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

The apartment's electronic lock made a slight clicking sound under the assistance of specialized equipment, and the door opened in response.

Rum entered the apartment surrounded by several of his confidants.

His single eye quickly scanned the living room.

Their subordinates silently dispersed and began searching efficiently.

The drawers in the room were opened, the bookshelves were inspected, and even the backs of the decorative paintings and the bottoms of the furniture were checked.

The entire process was completely silent, except for the slight noise of the objects being moved.

After a while, one of the men in charge of searching the bedroom quickly came out:

"The bedroom and study have been preliminarily searched, and no documents, encrypted devices or unusual communication records directly related to the target have been found."

"Her computer hard drive has been removed in preparation for in-depth analysis, but so far she seems to be very cautious."

Rum's face showed no emotion, indicating he was not surprised by the outcome.

Vermouth, that woman, certainly wouldn't leave any evidence easily, but he couldn't let any opportunity slip by now.

Rum's gaze slowly swept across the living room again, finally settling on the central island of the open kitchen.

There were a few boxes of medicine lying around there.

He walked over and picked up the medicines with his black leather-gloved hands. Most of them were common vitamins and nutrients, but one of them was folic acid.

(Folic acid?)

(Why would that woman use something like that?)

Rum glanced at the ashtray on the table, then walked directly to the bedroom for a look... The ashtray was clean, and there was no smell of smoke in the whole house.

Gradually, an absurd yet incredibly clear idea surfaced in Rum's mind.

Vermouth...is pregnant?

If that's the case, then that's truly humorous.

Looking down at the medicine bottle in his hand, Rum slowly curled a cold smile onto his lips.

He packed the bottles of medicine into sealed bags and put them into his pocket.

"There's no value here anymore."

He ordered his men, his voice regaining its usual calm, "Clean up all traces of our presence and retreat."

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.

Consciousness slowly and laboriously rose from a thick, dark depth.

The first thing to recover was the sense of smell; a cold air mixed with rust, dust, and a faint musty smell rushed into the nasal cavity.

Next came the sense of touch: beneath me was a hard, rough concrete floor, my hands were tied behind my back with plastic cable ties that made my wrists ache.

Vermouth did not open her eyes immediately, but remained in a comatose position, silently exploring her surroundings with all her senses.

(There were no windows, and the air didn't circulate... it was like a warehouse or a basement. About one or two hours had passed since I was kidnapped.)

She carefully controlled her breathing, sensing her body's condition. Apart from the discomfort of being restrained and the slight headache from the anesthesia, there was no unusual cramping in her lower abdomen, which made her tense nerves relax a millimeter.

Vermouth slowly opened her eyes, her long eyelashes fluttering as if adjusting to the dim light. She found herself in an empty, abandoned warehouse, the only source of light coming from a solitary, flickering, dim yellow light bulb overhead.

Three figures stood before them, dressed in black combat uniforms and wearing full-coverage hoods, their faces completely obscured.

Her face displayed just the right amount of vigilance, anger, and panic, her voice slightly hoarse from just waking up: "Who are you? What do you want?"

"No need to pretend, Vermouth."

The leader of the men in black stepped forward, his eyes behind his helmet fixed on her, and sneered, "Us? We are the seekers of Pandora. You should be familiar with us, after all, we had a pleasant exchange with your second-in-command, Mr. Rum, not long ago."

(Pandora?)

Vermouth felt a sudden chill run down her spine.

She knew this organization very well, of course.

After all, this organization had recently been at the height of its power, having engaged in numerous fierce clashes with them, killed several of their cadres, and even successfully attacked Rum.

If you look at it this way, it's not surprising that they discovered their true identities and started targeting you.

However, the problem is that this so-called organization that seeks "Pandora" has a shadowy figure behind it—Cointreau.

The reason that organization is hostile to them is entirely because that man is stirring up trouble behind the scenes.

So, will this be her move too?

But he shouldn't have any reason to do that—

While these thoughts lingered in her mind, Vermouth's beautiful face betrayed no extraneous information. Instead, her eyes sharpened after her identity was revealed:

"...So it was you rats in the gutter who attacked so many of our cadres, and now you're setting your sights on me?"

“We have no interest in your life, Vermouth.”

The man before them gave a cold laugh, his voice somber as he said, "We are only interested in one thing—Karasuma Renya."

Vermouth's pupils contracted instantly.

This guy's goal is to get the Bosd...

“Our boss pursues Pandora for miracles that transcend mortals. But Karasuma Renya possesses another form of miracle—or rather, he himself is the embodiment of that secret.”

The kidnapper's voice carried a fanatical tone, "Tell us where he is, Vermouth. Otherwise, we wouldn't mind letting you experience firsthand... what it's like to lose a treasure."

The other party was implying something.

Although her vision was obscured by the helmet, Vermouth felt as if the other person's gaze had swept over her lower abdomen.

A chill instantly shot up from Vermouth's spine to the top of her head.

This time, it wasn't a pretense, but rather the fear triggered by her female instincts. She bit her lower lip tightly, trying to suppress her anger and fear.

(Jundu, what exactly do you want? Are you trying to interrogate me like this? Or is it...?)

"I don't know what you're talking about—"

Her voice remained cold and hard.

But the moment she finished speaking, she saw the man pull a very familiar medicine bottle out of his pocket.

When she saw that thing, she felt her blood freeze.

"I won't shed a tear until I see the coffin."

