One Shouldn’t Always Dwell on the Past
“Achoo!” I sneezed, sniffling with a gloomy expression.
Damn it, I’m dressed warmly enough today—there’s no way I caught a cold… So someone must be talking about me, right?
Ah, it’s probably Vermouth and Bourbon.
It’s not like I didn’t notice Bourbon’s subtle, probing glances when I was around, but honestly, I don’t really care about that.
Because of my innate talents, most of the Organization’s intelligence passes through my mind, and I oversee the technical department. Plus, I’m naturally gossipy, so of course I’m well aware of all the rumors circulating within the Organization. If Bourbon has any guesses about my identity, it’s only natural for him to be curious about me.
Considering his nice hair color, I’ll reluctantly forgive this rudeness.
Actually, it’s nothing much—I just happen to prefer light hair colors. For one, I have pure black hair myself, and we always want what we don’t have. For another… I think Gin’s influence plays a part too.
Gin’s silver hair is really beautiful, and he takes great care of it.
Honestly, I think he spends as much time maintaining his hair as he does maintaining his firearms.
Since I’ve known him, he’s only cut his hair twice, and both times were because of me.
The first time was when he first took me in as a child. He didn’t feed me properly, and I ended up so hungry that I fainted. Half-asleep, I chewed on his hair. He was disgusted that his hair got my saliva on it, so he cut it off.
The second time was after I grew up. I accidentally played a prank on the wrong person and got chewing gum stuck in his hair… Honestly, that time, I was genuinely scared, even thinking I might die. But in the end, nothing happened. He just cut his hair and sent me off to study in the U.S.
While studying there, I kept thinking about this and came to the shocking conclusion that no matter what I did, he would forgive me with a dark expression. But because I couldn’t figure out why, I was constantly worried about when this privilege would disappear. That’s how I started my long, secretive journey of testing and probing, trying to uncover the truth. Of course, later on, I grew bolder and more reckless because I realized his tolerance was incredibly high—but that’s another story.
Naturally, no one else in the Organization knows the full story. The first time, Gin was still a relatively new member who had just received his codename, so no one paid much attention. The second time, everyone only knew he cut his hair because of me, but they didn’t know the reason. This led to the rumors becoming quite distorted for a while.
And the reason everyone knows about this is that I was the one who spread the news.
That’s right—half of the rumors in the Organization about my relationship with Gin were secretly started by me… Of course, I couldn’t control how they evolved afterward.
Occasionally, these rumors would reach Gin’s ears, but he never once refuted them…
“Hmm… If I still haven’t reached any other conclusion after another year, I’ll really have to stamp it as true love,” I muttered to myself, my gaze turning resolute in an instant. Even if it isn’t true, I’ll make it true!
My terrible personality is entirely fostered by Gin himself, so he naturally has to bear with it!
But before that, I still have some serious business to attend to.
I took out my backup phone, dialed a number, cleared my throat with a couple of coughs, and by the time the call connected, my voice had already shifted to another tone: “Hello? Long time no see, Sayuri-senpai. It’s me, Masuyama Nana…”
An excited voice instantly came from the other end: “Nana! It’s been so long! Are you back in the country?”
“Yes, because American universities allow early graduation by completing credits ahead of schedule, and I’m a genius,” I said calmly in a flat tone. “Sayuri-senpai, you’re graduating this year too, right? Can I come visit you?”
The other party happily agreed.
After finalizing the time and place with her, I hung up.
The person I just spoke to is named Matsumoto Sayuri, a friend I unintentionally made back when I was using the identity of “Masuyama Nana.” She was my senior at Teitan High School when I was a JK, two years older than me. The reason I needed to contact her for the task Vermouth assigned me is because of her father, Matsumoto Kiyonaga.
Matsumoto Sayuri’s father is the superintendent of the First Investigation Division of the Criminal Investigation Department at the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. This time, Vermouth needed information from the police department, and I just had to help confirm some unreleased news there, such as Matsumoto Kiyonaga’s transfer.
“Being so focused on this… Could it be that the Organization wants to plant someone in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department?” I wondered briefly before brushing it aside. “Oh well, everything else is Vermouth’s problem to worry about!”
I didn’t hide this matter from Gin either and mentioned it casually when we met.
