Chapter 74
Another gaze was like a thorn in the back, and Gong Ye Shengliang pretended to be calm: [System, do you have any friendly reminders?]
Just like when he first joined the Port Mafia, Guangqiu quickly selected three plans from the database that he thought were reliable.
[A. "What a coincidence! Why are you here?" After a few awkward words, they left the bar. (But Bermode is likely to say something surprising)
B. "You're too slow, Bourbon." Criticize the other party's business level and leave disappointed. (But be careful that others may become suspicious)
C. Drink the wine and don’t worry about the rest. ]
Kono Seiryoshi: Wait a minute.
Why is the last option given by the system always so outrageous? !
If he drank the whole glass of wine in one gulp, there would be nothing to worry about, because his eyes would go dark and he would pass out drunk, leaving others to collect his body.
Moreover, given Bourbon's status in the organization, it is even questionable whether they will collect his body.
[How could that be!] The light ball argued, [After system data simulation, Bourbon has a 64.5% chance of taking you to a safe place by itself, a 34.7% chance of asking others to take you back, and only a 0.8% chance of ignoring you.]
[By the way, the probability that Vermode will abandon you is 36.7%.]
Kono Seiryoshi: “…” Damn!
He originally thought that Bourbon, who was still hostile to him, was unpredictable, but he didn't expect that Bermode was his real plastic colleague!
An old colleague who I have known for many years is no match for an undercover agent. If this organization is destroyed one day, it cannot be blamed on others...
Kono Seiryoshi breathed a sigh of relief. He could see on the map that the blond waiter was walking slowly but surely in his direction.
When he looked up, the bartender disguised as Bermode was looking at him with an ambiguous expression that said, "You're welcome."
Kono Seiryoshi: “…”
Better not look up.
The aroma of the whiskey sour completely dissipates, mixed with the coolness of the ice cubes, penetrating into my heart.
Belmode lazily glanced around the bar, his eyes lingering for a few meaningful seconds on the exceptionally outstanding blond waiter.
The bank mission seemed unremarkable at first glance, but Vermouth sensed something was amiss with his invincible sixth sense.
There are no selfless philanthropists in the organization, especially an ultimate resultist like Saint Wine. Bourbon is indeed a rare talent, but no matter what kind of person, in the eyes of Saint Wine, they are divided into two categories - useful tools and useless waste.
The attitude of the Sacred Wine towards Bourbon is neither like waste nor like a tool.
Belmode's interest was piqued after a long time, and she decided to meet him at the bar where Bourbon was disguised, as a thoughtful gift to an old acquaintance who had finally come to her senses.
She deliberately made a few inappropriate remarks to test him, but Holy Wine did not refute her. In Vermode's opinion, this was tacit consent.
The white-haired young man quietly placed his hands on the table, lowered his eyes and said nothing.
Seeing that the bourbon was only two or three meters away, Bermode smiled and was about to joke, "Looks like tonight won't be boring," when the young man suddenly picked up the glass, raised his head and drank the 18° whiskey sour in one gulp.
His movements were too fast and he coughed inadvertently. His pale lips were wetted by the wine and then roughly wiped, leaving a hint of red on the bead of his lip. Even the mole on the tip of his nose seemed to come alive.
His deep crimson eyes were a little blurry because they couldn't focus, and he tried to look at me through his tears. He didn't want to attract attention, so he suppressed his voice and it was a little hoarse. He listened carefully to the end of the sentence and it was still shaking unsteadily: "...Aren't you leaving yet?"
“…”
Vermouth did not answer immediately. Her smile remained in a faint arc, and her eyes wandered inch by inch on the face of the person opposite her in an extremely aggressive manner.
Shengjiu rarely shows her face, and always covers herself up when she appears in the base, so few people know how beautiful her face is.
The look of being drunk is completely different from the look of being sober and handling tasks.
The tall bartender narrowed his eyes and whistled frivolously.
The white-haired young man frowned and blinked slowly, as if he didn't understand what she was suddenly doing.
"You are drunk."
A cold voice came out of nowhere, and Kono Seiryoshi turned his head dazedly like a malfunctioning machine.
The blond, dark-skinned waiter took over the bartender's position in a dignified but powerful manner, and happened to meet his eyes, her purple-gray eyes locked deeply with his.
