Chapter 32 Chapter 32 (Including 1k comments plus extra) "Listen...

85.

Sawada Tsunayoshi and his group left Japan three days after the meeting. Taking advantage of the fact that Gin and Vodka were both out on a mission the day after the meeting (without me), I, feeling a bit excited but also a bit more uneasy, snuck off to Namimori Town to keep the appointment.

The location was the park where Tsunayoshi Sawada and I had our first meeting and chat. They chose a sunny slope and spread out a huge red and white checkered picnic blanket, which was already filled with various lunch boxes, fruit baskets and drinks.

Although it was Sawada Tsunayoshi who contacted me, I was actually a little worried on the way there. I was worried, in a very cliché way, that they would alienate me because of my identity as a member of the Black Organization.

Even though I know they are very good people, the Black Organization... such a terrible criminal organization is really incompatible with a pure and beautiful girl like me, and it really lowers my taste.

Or maybe I was worried that they would misunderstand and think that my chance encounter with Sawada Tsunayoshi was not a chance encounter, but that the Black Organization deliberately arranged for me to build a good relationship with them in advance to facilitate future cooperation.

I had already thought about how I should swear to the heavens, to ensure that I had absolutely no ulterior motives and that this was really just an ordinary heroic rescue.

But I didn't expect that none of them mentioned seeing me as a member of the Black Organization yesterday.

A gentle breeze blew across the grass, bringing with it the sounds of children playing in the distance and the rustling of leaves.

We chatted about Namimori-cho's long-standing shops and newly opened cafes, listened to them reminisce about sunsets in Italian seaside towns, and complained about piles of paperwork. Yamamoto Takeshi even excitedly opened his lunch box to show off his newly developed tuna sushi recipe...

The expected embarrassment, questioning, alienation...none of that existed.

Yes, not a single person, not even a glance, showed any interest in the Black Organization or scrutiny of my identity.

Such thoughtfulness actually makes me feel at a loss.

Gin is a person who occasionally gives in to softness but never to hardness, while I am a person who gives in to hardness and gives in to softness more, so I really can't stand the warm and considerate Vongola.

So, when everyone had almost finished eating and were lying on the picnic blanket, basking in the sun, with some even older (not really) people still playing and rolling around on the grass, I finally couldn't help it. I sat up, brushed my hair away from my face, cleared my throat, and took the initiative to break the tacit silence:

"About... the organization..." My fingers unconsciously plucked at the blades of grass beside me. "You guys... really don't have anything you want to ask me?"

The breeze seemed to have stopped for a moment, and only the laughter of children in the distance remained.

They probably didn't expect me to bring it up. They all glanced at each other, and it was Yamamoto Takeshi who reacted the fastest. He turned sideways, resting his arms on the grass. His deep black eyes, always smiling, looked especially bright in the sunlight. He looked at me seriously, his tone more frank than ever before: "Will you tell me your true identity?"

I nodded vigorously, almost shaking my brain and seeing stars.

Yamamoto Takeshi looked at me seriously, then said in two clear and crisp words: "No."

"Huh?!" This extremely concise answer left me completely confused. The long explanation I had prepared was like a balloon blown away by the wind, disappearing with a puff.

Gokudera Hayato simply sat up from his lying position, his silver hair shining brightly in the sunlight. He turned his face away, his tone filled with a bit of awkward disdain: "I finally understand why you always say such weird things. You want to retire at such a young age."

This is... touching, but it doesn't stop me from making a deadpan comment: "For a normal office worker, thinking about retirement from the first day of work is just basic behavior, okay?"

Not everyone is like this guy, who started working part-time while still a student and still enjoys doing it and becomes a fanatical fan of his boss.

Gokudera Hayato stopped pretending, showing the bomb between his fingers and asked, "Want to fight?"

Sawada Tsunayoshi: "Hey, hey, calm down, Yingzi doesn't know how to fight!!!"

86.

In fact, on the way to the park, another guess was circling in my mind: Could it be that Tsunayoshi Sawada and the others asked me to meet in such a relaxed place because they wanted to save the situation in a roundabout way and let me help persuade Gin to change jobs in a pleasant atmosphere?

I even figured out how to avoid taking on too much work for myself without lowering their favorability towards Gin.

After all, on the one hand, I've read a lot of fan fiction and have seen many settings where Gin runs away to the Vongola. Even if Gin doesn't want to, I have to leave a way out for my respected big brother. This means that I don't care what he thinks, I have to feel what I feel.

