The echo of the gunshot reverberated in the narrow back kitchen, making eardrums hum.
Rum's (Kanenori Wakita) obese body twitched violently, and a hideous blood hole appeared on his forehead. The fear, pleading, and all the calculations in his single eye instantly solidified, then completely faded. The Organization's second-in-command, the once mysterious and powerful Rum, died in an extremely wretched and humiliating manner at the hands of a "renegade scientist" he once viewed as an ant.
The air was filled with the strong smell of gunpowder and blood.
Ai Haibara (Shiho Miyano)'s hand holding the gun trembled violently, and wisps of smoke still curled from the muzzle. She looked at the corpse rapidly losing life on the floor, her mind blank. The immense shock and recoil left her arm numb, and her heart pounded frantically in her chest.
"Not bad, Sherry." Gin's cold voice broke the silence, carrying a subtle acknowledgment of the established fact. "You finally got your revenge."
Vodka chimed in with a muffled voice, his tone even carrying a strange sense of "relief": "That's right, Sherry. Now your... Daddy Kanjuro, helped you avenge your adoptive father. You should be happy now."
The title "Daddy Kanjuro," spoken by Vodka, sounded particularly awkward, yet it truthfully reflected the current situation.
Akemi Miyano looked at her sister's pale profile, breathed a sigh of relief, and stepped forward to gently embrace her trembling shoulders. She said softly, "Shiho, it's okay... it's all over now. Have you... started to accept Daddy Kanjuro now?"
The gun in Ai Haibara's hand clattered onto the cold floor. She didn't look at her sister; instead, she slowly raised her head, gazing at Kanjuro, who had been standing still nearby, as if merely observing a play.
In her icy blue eyes, tears poured out like broken strings of pearls. Those tears contained the emptiness and shock following revenge, the fear and guilt of having blood on her hands, the release of past pain, and an unspeakable, complex dependence and... a trace of twisted gratitude.
Suddenly, she lunged into Kanjuro's embrace, burying her tear-stained face in his cold chest. Her long-suppressed cries finally erupted, no longer the desperate whimpering from before, but a burst of catharsis and a kind of... settling collapse.
"Wuu... Ahhh—!" She cried heartbreakingly, her small body shaking violently in Kanjuro's arms.
Kanjuro did not push her away or offer comfort. He simply allowed her to cry, placing one hand lightly on her back. The movement wasn't gentle, but carried a sense of tacit approval and control. This was the exact effect he needed: using blood and hatred to bind her more deeply to his side.
Akemi Miyano looked at the two embracing (father and daughter?), a relieved smile appearing on her face.
However, just as the atmosphere subtly shifted, Vermouth, who had been silently observing, flashed a sharp look in her eyes! She seized the momentary gap when everyone's attention was drawn to Ai Haibara!
Now is the time!
Without hesitation, she retreated rapidly like a phantom, her steps so light they made no sound, attempting to use her familiarity with the layout to escape through the back kitchen's alternate passage! Kanjuro was too dangerous; Rum was dead, and she couldn't stay here any longer!
Gin and Vodka noticed almost simultaneously, their expressions changing as they immediately tried to step forward and intercept her!
But someone was faster than them.
"You won't leave."
Kanjuro didn't even look up at Vermouth attempting to escape. He merely stated this plainly, his voice not loud, yet seeming to carry a magical power that made his words law.
The moment his words fell—
"Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!"
Several tentacles, pitch-black like ink and seemingly condensed from the purest shadows, abruptly shot out from the shadow behind Vermouth! They were like living vipers, moving too fast for the naked eye to track, instantly wrapping around Vermouth's slender ankles, waist, and arms!
"What?!" Vermouth's face lost all color, and she cried out in surprise, struggling desperately. But the dark tentacles contained unimaginable immense power and carried a chilling coldness that seemed to erode the mind, rendering all her combat skills and strength useless, like a stone sinking into the sea!
The next second, the tentacles violently retracted!
"Ah—!" Vermouth shrieked, involuntarily dragged back by the immense force. Like a beautiful moth caught in a spiderweb, she was precisely and helplessly pulled back in front of Kanjuro, even crashing directly into his embrace due to inertia, tightly bound by the dark tentacles and unable to move.
Kanjuro finally lowered his head, looking at the Thousand-Faced Witch in his arms—her face deathly pale, her purple eyes filled with horror and disbelief—and a deep, dangerous curve appeared at the corner of his mouth.
"I said..."
His finger gently lifted Vermouth's chin, forcing her to look into his abyssal eyes,
"You won't leave."
"The game has just begun, beautiful Miss Vermouth. How can you leave the stage early?"
"Since you came, just stay obediently. Perhaps you can witness firsthand how this Organization... step by step, is brought under my control."
