What kind of drug can do that?
Then, could it really be...?
Ichijō Mirai lowered his eyes and went for his cup of tea, absently taking a few sips, silencing his concern and adjusting his expression before he set it down again, tilting his head as if amused, revealing a bit of nasty interest, even showing a third, somewhat sharp tooth, "Guess?"
"What a big reaction, so in your heart, I'm so impossible to have the object of your heart's desire to exist? Come on, I'm human too."
"But it's okay, from now on, you can try to change your impression of me, and guess who my possible object of desire is, such as..."
Gin was staring at Ichijō Mirai.
The words swirled around in Ichijō Mirai's mouth for a few moments, and he met Gin's gaze as if he'd been absently teasing Belmode the entire time, and when he bit out the words, they seemed to take on the warmth of his mouth, "You?"
His eyebrows stretched, convergence of the sharp teeth, convergence of some false smile, rare some in line with the current age, like a mild temperament of high school students, "If you kill more FBI, I may be more like you?"
Not only a high school student, but a school bully.
A bully who cares about academic performance.
The teasing was so obvious, Belmode: "..."
She labeled 'Ichijō Mirai has a crush on someone' with the false label of bad taste and amusement, and then labeled it with the smaller label of doubt because Ichijō Mirai was too important, intending to pay more attention to this aspect in the future, "Is it really a 'crush'?"
Easing the shock and suspicion, Belmode calmed down, and also cleverly spoke up, "It feels like if I report more numbers, maybe you'll be targeted as a guy who steals his own prey, and then, I'm afraid that you won't be able to tease me with some unbelievably light topics, right?"
"Dozens."
She replied, "I don't keep track of the exact number, and you probably don't keep track of how many people you've taken out in the meantime, do you? I can only give you a rough estimate of a couple dozen, seventy, eighty? Anyway, not to three digits."
Thinking about it, he added with real emotion, "Not as many as you."
That's the truth.
Belmode spent a long time in New York, and the FBI hostile relationship can be described as the new three years, the old three years, patched up another three years, killed a lot of FBI and their families, carried out a lot of tasks.
But after all these years, she hasn't killed as many FBIs as Ichijō Mirai does in a week...
Three groups of FBI, one week, that's hundreds.
Most exceptional veterans have not killed as many people in their lifetime as Ichijō Mirai did in just one week.
"Dozens," Ichijō Mirai repeated slowly, pretending not to hear Belmode's subtly complex tone, and offering the opposite conclusion, "Then I'm not as good as you."
"Even though it's afternoon on your side and half a day has passed, and it's early morning on my side and it's the beginning of a new day, even if another twenty hours pass, I won't be able to kill seventy to eighty FBIs today."
Because there are no more FBI in Tokyo.
He: "You're good."
And then, without stopping, he asks, "Do you only work with the FBI?"
"Do you deal with their families? I think so."
"Then you're still good," He took on a somewhat distressed tone, repeating, lowering his eyes to look at the cold liquid in his teacup, which looked even smaller, "You can probably take out seventy or eighty FBI and hundreds of family members in a single operation, but me, I can only take out thirty or forty FBI, and can't even get rid of their family members..."
It's the agonizing tone of a bully who can only choose one of the two-option bonus questions, can't answer them all, and answers every question on the paper 100%.
Belmode: "..."
It was as if she had been hit by the Silence Skill.
Even though she knew that Ichijō Mirai was just being funny, talking nonsense, acting like a psychopath, and acting like a normal cow cat, she still kept silent.
"Can you tell me a little bit about how you're going to deal with everyone's family?" Ichijō Mirai, as if she hadn't sensed the somewhat silent air, still inquired to herself, "I haven't encountered this particular session yet, but, sooner or later, I will, won't I?"
"I want to make my first time perfect, make myself more capable, so that gentleman will like me more, right?"
"And you and Gin will like me more, too?"
He did not show a standard smile, his expression was calm, and his tone was calm, "We are have domineering personalities."
"Humans always are."
Belmode wanted to warn: you said 'everyone' twice, one sounded like the FBI and other enemies, the other sounded like members of the organization and your own more friendly ones, the two seemed a bit confusing and misleading.
Definitely just misleading. It's two groups, not one, right?
She pondered.
Ichijō Mirai wasn't hiding it at all, she was testing it.
But what exactly she was testing, Belmode was unsure, weighing 'testing the tolerance of the organization', 'testing the tolerance of the world', and 'testing how to single-handedly put the organization known as Satan at the top of the list of the world's terrorists', and only after a few moments did she cautiously answer.
