Chapter Eleven: Once Gin Arrives, Everything Will Be Alright!
Top floor of the Automobile Company, Chairman’s office.
Ireland, who had been speaking, suddenly fell silent and turned his gaze toward the elevator.
Then, with utmost seriousness, he asked, “Lord Pisk, did you hear that strange sound?”
Upon hearing Ireland’s words, Pisk also stopped speaking.
He knew the heir’s character well enough not to make things up, so he listened carefully—and then he heard it: a sound no member of the Black Organization would ever be unfamiliar with.
Gunfire!
Someone was shooting inside the Automobile Company!
The gunshots had even reached the chairman’s office on the top floor!
*Zzzz—zzzz—*
Static crackled from the walkie-talkie resting on the desk.
The signal was rapidly calibrating, then a panicked voice of an outer member of the Organization came through.
“We... we’re under attack! Someone has invaded the Automobile Company!”
“At least seven or eight of our brothers have already been killed!”
What? Someone actually dared to break into the Automobile Company at this critical moment? Do they not fear the bullets of the Black Organization?
Pisk, who had previously boasted that the company’s internal defenses were impenetrable, suddenly felt his face flush with embarrassment.
He never imagined that anyone would dare commit violence inside the Automobile Company like this, and that even the dozens of outer members dispatched might be no match for the intruder!
Pisk straightened up, snatched the walkie-talkie, and shouted loudly, “How many attackers? What weapons? What background?”
Gunfire echoed relentlessly on the other end, sounding like a submachine gun.
This immediately reminded Pisk of the submachine gun he stored in the security office safe, and unease crept into his heart. Yet he repeated his question once more into the walkie-talkie.
“Tell me! How many attackers? Answer me right now!”
No need for a third repetition.
The voice on the other side changed; a terrified outer member responded, “Only one person!”
One person?! One person capable of breaking into the heavily guarded Automobile Company?
Pisk drew a sharp breath.
This was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard in his life. This wasn’t some movie or special effects show—the shooters were rigorously trained outer members of the Organization. How could they be so thoroughly beaten?
Just as he was about to press for details, the outer member continued.
“That attacker wears a black coat and sunglasses!”
“He’s the so-called urban legend from Mihama Town—the ‘Half-Human, Half-Demon, Number One Sharpshooter’! He’s too fast, too strong, too terrifying! Our bullets simply can’t hit him!”
“Rather than say his speed surpasses bullets, it’s more accurate to say our bullets are flying around him!”
Preposterous. Absolutely preposterous!
An urban legend from a small place like Mihama Town could possess such power?
Pisk’s complexion shifted constantly.
Suddenly, he felt some relief—relief that, for insurance, he had mobilized outer members of the Organization as his personal bodyguards. Otherwise, if that urban legend had charged in alone, he would never see the sun rise again!
“Lord Pisk, I’ll go confront this so-called urban legend myself!” Ireland stood up, drawing a pistol from his rifle stock, his voice resolute.
“The outer members can’t catch or kill him because they lack a leader, a shooter capable of opposing that urban legend! And I can fill that void!”
“Leave this matter to me. Tonight will be the night this urban legend meets his end!”
Watching Ireland leave the office confidently, pistol in hand, Pisk felt a rising tide of panic.
It seemed even Ireland, the Organization’s elite action team member, might not be a match for this urban legend.
He hastily grabbed his phone and dialed a contact he was reluctant to reach.
*Beep beep—beep beep—beep beep—*
“What is it?” came a cold, emotionless voice.
Yet beneath the chill, Pisk sensed a trace of impatience.
It was inevitable—on the other end, the man was currently embroiled in a particularly thorny matter.
He was investigating the mysterious disappearance of Shirley from the pharmaceutical company’s laboratory.
Yes, the man on the line was none other than Gin!
The ace of the Black Organization’s action team and one of its senior executives.
If the Black Organization were a razor-sharp blade, then Gin was its indispensable tip—so sharp he could even shave rust off the blade, making it perfect!
“Pisk, if you can’t clearly state why you’re contacting me, I guarantee this,” Gin said.
“Even if the Boss doesn’t want me to move against you, I will make you pay dearly for disturbing me. That, I can promise!”
Gin sat in the passenger seat of his car, eyes scanning the streets of Mihama Town outside the window.
Vodka, driving silently, knew when to speak and when not to—as an indispensable trait of the ace’s trusted partner.
“...Urban legend? You’re actually being pushed to call me in by a killer from some backwater town?” Gin’s voice held a note of surprise, disbelief.
He was about to refuse outright when a sudden unease crept into him.
As if this local urban legend assassin could really pose a deadly threat to him.
A killer’s instincts are always precise.
And Gin’s instincts told him that if he didn’t help Pisk deal with this urban legend now, when the urban legend turned on him, he might very well die.
“Interesting, Pisk. Ten minutes.”
“You just need to hold on for ten minutes, and I’ll be downstairs at your Automobile Company to assist.”
“If you can’t even last ten minutes, then you might as well die quietly.”
“Rescuing losers like that is a waste of my time!”
*Beep*—
The call ended.
Pisk’s face darkened.
As a veteran of the Organization, when had anyone ever dared speak to him like that?
Gin, emboldened by his status as the ace of the action team and the Boss’s favored, was becoming increasingly unruly!
But since Gin had agreed to help, surely things would improve once he arrived.
He should also head downstairs to assist Ireland.
This urban legend was far more dangerous than he had imagined.
It must be handled carefully.
Otherwise, it would become a major threat to the Organization’s presence in Tokyo.
No time to waste.
Pisk stood up, drew his pistol from his chest holster, and left the office.
Ready to join forces with Ireland against Nara Hikaru.
As for Ireland’s whereabouts?
He was one floor below, leading numerous outer members in searching for Nara Hikaru’s location.