The night pressed down heavily, like a black silk, but also by the city's neon lights reflected, splashed into colorful black.
The gentleman like a quiet lying in the heart of the web of the spider, in the colorful black quietly lurking, into a temporary rest period.
People are different, some people like to live in more natural and interesting wooden houses, some people prefer simple and clean modern houses, as the leader of an illegal organization, that gentleman naturally also has his own living preferences.
This preference is made up of the 'needs of the lawbreakers', 'needs of the leader', 'preferences' and a few minor 'taboos'.
For example, a residential area with a high density of human beings that is suitable for people to knock on the door and kill one by one, a wide square with an open view that is very suitable for sniping, or an embassy.
The above are all places that gentleman would never choose to live.
Of course, this is not to criticize the great Savior, but just for a little 'boss' needs'.
The boss is a human being, and his basic need is to live...
The gentleman did not feel that he would not speak directly, and the others would never dare to speak, but only overflowed in some tacit agreement between the consensus is cricket, he faintly said: "Rum is not dead."
"Ma-"
"Marc didn't kill him."
-Yes, he didn't think that 'living in a residential neighborhood, a plaza, and an embassy, three places likely to open their doors to welcome Ichijō Mirai' was the insect's great Savior, because it was these insects he was now brightening up and naming by name.
Though he inevitably pauses for a beat at the sad mention of Ichijō Mirai's moniker, he does bravely come out with it by name.
The person he spoke to was Belmode.
The light screen of the call floated in mid-air like a computer screen, and Belmode's expression shifted slightly in surprise, repeating in segments the heavy news sent by that gentleman: "Rum, he came to me, but he didn't die?"
Compared to that gentleman, she has to be much more elegant and subtle, not even mention that every call, as if reminding that gentleman, 'hee hee, you invited yourself into the trouble, you yourself suffer' code name, directly with 'he' to address.
The tone didn't seem to be saying that the two members of the organization had met, but rather that Rum was going to go to a narrow, closed basement with no food for half a month with nothing in his hands and a tiger to practice asceticism.
Training with a tiger...
After all, it's not strange for a tiger to do anything, so it's not a big deal for Rum to volunteer to play with him. Anyway, there are so many gods and gold in the world, what's the harm in having one more Rum?
It's not a big deal for Rum to go into the tiger's stomach and fill up the dear tiger's belly.
But the tiger didn't eat him!
This makes people worry about the tiger's appetite recently. Is Rum's meat too stuffy for his teeth and he's being picky? Or is he too full to be satisfied for the time being? If he doesn't eat Rum, he's not going to carelessly wander down the street for a quick bite to eat, right?
At this moment, Belmode is like a radiant police light, holding a diamond heart that was forced to be forged quickly in a short period of time, worrying deeply about world peace and the future of the organization.
The gentleman replied in the affirmative, "Uh-huh."
The lights in the room were off, except for the call screen and some of the medical equipment, making his expression uncertain in the darkness.
"Rum debriefed me," He said lightly, "three hours after he had safely survived, and the debriefing said."
There was another pause before the calm leader spoke Ichijō Mirai's codename in a soothing tone, "Marc approached him and asked him if he had a problem with him, why he had fled after his mission with him, and if he was isolating and bullying him."
With every code name, a leader's heart breaks.
Belmode, still pretending not to realize this, nodded his head as he listened, and commented pertinently, "Like what he said."
It did sound like Ichijō Mirai's gibberish, and after that kind of backhanded gibberish, it was time to do whatever he wanted.
And this time, he didn't do what he wanted?
"Rum said he ran away because he was being chased."
The gentleman blithely paraphrased a large portion of Rum's thousands-word essay: 'Why did you run?', 'Why did you chase me?' ,'Of course I'm chasing you if you run!' ,'Of course I'm running if you're chasing me!', 'If I don't chase you, you won't run?' ,'Yes, I won't run if you don't chase me'.
