Chapter 178: Wanderer
"Heh, I'm not stupid. Why would I go around calling people 'Grandpa'?" the youth scoffed, his expression a mask of pure disdain. "Do you really think I'd be the one benefiting from that arrangement?"
Hearing his words, laced with a contempt that was impossible to ignore, Vermouth felt the anger she had just managed to suppress begin to smolder anew. A muscle in her jaw twitched.
Despite the rising irritation, a sliver of professional curiosity cut through. The boy hadn't questioned the content of her veiled threat, which confirmed her suspicion: he did, in fact, know something about Cointreau's situation.
Vermouth's eyes darkened. She turned her gaze from the infuriating youth to Cointreau, her tone edged with displeasure. "Telling outsiders about the Organization's internal affairs… that isn't quite proper, is it?"
Cointreau was taken aback for a moment before the implication dawned on him. He offered a helpless smile. "I assure you, I haven't said anything I shouldn't have. As for how he knows…" Cointreau spread his hands in a gesture of genuine ignorance. "I have no idea either."
"Auntie, are you not just blind but forgetful, too?" The youth's grin was a mocking slash across his face as he fixed his gaze on Vermouth. "Didn't I just say it? If it concerns me, why not ask me directly? Why do you insist on asking everyone else? I truly don't understand how you developed such a peculiar habit."
Vermouth drew a slow, deliberate breath, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes as she looked at Cointreau. "Can I kill him?"
"Of course not," Cointreau replied, raising a single eyebrow.
He hadn't expected Vermouth to lose her composure so quickly. They had only just met, exchanged a handful of sentences, and already she was simmering with enough rage to kill. Cointreau shook his head inwardly. She must be far too accustomed to being placed on a pedestal, completely unable to tolerate even this level of provocation.
He recalled his own first meeting with the boy. The youth had called him ridiculous, an idiot, and old, and had insulted his taste. Cointreau hadn't said much in response—at most, he'd given the boy a sound beating. He certainly hadn't flown into a rage and started shouting about murder like Vermouth.
Sensing the genuine killing intent radiating from her, Cointreau decided to explain. "I've already spoken with the Boss. Balladeer will be joining the Organization. He's very important to us right now."
"Don't call me Balladeer!" the youth interjected, his brow furrowing in sharp disapproval. "I am no longer a part of that organization. Since I've chosen to leave, that name is no longer appropriate."
Only then did it occur to Vermouth that for all their bickering, she didn't even know this insufferable brat's name.
"Then what should I call you?" she asked, her voice dangerously smooth. "You told me to ask you directly, so please, do introduce yourself."
Vermouth couldn't fathom how a mere minor could be so vital that Cointreau would consult the Boss personally. But if the Boss had given his approval, it meant her hands were tied. For now, she truly couldn't touch him. She was, however, intensely curious to see what kind of identity and skills this boy possessed to warrant such high-level attention.
"My name?" The youth arched an eyebrow, a sneer playing on his lips. "Heh, I don't have one. Call me whatever you want. If you truly can't think of anything, you can call me Wanderer. A name is meaningless to me."
He paused, a glint of malice in his eyes. "As for your previous question—how I knew you're old. I was once in the same organization as Kaeya, originally a member of the Fatui, under the Snezhnaya Division of Teyvat. 'Balladeer' was my former codename. A colleague of a colleague in Snezhnaya happened to mention your little secret in passing. As for how he knew," the Wanderer shrugged, "I have no idea."
"Of course," he added, his voice dripping with condescension, "if this matter is so important to you, perhaps you shouldn't blame others for knowing. Instead, you should reflect on your own organization's pathetic security that allowed the information to leak in the first place."
Hearing the youth's background, Vermouth finally understood. She understood why the Boss had sanctioned a minor joining their ranks, and why he was being treated with such importance. She hadn't imagined that this beautiful, almost fragile-looking boy was originally from that enigmatic Teyvat Organization.
When Bourbon had first brought back intelligence on Kaeya's group, the Intelligence Division had launched a full-scale investigation, only to come up with almost nothing of value. To this day, the Black Organization's knowledge of Teyvat was limited to whatever its members chose to reveal. Beyond that, they knew next to nothing.
A lack of intelligence meant they couldn't make a move. Combined with the disastrous aftermath of Rum's attempt on the Dawn Winery, the Black Organization found itself in a precarious position. While their current cooperation with Teyvat was superficially pleasant, a deep-seated wariness permeated their every interaction.
Although she had no idea how Cointreau had managed to find such a person, bringing someone into their fold who actually understood Teyvat's inner workings would be an immense asset to their intelligence-gathering efforts.
"Oh? Alright then, Wanderer," Vermouth purred, not bothering to question his lack of a proper name. Now that she had a way to address him, she used it immediately. "Would you mind telling me who that colleague was?"
She was quite interested in the person the youth had mentioned and saw no reason not to ask directly. As for his final, mocking jab at the Organization's security, she had already learned that paying it any mind would only lead to pointless anger. It was best to simply ignore his sarcasm.
"The Doctor. Dottore." Wanderer's voice dropped, becoming a low, sinister growl. He spoke the name as if it were a curse, his tone thick with a hatred so deep it was almost tangible. "A piece of scum who deserves to be cut into a thousand pieces."
Vermouth filed the information away. This, she suspected, was the real reason the Wanderer had left Teyvat.
"Ahem. Have you two talked enough?" Cointreau coughed, cutting through the tense atmosphere. "The Boss has instructed me to place Balladeer—no, Wanderer—under Gin's temporary supervision. I'm taking him to see Gin now." He looked at Vermouth, a polite smile on his face. "So, if you would please step aside?"
"Of course." Hearing Cointreau's rather blunt dismissal, Vermouth considered for a moment, then stepped aside with a graceful, knowing smile.
Once Cointreau and the Wanderer had walked past her, however, she didn't continue on her original path. Instead, she pivoted smoothly on her heel and began to follow them, making it clear she intended to join their meeting with Gin.
Cointreau glanced back, a questioning look in his eyes.
Vermouth simply smiled and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "It's been a while since I've seen Gin. It's a good time for a chat."
Cointreau didn't challenge her transparently flimsy excuse. He just returned her smile, turned back around, and continued walking.
A short walk later, the trio entered the training grounds one by one. As expected, Gin was waiting for them there, his silver hair a stark slash against the facility's grim interior.
Cointreau gave Gin a brief, concise summary of the Wanderer's situation.
Gin's brow furrowed, his sharp gaze sweeping over the youth with visible dissatisfaction. He noted the boy's overly slender build, the almost delicate frame. He was so thin. Gin found himself wondering what skills he could possibly possess. This was the Action Division; the brat had better not be dead weight.
The fact that the boy had no name and called himself 'Wanderer' earned no reaction from Gin. It was just a name. If he proved capable, he would earn a codename soon enough.
What truly mattered now was understanding this brat's abilities and… his reason for joining the Organization.
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