Black Widow Bar
Everyone was gathered at the bar counter.
The bartender silently polished a glass, Gin focused on typing a message on his phone, Hayato Masaki sipped his drink while flipping through a book, and Vodka clinked glasses with Korn off to the side.
Only Chianti—
"When's my next mission, huh? When do I get to go out again?"
She couldn't sit still, abruptly darting over to pester Gin.
Gin's icy gaze flicked toward her, but surprisingly, he answered with patience. "Wait. You'll have your chance to shine soon enough."
"Oh?"
Chianti perked up. "This time, it better not be another job where I stake out a target for hours, don't fire a single shot, and then get told to pull back."
Gin didn't respond.
Chianti let out a loud "Tch!"
She stomped off, grabbed her crude "Chianti and Cointreau" cocktail, and chugged a huge gulp, exhaling with a dramatic "Haa!"
"Bet it tastes awful, right?" Hayato Masaki said with a smile, glancing her way.
"Worse than awful."
"I figured. I can't even imagine what that mix would taste like."
"You trying to say something with that?" Chianti shot him a look, her heavily lined eyes glinting with mischief. "Me, I think you gotta try everything at least once."
"Ever tried mixing Chianti with Gin or Vodka, then?"
"What?!"
Hayato Masaki's quip twisted Chianti's expression instantly. Gin, mid-text, paused to shoot a glare their way. Vodka, thinking someone called his name, looked up with a confused "Huh?"
"Kid's got guts," Chianti said, her eyes gleaming.
She might be the "young phoenix" of the pair, impulsive as they come, but she wasn't a complete fool.
Not many in the Organization dared joke about Gin like that.
…Cointreau. Either highly favored or seriously skilled.
"Just trying to lighten up the workplace vibe," Hayato Masaki said with a grin.
Chianti turned and walked off.
Hayato Masaki didn't return to his book. Instead, he picked up his Champs-Élysées and asked, "By the way, what exactly does Chianti mean by 'action team'?"
"Action and intelligence—those are the Organization's two main divisions," Gin said, not minding the question. "Doesn't matter much to you, though. Unless that man says otherwise, I'm the one assigning your tasks for now."
"Got it," Hayato Masaki replied lightly.
The Organization's two major factions: the action team led by Gin, and intelligence headed by Rum.
Compared to Gin, who was always in the spotlight, Rum was far slipperier—master of disguises, spreading false info to muddy his trail, and every name he'd used so far was fake, no question.
"Hey! Anyone up for pool?" Chianti shouted from across the room.
Her partner, Korn, set down his glass and headed over.
Soon, the clack of billiard balls filled the air. Hayato Masaki watched for a bit, then put his book down and approached. Vodka followed, setting his drink aside.
"Look at this!"
Chianti was as chatty as ever while playing pool, the complete opposite of Korn. But from what Hayato Masaki could tell, both were scarily good.
Was it because they were snipers?
Angle calculations, steady hands—everything about their game was top-notch.
"You'd have to go all out to keep up with those two," Vodka commented.
In the end, the silent Korn won the match.
Hayato Masaki, intrigued, took the cue from Chianti. As he leaned down to take his shot, Korn suddenly spoke up.
"That book of yours. I've read it."
"…Have you?"
"It's good. I liked it," Korn said, pausing before adding, "Still looking for side character names?"
"Always," Hayato Masaki replied, his eyes crinkling with a smile.
Unexpected win. But first, time to finish this game.
Hayato Masaki was confident at pool. His hands were steady, and he could calculate trajectories with precision—where the ball would land after each collision, he knew almost instinctively.
Korn started off casual, but as Hayato Masaki sank shot after shot, catching up became impossible.
"Again," Korn said, clearly not ready to admit defeat.
Hayato Masaki just kept smiling.
They played a few more rounds until Korn finally went quiet, passing the cue to Vodka.
Vodka, who'd mostly been spectating and wasn't much of a player, took it reluctantly. He glanced at Chianti, who looked done, then at Hayato Masaki, who was still all smiles.
What, me against Cointreau?
Vodka wasn't a masochist, but he also worried that tossing the cue back might seem disrespectful. Hesitating, he mumbled, "…Wanna play?"
"No need to force it if you're not in the mood, Vodka-san," Hayato Masaki said, setting the cue down.
He handed Korn a notebook and pen he carried with him. Korn flipped to a blank page and scrawled his name in big, bold letters.
Gin noticed but said nothing.
Pleased with the unexpected gain, Hayato Masaki decided he'd had enough of the bar for one night. He ordered a glass of ice water, drank half, and ignored Chianti's half-serious probing about whether he was free later. Standing to leave, he was stopped.
"Hold up," Gin said.
"What's wrong?"
"Beika Town's been crawling with DUI checks late at night lately," Vodka piped up from the bar counter. "No idea why, but me and big brother have run into five or six of 'em in the past few days. Regular cops back off when they see him, but there's this one stubborn woman who doesn't… Point is, you'd better not drive right now."
That traffic cop—sharp-looking, driving a tiny patrol car, chasing them down like a hound. Honestly, Vodka respected her skills, but it still ticked him off.
"Oh, I wasn't planning to drive back anyway," Hayato Masaki said.
No way he'd risk tomorrow's headlines screaming, "Up-and-Coming Detective Caught Drunk Driving."
He left the bar, Chianti's voice trailing after him—"Need a ride in my sports car?"—but it cut off as the door swung shut.
Bzz! Bzz!
As Hayato Masaki reached the roadside, waiting for a taxi, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
He pulled it out, unlocked it, and saw a text from Yoko Okino:
"Hayato-kun, tomorrow's April 13th! Good luck! ?(o?o?)?"
***
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