Upon hearing this, Gin just furrowed his brow slightly and didn’t say much, only giving his usual reminder: “That identity of yours is supposedly Pisco’s adopted daughter on the surface, right? Don’t let this blow your cover.”
“Don’t worry, I can handle something like this easily,” I made an OK gesture and declared confidently. “And I’ll keep an eye on Pisco too.”
I understood the underlying meaning in Gin’s words. He’s never thought highly of Pisco, considering him old, slow, useless, and a waste of the Organization’s resources.
Vodka seemed particularly restless today, fidgeting and hesitating as if he wanted to say something. He finally found an opportunity to pull me aside and ask quietly, his words full of implication: “Cocoa Wine, Chianti said that a new sniper in the Organization who somewhat resembles the boss was someone you brought in to replace him. Do you have any idea what that’s about?”
“Huh? What? I have no idea what you’re talking about!” I said in a tone of righteous indignation, deciding right then to go give Chianti trouble later.
Vodka clearly didn’t trust me, his expression even turning somewhat worried, but he didn’t dare ask more since Gin had already approached.
At that moment, Vodka looked like someone who’d accidentally discovered their best friend’s boyfriend fooling around with others – knowing that speaking up wouldn’t lead to a breakup and they’d eventually reconcile, but still torn about whether to tell because they care so much about their friend.
I was starting to feel a bit guilty myself, so I reached out and patted his shoulder, giving him a solemn thumbs-up to indicate he shouldn’t worry.
But Vodka didn’t seem to share my wavelength—instead, his expression turned horrified.
However, since Gin was already approaching, I wasn’t going to waste time playing guessing games with him. I immediately abandoned Vodka and hurried over to Gin, casually slipping my cold hands into his coat pocket and squeezing them into his palm to warm up.
This kind of behavior used to earn me a look of disdain from him initially, but after my persistent efforts, he’d long grown desensitized to it. Now he just lets me do as I please.
Though upon careful reflection, I think it was after I grew up a bit that he stopped showing that disgusted expression whenever I sought any form of physical closeness… Hmm, in a way, Gin is actually pretty easy to read.
“Gin, you don’t have any other missions today, right? I want to buy the latest spring collection. Come with me,” I drawled, using a coaxing tone.
The silver-haired young man remained impassive. “Go by yourself.”
Naturally, I wasn’t going to back down because of that. I retorted with full confidence, “But you’re the one who sees me in new clothes the most! Of course you should be the one picking them out!”
Gin stared at me expressionlessly for a moment, probably convinced by my reasoning, and finally relented. “Get in the car.”
I immediately brightened up, turning back to Vodka with a concerned expression. “Vodka, why don’t you just take a taxi home!”
Vodka: “…”
Although there’s an unwritten rule in our Organization that everyone wears black, it’s not actually a uniform—it’s just to stay inconspicuous. As for me, my wardrobe is quite colorful.
Mainly red, black, and white. Black is Gin’s preference, red is Sherry’s favorite (she often goes shopping with me for clothes), and white is my attempt to add some classic pieces to balance out the other two colors.
Gin doesn’t particularly enjoy accompanying people on shopping trips, but when I ask for his opinion on clothes and accessories, he’ll agree about eighty to ninety percent of the time.
After all, I wasn’t wrong—he really is the one looking at me most of the time!
But still…
An hour later, when I went to check out, my expression was slightly frustrated.
I’d ended up with two more little black dresses.
Ah, well. It was my own fault for asking Gin to pick out clothes for me. His taste is as fixed as his own standard outfit. I already have famous classic little black dresses from every brand, even vintage ones.
But since it’s Gin’s money anyway, I might as well buy them.
Still, next time I’ve decided to invite Sherry to go shopping with me instead.
I tossed the clothes into the back seat, settled into the passenger seat, and pulled out my phone to email Sherry about our next shopping date. A new email happened to arrive right at that moment.
“Is there anything I can help with?”
“Bourbon”
“…Huh?”
I stared at the signature at the end of the email, a flicker of surprise crossing my face. Sigh…
“Who sent the message?”
“Hmm?” I glanced at the email address, memorized it, deleted the email, put away my phone, and beamed at the person in the driver’s seat. “It’s just Vermouth!”