Chapter 104, Twentieth Round (23)
“Bourbon, who do you think is the mole?” Rum asked.
The current time is 8 PM on October 23rd.
After dinner, Rum let them do as they pleased. Curaçao even took them to their respective rooms on the third floor, which were quite luxurious, but they couldn't go out.
Then, Rum began having Curaçao lead people one by one into the second-floor conference room for private conversations.
Bourbon is the third, after Gin and Vermouth.
"Can I know what Gin and Vermouth said?" Bourbon asked curiously. "Who do they think is the mole?"
“You can ask them yourself; now I’m asking you,” said the robot sitting in the opposite chair.
“Okay, but we still don’t have much information, so I’m not entirely sure.” Bourbon smiled. “After all, everyone’s acting quite normally. If we want to confirm the identity of the undercover agent, we’ll probably have to do more probing.”
"If I had to choose now, could I pick Gin?" he said.
Rum: "..."
Rum said, "You can go now."
A guy who pretends to be innocent on the surface but actually thrives on chaos.
However, precisely because of this, the possibility that he is an undercover agent is extremely slim, almost as slim as that of Vermouth Gin.
After all, if the three of them were undercover agents, the organization, which had been almost completely exposed, would probably have been severely weakened long ago.
However, the possibility of a sudden betrayal cannot be ruled out.
*
After leaving the meeting room, Bourbon carefully toured every part of the castle that was accessible.
But they couldn't go out, and the windows were completely sealed.
Looking down from the third-floor window, you can see that the snow outside is falling very heavily, turning the ground and the distant forest white.
However, there are still many fully armed men in black on guard duty, and there are probably even more hiding in the dark forest.
Even the servants in the castle were actually just organization members in disguise, loyal and powerful "robots" brainwashed by Rum.
It seems we can't get out of here until this matter is resolved.
Bourbon stared at his reflection in the window.
Three.
The worst-case scenario is that Ethan Hondou, Matsuda, and Hiro all meet their deaths at the same time.
It is now the evening of October 23rd. Matsuda has joined the First Investigation Division. If the original timeline continues to converge, he may be able to activate the Final Destination mode in 7 days.
Based on the system's usual practice, it might be October 31st, Halloween night, or November 1st, Halloween day.
Unfortunately, he couldn't get his hands on the phone, otherwise he could at least judge whether the "plot" had progressed to a crucial moment by checking the synchronization of time flow with the other worlds in the group.
We need to hurry and get out of here as soon as possible.
Bourbon went downstairs, glanced at the empty conference room on the second floor and Ray, who was smoking a cigarette, walking out from around the corner, and realized that everyone had probably finished their private conversations.
The next step is to probe, communicate, and catch each other's undercover agents.
Bourbon ignored Ray and went straight downstairs, turned left, and entered the restaurant he had started with.
The food on the specially made long table had all been cleared away, and most people were still gathered there discussing something. Some were playing in the entertainment facilities on the second floor or observing the castle around. In short, no one was actually going to rest or sleep.
A huge photograph was still displayed on the wall opposite the table.
Yes, there is only one, and it is the first photo taken that is very similar to "The Last Supper".
Bourbon walked over and tapped the small image in the lower left corner. The image immediately enlarged and replaced the previous photo.
This is the second photo; you can switch between it and the first photo to zoom in and observe them.
However, just as he had told Rum before, these reactions alone were not enough to confirm the undercover agent's identity, and if one were to suspect someone, one could suspect many others.
There are indeed undercover agents here, and quite a few, but unfortunately, none of them can be caught by ordinary means.
"Well? Have you figured anything out?" Bourbon sat down next to Vermouth and was immediately stared at by Calvados on the other side.
Vermouth, standing between the two, slowly twirled her long blonde hair with her index finger: "Even someone as perceptive as you didn't notice anything, how could I possibly know? If there really is an undercover agent as Rum says, then that undercover agent is quite something."
“If you praise me a few more times, Calvados might tell Rum that I’m an undercover agent,” Bourbon sighed.
Vermouth was successfully amused.
After laughing, she leaned close to the blond youth's ear and whispered, "But seriously, who do you think is most likely the undercover agent?"
“When Rum asked me, I said Gin.” Bourbon smiled happily.
Vermouth: "..."
Vermouth sighed, "No wonder you came out so quickly..."
"This is a rare opportunity, we might only get one chance like this. Let's go find Gin and hang out." Bourbon was itching to go, his mischievous thoughts written all over his face.