And then we shook hands.
Belmode: "..."
The five or six points of uncertainty in her mind had quickly risen to ten points of certainty, "He and Rum have come to an understanding."
There was no way it was what Rum had said.
Ichijō Mirai can't be that reasonable!
Of course, it's not quite possible to say that, even in the absence of the great Savior, Belmode has a subtle 'don't think I'm not here, I'm always here!'
What if you take out the garbage and find an abyssal Savior staring into the black trash can?
She's cleverly using the language technique, "Rum can't be that calm when it comes to him."
Instead of a logical back-and-forth argument, he's probably just playing 'Help me!'
And: "What they can agree on..."
For Ichijō Mirai to give up a rat with his left foot out the door, there must be a target he's more interested in.
What could it be?
It can't be...
Belmode, not one to skimp on imagination or vigilance when it came to Ichijō Mirai, stuttered almost as soon as the thought occurred to him: no, it can't be the boss, can it?!
The location of that gentleman is classified.
Neither Belmode, who had a special relationship with him, nor Gin, who was a smart and capable officer, nor Rum, who was a second-generation yakuza who had put the organization's trust in him, knew about his location.
When they are not contacted, even if something happens to him, they are not informed.
Only members of the organization who can't speak, who are barely alive, and who are expendable, know.
After all, that man needs to be taken care of.
Ichijō Mirai would have had a hard time finding that man, even if he had been fornicating with Rum, which is a crime against the harem.
But...
With no time to reassure himself that Mr. Mirai's real-time location secret wouldn't be found, the next moment Belmode began to think urgently: where was Ichijō Mirai now?
In that gentleman's doorway? On Mr. Mirai's chair? Under the bed? Under the covers? In the trash? Crouching like a cash machine counting bills, dialing data in an instrument?!
The gentleman, by contrast, was remarkably calm.
He was so calm that he gave off a faint odor of death, sitting quietly on the bed, his face illuminated by the green light of the machines.
There were a lot of machines around the bed, like an intensive care unit, with all kinds of instruments, some of which were turned on, and some of which were temporarily turned off.
At that moment, a bell on the wall automatically lights up, emitting a faint glow that illuminates the bottom of the IV bottle.
It was an automatic reminder.
The gentleman who was about to speak glanced up, swallowed his words of comfort, and responded briefly, "Uh-huh."
The door opens and someone pushes in.
Looking at the figure, it was a young man, his back was straight, but his head was hanging low, as if he was watching his ears and nose.
The room was so dark, his head so low that he could only see a small patch of darkness under his feet, but he walked quietly and briskly to the bedside as if he could see, and changed the IV bottle silently.
The members of this organization are about as disposable as they come, and that gentleman doesn't allow anyone to keep tabs on his physical condition, disposing of the last batch of waiting members every time he changes residences, so he remains discreet in front of them, and Belmode only glances at them cursorily, wary of them, and then thinks, 'This can't be Ichijō Mirai, can it?!' After thinking irrationally, Belmode spoke with a bit of difficulty, "Well..."
Being targeted by Ichijō Mirai, that could be the end of it!
Why are you still so calm, boss? Get up! Wake up and save yourself!
You've been raving about this guy for years, and you want him in the organization!
You don't even have any checks and balances, do you?
"After all, he has just joined the organization and doesn't know much about some things yet," Belmode tried to save face for the gentleman, then he lowered his brows and pondered for a few seconds before bravely asking, "He doesn't care about many things, but he seems to be more concerned about the death of his parents..."
If you really want to pin down Ichijō Mirai, could you start with that?
That gentleman wouldn't be able to do that at all... Then he twisted Ichijō Mirai into the organization...
After the change of the infusion bottle, the organization member went to check the temporarily turned off ECG monitor, measuring the time it had been turned off and considering whether or not to turn it on, and the gentleman took one look at it and blandly said, "Marc is a madman."
