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

"Om-"

A new anonymous text message suddenly appeared, the sender's number was hidden.

Binga's pupils contracted, and he subconsciously clicked on it.

[Fool, watch out for Cointreau's abilities!]

The short line of text was like ice water poured over his head, instantly chilling Binga to the bone.

Cointreau?

That guy who always has a smile on his face and pretends to be very friendly...

Oh right, how could he forget that!

Since Gin wants to kill him, he probably won't hesitate to use Cointreau's abilities... That man is more like a venomous snake lurking in the shadows; once he bites you without warning, it's too late!

He was driving at high speed on the highway... This was the perfect stage for Cointreau to create an accident!

A tremendous fear gripped Binga's heart instantly, colder and more chilling than when he faced Gin's gun. Almost reflexively, he slammed on the brakes!

Squeak—crunch—!

The tires screeched as they rubbed against the ground, and the car swayed violently due to inertia, nearly losing control and overturning. It finally came to a stop in the middle of the road with a close call.

Binga's heart was pounding, and his back was soaked with cold sweat.

Ignoring the excruciating pain in his shoulder caused by the sudden braking, he unbuckled his seatbelt without hesitation, pushed open the car door, and practically tumbled out of the driver's seat.

He looked around at the empty highway, with the occasional vehicle speeding by. Every seemingly ordinary detail seemed to him as a deadly threat at that moment.

He clutched his bleeding shoulder and staggered toward the dense green belt by the roadside.

The warning from the anonymous text message echoed in his ears like a death knell.

Finally, Binga, clutching his bleeding shoulder, staggered away from the highway and disappeared into a relatively secluded, under-construction neighborhood.

The place was filled with scaffolding, construction materials were piled up haphazardly, and there were few people around... Although it looked extremely chaotic, Binga had read some reports on Jundu's murders, and the man's most common methods of killing were often related to vehicles.

Besides, that guy's ability is all calculation, not magic. As long as you surprise him, you can dodge it... I realized that he was likely to take action, so stopping the car in time and hiding here shouldn't be a problem.

Binga leaned against a cold, rusty billboard frame, panting heavily. Blood loss and pain blurred his vision.

He took out his phone to contact someone for help.

However, at that moment, he heard a very faint metallic scraping sound coming from above his head.

Binga looked up sharply and saw that one of the angle irons fixed above the billboard seemed to be loose and was swaying slightly in the wind.

He felt a chill run down his spine and immediately forced himself to move a few steps to the side, away from directly under the billboard. The angle iron only wobbled a few times but ultimately did not fall down.

Binga breathed a sigh of relief.

I was definitely too nervous...

He suddenly felt unbearably thirsty, and the wound on his shoulder burned with pain. When he noticed a temporary water tap at a construction site not far away, which was leaking water because it wasn't turned off properly, he staggered over, wanting to rinse his wound and face with cold water to clear his head.

Just as he reached out and turned on the faucet, wanting to turn up the water flow—

boom!

The faucet seemed to have broken off due to its age, and a powerful jet of water gushed out, drenching him completely.

The icy water caused a sharp pain in his wound and made him look even more disheveled.

Binga, who was swept back a few steps by the water, tripped over a tangled roll of cable. He cursed as he tried to steady himself, and his hand instinctively reached out and grabbed a seemingly sturdy rope used to secure the scaffolding next to him.

Boom!

The rope snapped, causing Binga to lose his balance and fall to the ground again, landing on a pile of debris.

This fall became the final straw that broke the camel's back.

The broken faucet was still spraying water wildly, and the water flowed rapidly across the ground, mixing with the soil to form a wet area.

The cable that Binga broke when he fell had its insulation torn due to years of disrepair and the pulling, and the exposed wire ended up falling into the water.

To make matters worse, there were scattered scrap steel bars and metal frames where he fell. He struggled to get up, but his palms pressed against a sharp steel bar. The stinging pain made him instinctively recoil, and his body crashed into a heavy cast iron counterweight used to secure the scaffold base.

Although his impact wasn't very strong, the cast iron counterweight was placed on a slightly sloping gentle slope. With just a slight touch, it began to roll down the slope, heading right towards the scaffolding that had become unstable due to the broken anchor rope!

Splash!

The scaffolding, having lost tension on one side, began to tilt, and several steel pipes and a heavy wooden plank at the top slid down!

Binga was stunned by the sudden turn of events. He tried to dodge, but the wet ground made him slip. The electric arc from the exposed wires falling into the water caused his muscles to go numb and twitch instantly, making it impossible for him to move effectively!

"Do not--!"

In his horrified gaze, the rolling iron counterweight struck precisely the weakest connection point of the scaffolding!

boom--!!

A small section of scaffolding collapsed in a chain reaction.

Steel pipes, wooden planks, and the angle iron that had finally come loose from the billboard all came crashing down on Binga, who was paralyzed by the electric arc and unable to move, like the scythe of death!

puff

A sharp steel pipe pierced his chest.

The heavy planks and angle iron crushed his skull.

The water on the ground hissed due to the continuous electric shocks, and the air was filled with the smell of burning flesh and blood.

Binga's eyes widened, filled with unbelievable fear.

It wasn't until the very last moment of his life that he truly understood the horror of "Coindus"—could such a thing really be calculated by humans?

Are you kidding me...?

Everything fell silent.

Only the broken faucet in the distance, still spouting water, emitted a monotonous "whoosh" sound, as if playing the final note for this meticulously planned "accident."

Soon after, a figure stepped into this devastated place.