Vermouth was somewhat tempted, but she was also afraid of trouble and didn't want to risk her life at this time, so she refused, saying, "No, you should also take it easy. Don't think about collecting intelligence or digging up your dark history at a time like this. If you go too far and something happens, I won't save you."
"You can't get the important hidden intelligence if you don't want to take any risks."
Bourbon's lips curled into a wild grin: "Don't worry, Gin is definitely at his most patient right now. It would be a shame to miss this opportunity. After all, if he tries to attack me, I can just yell, 'Are you really an undercover agent trying to silence me?' and he'll be in danger, hahaha."
Gin, who was sitting two seats away from them and heard everything clearly, said: "..."
Vodka and the others in the quiet restaurant, who had also heard the last sentence, stopped talking and all looked over.
Gin got up and went upstairs with a dark face.
"Hey, Gin, Gin, where are you going? Wait for me, I really have something to ask you."
Bourbon immediately followed.
"Gin, are you an undercover agent?"
Gin ignored him and strode up the stairs.
“Vodka,” he called out.
Stunned, Vodka immediately came to his senses and went upstairs to try to stop Bourbon, but Bourbon nimbly bypassed him.
"Gin, you wouldn't actually be an undercover agent, would you?"
Bourbon, unwilling to give up, followed Gin up to the second floor, only to bump into Scotland coming down from the third floor.
“It would be interesting if Gin were an undercover agent.” Bourbon paused briefly beside Scotland and remarked, “I’m actually a little unaccustomed to Gin not pointing a gun at me and asking if I’m a rat.”
Scotland:"……"
Bourbon, haven't you noticed that the way you feel relieved and happy only after making Gin angry is really similar to how Ray feels when he makes you angry?
Gin, unable to bear it any longer, turned around, drew his gun with practiced ease, and poked it into Bourbon's blond head: "Are you satisfied now?"
Yes, although Rum took away their communication devices, he left their weapons behind.
"Oh, how terrifying! The undercover agent is going to kill me to silence me! Mr. Rum, save me—" Bourbon drawled.
Curaçao appeared, her cold, heterochromatic eyes staring straight at them.
Gin: "..."
Gin abruptly holstered his gun and left; you could tell from his retreating figure that he was furious.
Bourbon followed with a grin.
"Are you angry? Gin? Are you really angry?"
"Gin, are you really not an undercover agent?"
"Gin, how does it feel to be treated like a rat?"
"Gin—"
Curaçao stopped Bourbon: "Lord Rum wants you to go back and find the undercover agent properly, stop playing around."
Bourbon pouted: "Alright, alright, what a rare opportunity..."
Vodka finally breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
He knew Bourbon liked to cause trouble, but he didn't expect Bourbon to still dare to do this at a time like this. He's really something else.
Scotland gently nudged Bourbon's back and turned him around, as if coaxing a child: "Alright, alright, the key now is to find the mole. Don't make Gin and Rum really angry."
"Okay." Bourbon's eyes lit up. "Can I go play with Curaçao then?"
Curaçao, who was about to remain hidden in the darkness, thought: "?"
Scotland was also taken aback for a moment: "Should... be okay?"
Bourbon then ran up to Curaçao, staring directly into her unusual heterochromatic eyes, and with an incredibly bright and sunny smile, extended a provocative invitation: "Curaçao, how about we have a contest to see who can find the mole's intelligence and observation skills first, and now let's have a fight?"
The staircases on the top three floors of the castle are all straight, and people on the first floor can see and hear the conversation of several people standing on the steps between the second and third floors.
Lei looked up at the woman with long white hair and heterochromatic eyes, narrowing his eyes slightly.
He had also heard the rumors about Curaçao; she was Rum's confidante and a special intelligence officer in the intelligence group.
Her distinguishing feature is her heterochromatic eyes. Before being taken away by Rum, she had a relationship with Vermouth and was quite a famous legend within the organization.
But whether it was Rum or Curaçao, this was the first time Ray had met and spent time with them. Although Rum did not show his true form, he had gained a lot of information today.
Danger and opportunity always coexist, Ray thought calmly.
Bourbon probably thought the same thing, perhaps for more important intelligence, or to compete with Curaçao for Rum's confidant position?
“I refuse.” Curaçao said expressionlessly.
Bourbon's eyes widened: "Why? You're bored too, aren't you? Why don't you come and play together? Or are you afraid of losing to me?"
“A very low-level provocation.” Curaçao’s eyes grew even sharper and colder, but a slight smile played on his lips. “But it’s very effective. Alright, I accept your challenge.”
