Chapter 36
Faced with Mary Shelley's proposal, Ye Yihe had no reason to refuse.
The procedures were processed quickly, and the supervisor in charge of approval had no objection to Mary Shelley only sending an assistant.
This is perfectly reasonable. After all, in their view, it would be a bargain for top talents like Dr. Shelley, with his many achievements, to go to Japan for exchange and study. The value of just a few words he utters would be greater than all that the other side could give them in total.
If this isn't a goodwill signal that countries must send in international exchanges after signing a ceasefire agreement, then nobody really wants to hold this kind of exchange meeting.
But for the moment, it makes it easier for Ye Yihe to gather information.
With minimal luggage, he packed only a heavy box of books and two or three sets of clothes, and headed to the airport to board the plane that the research institute had booked in advance.
In the VIP lounge, he met someone who was quite unexpected.
"Boss! Boss, you've finally come to save me!!"
Ye Yihe looked at Pushkin, who was unusually happy during the conversation, and felt a little silent.
Was Agatha Christie providing exceptionally good food for prisoners? But he didn't find British food particularly delicious. So how did Pushkin manage to gain weight?
Didn't he feel like he was eating a raw pig's butt when he ate certain types of pork because of the stench?
However, judging from his appearance, he was not much older than Fedor; he was probably somewhere between a teenager and a young adult.
Judging from the Russian he just spoke to himself, Pushkin was indeed Russian, just like Fyodor, and it's unclear how he was captured by British intelligence.
"Um."
Since she was being called "BOSS," Ye Yihe nodded in agreement. "It seems she honestly fulfilled the deal."
Agatha probably thought that after he left England with the information, he would not come back to find Mary Shelley, so she kept her promise and released Pushkin back to him.
Or was the [Clock Tower Attendant] planning to contact Mary Shelley during his absence, and confident that she would never see him again?
Ye Yihe couldn't be 100% sure that Mary Shelley would still stand firmly on his side after seeing the relevant information—after all, no matter how he explained it, he was using Fyodor's body, and he always referred to himself as Fyodor when he was out in public.
As for Fyodor's reputation in the underworld... Ye Yihe was still unclear about what the other party had done, but it was obvious that many people or organizations of considerable status were extremely wary of him.
This extreme fear actually worked quite well for Ye Yihe, resulting in almost no one daring to directly attack him; even someone as powerful as the "King of Assassins," Verlaine, would agree to give up his job and instead make a deal with him.
Right now, it's time for him to continue his journey to Japan to find the document "The Secret of the Gentle Forest".
He originally thought he was the only one flying to Japan, but he didn't expect to be accompanied by Pushkin, who chattered away the whole time.
Ye Yihe kept his eyes closed, resting and paying no attention to Ye's excited praise, flattery, or probing questions. He simply brushed them off.
No rush, now is not the time to confront him.
After a flight of approximately twelve hours, the plane landed smoothly at Tokyo Haneda Airport.
After disembarking from the plane, Yeikh and Pushkin continued their journey by airport bus, successfully arriving in Yokohama in just over twenty minutes.
Pushkin, who had been imprisoned for a long time, was finally released and ate a lot in the business class of the plane, then took a good nap, and was still yawning when he was on the bus.
Ye Yihe indulged him throughout the journey and did not say anything disapproving.
Ah, it's not the right time yet.
Once you arrive at Yokohama Station, getting to Oda Saku's apartment becomes very easy.
Relying on the fact that the research institute would reimburse his accommodation and travel expenses, Ye Yihe simply hailed a taxi and drove him and Pushkin all the way to the apartment building.
Since the flight landed at noon, and they spent less than an hour on their way there, when Ye Yihe knocked on the door, he was greeted by Oda Sakunosuke, who was holding chopsticks in one hand.
“Oda Sakunosuke!” Ye Yihe greeted him happily.
It's been almost a year since I last saw Oda Sakunosuke, and I was surprised to find that he had not only grown taller but also looked much more mature. Of course, this could just be a misconception based on Oda Sakunosuke's consistently calm and composed demeanor.
After all, not many assassins are too daring; they die quickly.
Except for Verlaine.
"Ah, it's Fyodor."
When faced with the reunion of an old friend after a year's separation, Oda Sakunosuke's tone remained relatively calm, but Ye Yihe could sense that he was very happy. "You've switched back again."
As expected of Oda Sakunosuke, who has an excellent eye for detail, even though he and Fyodor were dressed exactly the same, Oda Sakunosuke could tell which one was him at a glance.
“Just call me Fei Jia,” Ye Yihe laughed, “that way it’s easier to tell us apart.”
Fedia is one of Fyodor's nicknames. You can call him by other names, but calling him Fedia implies a closer relationship.
After years of studying Russian, he can finally barely distinguish the different meanings of the many nicknames derived from a single name.
“Yes, Fei Jia.” Oda Sakunosuke nodded readily.
"BO, BOSS?"
Unlike the two who were in a harmonious atmosphere, Pushkin, who was following behind and helping to carry the suitcase, was a little dazed.
Weren't they supposed to be going to the hotel that had already been arranged? Why did they end up in this dilapidated old brick building?
He had only ever seen his boss's indifferent demeanor as he orchestrated everything, a calmness that came from looking down from a high position to a low one—elegant enough, but also ruthless.
Like a silver revolver, intricately engraved with carvings. No matter how exquisite its appearance, like a work of art, it cannot conceal the fact that the weapon held lightly in the hand can easily reap the life of its target in an instant.
