Isn't it very scientific to use the Death Note to kill people?

She raised her eyes, her expression becoming somewhat complicated: "Bourbon... a police mole—"

“Answer my question.”

Amuro Tooru's gaze also turned dangerous.

Despite Curaçao's hands being handcuffed, he dared not relax for a moment and pulled out a gun, pointing it at Curaçao's forehead—the latter's skills were renowned throughout the organization, so he absolutely could not let his guard down.

At this moment,

Curaçao's cell phone rang from inside her clothes.

In the silence, Amuro Tooru recalled the instruction in Hayashi Yoshiki's text message: "Remember to let her answer the phone."

But should I listen to him?

Amuro Tooru took about three seconds to consider before finally saying, "Answer it, but on speakerphone."

With his hands handcuffed, Curaçao is indeed finding it difficult to hold his phone to his ear.

As Amuro Tooru watched the other person take out their phone and press the call button, his hand holding the gun tightened involuntarily—if he killed Curaçao here, even if the organization didn't have concrete evidence that he was an undercover agent, the organization... especially Gin's suspicious nature, wouldn't let him off easily.

He was betting on whether Lin Jiashu was truly trustworthy!

"Can you hear me, Curaçao?"

Vermouth's voice came through the phone.

"It's been a long time, Vermouth."

"It seems you have indeed regained your memory. Well then, I'll be frank. Rum said you sent him an email on your phone about the identities of Kiel and Bourbon. Did you send that email?"

"..."

Seeing Amuro Tooru's finger tighten instantly, as if he might pull the trigger at any moment, Curaçao paused for a moment: "Don't worry, they're not undercover agents."

"Really? That confirms Gil and Bourbon's innocence." Vermouth said, then suddenly changed the subject, "But why is he pointing a gun at you? You didn't compromise to save your life under the threat of a gun, did you?"

"..." Amuro Tooru narrowed his eyes.

Vermouth was indeed watching this place!

“Do you think that’s possible given my personality? He’s just desperate to prove his innocence, so he’s trying to threaten me,” Curaçao said. “Alright, when are you coming to pick me up? There are tons of police officers outside right now.”

"Don't worry, Gin will be here soon."

"Gin?"

"Ah, before the clock strikes twelve, you and Bourbon should just be Cinderellas and wait for the pumpkin carriage to come and pick you up."

Their conversation ended there.

After Vermouth hung up, Amuro Tooru also lowered the gun he had been pointing at her head.

He felt a sense of disbelief.

Can I take this as you intending to betray the organization?

"..."

betray.

Curaçao did indeed have such an impulse deep down.

She could have accepted the darkness if she had never seen the light—a mere day's journey had given Curaçao a powerful sense of self, and she knew perfectly well that life under the sun was what she truly wanted. She wanted to be with the children, she wanted to find a florist, she wanted to carefully arrange the newly arrived flowers every morning…

However, overwhelming reality shattered her life, and everything she wanted remained just a pipe dream.

But what devastated her even more was the image that Lin Jiashu had implanted in her mind. The scene was so vivid, so clear, that it caused her immense pain.

There's no escaping it...

Cointreau, what exactly is that dangerous man's purpose?

She desperately wanted the answer to this question.

After all, living among Ayumi and the other children, he might bring them danger!

What did Cointreau do to you?

Seeing Curaçao once again looking dejected because of his question, Amuro Tooru pressed her for answers again.

Chapter 17: Hayashi Yoshiki and Curaçao

Snapped!

With just a simple Enter key press, the electrical room inside the park tripped and turned off all the lights the instant it received the signal.

The entire park was plunged into darkness.

"A signal has been received from Vermouth. The ground is now completely dark."

"OK, let's get started and bring Curaçao and Bourbon back."

Gin calmly gave the order.

Soon, a military transport plane hidden in the stratosphere began to descend vertically.

It was an Osprey tiltrotor aircraft.

As the massive machine descended vertically and hovered over the Ferris wheel's 12 o'clock position cabin, a grappling hook-like mechanical arm descended from its bottom, opening to grasp the target cabin before slowly tightening.

Click, click, click—

A sickening metallic cracking sound rang out.

The capsule-shaped Ferris wheel cabins were forcibly torn apart from the Ferris wheel structure under tremendous force, and the connecting steel broke without hesitation, until the entire cabin was plucked off like fruit from a tree.

"It has been confirmed that Curaçao and Bourbon are inside the elevator car."

"They threw it back into the cabin."

"learn."

In the pitch-black amusement park, only a few of the bewildered visitors noticed the strange noise coming from above the Ferris wheel... but it was too far away. Without any lighting, they could only see a blurry shadow that seemed to be gradually moving away.

Only the police officers who remained around the Ferris wheel's base began to panic.

Among them, Kazami Yuya is the best.