"Generally speaking, I don't involve my family except in special cases, such as when the FBI is aware of the organization's existence and attempts to go deeper."
She reminisced, organizing euphemisms to advise Ichijō Mirai to be kinder as a black terrorist, with a vague sense of the absurdity of being a heroic policewoman on the run from a vicious bandit, "But, it's a lot of work, a lot of effort."
"I chased an FBI man to his home once before, late at night, and he had a happy family, a beautiful, gentle wife, and a lovely, well-behaved daughter."
"His last name..."
Belmode wasn't very impressed by dead people. It took a lot of remembering.
Not the FBI man's name, of course, but the young blonde FBI lady, "Starling."
Judie Starling.
Belmode had forgotten the family name, but some time ago, it came back to him in the form of the grown-up Ms. Starling.
Ichijō Mirai repeated slowly, "Starling?"
He smiled again, this time not the perfunctory smile that anyone who knew him would recognize, but a somewhat interested smile, less formal and more personal, with a small portion of his sharp third tooth showing again.
This meant that someone was going to be unlucky.
Unfortunately, the unlucky guy couldn't catch the signal.
Gin coolly averted his eyes, not intending to give the unlucky guy any hints, or pay too much attention to the signal so as not to widen the scope of his bad luck, and all he heard was Ichijō Mirai's voice, which was visibly more excited.
"How did you do it?"
There were only a few ways to cut down the herd, and if Mr. Starling hadn't come home, it would have been a bit tricky to find out where he was, and to consider whether to use his family as bait.
But Mr. Starling is a good man who comes home.
A man who was pursuing a dangerous organization without telling his wife and daughter, without telling too many of his colleagues, and quietly pursuing it with a dim awareness of its horrors.
"As is always the case with some of the best officers, men don't tell their wives about the cases they're pursuing, women don't tell their husbands about the cases they're pursuing," Belmode said in a much lighter tone, "they're not on the defensive, and I waited for the Mr. Starling in their homes,"
It's like a weird Möbius strip.
If you're not good, you're not aware of the organization.
If one is good, then one has a certain bottom line and a basic sense of morality that prevents one from revealing secrets to those closest to them.
"After three hours of waiting for him to get off work, it only took me half an hour to take care of him, and his family," she said lightly, "and it was easy."
It was easy.
To take out an FBI family, Belmode simply knocked on the door, subdued Mrs. Starling the moment she opened it, waited for Mr. Starling to return, subdued him, lulled an awakened Ms. Starling back to sleep, placed the two unconscious adults in the bedroom, poured gasoline on the villa, and exited.
It took so little effort compared to the three lives that she could have described it as easy, like a human being thoughtlessly crushing an ant.
"They're all dead."
Belmode added slowly, "l thought,.
"It wasn't until a few days ago, when I returned to New York and observed the movements of the FBI, that I discovered an acquaintance and realized that that Miss Starling wasn't dead, but rather, she had silently taken root in her hatred, and was in contact with the FBI in an attempt to avenge her father's death."
If Ichijō Mirai's actions hadn't been so over-the-top that even Belmode couldn't help but sympathize with the FBI and pay more attention to them, she wouldn't have even realized that her child, whom she thought to be dead, was actually alive and well and growing up.
Ichijō Mirai: "Uh-huh."
He shook his teacup and said, "You..."
Let a child of a few years old escape?
That's... well... not really...
Ichijō Mirai couldn't say.
He was afraid that he'd open his mouth and exclaim, 'You're such a kind lady'.
He could only ask, "Did you light the fire and leave?"
and politely suggested, "Perhaps you could take a non codename member and put him in charge of pouring gasoline, or have Mr. and Mrs. Starling compete to pour gasoline, and whoever completes half the circle first gets to live, only with the children in the group."
"If they're in a good relationship, they'll compete to splash gasoline all over every corner of the villa, compete to be first, and leave only their two fingerprints on the gasoline,"
"If they don't get along, then whoever finishes first lives, or pretends to be a psychopath who appreciates Mr. Starling, who found the tissue traces, and coaxes them, or uses Miss Starling as a carrot,"
"...Either way."
"Then knock all three of them out, put them in the master bedroom, sit on the end of the bed and stare at them as they choke and asphyxiate, then leave."
Ichijō Mirai thought for a moment, "If you're afraid of getting burned, you can stand downstairs for a while and make sure that there are no windows breaking and the door isn't opened, then you can be sure that they haven't escaped."
"If you are really uneasy, you can wait for half an hour, disguise yourself as the FBI, and call out in an urgent tone to see if there are any survivors."
