Fujimine Yukiko agreed instantly, a victorious smile spreading across her face.
Her quick acceptance made Hii Eri realize she'd fallen for the vixen's trap.
Damn, she used to seem so clueless—when did she get so cunning?
Though regretful, Eri, too proud to backtrack, couldn't take her words back.
Seeing the girls plan his next week's schedule in a few words, Hayashi Shuichi gave a wry laugh. "You two didn't even ask my opinion?"
"You don't want to take me to the set?" Yukiko asked, hands on hips, chin raised.
"I do," Hayashi Shuichi nodded instinctively.
"You don't want to go to Moonshadow Island with me?" Eri huffed.
"Of course I do," Hayashi Shuichi said, not daring to shake his head.
"There you go," Eri glared, her eyes teasingly reproachful. "Being fought over by us, you must be thrilled, huh?"
"Heh…" Hayashi Shuichi gave a sheepish chuckle.
He wasn't keen on dating in high school, but he wasn't blind to romance. Being vied for by two beautiful girls? His heart was already soaring.
"Hmph, bet you're loving this," Yukiko poked his waist lightly, then warned, "While I'm at the set, no hiring other female chefs! If I come back and find my spot taken, I'll be really mad!"
"…Alright," Hayashi Shuichi agreed with a smile.
"Don't worry too much about business. Even if things slow down without me, it's temporary."
Yukiko patted her chest confidently. "Once I finish this film and become Japan's big star, the izakaya's business will skyrocket. You won't lose out."
"Hmph, acting like you're guaranteed to be a star," Eri muttered, unimpressed.
Hayashi Shuichi, however, had faith in Yukiko. He couldn't recall her exact career path, but he knew she became a household name at a young age.
"I believe in you. You'll make it," he said.
Yukiko nodded firmly, her heart warmed by his trust, her body brimming with energy.
As for certain people's sour doubts, she couldn't care less.
…
Meanwhile, in a three-story building near the river in Mihama.
Belmod, in a black trench coat, stood on the rooftop, a cigarette between her lips, white smoke curling in the breeze.
She surveyed the scenery with satisfaction—quiet, with only the sound of flowing water.
"Not bad. Secluded, few outsiders, open surroundings for spotting trouble, and a river nearby for disposing of research waste."
"Tell Pisco this is the spot. Have him buy it."
"Ten potential sites, and this is only the sixth," Vodka scratched his head, puzzled. "We're not checking the rest?"
"I don't have time for that," Belmod snapped, irritation in her eyes. "If Pisco's not happy, let him pick his own damn spot."
Vodka opened his mouth to argue—the drug research was critical, their future base—but Gin, returning from scouting, cut him off.
"It's a good location. Report it to Pisco as she said."
"…Got it, big brother," Vodka said, seeing Gin's approval, and hurried downstairs to find a payphone.
The rooftop was left to Belmod and Gin.
Since the Mihama City Hall incident, they'd been working together.
Gin had initially resented Belmod's involvement, but over time, he'd come to respect her skills and methods.
"Basic medical equipment for the research—labs in the U.S. have the list ready. Next, we…"
Gin was interrupted by Belmod. "Handle it yourself. I've got other things to do. I'll contact you when I'm free."
"Pisco said we're handling this base together," Gin reminded, expressionless.
"That's Pisco's order. Why should I listen to him?" Belmod flicked her cigarette to the ground, crushing it under her heel, her tone dripping with disdain. "I answer to one person only. Don't try to pull rank with Pisco."
Without waiting for a reply, she strode downstairs.
Once she was gone, Gin's face darkened, any goodwill from their collaboration erased by her arrogance.
That woman's too full of herself, ignoring teamwork and Pisco's orders!
This would only cause trouble down the line.
"Damn woman!"
Young and hot-headed, Gin's anger flared.
He lashed out, kicking a large plastic bag in front of him.
Unbeknownst to him, it covered a solid cement vent.
The full-force kick sent a jolt of pain through his right foot, half his sole numb.
"Ow… ow…"
Gin bent over, clutching his foot, face contorted in pain, sweat beading on his forehead.
Footsteps echoed from the stairwell—Vodka's rhythm.
Gin quickly dropped his foot, fighting the searing pain to stand straight, hands in pockets, feigning calm to hide his embarrassment.
"Big brother, why'd Belmod leave so suddenly?" Vodka asked, oblivious to Gin's discomfort.
"Forget that woman," Gin said, his eyes flashing with undisguised contempt. "Japan's our turf in the future. She'll go back to the U.S. eventually. Just do our job."
"Yes!" Vodka nodded, his gaze falling on the vent. "Who knocked the bag off this?"
He crouched, carefully placing the plastic bag back over the vent. "The building's not in use yet, no rain cover installed. Without the bag, rainwater could flood through."
Gin's mouth twitched. You couldn't have said that sooner? If I'd known it was a cement vent, I wouldn't have kicked it!
(Chapter End)
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