His words were like a final verdict, declaring Vermouth's attempt to escape a failure, and also foreshadowing that his approach to the Black Organization would no longer be mere "visits," but... complete conquest. And Vermouth in his arms, along with the part of the Organization she represented, had already become his new "collection." Vermouth was tightly bound by the eerie dark tentacles. Not only was her body confined, but she also felt a chilling energy, like an invisible shackle, eroding her limbs and bones, leaving her weak and unable to even lift a finger. Her amethyst-like eyes were filled with shock and fury, yet she couldn't even struggle, forced to let Kanjuro hold her like a doll.
Kanjuro didn't even spare a second glance at Rum's corpse on the ground, as if it were truly nothing more than insignificant trash. Holding Vermouth, who was limp, her eyes filled with hatred yet tinged with fear, he turned, walking with unhurried steps. Like a triumphant monarch returning home, he swaggered through the back kitchen and re-entered the sushi restaurant's front hall.
In the front hall, the few terrified Diners were still frozen in place. Seeing Kanjuro emerge holding a beautiful woman who was clearly restrained, followed by the Miyano Sisters (Akemi holding the hand of the still somewhat distraught Ai Haibara), whose expressions varied, they were even more petrified and dared not breathe.
Kanjuro ignored them, pushed open the door of the sushi restaurant, and walked straight onto the Beika Town street in the evening. The afterglow of the setting sun shone upon him, coating him in a golden outline, yet it could not conceal the chilling dark aura emanating from his body.
Gin and Vodka followed closely behind, like the most loyal bodyguards (or rather, coerced retainers). Both men glanced complicatedly at Vermouth, whom Kanjuro was holding, then quickly averted their gaze, scanning their surroundings warily. They knew that from this moment on, they were completely tied to Kanjuro's chariot, with no path left for retreat.
Akemi tightly held her sister's hand, following behind Kanjuro. She looked at Kanjuro's tall, straight back and the helpless Vermouth in his arms, her eyes flashing with a light mixed with awe, dependence, and a hint of twisted pride.
Ai Haibara kept her head down, allowing her sister to lead her. The shock of personally killing Rum still echoed in her mind, and her arm seemed to retain the numbing sensation from firing the gun. She secretly glanced up at Kanjuro's back ahead of her, her feelings incredibly complex. Her hatred seemed to have been avenged, but the price was her complete descent into the bottomless darkness controlled by Kanjuro. She didn't know what the future held, but at this moment, a strange "sense of security," built upon bloodshed and violence, quietly began to grow in her heart.
Kanjuro, holding Vermouth, walked purposefully straight towards a seemingly clean Business Hotel across the street. He didn't need any concealment; his immense strength provided him with the capital to act recklessly.
Arriving at the Hotel Front Desk, the clerk was terrified, turning pale upon seeing this group of extraordinary (or rather, strange) men and women, especially the desperate-looking blonde beauty being held in a clearly forced manner by a handsome man.
Kanjuro didn't offer any extra explanation; he simply glanced indifferently at the clerk. The invisible mental pressure instantly made the clerk swallow all questions and procedures, and they processed the check-in with trembling hands at the fastest speed, handing over the Room Card for the top-floor Luxury Suite.
Kanjuro took the Room Card, held Vermouth, and walked toward the elevator. Akemi, pulling Ai Haibara, silently followed.
Just as the elevator doors were about to close, Kanjuro instructed Gin and Vodka, who remained outside the doors:
"The two of you, guard the entrance. No one is allowed near without my permission."
His tone was flat, yet held an undeniable command.
Gin and Vodka stiffened slightly, but still lowered their heads and responded, "Yes, Mr. Kanjuro (Boss)."
(caaf) Forcing these two former top Assassins of the Organization to stand guard like Door Gods was undoubtedly a great humiliation. But in the face of absolute power disparity, humiliation could only be silently endured.
The elevator doors slowly closed, separating the interior from the exterior.
Inside the suite, Kanjuro casually placed the weak and cold-eyed Vermouth onto the large double bed in the center of the room. Vermouth tried to express her anger and resistance with her eyes, but under the constraint of the dark power, she couldn't even utter a clear syllable.
Kanjuro ignored her and turned to look at Akemi and Ai Haibara, who had followed him in.
Akemi immediately understood and said softly, "Father Lord, Shiho and I will accompany you." She seemed to have fully adapted to the role of "daughter" and "subordinate."
Ai Haibara stood beside her sister, head bowed, her hands nervously clasped together. She didn't know what Kanjuro intended to do by bringing them here, especially in front of Vermouth. But after everything that had just happened, she found that she had lost the courage and direction to resist.
Kanjuro walked to the enormous floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the Beika Town nightscape where neon lights were beginning to glow. His figure appeared somewhat indistinct against the darkening sky, yet he exuded a sense of oppression deeper than the night itself.
