Conan: What alias? That's my struggle!

Absinthe's fingers stopped.

She stared at Lin Ye for three seconds, her green eyes first showing confusion, then bewilderment, and finally a smile that was hard to define.

She put down her wine glass, turned around to face him, and crossed her arms over her chest.

"You want to disguise yourself as Gin?" Vermouth was clearly incredulous, uttering each word as if to confirm that she hadn't misheard.

"right."

"Madeira, what kind of tricks are you going to pull?" Vermouth's lips curled up slightly, not in a sarcastic way, but because she genuinely found it interesting.

The leaves remained unchanged.

"The boss's mission."

He certainly wasn't telling the whole truth, but he wasn't lying either; he just didn't tell the whole truth. He did disguise himself as Gin because of the boss's mission.

Vermouth's smile faded slightly. When she heard the words "boss," her eyes changed; it wasn't fear, but something more complex.

It lies somewhere between awe and curiosity.

"That guy actually assigned you a mission, but not Gin himself?" Her tone was somewhat probing, as if she were knocking on a wall, trying to see what was behind it.

"Forehead……"

What could Lin Ye say?

He couldn't say that Gin was on the verge of death because of him, and that he was now lying in the ICU with bandages wrapped around his head, tubes inserted into his body, and his blood pressure had just stabilized.

He couldn't say that Gin had a hole punched in his head, and that it took the hospital's best neurosurgeon an hour to snatch him back from the brink of death.

Yes, he can't say anything.

"All you need to do is help me with my makeup," Lin Ye said, trying to appear aloof.

Vermouth looked at him for a few seconds, then laughed.

This laugh was different from the one before.

"Okay, okay. But—" She picked up a glass of wine from the bar and pushed it in front of him, "Before that, you have to have a drink with me first."

This is clearly making a demand.

Lin Ye looked down at the glass of wine. The amber liquid swirled gently in the glass, and the ice cubes made a soft sound as they bumped against the glass.

He knew his alcohol tolerance, so he didn't care. He picked up his glass and took a sip. The whiskey was fiery, burning from his throat all the way down to his stomach.

Absinthe looked at him, picked up a glass herself, and took a big gulp.

You're different today.

She continued to probe.

"What's different?"

"I can't really explain it." Vermouth placed her glass on the bar and traced a circle on the rim with her finger. "You never used to ask me for help. You never even talked to me."

Lin Ye didn't reply. He didn't know what the relationship was between Madeira and Vermouth in the past; the system hadn't given him that memory. He could only remain silent, using silence to answer the question he didn't know.

Absinthe didn't ask any further questions. She picked up her glass, took another sip, then put it down, jumped off the bar, and straightened the hem of her skirt.

"Let's go."

"Where to?"

"Weren't you going to disguise yourself?" Vermouth tilted her head. "To my place."

She had just taken a step when a man walked over from the dance floor. He was around thirty years old, wearing a dark blue suit, his hair slicked back, and holding a glass of champagne. His gaze moved from Vermouth's face to her legs, then back to her face, his smile greasy as if he'd just been pulled from a frying pan.

"Beautiful lady, all alone?" The man leaned closer, almost touching Vermouth's shoulder.

Vermouth glanced at him, then at Lin Ye. Lin Ye stood there expressionless, neither moving nor speaking. Vermouth looked away, smiled at the man, a smile so sweet it could drip honey. "I'm not alone. Didn't you see my boyfriend?"

The man glanced at Lin Ye, then at Vermouth, clearly not taking Lin Ye seriously.

What's there to be afraid of in a white shirt, a whiskey in hand, looking like an office worker who just finished overtime? The man didn't back down; instead, he took a half-step forward: "Boyfriend? Doesn't seem like it. The two of you standing together look like you're from two different worlds."

Vermouth's smile grew sweeter, but her eyes didn't.

She reached out, took the glass of champagne from the man's hand, and slowly, gracefully, poured it all over his crotch.

The champagne was served chilled.

The man's expression changed from greasy to shocked, from shocked to angry, and from angry to disheveled.

"Damn it! What did you do!" He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but Vermouth had already shoved the empty glass back into his hand and turned away.

Lin Ye, holding a glass of whiskey, watched as the man, clutching his crotch and blushing, slunk away into the crowd on the dance floor amidst the stares of those around him.

He placed his glass on the bar and drank some absinthe.

The hotel is not far from the bar, less than a ten-minute walk.

Vermouth walked ahead, her high heels clicking crisply on the asphalt. Lin Ye followed half a step behind her, neither side by side nor too far behind. A night breeze blew, lifting the ends of her long golden hair and brushing against his arm, tickling him.

"Do you keep your disguise tools here?" Lin Ye asked.

Absinthe didn't even turn his head.

"Of course, I've been staying here recently."

The hotel wasn't large, but it looked expensive. The lobby lights were a warm yellow, and the floor was covered with a dark carpet. When the receptionist saw Vermouth enter, he gave a slight bow but didn't say anything.

Vermouth led Lin Ye through the lobby, into the elevator, and pressed the button for the top floor. As the elevator doors closed, the mirrored stainless steel wall reflected the shadows of two people—a woman in a deep red sundress and a man in a white shirt.

The elevator arrived. Vermouth walked ahead, with Lin Ye following behind. The corridor was long, the carpet thick, making no sound underfoot. She stopped in front of a door, took out a room key from her bag, swiped it, and the lock beeped.

The door opened.

Absinthe walked in, kicked off her high heels, and stepped barefoot onto the carpet.

Lin Ye followed him inside.

The door closed behind him.

Time began to pass, and outside the curtains, the Tokyo night view shimmered silently. Inside, Lin Ye no longer had the energy to think about anything.

I don't know how much time has passed.

Maybe it will take an hour, maybe it will take three hours.

"What kind of mess is this?!"

Lin Ye lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. A woman was resting her head on his arm, her long golden hair cascading over his chest, trembling slightly with each breath.

Absinthe is asleep.

The exhausted woman was breathing lightly and evenly, her eyelashes casting a small fan-shaped shadow under her eyes, and the corners of her mouth were slightly upturned, as if she were having a pleasant dream.

Lin Ye stared at the ceiling.

blinked.

I came here to disguise myself, right?

He tried hard to think.

The brain is exceptionally clear during the post-coital period.