Are You Incapable?
I felt looked down upon.
But perhaps because Gin thought my speculation was not only far-fetched but also idiotic, making him particularly disdainful, he had even cooled off and didn’t hold my behavior tonight against me.
Thinking it over carefully, he shouldn’t have taken it out on me in the first place! Vodka, who fell for the trap, should be the one reflecting on himself!
With that thought, I felt justified again.
It’s just that the task assigned to me couldn’t be refused, so I had no choice but to find a way to muddle through.
Because of tonight’s incident, I behaved very cautiously. After returning home, I didn’t bother the other person and proactively retreated to my room without stepping out again.
“Sigh… So the most likely option has to be crossed out too…” I frowned, my expression pained, and muttered under my breath, “It’s his own fault, really. With his Nordic-like appearance and Vodka constantly by his side, isn’t that the standard Russian combo? It’s perfectly normal for me to misunderstand!”
I unlocked the password lock on my bedside drawer, opened it, placed the badge Miyano Shiho gave me today inside, then pulled out the small notebook from the hidden compartment. Opening it, I began to record.
“Phew… Based on today’s probing, we can completely rule out the possibility of Gin being KGB.” I picked up my pen and wrote at the end, “52nd test, failed. Hypothesis No. 43 eliminated.”
After finishing, I stared at the notebook, my expression turning grave. Damn, it couldn’t really be the true love theory, could it? But he doesn’t seem particularly interested in sleeping with me either…
“But since the possibility has been ruled out, could my words today have raised suspicions instead…” The thought of his paranoia and efficiency in eliminating Organization members made me feel a twinge of worry.
Still, not only has the KGB been gone for over a decade, but I had just learned to talk when the Soviet Union collapsed. There’s no way he’d think I was telling the truth… Yeah, a ridiculous misunderstanding like that probably won’t happen!
It’s just…
“Ah, I truly am a neutrino destined to be forever alone.” I sighed dramatically in an exaggerated tone, closed the notebook, stuffed it back into its original spot, shut the drawer, and locked it again.
…So idiotic. Gin couldn’t help but think.
It wasn’t that he had no suspicions about Natsume Natsuki at all—it was just that what she said was too absurd.
After all, not only had the Soviet Union collapsed and the KGB long since disbanded, but Natsume Natsuki’s age made it impossible for her to have joined the KGB before she was even two years old…
Gin had naturally investigated Natsume’s parents. Similar to the Miyano couple, they had joined the Organization because they needed money to raise their child. The difference was that the Miyano couple were approached by the Organization, while the Natsume couple joined voluntarily and brought their own project to seek funding…
Gin narrowed his eyes slightly, took out his phone, and made a call. “Hey? It’s me… You were friends with that little idiot’s parents when they were alive, right?”
“It’s about Cocoa Wine again, isn’t it… Don’t you think that, even though you deny it verbally, nearly half of your actions lately revolve around her?”
“Cut the crap. Tell me what you know.”
“Hmm… Her parents were genius-level researchers in their respective fields who deeply loved their child. They joined the Organization specifically to treat their daughter’s hyperthymesia… Ah, aside from that, they absolutely despise the FBI. Apparently it’s some kind of family tradition.”
“…Huh?” Gin instinctively furrowed his brow.
Though he didn’t really think it was possible… was this just a coincidence? After all, the FBI and KGB were indeed historic archrivals…
“I asked about that too. Apparently, Cocoa Wine’s grandfather was under FBI surveillance for a long period and later suffered a mental breakdown before committing suicide.”
“Was there something suspicious about her grandfather’s identity?”
“Not clear. You see, Cocoa Wine’s father was actually adopted by her grandmother after that grandfather passed away – he’s of Asian descent. This so-called family tradition actually came from her grandmother’s demands…” The voice on the phone paused, seeming to understand something, then let out a light chuckle, the tone becoming curiously enthusiastic. “Did something happen? You’re actually suspecting her? What? Do you think there’s something wrong with her identity?”
Gin remained silent, his expression unreadable as he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.
Based on current information, the possibility of that little idiot having another episode seemed far more likely than the scenario where Cocoa Wine’s grandfather – whom even her father had never met – being KGB and somehow passing down some legacy through generations after his death.
For a moment he’d actually considered it possible… Tch, it seems stupidity might be contagious. Better keep that guy at more of a distance.
Not receiving any response, the voice on the phone suddenly carried a note of curiosity: “How unusual, you’re actually hesitating… If her identity really is problematic, what would you do?”
Gin opened his eyes and replied in an indifferent tone: “None of your business.”
Achoo! “Damn, is someone talking behind my back?” I sneezed, sniffled, and put down my cup with regret.