Bourbon raised an eyebrow and smiled: "That's more like it. I knew you weren't that kind of boring person. If you were really like those other guys, Mr. Rum wouldn't value you so much."
Curaçao didn't say anything, but went downstairs to signal him to start quickly.
Bourbon took off his fur coat and handed it to Scotland, then rolled up his sleeves as he walked to the lobby on the first floor and said with a smile, "I won't hold back."
Curaçao also revealed a dangerous smile, and his demeanor instantly adopted the crazed look that the organization's members were accustomed to.
The two started fighting in the hall. Their movements were so fast that they were almost blurry. Their fists and feet cut through the air with astonishing noise, leaving the group of people watching in awe.
"Those two, are they intelligence agents?" Ireland turned to ask Rye, looking utterly bewildered and shocked. "Are intelligence agents this good at fighting these days?"
He was so excited that his hands were itching to fight. Ireland's physical skills were among the best in the organization. He often complained that others were too used to firearms and neglected physical training. But he never expected to see two people in the intelligence group who would ignite his fighting spirit and desire to fight.
After all, judging from appearance alone, they are completely different from his rugged style, strong physique and obvious muscles. Both Bourbon and Curaçao look like delicate and slender beautiful vases, and seem to be the kind of intelligence agents who only know how to use honey traps, assassination or scheming.
Lei also fell silent: "..."
Having fought Bourbon frequently, he was well aware of Bourbon's strength, so he was quite surprised that Curaçao's fighting skills were able to put him in such a good position against Bourbon.
As expected, he couldn't act rashly. The organization's strength was still deeply hidden in the shadows, and what he saw was only the tip of the iceberg.
Curaçao got a little carried away as the fight went on, and the expression on his face completely changed.
"You're very strong," she said with a smile.
She is strong in both intelligence gathering and combat, and is indeed qualified to challenge her for the position of Rum's confidant.
“You’re very strong too.” Bourbon smirked. “More interesting than I expected.”
However, their sparring session only went so far as to end in a friendly exchange; they were unlikely to actually fight.
Curaçao went back upstairs and disappeared again.
Scotland put the coat back on Bourbon.
"Hey! You're Bourbon, right? You're pretty good." Ireland walked over and invited him, "Want to have a match?"
"No, let's talk about it another time." Bourbon smiled at him and declined.
He looked around and finally walked toward Vermouth, who was leaning against the window smoking.
“You and Curaçao knew each other before, didn’t you?” Bourbon leaned against the wall next to her.
"What, are you really going to compete with Curaçao for the position of Rum's confidante?" Vermouth took off her cigarette, turned around and blew a puff of smoke in his face. "I advise you to give up this idea as soon as possible. Curaçao is special. If you become Rum's confidante, you may not be able to maintain her status."
As the blond youth waved away the smoke with a look of disgust, Vermouth leaned even closer, resting her head on his shoulder and whispering in his ear, "It wouldn't be fun if you turned into a doll."
"What do you mean? If Curaçao can do it, why can't I?" Bourbon reached out and gently tidied her slightly messy long, golden curls at the back of her head.
“Curaçao’s hair color, heterochromia, and brain are all special, innate abnormalities.” Vermouth flicked the ash from her cigarette between her fingers. “That’s why she can easily remember all the information she’s seen, and can be dyed the color the master wants, but not to the point of being completely brainwashed into a doll-like state without self-awareness. When she was almost executed by me, she was saved by Rum, dyed black, and became Rum’s Curaçao.”
“But you can’t, Bourbon, you can’t do it. Your self-identity is too obvious, and Rum won’t trust you,” she said.
Bourbon was silent for a few seconds, then sighed helplessly: "Well, it seems I really don't have a chance."
Vermouth stood up and reached out to touch his face: "Why are you always staring at Rum like Gin? Do you really want to climb up the organization? What's the point? You don't lack money or status, and you're not worried about dying in weird missions like those ordinary members. Why don't you slack off with me and go have some fun?"
“I will seriously consider it,” Bourbon nodded.
Vermouth was taken aback. She was just joking as usual, but she didn't expect Bourbon to seem to be seriously considering it.
Did you realize that it was becoming increasingly difficult to climb higher, so you decided it was pointless and gave up?
While Vermouth was lost in thought, Bourbon had already turned around and walked over to sit down next to Scotland.
But Calvados suddenly blocked his way.
Bourbon raised an eyebrow: "?"
Calvados was even more taciturn than Cohen. Cohen could occasionally utter two words at a time, but Calvados was so taciturn that one might suspect he was mute.
Even though Bourbon was so disliked and targeted by him, he never said a word.
