Chapter 339: All Alone
Bourbon observed the screen carefully. He had deliberately referred to Natsume Natsuki as Cointreau's younger sister, and the man on the other end of the encrypted connection had not offered a single word of objection. If that was true, then Cointreau really was the long-missing Natsume Sora. Did this mean the persistent rumors circulating within the Black Organization were false? Perhaps Cointreau's situation was fundamentally different from Vermouth's enigmatic circumstances.
Before he could analyze the implications further, Cointreau's voice drifted through the speakers, causing Bourbon's chest to tighten. He forced his breathing to remain steady, keeping his expression perfectly neutral. "Why do you say that? Why would I be happy that you went out of your way to save a police officer?"
"This could be considered use against me," Cointreau replied, his tone laced with dark amusement. "I thought you would be a bit happier knowing this little secret. Wouldn't you?"
Out of the camera's view, Bourbon slowly relaxed his clenched fist. His fingernails had nearly dug into his palm. "This hardly counts as use. There is absolutely no evidence. Only that specific policeman from back then saw your face. Even if he reported it to his superiors, it remains one person's word against yours. It wouldn't have much of an impact on your standing in the Organization at all." He leaned forward slightly, narrowing his eyes. "In contrast, what I am far more curious about is why you saved that policeman in the first place."
Beneath the facade of Toru Amuro, a storm of questions raged. Did Cointreau actually know Matsuda Jinpei? How much did this dangerous executive know about Matsuda's background? And, most terrifyingly, did he know Amuro's true identity?
"It is nothing." Cointreau shifted his gaze away from the lens, returning his attention to the glowing computer monitor in front of him. The rhythmic clacking of a keyboard echoed through the audio feed. "I just happened to run into him at the time. Plus, I deeply hated that bomber. I simply saved the cop while I was dealing with the trash."
A cold scoff filtered through the speakers. "Speaking of that bomber, those police officers are truly useless. I originally thought that by saving their bomb disposal expert, they would track down the culprit quickly. I certainly did not expect they would let a pathetic criminal remain free for three entire years."
Cointreau paused, the typing stopping for a fraction of a second. "In the end, innocent people were dragged into his twisted game, and I had to handle the execution personally. I heard that bomber had already killed several police officers seven years ago. The Japanese police are really becoming more and more incompetent by the day. But, from our perspective, I suppose that is a good thing."
Completely ignoring Bourbon's darkening expression on the other side of the screen, Cointreau continued to tear into the police's competence. His icy, dismissive tone bore a striking resemblance to Gin's usual rhetoric. Bourbon sat in silence, forced to listen to words that openly despised the very institution he served, gloating over their tragic failures. His jaw locked. A vein pulsed at his temple. He wanted to sever the connection right then and there, but his cover demanded he listen.
Despite the rising anger, Furuya Rei extracted one crucial piece of intelligence: the bomber from all those years ago had indeed been eliminated by Cointreau's own hands.
Waiting until the executive finally finished his tirade, Bourbon decided to strike back. Since his own mood was thoroughly ruined, he had no intention of letting Cointreau enjoy the rest of his evening. Plastering on a mask of feigned, sickeningly sweet kindness, Bourbon smiled. "Cointreau, it seems you care a great deal about your sister. Then why don't you reunite with her? With your exceptional abilities, as long as you are a bit careful, it wouldn't be a problem at all. The Boss would never even find out."
Bourbon knew perfectly well that Cointreau would never take that risk. That was precisely why he suggested it. Unless absolutely necessary, Bourbon himself would never drag an innocent civilian like Natsume Natsuki into the Black Organization's suffocating line of sight. He knew that if Cointreau truly wanted to reunite with her, he would have done so years ago instead of waiting until today to use her as a veiled threat. Judging by the man's overly cautious behavior, Cointreau was absolutely unwilling to let his sister face even a fraction of danger.
"Heh."
