Time Is Money, As They Say
After I finished speaking, I clearly heard Vodka gasp beside me.
Obviously, he was using his sunglasses to hide the fact that he was secretly enjoying the drama with great interest.
Boss Gin held a cigarette in his mouth and stared at me with an appraising look. After a long moment, he took the cigarette from his mouth with one hand, tilted his head slightly to exhale the smoke, glanced at me, and after a few seconds, curled the corner of his mouth in approval. “Fine.”
Even though my request was granted, I couldn’t feel happy at all.
I still felt underestimated and was a little angry about it.
Fine? Fine what? Do you even know what kind of reward I’m talking about to agree so casually?
And it’s not like you’ll give me whatever I ask for! Clearly, if I make an unreasonable demand, not only will it be rejected, but I’ll probably be punished! It’s obvious you’re just brushing me off again!
Angrily, I bumped my head against his chest once more to express my dissatisfaction, then let go and got into the car first.
Damn it, even though I know he’s just humoring me, I’ll still take this seriously.
I also understand that he agreed just to see what else I’ll stir up… but honestly, after all these antics, I’m starting to feel a bit tired because I still haven’t figured out where his bottom line with me is.
“But if I directly ask him if he likes me, not only will I not get the answer I want, I’ll definitely be laughed at…” I muttered to myself, my expression turning grave.
I can’t help but feel this roundabout testing is too indirect. Should I just ask Vermouth if there’s someone safe, reliable, capable, and hard to kill that I can sleep with?
After all, I’m cute so it’s not like they’d be losing out. I think about 80% of people wouldn’t refuse if I asked.
The remaining 20% would be those who know the inside story and would consider whether their life is tough enough to get involved just for some fun. Oh, and there’s also the possibility their sexual orientation doesn’t match. We need to be scientifically precise when we speak.
This thought flashed through my mind, and I fell into deep contemplation, seriously considering this possibility.
Sigh, if only Sherry weren’t underage and wouldn’t call me a pervert if she’s unwilling, otherwise I’d just ask her out directly.
I sighed, put the documents in my hand aside, picked up my phone and made a call.
“Hello? It’s me, Cocoa Wine… Nothing much, just checking in on our new colleague, asking about the progress… What! How can he rest! If he rests this much before even getting a codename, will he want five days off a week after getting one?! Is that acceptable?! Give him tasks!… What do you mean there aren’t that many tasks? Since when has our Organization been this idle!? Then let Korn take some… never mind, if Korn takes time off wouldn’t Chianti want to follow suit… Then let Scotch take some time off! He’s been working solo all along before the new colleague came, isn’t that hard work!… No, nothing, he didn’t offend me. Just consider this my nurturing mentality, any objections? … Mm, good.”
After sorting out the task assignments, I hung up the phone satisfied.
Whatever, for now I’ll just motivate my new colleague first.
Before going to bed, I routinely checked my emails and found that Vodka had sent me one after we parted ways. The sheer frustration in his message was practically visible.
“From Vodka: Cocoa Wine! What’s this about a substitute?! What on earth have you done again?!”
…After all this time working with us, why does Vodka still get so worked up over such trivial matters?
I shook my head with a sigh, skipped the email, and decided not to bother with it.
I was kind enough to spare him, yet he always insists on inserting himself into the drama.
Considering how innocent he’s been lately, I suppose I won’t make any demands next time he begs me to accompany him to an idol concert.
That’s right—Vodka is a fanboy. He chases after young female idols and even attends their live shows. Because he looks too suspicious on his own, he always awkwardly pleads with me to go with him or help him with a disguise to blend in.
Thinking about it, everyone in our Organization has their own quirks.
Korn has a girlish heart and loves Ferris wheels. Vodka is secretly a fan. Chianti, despite being a sniper, is not only hot-tempered but also severely addicted to the internet… I genuinely think someone with her personality isn’t cut out to be a sniper. Who knows, she might even sneakily check her phone during a mission and mess things up.
But whatever. With Gin around, his authority is so imposing that Chianti wouldn’t dare slack off. After all, if she did, Gin would really eliminate her on the spot.
Come to think of it, everyone else has their issues… but Gin himself is practically flawless. His only vulnerability is probably my existence.
“Oh well, the world is one big makeshift stage, so our Organization is just a makeshift troupe too. In that case, it’s only natural for everyone to have their own quirks!” I reached a reasonable conclusion, nodded to myself in agreement, then opened the bedside drawer, pulled out a notebook, flipped it open, and started writing.
“Moroboshi Dai—real identity unknown. Entered the Organization through Sherry’s connections. Current assessment: Ability 8/10, Mentality 7/10.” I paused, my red eyes thoughtful, tapping the pen cap against my chin twice before writing the summary: “Probability of suspicious identity: 50%. Data pending updates.”
After finishing, I snapped the notebook shut, stuffed it back into the drawer, sat on the bed, and stretched.