“Pretty boy!” Calvados said.
His voice was firm and resounding, instantly silencing the entire hall.
Bourbon: "..."
Maybe you should just shut up.
"Pfft—" Surprisingly, it was Scotland that laughed first.
Then came bursts of laughter. Vermouth laughed so hard she almost dropped her cigarette, and Chianti was absolutely laughing hysterically.
Gin was momentarily stunned by the cheerful atmosphere when he came downstairs.
"What are you doing?" he frowned.
"It's nothing, just a joke," Bourbon answered first, looking at him with a forced smile. "Why are you down here at this hour?"
It's already 10 o'clock, everyone should be getting ready to go back, wash up, and go to bed.
“Gin wants to interrogate that rat himself,” said the robot that Curaçao had carried down.
"He's alone? Can I go with him and see?" Bourbon asked.
“No need. Gin has given me a new idea. Each of you can interrogate that stubborn rat,” Rum said. “Start with Gin, and the interrogation process will be broadcast live to you.”
Kiel looked up.
“Please follow me to a better viewing spot,” Curaçao said.
Takahiko Ito silently got up and followed the group of people.
The castle looks old, but Rum has replaced much of the interior with high-tech features.
There was more than enough room for 13 people and a robot to stand in the elevator, which stopped on the basement level.
The underground area was off-limits to them, so this was Bourbon's first time there. He followed Curaçao, who was carrying the robot with ease, into a huge, dark room that resembled a movie theater.
Curaçao had the 12 of them sit in the front row, and then placed the Rum robot near the door.
It's incredibly bizarre to have a head that looks like a television set sitting in a movie theater watching a big screen.
Bourbon pulled Scotland to sit in the very center.
Vermouth sat down next to Bourbon, with Calvados following closely behind.
Apart from them, the others didn't sit next to each other; they sat in the first row, about one seat apart.
Curaçao left with Gin.
The remaining 11 people stared at the huge screen in front of them, which was dark and had the word "RUM" written on it.
“I didn’t expect Rum to be so good at having fun.” Vermouth whispered to Bourbon, “When I get back, I’m going to build a movie theater like this at home, and I’ll invite you to watch movies with me then.”
"Okay, okay, but I've seen all the movies you've acted in." Bourbon nodded with a smile, enduring Calvados's almost murderous gaze.
“It’s okay, there are many other excellent movies, I’ll recommend them to you later,” Vermouth said, then couldn’t help but glance at Scotland beside her.
Scotland is chatting with Rye, who is sitting one seat away.
Rye: "Ireland invited us to spar with him tomorrow."
Scotland: "Me too?"
Ray: "And Bourbon, he wants to fight the three of us."
Scotland: "That's a bit... but I'm fine with it."
Scotland seemed unconcerned about her and Bourbon's behavior, a stark contrast to Calvados.
Wow...
Soon, the scene on the big screen changed.
It was the same dimly lit interrogation room as before, but the person inside had been moved from the sewage pit to a chair with restraints, and a huge light shone down from above, illuminating them clearly.
This includes his horrific wounds and extremely poor mental state.
Bonnie...
Kiel saw Gin slowly walk into the frame, putting on gloves as he went.
Then there was Curaçao, who was holding a laptop on the table next to her, at an angle that anyone tied to a chair could clearly see by turning their head.
The image on the computer screen was of the movie theater where they were, clearly showing their faces illuminated by the light from the big screen.
Bonnie saw them.
Kiel didn't move. She wanted to ask her father what to do, but she couldn't find an opportunity and didn't even dare to make eye contact.
But were they really going to just stand by and watch as everyone else used every means to interrogate Bonnie? And all this while Bonnie could see their reactions... No, what's even more terrifying is that they had to interrogate Bonnie themselves under the watchful eyes of those organization members.
Gin immediately turned on the electric chair, and the man in the chair immediately convulsed, soon screaming in agony.
Gin paused, shoved the computer screen in his face, and said, "Tell me, who's the mole?"
The man was breathing heavily, not speaking, and even closing his eyes.
Gin sneered and continued to increase the current.
Screams echoed throughout the movie theater.
Gin later tried several different methods, each more cruel than the last, but the men remained silent.
A long half hour passed, and Curaçao returned to the movie theater with Gin covered in blood.
“Let’s go by seating order, starting with me,” Rum said from the doorway.
Kiel turned his head.
The order of the movie theaters, counting from the Rum sign at the entrance, is as follows: Rum, Ireland, Takahiko Itō, Kiel, Ray, Scotland, Bourbon, Vermouth, Calvados, Cohen, Chianti, Vodka, and Gin.