Hearing the thinly veiled provocation, Cointreau abruptly stopped his typing. He turned his head, his piercing gaze locking onto the camera lens, staring directly into Bourbon's eyes. "Natsume has been looking for me. At the very least, she has always remembered me, and she will always wait for me. But you..."
A cruel, mocking smile curved Cointreau's lips. "I heard that the two partners you used to work with so frequently were both rats. Undercover agents. And one even killed the other. Ah, but of course, they are both dead now."
Cointreau knew full well that their deaths were merely a surface-level deception, but the words were designed to cut deep.
"Goodbye, all alone."
Before Bourbon could even process the verbal strike, Cointreau decisively reached out and severed the connection. The screen went pitch black.
The silence in the room was deafening. Bourbon sat frozen, feeling as though several jagged knives had just been plunged directly into his chest. The mocking words forcibly dragged the horrific scene of Hiromitsu Morofushi's sacrifice to the forefront of his mind. His breathing hitched. The edges of his vision burned red.
Damn Shuichi Akai. That bastard had better really be dead. Otherwise, Furuya Rei swore he would tear the man apart with his own bare hands to avenge Hiromitsu.
Grabbing the crystal glass from the table, Bourbon downed the amber liquid in one burning gulp. The alcohol scorched his throat, grounding him back in reality.
Although the verbal sparring with Cointreau had caused him to momentarily lose his carefully crafted composure, it also forced Bourbon to strip away his disguise. For a brief moment, he was just Furuya Rei again, recalling the fleeting, golden days of his youth at the police academy.
Time had been incredibly cruel. Hagiwara Kenji and Hiromitsu Morofushi had sacrificed their lives one after another, leaving a trail of ghosts in their wake. If Matsuda Jinpei had not been miraculously saved by Cointreau's intervention, he would have undoubtedly joined them in the grave.
Furuya Rei stared at the empty glass, his emotions a tangled mess. From a purely objective standpoint, he owed Cointreau a massive debt of gratitude. Even if he could not entirely trust the casual excuse Cointreau had given for saving Matsuda, the result remained the same. His friend was alive.
His thoughts drifted to Wataru Date. He had no idea how the former class representative had been faring during his years as a detective. The last text message he had received from Date was over a year ago, and his deep cover had prevented him from ever visiting. He could only pray that nothing terrible had happened to him.
It just so happened that today's chaotic case required him to visit the station to provide an official witness statement. Furuya Rei made a quiet decision. He would find a natural opportunity to visit the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department in a couple of days. While he was there, he would corner Matsuda Jinpei to extract the exact details of that fateful day, and perhaps, he could finally check in on Date.
Miles away, Cointreau tossed his communication device onto the desk. He immediately purged the tense conversation with Bourbon from his mind, his focus snapping back to the complex web of data illuminating his face.
During the call, the monitor had been angled sharply away from the camera lens, ensuring Bourbon saw absolutely nothing but shadows. If the blonde intelligence officer had managed to catch even a glimpse of the screen, he would have been horrified.
Cointreau was not handling standard Organization assignments. More accurately, he was entirely bypassing the Black Organization's Japanese jurisdiction. He was currently deep within the highly classified servers of the European Branch in France.
Lines of encrypted text scrolled rapidly across the display. He was actively assigning covert tasks, authorizing high-level personnel transfers, approving massive financial reimbursements, and carefully filtering the intelligence reports destined for the Boss of the Black Organization. With the unmatched analytical assistance of Neuvillette, Cointreau had effectively usurped the official Person in Charge of the European Branch, operating as a phantom director from the shadows.
His fingers danced across the mechanical keyboard. The next phase of his grand design was already in motion. He needed to pinpoint the various undercover agents embedded within the European Branch by global intelligence factions. Once he identified the rats, he would bypass them entirely to contact the powerful agencies pulling their strings. By demonstrating his overwhelming strength and aligning their mutual interests, Cointreau planned to forge unmatched cooperation agreements with the world's most formidable organizations.
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