to adjust the details of her hat in front of the mirror.

Vermouth couldn't bear it any longer, so she slapped Olga's hand away and helped her fix that detail: "Haven't I taught you many times? This is how it should be done here."

"whispering sound."

"What do you think is the probability of three undercover agents sneaking into the organization at once?" Vermouth asked as she continued to help Olga with her hair.

Perhaps because she was thinking about something, Olga rarely rejected Vermouth's approach.

She muttered, "It's probably about the same as the probability of Kudo Shinichi encountering a shark-man case every time he goes out."

Vermouth: “…”

"Okay." Vermouth helped Olga to tie her hair and smoothed out a wrinkle on the back of her clothes.

Olga didn't even say thank you, but just turned her head and looked at her appearance in the mirror.

"It's pretty good, after all." She finally gave this evaluation reluctantly.

“Ah, thank you so much for the compliment.” Vermouth tucked her long hair behind her ears. “What are your plans for today?”

"Any arrangement is fine." Olga stood up and went to change her clothes. She was busy running around in the cloakroom and needed Vermouth's help from time to time.

"How many times have I told you to change your clothes before you style your hair? It seems like you haven't remembered at all—"

Olga took the time to turn around and make a face at Vermouth.

Vermouth sighed: "How could I have taught a student like you."

"Anyway," Olga finally completed the whole set of styling. She looked at Vermouth, and rarely did she show disdain, "I'll leave those three guys to you."

"Hello--"

Before Vermouth could say anything else, Olga ran out of the room.

Then, Vermouth heard Olga's cheerful voice coming from the first floor: "Zero, let's go!"

As expected. Feeling helpless, Vermouth's vigilance towards Bourbon increased to a new level.

Yes, that's the level of vigilance against Bourbon.

Vermouth picked up the clothes that Olga had thrown on the ground and put them away.

This guy Bourbon—

Vermouth's eyes darkened. The current level of danger seemed at least much greater than that of the three newcomers.

Of course, that wasn't the same kind of danger. Olga thought the three newcomers were undercover agents, but Vermouth remained noncommittal. But Bourbon... Vermouth never thought he was an undercover agent.

If Bourbon is an undercover agent, Vermouth thought, then what kind of unscrupulous scumbags are in those decent intelligence agencies of various countries now?

*

In addition to being a more expensive residential area than Beverly Hills in LA, La Jolla also has the world's top university, UCSD, and -

Scripps Research Institute.

This is a well-known private biomedical research institution.

As a core member of the organization with a code name, he must be very sensitive to the term "biomedicine." The same is true for Amuro Toru, especially after learning that "secret."

"Why are we here?"

Toru Amuro parked the car in an empty parking lot as Olga requested.

"You'll find out if you follow me."

Olga jumped out of the car without Amuro Toru helping her open the door, and even ran to the driver's seat and opened the door for Amuro Toru in a proper manner.

"Please..." She placed one hand on her chest and bowed slightly.

Amuro Toru laughed and cooperated with Olga by placing his hand on the hand she extended.

Olga stood on tiptoe, and when Amuro came out of the car door, she jumped up and covered his head with her other hand: "--My princess."

"You." Amuro Toru laughed out loud and raised his hand to stroke Olga's head.

"Oh, this hairstyle took me so long!" Olga ran away with her hands covering her head.

Toru Amuro checked the car and the surrounding environment, and Olga was standing not far away waiting for him.

The sun was shining brightly at that time, and the golden light of noon shone on Olga's crimson hair, giving her an unreal warm color.

Amuro Toru looked at Olga. She just stood there, her hands behind her back, smiling at him.

She wore a wine-red suspender skirt with a white inner layer. Her crimson hair was adorned with pure white pearls, like countless stars hidden within. Her emerald eyes were filled with smiles.

Olga was very happy. Amuro Toru came to this conclusion.

Thus, even the red color, which he had never liked, seemed cute.

He thought he would never forget this scene.

*

Olga pulled Amuro Toru and ran into the gate of the research institute.

Amuro Toru didn't know why he was running around with her like a little kid. But, this feeling was not bad.

A senior member of the institute's management had been waiting at the gate since early morning. The elderly man, with white hair and a beard, seemed to be very familiar with Olga. Amuro Toru looked at the name tag on his chest—Dr. Jorel Amos.

"I knew you were coming, Kristen."

"It's always like this," Olga said, hugging the old man who leaned over. "I always show up on time."

Dr. Amos looked at Amuro Toru, a little surprised: "Kristen, did you bring any friends this time?"

Olga nodded: "Zero is the most important person to me."

Her tone was unusually serious.

Despite being hit straight by Olga for nearly two years, Amuro Toru still felt as if his heart skipped a beat. He smiled and rubbed Olga's head to cover up his slight panic and helplessness.

Perhaps it was cultural differences, but he couldn't get used to this direct approach. Or perhaps... it was just the person.

and--

Toru Amuro always felt that Olga was too unusual today.

"Lingling messed up my hair!" Olga protested, covering her head.