He could only tell from the voices coming from above that the Black Organization had succeeded and was beginning to leave. Now, he was extremely anxious. He didn't know if Curaçao had regained her memories. If so, wouldn't that mean certain death for Mr. Furuya, who was taken away with her?

After retracting its robotic arm and bringing the target back into the cabin, the Osprey tiltrotor quickly disappeared into the horizon.

Gin led Vodka straight into the cabin.

boom!

Just then, as the two approached, they saw the car, which had been deformed by the mechanical grabber, being violently broken open from the inside, and then Curaçao's figure emerged from it.

Next up is Bourbon.

"Curaçao".

Gin had his hands in his pockets, treating Bourbon, whom he had almost killed that day, as if he didn't exist.

"Although Vermouth has already confirmed with you, I'll confirm it again: are Bourbon and Gil doing something wrong?"

“No.” Curaçao maintained a calm demeanor.

"Ok."

Gin snorted, then his gaze fell on Amuro Tooru. "Looks like you and Kir are quite lucky."

“Yeah, if it weren’t for our good luck, the two of us who did so much for the organization would have almost died at your hands.” Amuro Tooru also sneered. “No wonder we often heard you do a lot of good things in the intelligence group. It turns out that most of your achievements were made by handing over the heads of your own people.”

"Bourbon, you bastard—"

Upon hearing this, Vodka immediately stood up angrily, ready to cause trouble.

Did I say something wrong?

"Shut up, vodka."

Gin responded to Amuro Tooru's provocation with a cold gaze, but now that he had confirmed that the other party was not a rat, he had no interest in engaging in such verbal disputes.

His gaze fell on Curaçao.

"Give me the list of undercover agents you have."

"..."

"Curaçao".

Noticing that Curaçao did not respond immediately, Gin immediately realized that something was amiss.

—Curaçao, who has no sense of self and is merely a tool, is now hesitant. What exactly happened during the time she lost her memory?

Curaçao felt a chill run down her spine as she was caught by Gin's icy gaze.

She was indeed reluctant to hand over the list of undercover agents, because that list meant the deaths of many more people... However, she knew very well that if she showed any obvious abnormality, she might not die, but she would definitely be sent for brainwashing.

Curaçao didn't want to live that kind of life without a sense of self anymore.

She wants to live.

She wanted to escape this dark life—

"I will compile it into a document and send it to you."

"ASAP."

Gin didn't think much of the reply. He turned around, but before leaving, he added, "After the plane lands, Rum will send you back to report."

“I understand. But before I return to report, I would like to see Khun Du one last time.”

"..."

Gin paused, his icy gaze flicking back at him, his tone chilling: "Reason?"

His eyes radiated a terrifying murderous aura.

At this moment, Gin naturally assumed that Rum was harboring some unrealistic expectations, wanting Curaçao to contact Cointreau and persuade the latter to join the intelligence group.

Was that bastard provoking me?

“Last night, when I was escaping from the Metropolitan Police Department, I had an accident on the cross-sea elevated highway. The first person I saw when I woke up after the accident was Cointreau.”

Curaçao remained expressionless. "I need to confirm whether he was involved in last night's incident."

Her explanation was enough to convince Gin.

Therefore, Gin simply left after coldly saying "Whatever"—forbidding Curaçao from going to see Cointreau.

Stop joking!

Gin wouldn't be so useless as to hide a subordinate so closely.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

It started raining from the sky sometime earlier.

A light drizzle.

After disembarking from the military transport plane piloted by Vodka, Curaçao immediately found a car.

Now, away from the gaze of Gin and Rum, her heterochromatic eyes, as she drove through the rainy night, were as hazy as the rainy night outside the window.

Her face was terrifyingly cold at that moment.

Although her vision was of rainy night streets, at this moment, fragments of memory in her mind were like shards of glass swept up by a hurricane, piercing her heart with sharp edges—the cold underground base of the Black Organization, Rum's low, hoarse commands, the blood and gunpowder smell permeating the training ground, her own blood-stained hands that once treated human lives as worthless... and the warm, ordinary name "Shimizu Rei," which carried the fragrance of a flower shop, was instantly crushed by this cold torrent of reality.

Instead, a code name etched into his very bones—Curaçao, a name belonging to darkness, to slaughter, a name that can never be exposed to the sunlight.

Pain thus took root in her mind.

The truth about the organization corroded her one and only day of warmth like strong acid, followed by anger and hatred... She hated the dark identity the organization had given her, and she hated even more the despicable man who had given her a false identity, fooled her, and tarnished this one and only day of warmth!

If it weren't for Jundu, I might have chosen to escape and break free from the organization's nose—

In the vortex of chaos, pain, and self-loathing, an address stubbornly surfaced in the depths of her confused mind, like the only clear coordinate in the darkness.

That was Lin Jiashu's voice, the address quietly implanted in his whispered, almost magical way.

The vehicle sped along.

Curaçao soon arrived at its destination—a somewhat old church.