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

"My thoughts are the opposite of yours; I'd prefer a girl."

"So, you mean the differences in male and female thinking?"

"Hmm... I guess so."

Lin Jiashu laughed.

Vermouth was always a little incredulous when she suddenly caught a glimpse of expectation in his eyes.

Could such a pure expression of emotion really appear in Cointreau?

This gave Vermouth a sudden sense of unreality.

However, perhaps it was the maternal instinct released along with hormones that was at play; Vermouth's hardened defenses seemed to be inadvertently touched by something soft, and a part of her heart quietly softened.

However, Lin Jiashu's next question instantly froze this newly formed warmth.

"So...do you plan to breastfeed from now on?"

Vermouth was truly stunned when she wrote this.

Breastfeeding?

This word is too specific, too everyday, and even carries a sense of maternal sacredness.

However, it was far beyond what she could think about at the moment—after all, she was still struggling with how to hide her pregnancy, how to deal with possible investigations by the organization, and how to protect herself and her child in the storm.

Breastfeeding?

She never imagined that there would be such ordinary details so far away.

She finally rolled her eyes, a little annoyed. "How could I possibly think that far ahead?" Her fingertips curled unconsciously. "Right now, all I can think about is how to survive this storm you've stirred up. That alone has already exhausted me."

“Survive? Vermouth… Simply thinking about surviving is far from enough.” Lin Jiashu looked at her. “Survival is not the goal. Our goal should be to win. Win this game, win everything—including the power to decide our own and our children’s future, instead of eking out a living in the shadow of the organization.”

Vermouth's heart skipped a beat.

His words were like a key, trying to pry open the tightly closed door called "hope" in the deepest part of her heart.

However, she had long been accustomed to the darkness, and the sudden light only made her feel stinging and fearful.

She avoided his burning gaze, about to say something to refute or maintain her faltering defenses and stance, but Lin Jiashu's eyes were already on her chest. He joked, "It's said that breastfeeding is very uncomfortable and even painful at first. If you're worried... I can help you get used to it in advance and gain experience."

The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

Vermouth was taken aback at first, then realized the subtext of his words. A faint blush instantly appeared on her face, but more than that, she was amused and annoyed by the absurdity of his words.

He was joking...

Although it was meant as a joke, it was actually a bit infuriating.

"Is this considered harassing a pregnant woman?"

"I'm just offering practical help to prevent you from suffering in the future." He leaned closer and lowered his voice.

His breath brushed lightly against her ear, "Besides, do we need to argue about this?"

"you...."

She was somewhat frustrated, yet she found herself unable to truly be angry. In this extreme relationship, the playful intimacy was, to some extent, quite pleasant.

The sea breeze continued to blow, but it seemed to carry a hint of heat.

Survival and ambition

Fear and anticipation

Cold calculations and passionate entanglements,

On this deserted beach, they are subtly intertwined.

Chapter 90: Rum's Suspicion and Actions

In the pitch-black room, only a few computer screens emitted a faint blue light in the dim light.

Rum's gloomy face was clearly reflected.

He sat alone in the large armchair, his one intact eye slightly narrowed in the shadows, staring intently at the photograph of Binga's death scene.

An almost stagnant silence filled the air.

Binga is a traitor to the organization...

Not only did he conceal the impracticality of the cross-age tracking system during this operation, but he also maliciously attempted to frame Jundu. Even more fatally, he betrayed intelligence about the organization, including Jundu's, leading to targeted attacks on several of its leaders by rival organizations…

You're really joking!

Rum's gloomy eyes ignited with anger.

Binga is indeed an ambitious guy, and under his instructions, he would certainly do anything to bring Gin down if given the chance. But to say that he would dare to betray the organization and set up such a scheme is too incongruous for Rum.

However, Gin's evidence was indeed comprehensive enough, which is why Rum had no choice but to swallow this bitter pill.

As a key member of the intelligence group, Binga does indeed have the ability to obtain information about other officers and thus betray their intelligence... Therefore, Gin's accusations against him are indeed justified.

However, the biggest problem is that Rum is certain that Binga is unaware of his infiltration at the time—that the attack on him while he was disguised as a chef at the Iroha sushi restaurant had nothing to do with Binga.

"Cointreau..."

The code name didn't appear frequently in this incident, but it still made Rum feel concerned.

After all, he is another key figure in this incident.

However, he was too clean in this incident—if Binga is innocent, then this guy might be the one who's up to no good.

This is not a conclusion, but rather a speculation based on such a simple idea.

Rum's gaze returned to the age comparison image of Sherry—because of Binga's death and Gin's humiliation, Rum, determined to find out the truth, investigated the entire incident thoroughly and thus obtained this image.

What if this photo is real?

Rum's eyes were fixed on the picture on the table.

If Shirley really did turn into a little child...

Users of APTX4869 have an extremely low probability of experiencing rejuvenation—Rum has always been aware of this possibility, but he could not be completely certain and lacked empirical evidence.

Because such matters are absolutely secret within the organization, Karasuma Renya blocked most of the information. Even Rum, the second-in-command, could only vaguely deduce this astonishing possibility through years of sporadic investigations and clues.

That's why he pinned his hopes on using that medicine to restore his special eye abilities.

Therefore, if this photo is genuine—

His single eye was fixed on two photos side by side on the computer screen. On the left was Shiho Miyano's cold and aloof face, and on the right was the calm yet precocious eyes of a little girl named Ai Haibara. The eyebrows, the contours, the charm... the unbelievable resemblance seemed to go far beyond just looking alike.

