The corridor was silent again.
But it was no longer the silence of the previous days, when no one had spoken, but all seemed to be swearing profanely, but a deathly silence.
The revolver was still hooked on Ichijō Mirai's forefinger, swaying from side to side, right to left, but not falling to the ground, like a man's heart suspended in mid-air.
The old gentleman froze.
His mouth opened and closed, and his slack facial muscles twitched involuntarily, as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.
Ichijō Mirai smiled at the old gentleman, and without looking back, tossed the revolver backward to Akai Shūichi, while he himself reached for the old gentleman's dangling sleeve, fumbled with it for a few seconds, plucked at the smooth black fabric, and snapping his fingers away from the sagging skin, he pulled out a bullet, "What's wrong?"
He spun the bullet that should have been in the revolver but had been hidden by the old gentleman, but after a few sniffs, he handed it to Jodie in disgust, "Didn't you have to take the test?"
"I passed."
Said lightly, the old gentleman's face skin but twitch up, "You-"
The fear that rises from hearing about a person's madness is not the same as the fear that rises from seeing a person go mad, the fear of facing an unstable bomb that can kill on a whim is not the same as the fear of facing a madman who doesn't even care about his own life.
"I," Ichijō Mirai waited and waited for nothing but the look of madness, "what's wrong with me?"
There was an air of decay about the old man, but not about the old gentleman, it was completely overpowered by the strong scent of perfume, so strong that those who were not used to the scent of perfume would feel that they were covered in dirt, as was the case with Ichijō Mirai.
He patted the old gentleman's shoulder and wiped his hands without leaving any trace. He didn't even look at Jodie and Akai Shūichi's reactions from beginning to end, pretending not to do anything shameless like throwing dirty things at his teammates. "Understand, taking turns to shoot is such a waste of time. If you pretend to hesitate and delay, you might waste more than half an hour. It's better to just shoot them all, bang bang bang. It will only take more than ten seconds at most."
"I noticed you took the bullets."
I'm not so sure.
Ichijō Mirai hadn't held the revolver before loading it, and couldn't be sure of the weight of the pistol itself or the weight of the pistol loaded with one bullet.
The slight noise of the old gentleman's movement could also be interpreted as a quiet flick of the hammer as a precautionary measure.
And if he didn't steal the bullet...
That's a problem.
The organization is kind and sweet enough to not let a loyal and capable member of the code name for no reason, so of course they wouldn't really play this game of chance, which is mostly based on luck, and the old gentleman would have to find another reason to start a whole lot of drama.
Ichijō Mirai declined.
Ichijō Mirai refused to do so. He thought that if he couldn't skip the plots, he should skip the ones he could, so he patted the old gentleman on the other shoulder, wiped his hand thoroughly, and tried to skip the plots, "Well, after explaining it all, you can just say, 'I see, I believe you, my lord,' and let us go to the banquet."
"By the way, you know who I'm looking for, don't you," He turned his head and looked around the corner at the end of the corridor, "Any clues for me?"
"You can tell me how to get through, I'll find the person I'm looking for and I'll get the hell out of there, and you'll be relieved, won't you?"
Old Gentleman: "..."
Ichijō Mirai said gently, in the same relaxed and casual tone as before: "Otherwise, I'm going to treat the club as my home, and come back to visit from time to time, right? If something happens in the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you'd be so kind as to be more tolerant of the young man."
Old Gentleman: "...!"
Is there a difference between a visit from 'Satan' and a visit from the Grim Reaper?
Yes, the Grim Reaper isn't as dedicated as 'Satan', and there's no difference in bloodshed wherever he goes.
After changing his face, the old gentleman bowed his head and said sagely, "You passed the test, sir."
He hesitated, glancing not too obviously at Akai Shūichi and Jodie, and then, considering Ichijō Mirai's seemingly undisguised attitude, whispered, "The gentleman said that since you've come here for, for justice, and Calvados has been producing gruesome bloodshed time and time again, that, if you want to bring him to justice, he'll be able to do it," he said.
"If you want to bring him to justice, you can."
It seemed redundant, Ichijō Mirai would not ask anyone's opinion on what he wanted to do, let alone get permission from anyone before doing it, but for a chieftain, it was a necessary statement.
