Parked in a dark alley—a vintage black Porsche 356 A.
Standing beside it was a large, broad-shouldered man dressed entirely in black, wearing dark sunglasses and a black fedora.
With him stood a tall, lean man with long silver hair, also clad in black.
Leaning against the vintage car, the taller man casually pulled a cigarette from his pocket.
Seeing this, the larger man stepped forward and lit it for him.
"Aniki."
After inhaling a long drag of smoke—"Hmm?"
"Don't you think they're taking their time deciding what to do with that traitor?"
Exhaling slowly, the silver-haired man pondered for a few seconds before answering.
"That Person had big plans for that company. Even I would tread carefully when deciding what to do."
Chuckle.
"I'm sure Rum is taking the full brunt of That Person's wrath right now."
The large man began to grin as well, but suddenly felt his phone vibrate.
Quickly answering, his chuckle faded the moment he heard the voice on the other end.
[Vodka. I can't reach Gin. Is he with you?]
Hearing the question, Vodka immediately handed the phone to the taller man—Gin.
"Rum—has That Person made his decision?"
With a deep, tired sigh, Rum answered.
[You and Vodka are to stand down.]
Gin's expression darkened as he quietly glared at the phone in his hand.
According to the Organization's rules, a traitor must pay for betrayal.
This decision was suspicious.
Considering how long it had taken, Gin concluded that Rum was likely preparing his own team to handle the matter—trying to appease That Person's anger personally. Even though That Person had created the company for his grand plans, Rum had been overseeing its operations.
Now that a traitor had emerged within his jurisdiction—especially within a company That Person valued highly—Gin was certain Rum was trying to curry favor by handling it himself.
An evil smile formed on Gin's lips.
'I can't have you doing that.'
[Gin. I don't know what's going through that head of yours right now, but I advise you to leave immediately—That Person has personally called him.]
The smile on Gin's face vanished instantly.
"Oi, don't te—"
Before he could finish, Rum had already cut the call.
"Aniki, what did Rum say? Should I prepare to blow the place?"
"We're leaving, Vodka," Gin replied, eyes fixed on the building housing the traitor.
"Eh?"
Taking one last drag of his cigarette—
"Let's go."
"O-Okay, Aniki."
After driving for a few minutes, Vodka could no longer suppress his curiosity.
"Aniki… what did Rum say?"
"Someone else will take care of it."
"Someone else? But Aniki, I know you wouldn't let just anyone do a job you wanted to handle yourself. Rum must have said something more if we're leaving like this."
"Ahh—According to Rum, That Person has personally called for him to finish the job," Gin said grimly.
"Him? Who would that be? Bourbon? Or the newly assigned codename, Rye?"
"Hmph. If it were just those two, I would have done a better job."
"I-I see… then Aniki, who's the 'him' Rum was talking about?" Vodka asked nervously.
"Brandy."
Vodka stiffened. "B-Brandy?! If That Person personally called for him, then this must have truly enraged That Person."
"Ahh—knowing Brandy, this could either end quietly or very—"
KRA-BOOM!!!
The explosion thundered through the night.
Vodka slammed on the brakes.
Both men exited the Porsche and turned sharply toward the rising column of smoke behind them.
In the darkness of the night, the only illumination came from the growing flames devouring the building. From their distance, all they could see was the flickering fire against the skyline.
"A-Aniki… is this…"
"This is Brandy's doing," Gin replied coldly, eyes locked on the inferno.
Cold sweat ran down Vodka's back.
Moments later, tremors shook the ground.
From where they stood, they watched the company building slowly crumble.
After the shaking ceased, nothing remained but smoke and flame.
"W-We would've been collateral too if we stayed any longer, huh, Aniki?"
Chuckle.
"That's just how Brandy operates."
Vrrrbb—Vrrrbb.
Vodka jolted as his pocket vibrated again.
An unregistered number.
A burner.
[Vodka. Give Gin the phone.]
The voice was cold—chilling enough to make him stiffen.
"A-Aniki."
"Hmm? Who is it?"
Gin took the phone and raised it to his ear.
[Gin.]
"Brandy?" Grin. "This is rare. What made the lone wolf call me after such a… flashy presentation?" He glanced at the now non-existent building. "Quite the show."
[That Person ordered me to obliterate it. It would've been an eyesoren now that those fools have tainted his plans.]
"Is that so."
"And what do you want from me?"
[The FBI's movements have been suspicious lately. What I found inside that company suggests they inserted moles. They could only do that if there is someone deep within the Organization feeding them information.]
"What?!"
Killing intent flooded from Gin so intensely that even the air felt heavier.
Vodka gulped, sweat forming on his brow.
[The names of the moles I identified will be sent to you shortly. Do with them as you please. I have done my part.]
…Click.
The call ended.
Gin remained still for several seconds.
Too still that the night air felt suffocating.
"Aniki…?" Vodka asked carefully.
Gin's fingers clenched tightened slightly inside his gloves.
FBI infiltrated inside the Organization.
That meant someone had survived long enough to gain trust.
Long enough to see internal movements.
Long enough to feed information.
And Brandy found them first.
That was the part Gin disliked.
Brandy did not move loudly.
He did not boast.
He did not compete.
He simply acted — and when he acted, the aftermath erased evidence of what once stood.
Gin replayed the explosion in his mind.
Too precise.
The detonation timing, the structural collapse, the containment radius.
No unnecessary damage.
Controlled destruction.
That was calculated.
A slow grin formed on Gin's lips.
"So you've sharpened your fangs again, Brandy…"
Vodka swallowed.
"Aniki… are you angry?"
"Angry?" Gin chuckled softly.
"No."
His eyes gleamed beneath the brim of his hat.
"I'm curious."
Gin exhaled slowly.
The hunt had just changed. It was no longer about killing rats.
It was about discovering who had been comfortable enough to let themselves in.
And whether Brandy was watching the mole.
"Drive," Gin ordered calmly.
But inside his mind—
He was already planning three steps ahead.
-Miles away, inside a quiet high-rise office.
Seated in a dimly lit room was a man swirling a glass of Alfonso with ice while flipping a coin in his other hand.
Clink.
The ice struck the glass softly.
His grey left eye shining faintly due to the reflection the distant flames flickering across the skyline.
Scattered across his desk were photographs, names, and files—the suspected moles planted by the FBI.
"Kate."
From the shadows behind him—
"Yes, Brandy."
"Organize those files and deliver them to Gin."
"And begin tracing those who recommended the individuals on that list."
A pause.
"Quietly. I want to know what the FBI truly have in store for us."
Outside, sirens wailed.
Inside the dim office—
Only the soft clink of ice and the rhythmic flip of a coin echoed in the silence.