The bartender took a step back and spread his hands helplessly, indicating that he had done nothing.
Kono Seiryoshi looked at the bartender, then looked blankly at the more familiar Furuya Rei.
Fūya Rei suddenly chuckled, and his indifference just now melted away like an ice cube in an instant, even the melted water stains were evaporated cleanly, leaving no trace.
He didn't pay any attention to the surroundings, only to the person opposite him: "Do you need me to take you upstairs to rest?"
He asked in a very polite and courteous tone, but in a tone that did not allow for rejection.
--
Five floors above the bar is a hotel owned by the same company, which is specially prepared for guests who want to stay overnight after drinking too much.
The double bed was covered with an intricately patterned bedspread. Her silver hair was spread out in a messy manner on the black quilt, and beneath that was a defenseless sleeping face.
Furukaya Rei stood at the head of the bed, blocking the light coming through the floor-to-ceiling window, his expression unclear.
As he stood in front of the wine table, he was still thinking about what reason he could use to explain why he was here, when his side suddenly sank and the holy wine seemed to pour into his arms unconsciously.
...skipping the communication step.
"We're going out." Furiya Ling half-circled the crowd and gave the bartender a polite fake smile, "Can you please not block our way?"
"What a bad attitude." The bartender shook his head and sighed, then obediently gave way.
As they passed each other, Rei Furiya felt something square-shaped cardboard slip into his pocket.
It was a room card that smelled of an expensive perfume that only women would fall in love with.
The bartender put his index finger to his lips with a smile and whispered in his natural voice: "Whisky Sour tastes good, doesn't it?"
——Bermode.
Fūya Rei's heart sank.
Thinking that all his actions were under the watchful eyes of the organization, his eyes became increasingly dim.
He didn't know whether Bermode came to see him laughing or for some other purpose, but fortunately, she didn't seem to suspect anything.
Located in Tokyo Bay, where every inch of land is valuable, the hotel's rooms are luxurious and extremely spacious. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of Tokyo's bustling night scene, but Furuya Rei has no desire to appreciate it.
He has a strong sense of justice, and after joining the organization, this sense of justice has become more sharp, although it has been covered with another layer of skin. Even Morobushi Kagemitsu would hesitate about the possible kinship between Shengjiu and his peers, but Furuya Rei will not be shaken by this.
This firm will was maintained until the drunken Holy Wine looked at him.
As if asking for help, she subconsciously relied on him, even though she had only met him twice and their relationship was not much better than that of a stranger.
...Can people who look similar also have similar habits and expressions?
The person on the bed was breathing lightly, and in the room where you could hear a pin drop, it slightly quickened Furiya Rei's heartbeat.
He was never one to dwell on fantasies; he acted decisively and put them into practice.
The blond mixed-race young man took off the tight vest of his waiter uniform without saying a word, half-knelt on the bed, leaned over, and rested one arm on the soft bedding, his eyes level with the peaceful sleeping face of the person under him.
This posture makes one of the parties like a prey, trapped between the sharp claws and teeth of a beast, unable to escape.
bowl!
犧!
Fūya Rei used his free hand to pinch the opponent's chin and forcibly turned his face. The force was so great that his originally relaxed brows and eyes were wrinkled.
The silver eyelashes trembled and slowly rose, and the dark red irises were misty.
He seemed to be still unconscious, looking at the person in front of him in a daze, not knowing that this person was the culprit who woke him up.
"Do you know who I am?"
Furuya Rei asked calmly.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
If Bermode asked, he could answer without guilt that he was just concerned about his colleague's health and wanted to ask if he needed medicine.
However, this was just an excuse. The real purpose behind the question made his body tremble uncontrollably just by imagining it.
My heart is pounding like thunder.
Fūya Rei stared into those blank eyes and repeated the question he had just asked.
Come on, what name will you call me?
Zero, zero, or bourbon?
The white-haired young man stared at him blankly, tears gathered in his eyes and his lips trembled.
Fūya Rei almost thought he was hallucinating.
He was startled and subconsciously loosened his grip on the man's chin: "——What?"
Unable to hold back the tears, they fell from my eye sockets, making my heart burn.
"……sorry."
"sorry."
The inharmonious and fragmented sentences repeated this sentence over and over again.