Honestly, with our Organization’s rigid structure where high-ranking positions are practically hereditary, I can’t help but feel a major upheaval is inevitable within the next decade. I’m pretty sure I’ll outlive the Organization.
Of course, even if I do decide to bail, I won’t go alone—I’m taking Gin with me.
Gin works hard, but I know it’s all to protect his own interests and secure his position. Just look at how quickly he eliminates rivals.
There’s also factional pressure within the Organization. Rum holds a high position and is the Boss’s right-hand man, but he and Gin don’t really get along. If either of them exposes a fatal weakness, the other wouldn’t hesitate to crush them.
I even suspect Rum isn’t truly that loyal to the Boss either, otherwise he wouldn’t be so dedicated to cultivating his own trusted followers and expanding his influence. Of course, Gin isn’t much better in that regard. I believe if an opportunity arose to eliminate the Boss and take over, both Rum and Gin would seize it without hesitation.
This train of thought reminded me of a conversation from long ago, when Gin caught me secretly browsing the dark web.
“I’m not slacking off! I’m seriously planning our future! I’m looking into suitable alternative positions for you, A Zhen, in case this Organization goes under! So far, Hakata seems like a pretty good candidate.”
“…What nonsense is this little idiot dreaming up now?”
“This isn’t nonsense—it’s being prepared! Trust me on this, A Zhen! Since you don’t want us to take out Rum and the Boss to claim power ourselves, we need a solid Plan B for a clean escape. We should be ready to switch sides faster than anyone else when the Organization collapses. Time is money!”
“Do whatever you want, just make sure you cover your tracks and don’t cause trouble. And stop using Rum’s catchphrases.”
“Got it.”
End of recollection.
“Hmm… I suppose that counts as reporting it?” I mused briefly before brushing the matter aside. Gin did say I could do whatever I wanted! That means he’ll back me up!
After all, my faction alignment is blatantly obvious. If any conflict arises, Gin would take care of it before I even need to lift a finger. He’s cleaned up after me more times than I can count.
Damn it! What frustrates me is how his actions make me feel like I’m “the one,” yet his attitude toward me is always so dismissive!
He knows perfectly well that no one can resist his protective and indulgent behavior. He’s fully aware of my feelings for him and is absolutely deliberately leading me on!
Damn it, if only he’d treat me a little better… Wait, no. Given my personality, if he were nicer, I’d probably become even more insufferable.
Crap, did I just conclude that his behavior is actually the right approach?
Frowning, I pondered this seriously until the notification sound from my phone interrupted my thoughts.
“…Huh? Vermouth?” I looked at the new email, somewhat surprised. After opening and reading it, I wore a thoughtful expression.
A few seconds later, I replied: “Okay.”
Recently, my own missions haven’t been particularly numerous, all well within my capabilities.
Most of my tasks, though varied, generally fall into two categories: research team duties and intelligence group assignments. After all, nobody expects me to pick up a gun and confront enemies head-on. If I were sent into combat, it wouldn’t just be handing the enemy a free kill—it’d be worse than that.
Regarding individual missions, the only mandatory ones are those assigned directly by the Boss or Gin. The Boss typically sets research quotas, while Gin summons me when he specifically needs my brains for something. Normally, he just finds safe but tedious chores for me—feels like he’s keeping me occupied out of boredom. Last time he came up with a way to kill my time, he signed me up for a bunch of hobby classes.
The rest of the time, I have a lot of freedom. For many missions, I can even decide based on my mood.
This includes when Vermouth calls for me.
Although Vermouth has much more seniority than me, in terms of rank, we’re considered equals. She can’t order me around.
However, for the sake of our relationship, I usually don’t refuse when she asks for my help.
So at the agreed time the next day, I arrived punctually at the designated location. Before even taking my seat, I voiced my thoughts: “It’s quite rare for you to ask for my help. There aren’t any traps, are there?”
After all, Vermouth has a very poor relationship with the Miyano sisters, and last time we had some unpleasantness because of my connection with Sherry.
The silver-haired beauty sitting there didn’t get angry at my questioning. With a smile on her face and a lazy tone, she said: “You’re Gin’s little darling. Who would dare scheme against you?”
I didn’t deny this point. Instead, I clasped my hands over my heart, furrowed my brows, and showed her a somewhat hurt expression: “What? Then I’m not your little darling anymore?”
“…” Vermouth looked at me silently. I think she probably had a lot she wanted to complain about internally, but she’s a good actress. She held it back and even managed to show a smile that didn’t seem insincere, replying softly, “Of course you are too.””
I showed a relieved expression: “That’s good then.”
A light chuckle belonging to a third party sounded by my ear. I also dropped the deliberate performance posture from earlier and looked over. Although this was my first time seeing him in person, this face wasn’t unfamiliar – I had seen it before when inputting data into the database.
Looking at the golden-haired young man with dark skin before me, I tilted my head slightly and called out his codename: “Bourbon?”