Dressed in all black, Chianti rushed over, her gaze sweeping over the collapsed scaffolding, broken water pipes, scattered wires, and... the body that had been pierced by a steel pipe and was almost smashed to pieces.

After taking a few glances, even someone as accustomed to bloodshed as her couldn't help but purse her lips at the sight of Binga's face, and whispered into the miniature earpiece:

"Hey, Gin, confirmed, it's Binga."

She kicked aside a piece of broken wood at her feet. "It died a pretty horrible death, like it was buried alive by the entire construction site. It even smells a bit like barbecue... Tsk, I was waiting to go eat yakitori after work."

Gin's voice came through the phone: "Any other unusual circumstances at the scene?"

"No, I'll just take photos of the scene and send them to you."

"Bring his belongings back after you've taken care of him," Gin ordered.

"learn."

Chianti responded.

After confirming that it was safe, she quickly searched Binga's person and took all his personal belongings—wallet, gun, spare magazine, and cell phone.

Her actions were somewhat rough, and when the police arrived, they would likely easily discover that the body had been dug up.

at the same time

On the other side of the city, Gin's Porsche 356A was quietly parked in a dark corner.

Inside the car, Vodka was rapidly operating a computer, which was connected to a mobile phone via a data cable.

The data on the screen scrolled rapidly.

The organization's self-developed cracking program is forcibly stripping away all the phone's security features.

"Big brother, we've cracked it successfully."

Vodka shouted, and immediately began to go through the call logs, encrypted text messages, and emails inside.

Gin lit a cigarette.

"How about it?"

“These guys are professionals, but they’re not one of us.” Vodka’s voice was grave as he turned the screen toward Gin. “Judging from their contact information, we can be pretty sure they’re from that organization.”

The organization that was searching for Pandora—the brewery had previously sent people infiltrated to gather intelligence, so they naturally had some basic information.

“Pandora…” Gin repeated the word in a low voice, his eyes instantly flashing with chilling killing intent.

Binga is actually hanging out with people from that rival organization. Was that Rum's order?

But this doesn't seem right either.

Gin almost instinctively dismissed the idea, because it didn't seem like Rum's method.

Although that guy may have ulterior motives, he is still a member of the organization, and his struggle is against the power within the organization, not against inviting trouble.

It's unlikely he would openly use people from an opposing organization to attack his own people; such an easy way to give others leverage is something he wouldn't do.

So it was Binga's own choice?

In order to survive, or to gain power to fight against himself, did he secretly collude with foreign enemies?

Although Gin still felt something was off, the scene of the other party being covered and escaping couldn't be faked.

But whatever the truth, Binga's death now seems perfectly logical—whether it was Gin's own doing or this accident, it's the deserved end for a traitor who colluded with foreign enemies.

Gin exhaled a smoke ring, his cold gaze falling on the flowing neon lights outside the window.

"Chianti said she got Binga's phone and is going to pick it up now."

"Ok."

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.

In the darkness, Lin Jiashu's car quietly stopped at a secluded intersection some distance from the Suzuki Resort Hotel.

"Alright, that's enough for now."

Lin Jiashu unbuckled his seatbelt, turned his head to Ai Haibara in the passenger seat, and said in a relaxed tone, "You should be able to walk back by yourself for the rest of the way."

Upon hearing this, Ai Haibara turned her head slightly, her eyes carrying a hint of coldness in the dim light inside the car, and glanced at Yoshiki Hayashi.

"Oh? You find it too troublesome to explain, so you're telling me to figure out how you disappeared and suddenly reappeared last night, is that right?"

Lin Jiashu laughed when she realized that Lin Jiashu had hit the nail on the head.

"Because it's too troublesome to explain, especially for Xiaolan and the others... secrets should be kept well hidden, right?"

Ai Haibara looked at him like this and couldn't help but sigh softly.

Forget it...

To save himself, who knows how many things he did behind the scenes... It must have taken a lot of brain cells to deceive someone like Gin.

It was indeed a bit difficult for him to face the barrage of questions from Ran Mouri, Edogawa, and the children under these circumstances.

She pushed open the car door, and the night breeze instantly rushed into the car, bringing a touch of coolness.

"Okay," she replied casually, preparing to get out of the car.

"Wait a minute," Lin Jiashu suddenly called out to her again.

Ai Haibara paused, then turned to look at him.

Lin Jiashu pulled out a small, beautifully packaged bag of candy from somewhere, handed it to her with a smile, and said, "Here, calm your nerves. Although the process was a bit... well, the result was good in the end, wasn't it?"

The candy wrapper refracted tiny lights under the streetlights, just like him—seemingly nonchalant, yet capable of revealing a tenderness that warms the heart when needed.

Ai Haibara looked at the bag of candy, remained silent for a few seconds, and finally reached out to take it. Her fingertips inadvertently brushed against his palm, bringing a faint warmth.

"Thank you."

She whispered, her voice so soft it was almost carried away by the night breeze.

She didn't look at him again, turned around and closed the car door, temporarily leaving that complex and unspeakable man and the world full of intrigue and danger behind, and walked alone towards the brightly lit hotel. Her small figure appeared somewhat frail in the night, yet it possessed an extraordinary resilience.

Lin Jiashu watched as she safely entered the hotel's surveillance area before slowly starting the car, turning around, and disappearing into the dark night.

As Ai Haibara walked back to the hotel, clutching the candy in her hand, she couldn't help but wonder what was going on between him and Vermouth.

I was originally going to tell him the good news about the breakthrough in the temporary antidote.