The old gentleman obviously felt that if he didn't say anything about this necessary statement, he wouldn't look like a chief, but if he did, Ichijō Mirai might not be pleased, and would immediately kill everyone in seven different ways, so he stammered in the first part of his speech, and spoke quickly in the second part, "But, Ruyi, you're not going to ask anyone's opinion, let alone get anyone's permission before doing it.
"But, Rum..."
Ichijō Mirai narrowed his eyes.
"The gentleman said," The old gentleman's voice trailed off, a hard, mosquito-sounding squeak, "No."
"Calvados can move, but Rum can't," repeated Ichijō Mirai, who had lowered his hand and was now resting it fraternally on the old gentleman's shoulder, also whispering head to head, "Rum's his father?"
...What, what?
The old gentleman reacted for a few seconds, questioned his hearing for a few seconds, processed the information for a few seconds, and returned with a long silence: "..."
Can you not say such breathtaking words out of the blue...?
You said you're fine, but the person listening might not be!
If it reaches that man's ears, something will really happen to someone!
Ichijō Mirai doesn't realize that the head opposite his own has turned green, and is still whispering, crickets behind his back, "Surely? You're either a son or a father, right?"
"Obviously so afraid of me, but also when I obviously stared at that guy repeatedly reached out to protect, so hard to protect, must be a father, right?"
"Don't worry," he patted the old gentleman on the shoulder, shook his head and sighed, "I won't publicize such a shameful thing, alas."
"Well, thank you for answering my questions, and may I ask you to tell the gentleman that I have heard his orders? And by the way, tell him I'll clean up after him, so he doesn't have to be too touched or thank me."
"I'm just a kind-hearted person who doesn't like to see others suffer."
With that, Ichijō Mirai let go of his hand and called back to his other two colleagues, "Come on, this kind gentleman says I've passed the test, we can go in and arrest Calvados," he said.
He didn't even look at the old gentleman's colorful green face, and carelessly turned the corner along the corridor, while walking, he explained to his colleagues how kind the kind gentleman was, "I just asked, the owner of Calvados is also very kind, and allows us to arrest people, but only Calvados, no one else."
"Maybe it's because the other person I want to arrest is his father... Yes, Ms. Jodie, you've looked back very well, the owner of the Calvados is the man on the painting, and his father is Rum."
Hearing the name, and catching a glimpse of the old gentleman's face, which had turned from green to a greenish-black look of despair, Jodie turned her head back from its thirty-degree turn, and pretended not to have heard Ichijō Mirai's babbling.
Akai Shūichi, whose enemy was Rum, and who was a stakeholder of sorts, had his eyelids popped open, "You..."
Seriously?
Who is the 'Master of Calvados'? If we're talking about masters, there's only one master for all the members of the organization, and that's the head of the organization.
Even though Rum is his enemy in connection with his father's disappearance, and the leader of the organization is also his enemy, Akai Shūichi still wants to ask: Are you serious?
It's the kind of greeting humans can't help but give to non-human beings.
He also wanted to ask: really want to say it out loud in front of the members of the organization? You just said 'I won't say anything', the corridor was quiet, everyone heard a few keywords, and now the members of the organization heard your loud crickets, as if they're going to have a brain attack on the spot...
It's probably because the heart that was hanging in the air has finally died.
All of Ichijō Mirai's coworkers fell silent, and he adapted to the deafening silence that was as common to him as air, and continued as if nothing had happened: "Since the host family has agreed, we don't have to be polite, we can just lift up the hoods of the people we meet when we go into the banquet, and we'll always be able to find the Calvados, from the top to the bottom."
The young man followed, pointing out the way in a very low voice: "This way, please, this is the changing room, before entering the banquet, please make sure to wear clothes that conceal your appearance, in case someone offends you."
In a quieter voice, he advised indirectly, "The changing room is actually a shortcut to the banquet."
In a few moments, he had already gotten to know Ichijō Mirai well, and had already foreseen what would happen in a few moments' time: this gentleman would simply and brutally check all the guests like he was checking to see if the dogs and cats had been spayed or neutered, and then, after easily pulling in enough hate, he would lift the table and leave with the unspayed dogs and cats he had found.