In other words, it will soon be her and her father's turn.
"Tsk, I'm not really interested in this kind of thing." Ireland stood up, stretched his limbs, and grinned maliciously. "But I have no choice but to prove my innocence. If I'm going to do it, I'll do it to the best of my ability."
As he watched Ireland begin learning about torture and choosing instruments of torture on the wall, Kiel felt a tingling sensation in his fingers, and even the frequency of his breathing and blinking became something he had to consciously control to maintain a normal level.
Ireland tried for half an hour, but it was no use, so she returned indifferently.
“Not surprising. Even Gin couldn’t get him to talk. He’s a tough nut to crack. I almost let him commit suicide just now. You guys better watch out,” he said.
Kiel's heart sank.
Her only idea was thwarted by Ireland, and after being reminded by Ireland, she still managed to get Bonnie to commit suicide. This would definitely arouse the organization's suspicion, and they might directly identify her as an undercover agent.
but……
Ito Takahiko stood up.
Kiel was finally able to look at him openly, but all he saw was a calm face, and his firm, steady steps and back as he turned away.
Then, he walked into the interrogation room, stood in front of his important colleague and friend with whom he had spent many years, and picked up a red-hot iron and pressed it against the man's chest.
"Aaaaaaahh ...
Scotland watched as Takahiko Ito used two cruel methods of torture on men.
Perhaps it was preconceived notions, but he felt that he saw a deeper despair and pain in that man's eyes, not only for his own current situation, but also for the person in front of him.
Then came Kiel.
Scotland was a little worried that Kiel would give himself away, but surprisingly, Kiel's hand didn't tremble at all, and his expression was very indifferent.
She showed no mercy.
But the man still didn't reveal his companion's name, nor did he even glance at the screen next to him.
Then there's Lei.
When Ray interrogates, it's easy to think of Gin, with the same coldness and cruelty.
So when it was Scotland's turn, the man looked utterly wretched, as if he might die at any moment.
"Kill me...kill me..."
But now he can't die even if he wants to.
A strong stench of blood and a terrorist-like odor filled the room as Scotland stepped into the interrogation room.
He stood before the man, looking down at his body, which was almost entirely devoid of healthy flesh, and then lifted his chin to gaze into those bloodshot eyes filled with despair, pain, and hatred.
"You'd better tell me your undercover agent's name sooner rather than later, so you can get out of this situation sooner," he said. "I'm a sniper, and I don't really like getting blood on me; it's a bit hard to wash off."
This is what happens when an undercover agent gets caught, he thought.
It would have been much better if he had committed suicide right from the start, both for himself and his companions.
*
“This is the first time I’ve officially met Scotland,” Belmod said.
Bourbon was still watching Scotland on the screen: "Any particular thoughts?"
“He’s more terrifying than I thought.” Vermouth rested her chin on her hand, watching Scotland slowly and expressionlessly plunge a steel needle into the man’s fingernail and begin to spin it. “You’d better watch out, Scotland, Bourbon.”
Bourbon finally turned to look at her: "Hmm?"
Vermouth smirked. "A woman's intuition? I'm a little worried that you'll crash in Scotland just like I did with you."
Bourbon was amused by her, then immediately lowered his voice and said to Vermouth amidst the screams of the interrogation, "Don't worry, Scotland won't hurt me."
Vermouth also guessed that he wouldn't take it seriously.
Just like she hadn't taken Gin's warnings seriously before.
Fine, let's see if Bourbon messes up this time. She's probably quite interested in watching the show.
*
By the time all 12 people had been interrogated, it was almost dawn.
Vodka was finally woken up from his sleep by Gin, and the long and bloody movie ended with a bewildered look and a casual interrogation.
"He's really something, refusing to betray his comrades even after all this," Vodka remarked after emerging from the room.
“It seems unlikely that we can get any information out of this rat.” Rum paused for a few seconds. “Then we’ll have to start the second plan.”
The movie theater lights were now all on, and everyone was looking at him.
"Let's leave it to you to find the mole. Let's decide by voting."
Inside the cold, blood-soaked movie theater, Rum's synthesized voice became even more eerie after echoing.
“If the mole isn’t found by midnight tomorrow, everyone will vote to choose the person most likely to be the mole,” he said. “Then we’ll use torture to interrogate them, and vote once a day until the mole is found.”
Bourbon's heart skipped a beat, and for the first time, his eyes widened in surprise.
Wait—how could this be? How dare Rum? Has he gone mad? Or is this also at the behest of the organization's boss? But why?
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