Pushkin was willing to swear to the Bible that this was the first time he had ever seen such vivid emotion on that face that was usually expressionless!
You see, in their culture, laughing without any reason is a sign of stupidity; often, if someone does this, they either think they are a fool or they think the other person is a fool.
But at this moment, the BOSS clearly neither considered himself an idiot nor regarded the other party as an idiot—good heavens, his cold and ruthless BOSS was actually laughing very happily right now!
"Ah, I almost forgot about you."
Pushkin noticed that when his boss turned to look at him, his cheerful mood immediately vanished, replaced by his usual indifference. "See this open space in front of this apartment building? Run twenty laps around it before coming back for dinner."
"...Huh?"
“What? You’re Pushkin!”
Ye Yihe's tone was indifferent, but to him it was no different from the devil tolling a bell, "You can't do this at all, how can Pushkin be a fat man?"
Pushkin was stunned. "Ah... is that not allowed?"
"Clearly, your boss can't accept this." Ye Yihe narrowed his eyes slightly. "How can you be indifferent to your current appearance? I'm truly heartbroken by it. And what's with your hairstyle, the comma cut?"
This hairstyle with only a tuft of hair left on the forehead is so weird, it would be better to just shave it off.
"This, this is the mohawk hairstyle I specially kept..."
"Too ugly, shave it all off."
"Eh!?"
“You can ask Oda to help you with the haircut later. Go run five kilometers to warm up before you come back.” Ye Yihe reached for his briefcase and expressionlessly indicated that he could go for a run. “Pushkin could never have been a fat man.”
Did he not see the portrait of Pushkin in his Chinese textbook?
"Wait, wait a minute, Boss, five kilometers is a bit too much for me..."
Pushkin was horrified.
How could he possibly run that far... And why can't someone named Pushkin be fat?!
"Really? I also think five kilometers is a bit short,"
—The calm voice of the devil began to overlap and intertwine in Pushkin's mind, "Then jog eight kilometers. You've eaten enough in the waiting room and on the plane. I believe the calories you've consumed are more than enough to support this amount of exertion. If you dare to slack off, Ivan will supervise you."
"…………"
If Ivan, that fanatic, were to carry out the BOSS's orders, Pushkin felt it would be better to just die.
That guy would definitely follow behind and frantically stab his butt with a knife to make sure he always sprinted the whole way at top speed!
They're all devils!
Watching Pushkin's retreating figure as he grumbled and went for a run, Ye Yihe withdrew his gaze, feeling barely satisfied.
He didn't care what kind of fantastical settings this world was filled with, but as long as Fyodor's subordinate was still called Pushkin, then this Pushkin couldn't be a fat man.
How long will you be staying this time?
Oda Sakunosuke, who had opened the door, asked him.
"Let's see when we can finish this. I'll explain in detail later."
Ye Yihe walked past Oda Saku and stepped into the familiar apartment.
Even the curry for lunch tasted exactly the same familiar. No wonder he was bestowed the title of Curry Immortal.
"Where is Odasaku?"
Ye Yihe skillfully found bowls and chopsticks in the kitchen, then ladled a bowl of rice for himself from the rice cooker before sitting down at the empty dining table.
"Same as before, no difference."
Those azure eyes blinked slowly as Oda Sakunosuke answered Ye Yihe's question, "Because I thought you might come back, I didn't move."
Upon hearing this, Ye Yihe couldn't help but smile.
Indeed, for a profession like an assassin, which usually keeps its whereabouts well hidden and resolutely adheres to the principle of having multiple burrows, it is practically taboo for someone like Oda Sakunosuke to stay in one place for a year without moving.
"I'll be relying on you for a while longer, Oda Sakunosuke."
Ye Yihe put down the bowl and clasped his hands together, making the customary "please, please" gesture to him, but the voice that came out sounded very happy.
"Ah, okay."
Oda Sakunosuke nodded, offering no objection.
But beneath the pure black shirt, his taut shoulders seemed to have relaxed slightly.
"By the way, I switched too hastily last time,"
After eating a couple of bites of curry, Ye Yihe recalled the last time, "I know the guys who attacked me are dead... but what happened to the [V] organization afterwards?"
“A number of people were purged from within the government.”
Oda Sakunosuke thought for a moment, "In the news, they are all arrested on charges of corruption, bribery, illegal fundraising, and dereliction of duty. I recognize some of the familiar faces."
Since they've all been caught to this extent, the [V] organization has either been wiped out, or the remaining remnants are hiding even deeper and more concealed—Ye Yihe leans towards the former, since the system has already determined that the incident has been resolved.
Sutter Bernhardt's case, where he was dealt with only to be ambushed by Fyodor, was an emergency that even the system couldn't have predicted.
However, the government wouldn't do this for no reason. Perhaps some authoritative figure within the system realized this and took the initiative to conduct a thorough internal investigation? I wonder whose keen sense of smell was so helpful.
"That felt good," Ye Yihe commented succinctly.
After lunch, when the afternoon was already halfway over, a drenched in sweat finally knocked on the door, panting heavily, "I...I'm...back from my run..."
Oda Sakunosuke, who was maintaining his gun, went over to open the door for him and poured him a glass of water.
"Very good, take a five-minute break."
Hearing the noise, Ye Yihe looked up from her book and said, "Then go to the hotel. You know the address. I calculated the distance, and you can make it in time for dinner they've prepared, and then get some sleep."
Pushkin's hand holding the water glass trembled slightly.
"…………"
devil! !
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