On the other hand, Gin’s warning yesterday was still useful. I don’t want to really become someone who speaks for Vongola and be regarded as a “traitor” who speaks for Vongola.

What if Gin gets really angry?

I wasn't worried that he would tell the boss about this, or doubt my loyalty to the Black Organization, lock me up for interrogation, or kick me out to be used as a consumable. I was mainly worried about—

Well, I have always been adhering to the principle that Gin can be angry with me, but he cannot be really angry with me when getting along with him.

Getting angry occasionally is part of the fun between us, but as for actually making Gin angry and disappointed in me...

Wow, just thinking about it makes me sick. Absolutely not!

When I discovered that the Vongola people didn't mention my membership in the Black Organization, I realized that they didn't want our friendship to be tainted by vulgarity.

So they wouldn't let me help persuade Gin.

As it turned out, I was right.

However, I never expected that when I packed up and prepared to return to my corporate life, took the initiative to say that I wanted to go back to work, and turned to leave, I heard Sawada Tsunayoshi's gentle but clear voice behind me.

"Eiko, you might as well consider it." He paused, his voice gentle but with an undeniable power, "You're always welcome in Vongola."

?

? ?

???

Oh my god, it turns out the Black Organization’s poacher wasn’t Gin, but me???

I instantly felt overwhelmed by the overwhelming sense of absurdity, but there was still a hint of... ecstasy in my heart that was so flattering that it almost made me ascend to heaven.

It's really strange that the wind that was actively recruited by the Vongola can blow to me.

I was shocked, surprised and delighted, but I still declined with self-awareness, waving my hands and saying, "No, no, no, you will regret welcoming a piece of trash."

"Please use less filters on me. Being a friend is really different from being a subordinate." I said sincerely.

A useless person like me who knows nothing is better off relying on the support of various parties to survive and not cause trouble for Tsunayoshi Sawada.

However, if Gin went to Vongola—

87.

When I received the email from Rum asking me to meet him, if I didn’t really know Brother Gin, and if I didn’t know that he and Rum had a bad relationship, I would almost suspect that he had told Rum about me behind my back!

No, no, I have coaxed Gin into submission, and he will never tell Rum about it.

It seems that there is only one truth!

I yelled, "Die, Vodka!"

Then he obediently got into the car sent by Rum to meet Rum.

Come to think of it, it seems Rum and I are quite familiar with each other. Uh, okay, I'm also a second-generation orphan raised by the Black Organization, so it's normal for Rum and I to interact. After all, in this Black Organization where blood ties are paramount, Rum and I do have something in common: we're both descendants of the organization, but he inherited his father's code name, while I didn't.

But I guess, a dragon gives birth to a dragon, and a phoenix gives birth to a phoenix, and a mouse's son can dig holes. My parents probably don't have code names, otherwise I wouldn't have grown up without knowing who my parents are. I just know that they died while carrying out a mission.

Vodka was indeed innocent. Rum hadn't mentioned any details about my acquaintance with the Vongola people, and the focus of this meeting was unexpectedly on Gin.

"How are you and Gin getting along lately?" The voice echoing in the space revealed an indescribable sense of scrutiny.

"Me and Gin?" I asked doubtfully. "Have you heard about the gossip about us?"

The sound of Rum's voice combined with his laughter gave me goosebumps for no apparent reason.

"Is it just a scandal?"

"Indeed." I thought about it for a moment, and finally decided to congratulate him first. "Congratulations, Rum. It seems that Gin's sexual orientation is still heterosexual."

Even though he's not the boss, I think Rum should be pretty happy too.

Of course, the main reason was that a man's voice inexplicably rang in my ears, the same voice that said, "Emperor, your son is gay."

I smiled for no apparent reason.

Rum also smiled inexplicably: "Oh? It seems... you haven't slept yet?"

I choked.

No, let me ask you, how come everyone in the Black Organization, from top to bottom, speaks so bluntly? I wonder if anyone dares to say anything I say next time? Go talk to Rum!!!

88.

I was wrong, I was really wrong. I actually thought that Rum could be kind enough to match me and Gin.

Okay, I know it's impossible.

After all, Gin is the organization's top killer, and I am the organization's top loser. It's good enough that Rum doesn't try to break us up (actually, he doesn't). How could he possibly give me the opportunity to sleep with Gin?

I even feel that the fact that he tolerates me being with Gin every day is already enough warmth for an orphan.