Madman, of course, can not be measured by common sense, not to mention less controllable.
Trying to control a madman is like walking a tightrope.
Of course, if he could, he would be willing to do so. After all, if he ate this excellent and capable member of the organization, how could he spit it out?
You're kidding. He can't spit it out.
And you can't leave.
The case of a couple's death is so sensitive that the organization will be implicated if they are not careful. Who knows if this madman will suddenly think, 'He's going to die anyways, let the organization be buried with him?'
And to make up an 'inside story' that has nothing to do with the organization and will only draw the fire away is as dangerous as walking into a tiger's mouth empty-handed.
If Ichijō Mirai had been stupid, the organization would have had a way to deal with him, and he would have been shocked, angered, and swallowed his words in silence.
He's not stupid enough to be fooled by common measurements, and that man certainly doesn't want to fabricate something that would cause a 'here we go, let's kill the organization' freak-out.
If a person is good enough, and brazen enough, and crazy enough, then 99.9% of the world's population will be left in a state of limbo, trying their luck to see if they're going to die.
That gentleman really doesn't have much of a clue.
Not really.
He's got a trick up his sleeve: drug A.
But it's not a one-size-fits-all. You can only use it once, and if you use it more than that, you'll get a 'you're annoying, forget it, get rid of it'.
It only works once, but Ichijō Mirai goes crazy more than once, so what happens next time?
So he didn't say anything until he had to, and neither did Belmode.
At this point, hearing the words 'there's nothing we can do, who made him crazy', Belmode tentatively said: "Then we can only look for an opportunity to see if we can completely divert his interest in you."
There's a simpler way to do that: make Ichijō Mirai feel so much pain that he won't dare to make a move on that gentleman again.
...Nut if the organization really had the power, they would have kicked this guy out long ago.
Not to mention this impossible solution, even 'how to make Ichijō Mirai not be interested in the boss' is quite difficult.
Adding 'for now' to that would have been easier, as the gentleman slowly said, "Marc is interested in Rum."
You can stall a banana peel, let alone Rum.
This time, Rum had thrown out the boss to distract the great Savior, so next time, he'd be willing to give up his life for the boss.
With that in mind, his mind suddenly stopped for a moment, and he realized something very subtle was wrong: the member of the organization who had changed the infusion bottle hadn't left yet.
...
The gentleman sat on the bed, looking at the screen, his breathing unchanged, his face glowing green, his speech clear, his voice steady, as if he hadn't realized the crisis, "By the way," he said, "I'm sorry."
His wrist was grabbed by a young hand.
The 'member of the organization' played with his hand for a few seconds, turned on the heart monitor, and nodded with considerable satisfaction at the violently fluctuating lines on it.
There was a sudden silence in the room, even the air was quiet to the point of being chilled, but just like the gentleman who had just been stared at by a ghost in the face like a hero in a horror movie but pretended not to see it, Ichijō Mirai pretended not to notice that the air had suddenly gone quiet, and inquired in a tone of intimate complaint, "Haven't you finished yet?"
He was like a junior chatting with a close elder, like a girlfriend pampering her boyfriend, or like the ghost in a horror movie who grabs a human's ankle from the bottom of the bed and tolerantly asks 'what are your last words', "I've been waiting for this for a long time, and you're going to keep ignoring me? How rude."
"You say you're empty, but you close your eyes tightly, if you open your eyes and look at me, I don't believe your eyes are empty? If you open your eyes and look at me, I don't believe that your eyes are empty? When you see me, you will certainly fall in love at first sight, and your heart will beat like a drum, and you will dream of me every time you dream in the middle of the night."
The line on the ECG monitor soared high, and soon issued a shrill alarm, shamelessly echoing Ichijō Mirai's words: that gentleman's heart rate is too fast.
Ichijō Mirai looked over and added in a brisk tone, "Oh, it won't be 'every midnight dream'."
The prerequisite for a midnight dream is to be alive.