Inside the room, the atmosphere was subtle and tense.
On the bed was the immobile, hateful-eyed Vermouth.
By the bed were the Miyano Sisters, each with different thoughts—one fully dependent, the other lost and helpless.
Outside the door were the once infamous Gin and Vodka, now only able to bow and obey orders.
And at the center of it all was the young man—Kanjuro—who stood with his back to the others, seemingly trampling the entire city beneath his feet.
He slowly turned around, his gaze sweeping over the three women in the room, a cryptic curve forming at the corner of his mouth.
The night was still long. And the game of conquest and "taming" was far from over. This Hotel Suite was about to become the stage for him to further consolidate his control and twist wills.
Vermouth's struggle and Ai Haibara's confusion would all become new notes in his dark symphony. The night was deep, and the lights in the Hotel Suite were dimmed to an ambiguous amber. For Kanjuro, this night was not for rest, but for another, deeper and more twisted conquest.
When the first ray of morning light seeped into the room through the gap in the heavy curtains, the scene inside the suite was already different.
Akemi nestled beside Kanjuro, the slight confusion that had once been in her eyes now completely replaced by a fervent, almost faith-like adoration. She seemed to have found the sole purpose and meaning of her life.
Ai Haibara, meanwhile, curled up on the other side of the bed, her originally Ice Blue eyes now holding a complex mix of haziness and submission.
The immense shock of personal revenge, combined with the subsequent, irresistible mental and physical dual influence exerted by Kanjuro, completely dismantled her final psychological defense. She no longer resisted the identity of "Daddy Kanjuro," and even began to draw a sort of pathological security from it in a twisted way. Past hatred and fear seemed to be covered and "Purified" by this larger, more direct darkness.
The most drastic change, however, belonged to Vermouth.
The Thousand-Faced Witch was now kneeling on the carpet beside the bed, her golden hair slightly disheveled. In her purple eyes, there was no longer the anger and arrogance from before, replaced instead by a deep submission mixed with fear and a forced imprint. When she looked up at Kanjuro, her gaze was like the most devout believer looking up at a deity, yet still carrying an indelible tremor.
Her red lips slightly parted, and she called out softly in a voice that was slightly hoarse yet utterly submissive:
"Master..."
That single word, "Master," seemed to drain all her pride, marking her complete subjugation to Kanjuro's control.
Kanjuro leaned lazily against the headboard, admiring the three "collectibles" he had meticulously "sculpted" before him. He reached out, his fingertip gently brushing Vermouth's cheek, feeling her docile, even slightly fawning tremor.
"Very good," Kanjuro said lightly. "It seems you understand your place now, Vermouth."
Vermouth lowered her head and responded submissively, "Yes, Master. Everything Vermouth possesses belongs to you."
Kanjuro nodded, apparently having made a decision. He withdrew his hand, his tone casual but carrying an unquestionable command:
"Now, you can go back."
"Go back?" Vermouth paused slightly, raising her head, a flicker of confusion in her eyes.
"Go back to the Black Organization." Kanjuro looked at her, a hint of amusement on his lips. "I imagine your relationship with the Organization's 'Boss' must be extraordinary, right? After all, you carry a similar kind of... obsessive aura of attempting to resist the decay of time."
Vermouth's body trembled violently, extreme shock flashing across her purple eyes, seemingly not expecting Kanjuro to detect even this. Under the scrutiny of Kanjuro's profound gaze, she knew she had no room for concealment.
She took a deep breath, speaking as if revealing the highest-level secret within the Organization, her voice carrying a trace of imperceptible reverence:
"Master sees clearly... The Founder and Supreme Leader of the Organization, 'That Person'... is none other than Renya Karasuma."
Her voice dropped even lower,
"He... has lived for nearly a hundred years, maintaining his life through the Organization's financial resources and various hidden technologies. And he... is indeed my Great-Grandfather."
Renya Karasuma! The controller of the Shadow Empire who has lived for nearly a century!
This information confirmed the Organization's most core secret.
A flicker of understanding and stronger interest crossed Kanjuro's eyes. Longevity? Or rather, merely lingering on? This caught his attention.
Akemi nestled closer and whispered, "Father Lord truly is flawless in his schemes."
Ai Haibara also watched silently, her awe and dependence on Kanjuro deepening. This man not only possessed power that crushed everything, but his mind and methods were also unfathomable.
Kanjuro embraced his two "daughters," his gaze once again cast towards the gradually waking city outside the window.
The Black Organization... Renya Karasuma... This game is getting more and more interesting. He has already set up the chessboard, waiting only for the final netting, to completely incorporate this empire beneath the shadows into his collection. Vermouth's return will be the start of this ultimate hunt.
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