Rum leaned forward slightly.

If this is indeed the case, then Cointreau's loyalty to the organization must be questioned.

The pale blue light from the screen illuminated half of his face, and in his single remaining eye, a sharp glint shone like that of a vulture that had spotted its prey.

Rum picked up his phone.

[Retrieve all available childhood photos of Sulli, the more detailed the better.]

He sent the text message.

He wanted to personally compare the two to see just how similar they were... He then reviewed the report on the handling of Naomi Algent.

It clearly states that because the cross-age identification system was deemed "electronic waste with no practical value," the developer, Naomi, should have been killed, but Vermouth took her away under the pretext of being "interested in her development capabilities."

It might seem strange that Vermouth would be interested in the developer of a system that has been deemed useless, but conversely, what if the system wasn't entirely useless, but rather that the data had been artificially "contaminated" to create a false impression?

The only one who can mobilize Vermouth is that gentleman.

The organization's initial expectation was to use this system to erase all traces of their past... If that gentleman still had the same idea, it wouldn't be surprising if the target was limited to him alone.

Perfect timing, I was actually planning to try and find him anyway...

Thinking of this, Rum unconsciously stroked the armrest of the chair slightly.

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.

The afternoon sun shines through the clean glass window, scattering across the layers of petals and green leaves, and the air is filled with the fresh scent of damp earth mixed with various floral fragrances.

"Qingshui Flower Shop"

The sign with its beautiful cursive lettering looked quiet and warm in the sunlight.

Curaçao stood outside the flower shop, took a deep breath, and then pushed open the glass door with the wind chimes hanging on it.

Ding-a-ling~

The crisp sound of the wind chimes seemed to strike her heart.

The store was more...beautiful than she had imagined.

The various flowers are arranged in a pleasing and orderly manner, from the delicate roses to the fresh daisies, from the upright lilies to the twining ivy, each one is carefully cared for and full of vitality.

Inside the shop, a friendly young woman in an apron was watering a potted plant. Upon seeing a customer enter, she immediately put down the watering can and greeted the customer with a smile, "Welcome to Qingshui Flower Shop!"

Curaçao nodded, but her eyes involuntarily searched for that figure.

"In the inner room."

Lin Jiashu's voice came from behind the flower stand.

He lifted the vine curtain that served as a partition and stepped out.

He was dressed very casually today, in a simple white knit sweater and trousers, and seemed to have a faint floral scent on him. This was quite different from his usual aloof elegance, and he seemed incredibly approachable.

Curaçao looked at him, momentarily dazed.

Unlike her own, fragments of memories called "Shimizu Rei" surged in her mind—sunshine, the fragrance of flowers, hands quietly tending to plants, and the smiling gaze of the man before her.

The warm images implanted through hypnosis were the complete opposite of the dark and bloody experiences she had recently had as Curaçao, and what was even more distressing was that this reality caused her heart to ache slightly.

"This way."

Lin Jiashu gestured to her and led her to a small rest area at the back of the flower shop.

It's quieter here, with only a small round table and two chairs. Next to it is a huge window, outside which is a carefully tended little courtyard, filled with white jasmine, its fragrance delightful.

The shop assistant girl wisely didn't follow and continued working in the front of the store.

"How does it feel to be here for the first time?" Lin Jiashu pulled out a chair for her and asked casually.

Curaçao originally didn't want to waste time and wanted to get straight to the point, but Hayashi Yoshiki stopped her.

"Relax first."

She could only sit down.

After scanning her surroundings for a moment, her gaze fell on the cluster of white jasmine outside the window, and she murmured, "Very...quiet."

She paused, then added, "It's also very clean."

It was completely different from the dark, smoke-filled, and blood-soaked murder scenes she was used to. Here, her tense nerves unconsciously relaxed, but it also made her feel more clearly how out of place she was in this environment.

I ultimately don't belong to such a bright world...

"You like jasmine?"

Lin Jiashu noticed her gaze. "Its flower language is 'You are mine.'" He said this in a casual tone, as if he were simply introducing knowledge about flowers, but Curaçao's heart skipped a beat.

She looked away, not answering the question, but abruptly changing the subject: "Is it safe here?"

"Yes, it's an enterprise registered under Reiko's name, and the staff have also been arranged."

Lin Jiashu sat down opposite her, picked up the small teapot on the table, poured her a cup of herbal tea, and pushed it in front of her, saying, "Try it, it's calming."

Upon hearing the name Reiko, Curaçao's initial goodwill towards the flower shop plummeted—that repulsive woman, she could never forget the metallic taste of blood that had lingered after she had been forcibly kissed that night.

Lin Jiashu seemed to sense that she was in a bad mood.

"It's only temporary. It just so happens that she needs a cover for her identity... This place is essentially yours. Once we've achieved our goal, we can change it to Shimizu Rei's name, how about that?"

"……It will be all right."

"Give it a try. I drank it a while ago and have been drinking it ever since."

Curaço looked at the dried flowers floating in the glass, hesitated for a moment, then picked it up and took a small sip. The warm liquid, with its faint sweetness and floral fragrance, slid down her throat, indeed easing her tense nerves somewhat.

“I didn’t expect you to actually prepare a place like this,” Curaçao said softly, her fingers unconsciously tracing the warm rim of the cup.