"Who wouldn't know the infamous Witch?"
"Vermouth."
Tsuneo smirked, saying her name.
"As the rumors say, just your voice sends chills down the spine," Vermouth shot back, cigarette in mouth, matching his smile with her own as she named him. "Dark Knight."
"You here looking for me?" Tsuneo asked. The seat was empty when he'd entered the bar—her sudden appearance was too convenient to be a coincidence.
"I just noticed an odd character slipping into this bar and thought I'd follow to check it out," Vermouth said, taking another sip of her drink.
"…"
Tsuneo stayed silent.
The two sat face-to-face, neither making a move—a scene that caught him off guard.
"What's your goal?" Vermouth asked, glancing at the black-clad figure.
"Goal?" Tsuneo frowned. He'd come out tonight to track down a creep who'd harassed an old client. This bar was just a stop for intel from some well-connected lowlifes.
"Why go against the Organization?" Vermouth cut to the chase.
"Oh, that," Tsuneo said with a laugh. "Gotta keep busy. Someone's paying to take down scum—sounds like a win, doesn't it?"
A righteous guy like him needed a bit of excitement. Those yakuza types were too weak—no armed helicopters, no challenge. They'd stopped being worthy opponents ages ago.
Plus, for some reason, watching Gin eat crow brought a strange kind of joy…
"Someone's paying?" Vermouth's smile froze, her brow furrowing.
With the Dark Knight's skills, was he really hurting for cash?
When the Organization started suspecting him, she'd done her homework.
His behavior screamed bored, eccentric rich kid more than anything else.
"Speaking of, I've got a question for you," Tsuneo said, eyeing the Witch up and down.
Vermouth didn't respond, watching him, her thoughts unreadable.
"You…" Tsuneo hesitated, cleared his throat, and asked sheepishly, "How old are you, anyway?"
Vermouth's face darkened, as if she were about to pull a gun and execute him on the spot. Taking a deep breath, she asked, "Are we that close?"
"Kind of," Tsuneo nodded.
The ageless Witch had too many secrets not to spark curiosity.
"A secret makes a woman woman," Tsuneo said, quoting her signature line.
Vermouth rubbed her temples. Neither she nor the Organization knew where this guy came from or what he wanted.
Yet he seemed to know the Organization inside out.
A mysterious opponent like that was a real headache.
A traitor from within?
No—someone capable of this wouldn't have this personality in disguise.
"I'm curious—since you're against us, why didn't you take out Vodka last time?" Vermouth asked, lighting another cigarette.
She was smoking a lot tonight.
"The game's just started. If someone bows out early, it gets boring," Tsuneo said. "What if Gin's next driver is actually competent?"
He'd thought it through.
A sharp driver would make stealing their car's emblem a pain.
He wasn't invincible yet—not even on Kyogoku Makoto's level—so he had to play it smart.
Gin with a bumbling Vodka was the safest bet.
A cold-blooded killer surrounded by Rum-level lackeys? That'd be a nightmare!
"A hard-to-argue-with reason," Vermouth said with a light laugh, picturing that square-headed, sunglass-wearing driver who never took a break.
"So, what's your goal?" Tsuneo asked, curious about her stance on the Organization.
Plenty of undercover traitors littered the Organization.
Plenty of loyalists dragged it down, too.
But this Witch? Complicated and contradictory.
"Our chat's over," Vermouth said, grabbing her cigarettes with a smile and exiting the bar.
Tsuneo watched her push through the door, followed by two tipsy young guys stumbling after her, arm in arm. He gave a cold chuckle.
Chasing her? You'd have better odds flirting with me.
At least you'd survive.
Tsuneo stood, ready to leave.
"Uh, sir, the bill's not settled," a waiter said, hurrying over cautiously after noticing his move.
"Did I order a drink?" Tsuneo asked, confused, his gaze drifting to the empty seat across from him.
"The lady said a man would sit opposite her and cover the tab…" the young waiter stammered, clearly charmed by the Witch into letting her drink now, pay later.
In fact, he'd covered her drink at the bar himself…
"Heh," Tsuneo said, sneering at the half-drunk glass with a lipstick stain.
Nice one, Vermouth. I'll remember this.
Suddenly, the nearby booth's door cracked open. A menacing-looking man peeked out, his expression like he was walking on eggshells.
Their eyes met, and he slammed the door shut, retreating inside.
The 180-cm bruiser leaned against the door, clutching his chest, trying to calm his racing heart.
"Boss, that guy's still out there," he said to the stocky middle-aged man on the sofa.
The boss, muttering prayers with clasped hands, didn't know which god he was pleading to.
"Get the bill from that booth, and add a tip," Tsuneo said, pointing at the just-closed door, striding out of the bar with long legs.
The waiter shrank back. He was nervous just delivering drinks to that booth—how could he ask them for money?
Ten minutes later.
The waiter, carrying a complimentary fruit plate, cautiously entered the booth.
"Wait!" the bruiser who'd peeked earlier called out as he turned to leave.
The waiter froze, turning back obediently.
"Did that guy in black leave?" the bruiser asked.
"He's gone, gone," the waiter nodded rapidly.
"Did he say anything to you?" the bruiser pressed, staring him down.
"N-Nothing," the waiter said, waving his hands, too scared to tell the truth.
"Spit it out!" the bruiser growled, stepping closer.
"H-He said to get his bill from you guys, a-and to ask for a tip," the waiter blurted, spilling the conversation.
The praying boss exhaled in relief, grabbed a stack of cash from his bag, rushed over, and stuffed it into the waiter's arms.
"Is that enough?"
"Enough?"
"If he asks about this later, you tell him the truth!"
The waiter, clutching the scattered bills, nodded dazedly at the man's earnestness.
Who was that guy?
(End of Chapter)
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