Even the born sociopaths, who are different from the normal people, will recognize this kind of madness in a moment and know not to mess with it.
But if there are a few unqualified family members in there who want to retaliate afterward... then this gentleman isn't going to go back to the club while he's cleaning up after the unqualified ones, is he?
How about a little desperation?
Ichijō Mirai could see the complex and subtle expression on the young man's face, and after a few seconds of thought, he followed as he came to a fork in the road, "Let's get changed first, then,"
And he gave his reason, "We're the FBI now, it wouldn't be good to be photographed lifting up our hoods everywhere, and the headlines in the newspapers might have key words like 'crowd', 'multiple', 'public', 'forced'..."
Since Furuya Rei, Ichijō Mirai doesn't trust any blonde.
In response, Akai Shūichi: "..."
His eyebrows danced silently for a few moments, and he hardly needed to turn his head to guess what kind of subtle expression would be on Jodie's face: FBI, but what you're doing doesn't seem FBI at all, does it?
Because that's what he thought.
The changing room wasn't big, it was a small room much smaller than a normal office, like a closet enlarged many times over, and it was almost full of different styles of black capes and hoods, masks and gloves, etc. Ichijō Mirai didn't bother with any of that.
Ichijō Mirai didn't bother to pick one out, and as soon as he entered the changing room, he pulled out his hood, strutted towards the exit of the changing room, lifted the heavy curtain, and stepped into the banquet hall.
There were already a lot of people at the party, all dressed in black.
They were in groups of two or three, some were talking, some were sipping wine, and some appeared to be in conflict, the atmosphere was not very friendly.
Some of the closer ones turned their heads as they noticed another person coming in, but many more didn't.
Ichijō Mirai's eyes swept over the people milling about at the party, as well as the few who were left alone, and he grabbed the nearest one and lifted his hood, "Greetings, sir, have you heard of our great Lord, 'Satan'?"
The man was surprised when his hood was lifted, revealing a middle-aged man wearing a third of a mask.
It was so sudden that he didn't react at first, froze, and only reacted when he heard Ichijō Mirai's question, and shivered instinctively: who doesn't know 'Satan'?
Most of the people in Neon were familiar with this horrible title, all the people in Tokyo were impressed by him, as well as the New York FBI, and some of the criminals who had been active in New York for a long time and had dealt with the FBI couldn't help but have a not-so-fantastic impression of the title.
At this moment, being grabbed by the neck of Fate, lifting Fate's hood, and suddenly hearing this name, his first reaction was of course to tremble in shock, and a look of horror appeared on his face, "You, you are..."
Having heard too many different kinds of wanting to say something today, Ichijō Mirai had grown impatient to hear it, he let go of the criminal in his hand, scanned the room for movement, and randomly grabbed a second lucky person who was closer to him, lifting the other person's hood as soon as he could, inquiring as if he were a salesman, "Hi, how are you doing, may I ask if you've heard of the great Lord 'Satan'?"
As he approached, the second lucky man tried to dodge, but was still badly hurt, stuttering, "Wait,"
Ichijō Mirai impatiently grabbed the third man, "Ever heard of 'Satan'?"
As he asked, he watched not only Lucky's expression, but also the body language of the others.
Almost all of them were backing up and moving away as if they had met a madman, except for one man who didn't move at all.
That man, one of the lone ones, also wearing a black hood and covered in black fabric, sat straight on the couch, like a bride quietly waiting for the groom to lift her veil or a black ruler, even the unexpected did not make him sway, but made him sit even straighter.
Straight as a corpse.
Ichijō Mirai stopped picking at the fourth lucky winner and walked over to him.
Without grabbing this straightedge by the neck of his destiny, or lifting his destiny's head, he courteously inquired, "Greetings, have you heard of the name of our great Lord 'Satan'?"
The ruler was still sitting upright, as if shaken, and as if dead stubborn and straight.
Under the black hood came a voice that sounded like it was dying, "...I've heard of it."
Calvados lifted the hood, his unmasked face was stiff, and as a sniper his hands were actually shaking, "S-sir."
He changed his address and looked like he was trying to laugh, but didn't succeed in doing so, only squeezing out a happy expression of having drunk ten pounds of yellow, "My great Lord."