CHAPTER 357: CHAPTER 357: RUM’S INTELLIGENCE

"Let me tell you." "I was furious when I thought about how Ireland dared to betray his companions! After breaking his limbs, I blew his head

"Let me tell you."

"I was furious when I thought about how Ireland dared to betray his companions! After breaking his limbs, I blew his head off without even aiming!"

Inside the dim bar, Chianti vividly described the scene of killing Ireland.

She went on and on, from her own inner rage to Ireland’s disbelief when he was shot, and finally to his pitiful state as his limbs were crushed.

Cohen seized a moment to speak:

"So your gun wasn’t faster than mine. I was the one who carefully aimed at his head and shot decisively. I killed him first."

"F you!"*

Chianti exploded instantly.

Seeing Cohen’s matter-of-fact expression, she shouted,

"My seat was more suitable for aiming than yours, and the muzzle of my gun was sticking out further than yours! My bullet must have been faster!"

"I killed him."

Cohen didn’t argue any further. He didn’t even look at Chianti—he looked straight at Hayashi Yoshiki and explained this seriously.

Hayashi, holding a beer bottle in one hand, glanced between the two of them and said:

"Maybe you two fired at the same time?"

"No, I clearly heard that my gun went off first!" Chianti insisted, turning to Vodka.

"Hey, Vodka, you should have heard it too, right?"

"...I was so busy flying the helicopter, how could I notice that?"

Vodka sounded a little embarrassed, then added:

"Besides, aren’t your targets usually the same? There’s no need to argue about it now, right?"

"Of course it’s necessary," Cohen replied coldly.

Though they shared the same target, this was the first time Chianti found her partner truly annoying.

In the end, they couldn’t determine the winner.

"That Irish guy—we thought he was a real man! Damn, he’s a jerk!"

Tequila sat next to Hayashi like a concrete wall. He clinked his bottle with Hayashi’s, then downed the beer in one gulp.

Hayashi finished his half as well.

"Are you sure all of Ireland’s backup plans have been dealt with?" Gin asked.

"Of course. I won’t allow any instability that threatens my identity to exist."

"That would be best."

What Gin didn’t say aloud was that he’d been closely monitoring Hayashi Yoshiki’s safety over the past two days.

—If Cointreau had accidentally revealed any of Ireland’s tricks and ended up being targeted by the police or public security, rescuing him would’ve been a nightmare.

"There shouldn’t be anyone else who knows my identity now, right?"

"Besides that woman, there’s only the Boss... and Rum."

"...Rum," Hayashi mused, "that codename seems to have an unusually strong presence."

"Tch."

Gin always felt a twinge of irritation when Rum was mentioned.

"Mind if I get to know him a little bit?"

"What do you want to do?"

"He knew who I was... but I know nothing about him. It makes me feel... a little insecure."

"It doesn’t matter. That guy is sometimes effective, sometimes not. He’s only good at dealing with the FBI."

Gin said this with flat indifference.

The codename Rum had been inherited from his father—he was the true second-generation elite of the Black Organization.

But 17 years ago, Rum wasn’t yet second-in-command. He had to take personal action in major cases like those of Amanda Hughes and Haneda Koji.

Through several outstanding performances, Rum slowly climbed through the intelligence division, earning trust and solidifying his position—eventually becoming the organization’s second-in-command.

Yet, what bothered Hayashi was Gin’s remark:

"He’s only good at dealing with the FBI."

Unfortunately, Gin wasn’t the right person to ask for more.

Hayashi checked the time.

It was about 10:30 PM. He stood and prepared to leave the bar.

As a rule: Don’t drink and drive.

Outside, as Hayashi waited for a taxi, a yellow coupe pulled up.

The window rolled down, revealing a beautiful and radiant face.

"Are you getting in the car?"

Vermouth invited.

Hayashi opened the door and slipped inside.

"I’m really lucky."

"I didn’t expect you to go out drinking with a bunch of guys before going out with me."

"You wouldn’t even drink Chianti vinegar, Miss Vermouth."

Hayashi smiled slyly.

Vermouth nearly burst out laughing.

The car started and sped forward.

"You owe me a favor this time, Vermouth."

"What do you mean?"

Hayashi pulled out his phone and played a recording:

[Hmph... That woman’s position in the organization is so special...]

[I intend to take revenge...]

[Come on, Cointreau, let’s join forces to kill Vermouth...!]

Ireland’s voice oozed hatred in the recording.

Vermouth listened with a calm smile.

"How do you want me to thank you?"

"I need information on Rum."

"Rum?"

"Gin said something that caught my attention: ’Rum is only good against the FBI.’ I find that very interesting."

"..."

Vermouth fell silent for a moment.

Given her experience, she had to admit—it was true.

She had once been active in the United States as a big-name celebrity. Since the FBI headquarters is in the U.S., she had inevitably drawn their attention...

Whenever that happened, Rum would assist her, either covering up her tracks or feeding her key information.

Hayashi’s words reminded her of FBI agent Jodie Starling, whom she had encountered during the recent Halloween full moon event.

Why had Vermouth killed Jodie’s parents and set fire to their house?

Because Rum had uncovered intel: Jodie’s father, an FBI agent, had been conducting a deep investigation into the Organization—and had obtained sensitive information.

At the time, the Organization had no idea.

But when Vermouth arrived to kill him, Jodie’s father was shockingly careless.

Despite possessing highly sensitive intel, he had brought it home, exposing his wife and child to fatal danger.

From that perspective, he had been far too reckless.

Vermouth shared all the information she knew.

When the car stopped at a red light, she rested one hand on the window, supporting her face as she gazed at Hayashi with a casual smile:

"What do you want to do, now that you know this?"

"Do nothing."

Hayashi smiled.

His face was so calm it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

But then, with a sudden, refreshing smile:

"Turn right at the next traffic light. The Mika Sun Plaza Hotel is of a higher standard."

"Hehe."

Vermouth let out a soft laugh.

When the light turned green, she stepped on the accelerator and pulled into the right lane before reaching the intersection.