Can’t Leave Me Out of the Fun
After confirming the follow-up matters at the research institute, I went with Ireland to meet Pisco. He introduced me to his colleagues with a smiling face as his “adopted daughter.”
“This is my daughter, Masuyama Nana. She just returned from studying abroad in the United States and will be my successor in the future.”
I maintained a proper smile while looking at those politicians, politely engaging with them on the surface but inwardly wondering how long these unlucky souls would last.
They were all lured in by the Organization’s financial benefits, unaware that the price the Organization would demand far exceeded what they stood to gain.
I don’t like socializing, but the identity of “Masuyama Nana” is destined for it.
Pisco cooperated with me cheerfully while remaining somewhat wary of me. I suspect he’s worried that once my status as his adopted daughter is firmly established, the Organization might deem him too old and have me replace him directly.
Based on my understanding of the Organization and our Boss… I have to say, he’s not wrong.
Still, I cherish this cover identity of mine, and now isn’t the time to break ties with Pisco. I pretend not to notice his wariness.
After all… for people like us, cover identities are crucial.
Take my colleague Vermouth, who also introduced me to my teacher—she created a cover identity as her own daughter! I suspect someday when her main identity is no longer needed, she’ll fake her death and fully establish her new cover.
As an intelligence officer directly appointed by the Boss with missions assigned personally by him, I’ve reached my current position not just through connections but also through my own merits. After all, my connections aren’t as solid as Rum’s.
Vermouth has helped me quite a bit. She referred me to her teacher, the renowned magician Kuroba Toichi, from whom I learned Disguise Technique and voice imitation.
If Teacher Toichi hadn’t died accidentally during a magic performance three years ago, I’d probably be visiting the Kuroba household for tea and guidance right now…
Thinking about this fills me with regret, and I decide to visit Teacher Toichi’s grave on his memorial day this year.
Perhaps because I mentioned Vermouth, while I was curled up in the living room watching “Partners” and mixing drinks for Gin, he suddenly asked, “Did you have any contact with Vermouth when you were in the U.S.?”
“Huh? My school was in Boston, and Vermouth was mainly active in Los Angeles as a big star. We had some contact, but not much.” I handed him the freshly made Gin and Tonic, growing slightly alert. “Why do you ask, A Zhen? When I was little, you told me to stay away from Vermouth, didn’t you?”
My alertness was justified. Vermouth is a mature, sexy, and charming beauty from the intelligence division, skilled in using seduction and quite open-minded…
I couldn’t help but recall my first meeting with Vermouth and our conversation back then.
“So you’re the little girl Gin treats specially? How adorable, just like your codename.” The speaker had long silver wavy hair, heavy makeup, and red lips—the very image of an alluring, mature woman.
As a young child, I clutched the shark plushie that Gin had won for me after I pestered him before coming to America, staring at Vermouth without being swayed by her sweet words. Calmly, I stated, “Yeah, I know I’m super cute.”
“…Mm, you’re a confident kid,” she affirmed, then laughed, seeming to have taken quite a liking to me. She even crouched down and reached out to pinch my cheek.
I actually quite liked this type of striking beauty myself, but I still had to make my declaration. So I said bluntly, “But even if you’re a great beauty who fits my taste and you praise me, it’s no use. Gin is mine, the non-sharable kind. Actually, I might be okay with it, but Gin probably wouldn’t accept the three of us being together.”
Back then, Vermouth was momentarily stunned before bursting into laughter, as if I’d told an incredibly funny joke. She looked at me with what could be described as pitying affection, patted my head, and asked if I wanted some dessert. To her, twelve-year-old me must have seemed like a little girl’s tantrum, completely harmless—probably like a newly weaned kitten puffing up and hissing at her.
So, two years later, I made sure she witnessed it firsthand: I deliberately put myself in a dangerous situation, forcing Gin, who was back in Japan, to come rescue me with a dark scowl on his face.
At that moment, Vermouth’s smile gradually faded, and the look she gave Gin was full of suspicion. I knew she was suspecting he had certain… preferences.
Of course, when she later discovered it wasn’t what she thought, she looked utterly bewildered.
As it happened, quite a few people in the Organization shared her line of thinking. Gin had always been rather arbitrary and tyrannical in his work, showing no mercy whatsoever. He’d actually made plenty of enemies, though within the same Organization, things hadn’t escalated to a life-or-death degree yet. But the more people understood Gin, the more they became puzzled by my existence.