Every time I put something in the suitcase, I started sighing. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore, so I ran to the gin room door and banged on it.

He knocked and kept muttering, "Open the door, open the door, big brother, open the door. Don't hide in there and keep silent. I know you are at home. Big brother, open the door!"

!

It was a close call, it almost hit Gin.

I quickly tried to pull my hand back, but inertia was more important than anything else and I fell into Gin's arms.

It's done, it was just an accident. I decided to make the best of it and put my arms around Qin Jiu's tough waist. My cheeks pressed against him so hard that I couldn't speak clearly. "Wuwuwu, big brother, I can't bear to leave you."

Gin didn't say anything, nor did he push me away.

He lowered his head, his long dark green eyes dim in the dim light of the corridor, like a bottomless cold pool, staring at me quietly for a long while.

Finally, he seemed to have given up something, raised his head and looked away, but tacitly allowed me to hang on him like a koala.

Just when I was trying to rub my head against his chest and act like a spoiled child, he raised his hand, and with his warm palm covered with calluses, he accurately pressed down on my restless head and said in a low voice, "Have you packed everything?"

"Not yet. I always feel like I should bring all of them." I pouted and complained, "Brother, you know I have a serious fear of making choices."

"Then don't bring anything." Gin's answer was brief and brusque, with his usual cold and hard style. "Leave the things at home and buy more in America."

His tone was unquestionable, as if he was just stating the most ordinary fact.

It suddenly dawned on me, like a lightbulb going on in my head: "That makes sense. I can use Vermouth to get the organization's funds to buy it!"

It’s so strange, why is Gin angry again?

He tore me off him with an expressionless face, picked me up by the back of my collar like a kitten, and carried me straight back to the door of my room.

"Bang!"

The door closed in front of me.

I stared at the closed door, completely baffled: He was the one who asked me to buy it? And spending the organization's money made him so angry? Damn it!

89.

Yes, America, and Vermouth.

Well, actually I was overthinking it. Rum didn't mean to break up the couple. He didn't care about the personal feelings of the organization members. He was busy with all kinds of things. Those two questions were probably just routine greetings, and he wanted to evaluate whether the relationship between Gin and I as "superiors and subordinates" was stable, and then prescribe the right medicine.

Everyone knows how much Gin disliked me before. If my answer at that time was "we get along just so-so", or if I had complained about how high Gin's expectations of me were and how I really couldn't be an excellent member of the organization, then Rum would have naturally "rescued" me from my suffering.

Even if I answered the question about the "rumored relationship" which I admitted without being asked, it did not affect Rum's guess that Gin looked down on me and said something to change my mood, but in fact he wanted to rescue Gin and then get rid of me.

What I meant by taking away was that Rum arranged for me and Vermouth to go to the United States together.

He asked me to assist Vermouth in the mission because I had assisted Gin well before.

One of Vermouth's disguises, international superstar Sharon Wynyard, recently took on a new Hollywood film.

Of course, filming is just a cover; the real purpose is to use this opportunity to secretly contact and cooperate with an important organization in the United States. Vermouth needs a "trustworthy" helper who can keep an eye on the set, pass on information, run errands, and so on.

God knows what the top leaders of the organization were thinking. They actually sent me, a useless English speaker whose English level is limited to "Hello", "How are you" and "I'm fine and you", to the United States.

What's going on? Has the organization failed to recruit new people with good English skills recently? Or has the new batch of new people disappeared?

Of course I resisted, but not knowing English was not a problem for the Black Organization. Rum even prepared a simultaneous interpreter for me in advance.

There's no point in resisting, and there's no point in me going back and nagging Gin about how I can't bear to leave him.

Actually, Gin was a little unhappy at first, but he wasn't upset about me. I suspect he was upset with Rum. After all, was this Rum helping Vermouth snatch someone from him?

But considering that we were carrying out the mission for the Black Organization, and that it would be quiet without me, he just snorted coldly and didn't help me say anything to Rum.

I asked him, could he bear to let me go?

I don’t even want to mention Gin’s expression.

In short, I swear, I really can't bear to do it.

But, uh, no matter how reluctant I was, when Vermouth gracefully took me to enjoy the VIP lounge at the airport and the first-class cabin on the plane...

I wiped the non-existent tears from the corners of my eyes and turned to look at the blonde beauty beside me who was elegantly flipping through a fashion magazine: "Wow, Vermouth, I will follow you forever!"

Then, I added sincerely, "I just met a strawberry seller. He said his strawberries were definitely the sweetest. I scoffed. How could there be anything sweeter than Vermouth?"

