"You found your 'Blonde Sweetheart'?"
While Jodie's voice was slightly dazed, as if stunned by something unexpected, Akai Shūichi's voice was calm and expected as he said, "I found mine too."
He set up his sniper rifle and pointed it at a person in the sniper's scope.
It was the isolated courtyard of a church, full of greenery, with a fountain of angels in the center and a bench not far from it.
The church was closed in the fading light of day, so the whole building was covered in a cloud of dark colors and silent, with only a few priests and staff walking around.
On a bench in the courtyard sat a young white-haired man who was clearly neither a priest nor a member of the congregation.
He was wearing a set of priestly attire, a long black robe, with a black cape that looked like a swallowtail hanging below his shoulders and diagonally across his chest, protecting his heart, and a silver cross hanging in the middle of the two swallowtails, a classic priest's attire.
It's a classic priest's outfit.
The white-haired priest was looking down at a thick book that appeared to be the Bible.
The statue of the angel in the fountain is nearly two meters tall and is in the Greek style of a juvenile angel, smiling and holding a wreath, as if it were a statue of the happy moment when it was about to present a wreath to the god it worshipped, and even the folds of the hem of its skirt are vividly maintained as it is being blown by the wind.
On the back of the statue is a pair of spreading feathers, somewhat similar to the wings of a swan when it spreads its wings, which are connected to the statue only by a small wing root, about the size of a fist, and look quite dangerous.
It was facing the direction of the bench, as if gazing reverently at the white-haired priest.
Contrary to the statue, the white-haired priest's face was expressionless and pale, which should be the normal expression of a human being in a bad mood, but due to the white hair, excessively young appearance and clothing, it was colored with divinity, and appeared to be somewhat compassionate to all beings.
It was as if he hadn't taken over the identity of a priest, but was a real priest listening to the teachings of the Bible.
Shadows flashed in the corridor, and a middle-aged man, also dressed as a priest, walked into the courtyard, carrying a tray in a hurry.
The white-haired priest twitched his eyebrows.
He said nothing.
As if rebuked, the middle-aged priest stopped and stood by the statue of the angel for a few seconds before walking again.
This time, he walked slowly and gently, and when he reached the bench, he knelt down on one knee and lifted the tray with his head bowed.
The tray reached the white-haired priest, who closed his Bible and smiled.
False, perfunctory, and only slightly sincere, he picked up the tray of black tea with his handkerchief, but instead of drinking it, he held it up in the direction of Akai Shūichi as if he were clinking glasses of wine.
Still smiling, he mouthed, in the narrow field of view magnified many times by the sniper scope, "Good afternoon, Mr. Akai."
"Your last name isn't Inuo, is it?"
'What kind of dog are you, how could you smell it and come here?'
'The clue is for Jodie, not for you.'
'You really are a dog, aren't you?'
Akai Shūichi raised an eyebrow, a little surprised that Ichijō Mirai was so perceptive as to be able to detect the presence of the sniper rifle.
He moved the sniper's scope away from him for a few moments, and then moved it back again, like a human waving in greeting.
Knowing that this time, unlike in the theater, Ichijō Mirai couldn't hear his own voice, nor could he see his mouth to reply, he said calmly as if replying, "Hmm."
"Rabid Dog."
Every FBI investigator is like a rabid dog, biting the criminal to death, even if he is bruised, he wants to tear off a piece of the criminal's flesh or wing.
The 'rabid dog' abuse from the criminals is a compliment to the law enforcement officers.
...Though Ichijō Mirai wasn't abusive, but simply questioning, leading to the lethality seeming to be a bit greater.
...In the sniper's scope, Ichijō Mirai takes half a sip of his tea and smoothly puts the cup back on the tray ...He says something to the middle-aged priest, stands up, and once again looks in the direction of the sniper's rifle, locking eyes with Akai Shūichi from a distance ...
He smiled, reached up, and as if in prayer, laced the fingers of his right hand together, tapped the center of his forehead, and then tapped the cross on his chest and his right and left shoulders in turn, creating the shape of a cross in vain.
Finally, he redirected his forehead, and his smile seemed to take on a more provocative tone than it should have.
Akai Shūichi narrowed his eyes for a moment, seeing Ichijō Mirai's provocative gesture.
"Shoot me if you can."
Ichijō Mirai's every gag was slow enough for Akai Shūichi to recognize it, and with each complete bite, his smile grew wider, like a sunflower blooming in the sunlight, or a human eager to take on an extreme sport.
He's even more thrill-seeking than extreme sports, thoughtfully pointing out his own fatality for the sniper's rifle with a finger in the center of his forehead, "Here,"
And politely, "Thank you."
Translation: He's looking for death.
Akai Shūichi: "..."
His just-raised eyebrow pressed down, he locked eyes with Ichijō Mirai in the sniper's scope, scrutinizing the grinning face with the eagerness to see the world in chaos, as if pointing out the location of a super-tricky balloon for his fellow rifleman in a game of ballooning.
But this wasn't a game of balloons, and the 'balloon' wasn't in a very tricky position, so all Akai Shūichi had to do was pull the trigger and he could see the red and white special paint exploding in all its splendor.
Akai Shūichi knew that.
Ichijō Mirai knew it too.
But he smiles as if he is the one who controls the life and death of others with a sniper's rifle, not fearful, but eager and curious.
It seems that some want to take the initiative to hit the muzzle of the gun and 'I have to find a way to bumper a little, get a shot for fun'.
It's a little bit psychotic, a little bit crazy.
Either he is not afraid of death, but accepts it gladly, or he is sure that the sniper will not shoot, and even if he does shoot, he will be able to avoid it without fearing for his life.
Akai Shūichi favors the former.
He gazed coldly at the smiling face in the camera, and in a silence that seemed to have silenced the world for a few moments, he coldly pulled the trigger.
He flicked the muzzle of the gun as the bullet was fired.
The bullet passed by in a flash, struck the yard, and hit its target.
Ichijō Mirai closed his eyes, and a cold liquid splashed on his face, like blood bursting out.
It was water from a fountain.
The bullet struck the angel statue at the base of its wings, knocking one wing off and sending the half-meter-long wing crashing into the fountain, splashing Ichijō Mirai with a large amount of water as it fell and wetting nearly a third of his white hair.
He opened his eyes.
"...What poor marksmanship, it's almost as good as mine."