Thinking about it carefully, Gin always diligently exceeded his KPIs in the Organization, yet he was often questioned by acquaintances about his… tastes. I have to take some responsibility for damaging his reputation in that regard. The rest of the blame is on him, though—after all, he’s the one who acted that way.
Gin didn’t respond to what I said.
After pondering for a moment, I walked over and raised my hand to block the glass he was bringing to his lips. Looking down at him seated on the sofa, I said, “A Zhen, are you trying to ask Vermouth out? That’s not allowed.”
This finally got a reaction out of him. He frowned, lifting his gaze to meet mine. His dark green eyes held a warning, and his tone carried a hint of displeasure as he coldly said: “Cocoa Wine, you’re overstepping.””
After saying this, he used his other hand to grab my wrist and pull it away, then went back to drinking by himself.
I had expected this kind of attitude from him and wasn’t angry at all. Instead, I seriously declared, “Since you called me Cocoa Wine, let’s handle this in a more Organization-appropriate manner.”
With that, I walked over to the island counter, picked up a cocktail glass, opened the refrigerator to get some ice, and used tongs to place it into a shaker.
With the crisp sound of ice cubes falling into the shaker, I slowly articulated my plan: “If you really mean it that way, Gin, then I’ll find a way to set up a situation where Vermouth comes to assassinate me, forcing you to take action.”
“…Natsume Natsuki!” This time he finally called me by my name, though his tone was clearly tinged with anger.
I paid no heed, measuring 3 ounces of gin and 0.5 ounces of vermouth into the shaker with a jigger. After securing the lid, I shook it vigorously until frost began forming on the surface. Opening it, I poured the prepared martini into a cocktail glass.
Instead of garnishing it with an olive, I simply picked up the glass and walked over, standing confidently before him. “But I’d accept it if you brought me along! Anyway, you can’t leave me out and have all the fun by yourselves! And I mean playing with everyone!”
After all, I’ve said it before! I won’t share! But I don’t mind being the one to do the sharing!
“…” Perhaps unprepared for such a response, even Gin was stunned. After collecting himself, the anger faded from his face as he studied me with a peculiar expression, his features twisting into something indescribable. He retorted impatiently, “You boastful brat, can you even handle drinking that?”
“Who says I can’t!” I declared loudly, reaching out to clink my martini glass against his. “Cheers!”
Then, tilting my head back, I downed the entire contents of my glass in one go. With a sharp clink, I set the empty glass on the coffee table before the sofa, nearly stumbling from the sudden dizziness. Still, I stubbornly steadied myself by holding onto the table.
Whew… I might have made the alcohol content a bit too high. Even with my decent tolerance, chugging it all at once really went to my head, leaving me feeling lightheaded.
Under Gin’s gaze that seemed to regard me as a naive fool, I slowly took exaggerated strides back to my room.
Halfway there, I remembered something I’d forgotten and turned back. Approaching him, I squeezed onto the sofa beside him, resting my elbow on his shoulder and propping my chin there as well. Staring at him languidly, I murmured, “Goodnight, A Zhen.”
Gin responded with a noncommittal grunt.
I didn’t pull away immediately, maintaining the position for several tense seconds before leaning my head closer.
He neither avoided nor resisted, his dark green eyes fixed on me as I slowly drew near. He remained motionless and expressionless.
Just before making contact, I halted, turned my head slightly, and let out a soft, dismissive sniff through my nose. Withdrawing my hand and straightening up, I sprang to my feet and strode purposefully toward my room.
Hmph! As if I’d just throw myself at some handsome guy! Dream on, you wicked thing!
In the living room
After the door closed, Gin, seated on the sofa, glanced briefly in its direction before looking away. He gently swirled his glass, the ice cubes clinking softly against the crystal.
His phone rang, and he answered, frowning as he listened to the voice on the other end. “It’s you… What do you want?”
As the voice continued, Gin’s frown deepened. He interrupted with a tone of impatience, “No, I’m not particularly interested in martinis.”
His gaze drifted slightly downward, settling on the empty cocktail glass placed on the coffee table before him. Hearing the teasing response from the other end of the line, he curled his lips and let out an ambiguous scoff. “I’ve said it many times—it has nothing to do with that kid.”