Vermouth really deserves to be the one who can form the prodigal sisters of the distillery with Bourbon after Bourbon joins in the future. She obviously has a mansion in the United States, but in order to make me happy, she arranged an extremely luxurious hotel suite for me on the first night in the United States.

Not to mention the jacuzzi that big, which I have only seen on the screen, the dressing room is even bigger than the attic in my bar.

She perfectly put into practice Gin's words "buy in America" ​​with her actions.

However, before letting me enjoy the beautiful suite and adjust to the jet lag, Vermouth forced me to go shopping.

Uh, who told me I didn’t bring anything?

But I never expected that the first thing Vermouth took me to buy was perfume.

If I wasn't sure that I hadn't told Vermouth that Gin disliked the smell of her perfume, I would have suspected that Vermouth was deliberately trying to irritate me.

I have to say, shopping with Vermouth is truly an ultimate enjoyment. For my fear of making choices, she would pick out things that suit me from a mature woman's perspective.

Vermouth said there would be plenty of opportunities to buy perfume in the future, so this time she bought two bottles to make me happy. One has a sweet fruity scent, and the other is very mature and seductive.

In Vermouth's words, it can temporarily be suitable for the two scenarios in which it will appear.

I just don't understand what that suggestive smile of hers meant when she picked up the second bottle of perfume. It can't be that, with Vermouth around, I need to use my honey to seduce her, right?

Honey trap? Me? Do I deserve it?

After choosing the perfume, it’s time to pick out the clothes.

"I've been displeased with your clothes for a long time. This time I'm going to improve your fashion sense!"

Actually, it's not just Vermouth. Gin also always dislikes my clothes. However, unlike Vermouth, who looks down on me because of the aesthetic taste of female celebrities, Gin mainly dislikes my daily outfits of either colorful clothes or white T-shirts with everything. In short, it doesn't fit the style of the Black Organization.

Please, I don't want to follow the usual black routine. It'll just make me scorch in the middle of summer. Besides, the bartender's uniform is black. It's my work uniform every day, so what's wrong with wearing something a little more disgusting on the regular? And I'm past my chuuni-cool phase of liking black, white, and gray. Now I prefer colorful or white and pink.

Humph, compared to Gin who only dislikes me and tells me to stay away from him when I go out, I still like the fact that Vermouth's domineering sister falls in love with me more.

With a wave of her hand, the overbearing CEO, Vermouth, exchanged knowing glances with the Japanese-speaking salespeople who had come to serve her. They then separated into groups. Some quickly wheeled in rows of mobile hangers laden with the season's newest styles, while others enthusiastically and respectfully, half-helped, half-pushed, "invited" me into the spacious and bright VIP fitting room.

It was the first time I realized how tiring it was to try on clothes.

I also suspected that Vermouth was playing the real-life dress-up game Miracle Yingzi with me.

When I tried on the last one—I unilaterally announced that it was the last one—I really couldn't stand it anymore and just raised my hands in surrender: "Beautiful Yingzi, I quit!"

Vermouth lazily leaned on the leather sofa outside the fitting room. She looked me up and down, a flash of surprise in her eyes, and then a satisfied smile spread across her face: "Beautiful Yingzi looks even more beautiful in red."

After being praised by such a beautiful woman, I, who was originally gasping for breath, stood up again, puffed out my chest and went to look in the mirror.

The woman in the mirror, her skin whiter than snow against the delicate red fabric, is perfectly framed. The off-the-shoulder design perfectly showcases her delicate clavicle, while the black rose on her shoulder adds a touch of mystery and allure. The slim-fitting upper body accentuates her curves, while the irregular hem sways gracefully with movement, revealing the slenderness of her fair calves.

Especially when you consider that before I went out, Vermouth specifically pushed me in front of the dressing table to put on my makeup and hairstyle.

I couldn't help but sigh, holding my face up with a wave of emotion: "What a peerless beauty, so beautiful that she could make fish sink to the bottom of their chests, geese drop to the ground, and the moon hide in shame."

Of course, it can’t be compared with Vermouth, but compared with my previous appearance, it is a huge improvement.

I started chanting again: "Woo woo woo, Vermouth, I will follow you forever!"

Vermouth smiled with satisfaction, took out her mobile phone to take several photos of me, and kindly agreed that this dress would be the last one I tried on today.