The other person chuckled coldly and slowly shook the medicine bottle in his hand, the white pills inside making a soft crunching sound.

The sound was amplified infinitely in the empty warehouse, pounding on Vermouth's eardrums and her taut nerves.

"Do you think we're bluffing you, Miss Vermouth?"

His voice, muffled and mocking, came through the mask: "Or rather, who are you expecting to save you?"

Chapter 107: Monster

The bottle of folic acid was being handled slowly and deliberately in the hands of the other person, who was wearing black tactical gloves.

The pills inside the bottle made a clear, crisp sound as they collided with the bottle walls. In the deathly silent warehouse, each sound was like a heavy hammer blow to Vermouth's heart.

Her breathing almost stopped.

All pretense and composure crumbled before the sight of this bottle of medicine.

—They thoroughly searched my apartment.

It was indeed very careless of her to leave such an obvious flaw in her own place of residence.

"Do you think we're bluffing you, Miss Vermouth?"

The kidnapper leader's voice, muffled and maliciously mocking, came through his mask: "Or are you hoping someone will come to rescue you? The man who got you pregnant?"

Vermouth bit her lower lip hard until she tasted a hint of blood.

Fear and anger coiled around her heart like venomous snakes.

Even now, having decided to cooperate with Kimdo and rebel against Karasuma Renya, she still dares not take that final step to truly betray Karasuma Renya—because she knows better than anyone else what kind of methods that man uses, and that would be an eternal torment more painful than death.

But at this moment, she felt a fear that was close to that level.

A maternal instinct surged from her spine into her brain, and she couldn't imagine what these unscrupulous people would do after learning this secret.

(Jundu...is this really your arrangement? If so, where is your bottom line? If not—)

Her mind raced, frantically trying to find a glimmer of hope in her despair.

"I……"

Her voice was terribly dry, trembling uncontrollably, "I really don't know the exact location of the gentleman, he's very cautious..."

"It seems you're still not clear-headed enough."

The leader snorted coldly and gave a wink to one of his men beside him.

The subordinate immediately stepped forward and brought over something—not a weapon, but a small instrument that looked like a medical device, with a cold metal probe at the top.

"This is a microcurrent stimulator."

The leader explained.

“We usually use this in interrogation to awaken the consciousness of certain stubborn targets. Of course, this method should not be unfamiliar to you.”

"This thing is usually used by placing it directly close to the brain."

"But now..."

The other person sneered: "What do you think if this thing is placed in the lower abdomen? I suspect it might cause some irreversible... um, effects on the developing neural tube of the embryo."

Vermouth's face turned deathly pale instantly, and cold sweat soaked her back.

She stared at the gleaming probe, as if she could already feel the electric current piercing her skin and harming the life she was desperately trying to protect.

"No...wait!"

As the other person approached without hesitation with the probe, she almost screamed.

The leader raised his hand to stop his men's actions, his gaze fixed on her through his mask, awaiting her final decision.

Vermouth gasped for breath, her chest heaving with terror—the cold probe hovered just centimeters from her lower abdomen. The chill of death wasn't directed at her, but it terrified her more than death itself.

Finally, as if all her strength had been drained away, she closed her eyes and, in a weak but clear voice, named a location:

“Beihana-cho...5-chome 39, there is a cluster of old-style Japanese houses there.”

The leader gestured for his men to put away the equipment, but his gaze remained fixed on her: "Exact location? Room?"

“I don’t know the exact room!” Vermouth shook her head violently, her voice hoarse. “He… he’s in a very special situation right now, extremely cautious! Even I can’t know the exact location… those houses have been modified, with multiple hidden safe rooms. His location changes every time he stays, and his core guard team is responsible for moving him. Sometimes he even switches to another building!”

The location she provided was not a heavily guarded sanatorium or fortress, but a rather ordinary-looking, even somewhat old, residence.

This actually made the kidnappers, or rather Rum behind them, feel more credible—after all, who would have thought that the BOSS who never showed his face would be hiding here?

Rum gave his men the next instructions.

"What about the defensive capabilities?"

"...The security of the residence itself seems unremarkable, but there are at least twelve bodyguards inside. They are the BOSS's last line of defense, absolutely loyal, equipped with top-of-the-line gear, and proficient in close combat and gunfights. Outside... there should be two more mobile sentry posts, but I don't know the exact number. However, they are well disguised and may be nearby residents or merchants."

The leader silently scrutinized her, seemingly judging the truthfulness of her words.

Now that things have come to this, Vermouth has become more candid.

Since she had chosen to betray, she had to betray completely. Otherwise, if Karasuma Renya were to find out later that the information had been leaked through her, she dared not even imagine what would happen.

"All the protective measures are based on the principles of ensuring absolute silence and avoiding any large-scale conflict... Their top priority is not a fight to the death, but to quickly move the gentleman away using the secret passages. If you launch a direct attack, you will likely only find nothing, or even alert them and make them disappear completely."

The leader silently noted down her words, his eyes, visible through his mask, revealing no emotion.

He gave her one last cold glance and ordered his two men, "Keep an eye on her."

After saying that, he walked to the corner of the warehouse and waited for Rum's next instructions.

Meanwhile, far away elsewhere, Rum, after sorting through all this information, unconsciously tapped his fingers on the armrest of his seat.

(No. 39, 5-chome, Yoneka-cho...an old style Japanese style house...)