On the night-lit street, a sleek silver car sliced through the darkness with ease.
Vodka sat at the wheel, handling the vehicle like a seasoned driver.
"This car is great—it drives really smooth."He spoke with genuine admiration.
"So what were you two doing just standing around?"asked Hayashi Yoshiki, reclining casually in the back seat.
"My brother's car had a tire punctured by a bullet. He was calling for someone to tow it."
"…You guys really lead an exciting life."
Yoshiki raised an eyebrow at Vodka's disarmingly honest reply.
Gin, sitting quietly in the passenger seat, didn't offer a word. The moment he stepped into the car, he detected a distinct fragrance lingering in the air—elegant floral notes like evening primrose and lily of the valley. Feminine. Stylish.
He didn't comment on it. But he noticed.
"That library case is gaining attention. It's best to strike while the iron's hot," said Gin, finally speaking.
"I know."
Hayashi met Gin's sharp gaze in the rearview mirror."So, where exactly are we going? If this is for another assassination, count me out."
"No. We're heading to another of the Organization's bars. I want to introduce you to a few new faces."
"Sounds interesting."
Yoshiki genuinely perked up.
The car turned away from the familiar streets of the city center.This wasn't the usual black-glass tower bar—they were going somewhere else.
Vodka stepped on the gas.
Perhaps because Yoshiki was in the car, Vodka felt oddly reassured. His driving became smoother, even relaxed.
About thirty minutes later, they arrived at their destination.
The bar was discreetly tucked inside a residential building. No flashy lights, no signs—only a subtle black spider logo above a small plaque reading "Black Widow".
"You guys are so slow!!!"
A high-pitched voice shrieked as soon as they stepped inside.
"It's not that we're slow—Big Brother's car took a bullet to the tire."Vodka replied with practiced calm.
"Um—!?"
Chianti, the source of the voice, leaned forward dramatically.
"I never got the appeal of that old car. You waste so much money just to keep it running. Just get a sports car already!"
"Bullet," Gin repeated, lighting a cigarette without flinching.
"Wait—really? A bullet?! Bwahahahahaha!"
Chianti burst into shrill, unhinged laughter.
No one responded to her.
Gin walked past the bar and took a seat, expression unmoved.
Hayashi Yoshiki scanned the room.
The layout here was completely different from the bar at the high-rise building. Brighter lights. A cleaner aesthetic. Still no outsiders—everyone inside wore that same quiet edge of someone used to violence.
Chianti, bored from the lack of reaction, turned her attention to the new face.
"Who's this?"
"Cointreau," said Gin, taking a long drag of his cigarette."New to the Organization. Don't worry, he won't be on missions with us."
"Oho? Orange liqueur?"
Chianti tilted her head with a crooked smile.
"That sweet stuff? Honestly, I thought that name would go to a girl!"
"Don't underestimate Cointreau, Chianti."
Vodka sounded unusually firm as he took a seat nearby.
He glanced nervously toward Yoshiki. Anyone who'd seen how cleanly he "handled accidents" wouldn't make light of that gentle smile for long.
"Pleased to meet you, Senpai."
Yoshiki offered his signature smile.
"Hah!"
Chianti arched an eyebrow at his politeness.
She was a striking woman, though unsettling. Short, sharply styled reddish-brown hair. A black leather collar. A skintight outfit showing off her frame. Her makeup was bold—thick black eyeshadow without foundation, and her lipstick an ominous purple hue. A black swallowtail tattoo rested beneath her left eye.
She looked more like a deranged villainess from a manga than a trained killer.
"Not bad. I like your face," she said with a grin."Name's Chianti. I'm on the action team."
"Cohen," came a low, gravelly voice from nearby.
Yoshiki turned toward the source—a hulking, silent man with dead eyes. He offered a small nod.
"Nice to meet you."
Yoshiki kept his tone even and nonchalant.
As he took a seat at the bar, the bartender silently placed a drink menu in front of him. The list was impressive—more extensive than the previous bar's.
"One Champs Élysées, please."
"Understood."
"Make mine a Chianti and Cointreau mix!"
Chianti practically yelled."It better taste good!" she added, glaring at the bartender.
Yoshiki chuckled softly.
Male members received codenames based on distilled spirits; women, on wines or liqueurs.
Chianti—a fiery red wine from Italy. Her brash, volatile personality fit the name.
Cohen—a German grain-based schnapps, simple and unassuming. Quiet. Deadly.
A perfect match.