As expected, using an empty cup for eavesdropping doesn’t work very well.
But I can’t just plant listening devices in the living room – even I know there are some lines you shouldn’t cross!
After hesitating for a moment, I quietly cracked the door open to peek outside. The silver-haired young man sitting on the living room sofa happened to put away his phone just then and looked over.
Since we’d already made eye contact, I simply pushed the door open and walked out wearing my new Snoopy slippers from today’s shopping trip. I sat down beside him, casually placing the Poké doll I’d won from the claw machine today on the seat next to me.
Boss Gin glanced at me without saying anything, then reached over to pick up my doll with one hand, inspecting it as if conducting a mission.
I was momentarily stunned before realizing what was happening and felt wronged: “What does this mean! Are you suspecting me? I told you I wouldn’t pull sneaky tricks like planting listening devices at home – I keep my promises!”
After finishing his inspection, Boss Gin tossed the doll back into my arms and sneered: “Your last promise was that you wouldn’t play pranks on Vodka anymore.”
“That wasn’t a prank though, it was a friendly joke,” I retorted righteously while hugging the doll. “If you want to see real pranks, you should check with Chianti’s side!”
The other party didn’t get angry with me about the Chianti issue either, instead saying calmly, “I told you Chianti still has her uses. Stop causing trouble.”
“Don’t worry, I know my limits.” I lowered my head to look at the Togepi plush in my hand, suddenly remembering something from my childhood.
Back then, I had already discovered that this seemingly fierce guardian assigned to me by the Organization actually posed no real threat to me. Well-versed in survival philosophy, I had begun testing boundaries step by step, insisting that someone win me a claw machine prize.
Although Gin, who had just reached adulthood himself when forced to take me in, appeared extremely impatient—looking like he wanted to both ditch me somewhere and punch me—for some reason he ultimately held back. With a dark expression, he randomly grabbed a prize for me from the claw machine.
His skills were quite good—he succeeded on the first try, making me wonder if he secretly practiced playing these games himself.
“But I don’t want the shark! I want that orca plush!”
“Shut up, annoying brat. You play with what you get.”
“When you say that, is it because you actually can’t do it and are using your bad temper to cover up?”
“…You’d better pray your luck holds.”
Actually, although Gin doesn’t have the best temper, reverse psychology generally doesn’t work on him. While he appears easily irritable, he’s actually consistently calm—even coldly so—when thinking through problems, fundamentally a quite rational person.
But… suddenly recalling this old memory, there’s one point that’s quite puzzling. Why did Gin tolerate me back then because I was “lucky”?
I previously thought it was because the Boss valued me and gave such orders, but thinking about it carefully now, that doesn’t quite make sense. After all, in that case, he should have told me to pray I’d remain “useful.”
What does this vague, elusive concept of “luck” actually refer to?
My intuition tells me this word might contain the answer I’ve been searching for, but what exactly is it…
I turned to look at him. Gin initially had his eyes lowered, lost in thought, but noticing my gaze, he glanced over and asked casually, “Hm?”
I moved the plush I was holding to the other side, straightened up, half-kneeling on the sofa with my knees against his legs, leaning forward to wrap my arms around his neck.
He showed no reaction, his dark green eyes completely calm. He seemed accustomed to this kind of behavior from me.
Reverse psychology usually doesn’t work on him… but does that apply to this area as well?
After hesitating for a moment, I decided to test it anyway. Tightening my embrace slightly, I asked in a completely sincere tone, “A Zhen, are you… incapable?”
Instead of getting angry, he looked at me, assessed me with an evaluating gaze, then chuckled lightly. The corner of his mouth quirked up as he suddenly reached out to wrap an arm around my waist, pulling me forcefully toward him.
I lost my balance and fell against him, my position shifting from embracing him to having one arm around his shoulder while the other pressed against his chest to maintain balance.
Th-that startled me…
Before I could react or overthink things, he lowered his head closer to me. His falling hair brushed against my cheek, making it slightly itchy.
“Your methods are simply too poor to spark any interest.”
A deliberately lowered voice sounded by my ear, casual in tone yet laced with malice and a hint of mockery.
Then, the person’s hand moved lower, giving me a pat before pushing me aside and standing up independently, completely ignoring me as they returned to their own room.
I remained silent, kneeling stiffly on the sofa with a tense expression. Only when I heard the door close did I suddenly turn my head and cast a deep glance toward the direction of their room.
How should I put it? I decided from today onward, I would hold a grudge against them.
I couldn’t help but press my lips together, covering the spot on my hip that had just been struck. Clenching a fist in frustration, I swore to myself that I would reclaim my dignity someday—you’d better remember your words today! Don’t come crying with regret later!