He adjusted his sitting position, bent his knees and flicked his cup, "Of course, the most important thing is to keep an eye on the police, to know them better than the police, and to 'solve their problems' when they notice the wind blowing,"
"Well..."
"So, how did Ms. Starling survive?"
Belmode: "..."
You, how did you get so good at that?
Have you done this before? Yes, I have!
Especially the part about 'instructing the two Starlings to fight over the oil', you said it without thinking, so you've definitely done it before, right?!
"No."
On the other end of the line, Belmode's voice didn't come through, but on the other end of the line, Gin was looking at the coffee table and the crystal lamps as if he was checking out a wiretap, repeatedly observing the angle at which the light lines changed.
Ichijō Mirai barely read the air, and condescendingly replied, "But it's something that's easy to visualize..."
Not to mention the mafia, at least 50% of the players who are definitely legal citizens have no idea how to kill each other.
It's not that hard.
Ichijō Mirai is still a bit disappointed, with Belmode:Sure enough, I should have known that this guy is a bit of a goody-goody, just like Gin, ugh.
He: "Tch."
"I was expecting something interesting."
Like when Belmode was so well-prepared that Judie survived due to some kind of surprise that no one expected.
Maybe there's a 'Judie's been smart since she was a kid' factor that adds to the blonde FBI lady.
But I didn't realize it was because Belmode was a bit of a goody-goody.
"Honey," Ichijō Mirai sighed, addressing Belmode first on the other end of the line, 'I'm calling you,' and also to Belmode, who was studying the crystal on the coffee table.
"I'm calling you, too," He said to Gin, who was studying the reflection of the crystal lamp on the coffee table.
"We're the Mafia, aren't we?"
He said in a softer tone, "In our line of work, we're supposed to be a little more ruthless, a little less conscientious, aren't we?"
"You guys, ugh."
Belmode: "..."
Gin: "..."
It's getting pretty intense.
"Can you guys get your minds right?" Ichijō Mirai controlled his tone of voice and tried to teach his colleagues as gently as he could, "You're old men, so you don't need me to tell you, so you need to get your attitudes right and work together for the organization, okay?"
"Even though the organization doesn't pay salaries, doesn't take holidays, and has so much waste, there are no benefits and a lot of drawbacks, but we have to have a professional code of conduct, and we should love what we do, okay?"
Gin: "..."
Belmode: "..."
It's too much.
Ichijō Mirai was disappointed when the two seniors didn't say anything, and sighed, "Tell you what, until I find a new toy, you guys need to reflect on yourselves and get your mafia attitudes right, okay?"
He shook his head and sighed as he logged out of Organization Newcomer, logged into Police Academy Newcomer, and couldn't help but sigh heavily again.
He lifted his hand sharply and struck a strong wind that was coming towards him.
Matsuda Jinpei felt pain, "Hiss!"
Not caring much about the missed blow, he lunged again and grabbed Ichijō Mirai, who had given up resisting, by the shoulders, "Hear that!"
The shaggy-haired officer didn't look like a police officer, he looked like a police dog that had sniffed out dozens of survivors at the scene of an earthquake disaster, so his paws and nose were bloody, but his eyes were incredibly bright.
It's as if he's wagging his tail, "Everyone's praising us!"
After all, he was still a young man in his early twenties, and his youthful spirit hadn't completely worn off yet, so in his excitement, he showed a bit of naivety in front of the people he trusted.
Ichijō Mirai looked out at the sound.
They were now in a police car, retreating from the bank, their gear still on.
Everyone outside on the street who saw the police car couldn't help but look over, and there was a mosquito-like buzzing of conversation, most of them discussing in amazement the outstanding performance of the cadets in the bank case, and praising them vigorously.
Not realizing that the person they were praising was in the car, the praise was like a highly concentrated dose of motivation, enough to make every rookie officer's eyes light up for three days and three nights of overtime, and still have a lot of energy.
Ichijō Mirai: "..."
He held Matsuda Jinpei's hand slightly apart, "Happy?"
Without waiting for Matsuda Jinpei to nod furiously, he blandly said, "The prize money we can claim this time is 100 million,"
"Congratulations, Matsuda-san, on receiving 19,999,999 yen."
"Isn't it happier?"
Matsuda Jinpei, still looking out, ears open to the compliment, reacted after a few seconds, snapped to attention, and looked to Ichijō Mirai.
Ichijō Mirai looked at the stunned expression on the police cadet's face, and sighed once again: "Oh, this student is also a kind student.
Why is everyone so kind...?
:(