But it’s not the last piece of clothing I’m going to buy, because besides clothes, I also have pajamas, camouflage clothes, skin care products, cosmetics and many other things to buy.

Fortunately, the mall provides door-to-door delivery service. Vermouth waved her hand, swiped the card, filled in the hotel address, and took me back to the hotel to rest.

I ordered room service for dinner. The food delivered in a five-star hotel is really good. I lay in bed for a long time with my round belly in my hand, and then I turned over with great effort like a little turtle and asked for a photo of Vermouth who was tasting wine on the sofa.

"What?" Vermouth put down her wine glass and looked at me with a half-smile. "Can't wait to give it to Gin?"

"Ah? Send it to big brother? Big brother won't want to read it, he might just block me." I wrinkled my nose, laughed again, and said slyly, "I'm going to use it for online dating!"

Jinpei Matsuda did give me Kenji Hagiwara's contact information, but unfortunately, after being semi-bound by Gin to do the mission, I only chatted with the handsome policeman online and never had the chance to meet him in person.

It was indeed a bit strange to post a photo out of the blue. After thinking about it, I decided to change my profile picture to a photo to test the waters first.

Ying! Vermouth is worthy of being a big star. I am tired of saying it. She looks so good in photos. Is this fair?

Vermouth chuckled, her red lips parted slightly, and she said in a mysterious tone that I couldn't understand: "If you want to play, then play."

90.

After Vermouth left, I certainly didn't send the photo to Gin. I just thought about it again and again, and opened the chat box between Gin and me. Under the screen full of reports of "Brother, I'm at the airport", "Brother, I'm on the plane", "Brother, the sky outside the plane is so blue (feat. blue sky and white clouds)", "Brother, the steak in the first-class cabin is not bad (feat. steak with strange composition)"..., I sent a new message:

[Beautiful girl Ying Yingzi: Big brother, look at my profile picture, is it pretty?]

The message fell on deaf ears, and Gin was indeed too lazy to reply to me.

I curled my lips, feeling a little disappointed, and switched off the chat app to watch some funny videos. Just when I was about to forget about it, my phone rang softly.

It's news about Gin.

A cold question mark.

I:"……"

Oh, it’s not just a question mark, Gin’s next news also caught my eye.

It’s better not to reply.

【My only brother: Who is this? 】

Wow, I’m really impressed!

I thought to myself, I didn’t do any high-resolution photos. I just restored my beauty a little bit. Why! Is Gin like this?

I typed angrily:

[Beautiful girl Ying Yingzi: It's me, it's me! Big brother, you didn't recognize me. That's too much!]

I thought about it and then typed in the dialog box:

[Beautiful girl Ying Yingzi: Three hundred and sixty ways, I can edit any look you want! Hello, big brother, are you in an online relationship?]

My only brother: Did Vermouth buy the clothes?

Isn't this a rather abrupt change of topic?!

Never mind. He didn't call me an idiot or tell me to get lost. It's normal for Gin to ignore me. I pouted, tossed my phone aside, and lazily slumped over the king-size bed like a salted fish, my calves dangling in the air with boredom.

Then he still couldn't control himself and made a video call to Gin.

Unexpectedly, Gin was quite considerate and accepted it.

The phone screen lit up, and the first thing that caught my eye was the man's cold and hard jawline and a small part of his neck wrapped in black clothes.

He obviously wasn't holding his phone properly.

It's normal. I puffed my cheeks and protested unhappily: "Brother, please put your phone away. I can't see your handsome face completely."

As for Gin, it would be strange if he could cooperate with me.

But perhaps my whining complaints were too annoying, and the screen finally shook and moved upwards. Gin's signature stern face finally appeared in full view. A few strands of his long silver hair fell over his forehead. Under the shadow of his hat brim, his dark green eyes, like a cold pool, shot straight at me through the screen with a subtle scrutiny.

"It seems that Vermouth... made you very happy?"

His voice came through the speaker, still deep, but seemed a little less cold than usual.

"Oh, let's not talk about this for now." I said hurriedly, blinking my big eyes, "Brother, brother, did you miss me?"

Before Gin could answer, I hinted, or even said it explicitly, in a sickeningly sweet tone: "I miss you so much, big brother. When will you come to America to see me?"

When Gin on the other side of the screen heard this, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards very slightly, and he let out an ambiguous chuckle. The laughter came through the air waves, and I unconsciously shrank my neck.

"Come to America to see you?" He repeated slowly, his dark green eyes narrowing slightly. "It sounds like you have no plans to come back?"

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