The First Cleanse
The secure line connected.
Karasuma Renya's voice came through—calm, heavy, carrying decades of blood and secrets.
"You called, Keith."
Keith didn't waste time.
"Great-grandfather," he said evenly, "I'm starting the first cleanse of the Black Organization."
There was a pause.
Then Renya exhaled slowly—not in fear, but in approval.
"Good. Tell me the plan."
The List
Keith sent the file.
Names appeared on Renya's encrypted glass phone—agents buried deep inside the organization.
CIA, FBI, MI6, private syndicates.
One name stood out.
Sauternes.
Rum, standing beside Renya, narrowed his visible eye.
"That one… is core. Loyal on the surface."
Keith's reply was calm, almost cold.
"That's why he's perfect."
Renya read further, his interest sharpening.
The Breakthrough
Keith continued.
"We've made a breakthrough on APEX-4869. The refined herbs are being transported."
Rum stiffened.
"Where?"
Keith sent coordinates.
A shipyard.
Controlled by the Zoo Syndicate.
Renya immediately understood.
"You're baiting the world."
"Yes," Keith replied. "We'll leak that we're exchanging the package there."
The Trap
Keith's voice remained steady, methodical.
"We release the information to:
Intelligence agencies Rival organizations Internal spies we already identified"
Rum's lips curved slightly.
"They'll all rush in."
"Exactly," Keith said. "They'll assume it's a chance to steal or intercept."
He continued:
The ambush will trigger The ones who die will be spies To the outside world, we look like victims To the public, the 'winner' will appear to be the enemy
"But behind the curtain," Keith finished,
"every organization realizes they just lost their best infiltrators."
Silence.
Then—
Renya laughed quietly.
"Elegant. Cruel. Clean."
Turning the Knife
Keith wasn't finished.
"After the operation," he added, "we leak another truth."
Rum tilted his head.
"Which is?"
"That the port owner sold the information."
Renya's eyes sharpened.
"And Zoo?"
"They'll believe Zoo betrayed them," Keith replied.
"Zoo will believe someone framed them."
Rum let out a low chuckle.
"They'll tear each other apart."
Sauternes' Promotion
Keith's final instruction appeared on the screen.
Assign Sauternes as mission commander.
Renya nodded.
"He'll believe he's trusted."
"He needs to feel promoted," Keith said.
"Important. Respected."
Rum smiled thinly.
"Understood."
Gin's Realization
Elsewhere in the organization, Rum shared the plan with senior operatives.
Gin read it once.
Then twice.
His cigarette paused mid-air.
"…Tch."
He recognized the structure immediately.
"This isn't Rum's style."
Vodka glanced at him.
"You mean—"
Gin smirked faintly.
"The young master."
The Pawn Moves
Gin made the call.
"Sauternes."
The voice on the other end was eager.
"Yes?"
"You're being promoted," Gin said flatly.
"Mission command. Direct order from above."
For the first time in years, Sauternes' voice shook—with pride.
"I won't disappoint."
"Don't," Gin replied, ending the call.
Sauternes left immediately, excitement burning in his chest.
He didn't notice—
That every step forward was already measured.
That every road ahead had no exit.
Keith's Perspective
Back in France, Keith stood by the window, city lights reflecting in his sapphire eyes.
"The board is set," he murmured.
This wasn't war.
This was surgery.
And the Black Organization would only realize it—
When it started bleeding from the inside.