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

Without answering, he turned his head somewhat anxiously and gestured to his subordinate, "Go! Go check that box, be careful."

One of his men received the order and carefully walked around the scattered debris and lingering dust on the ground to the box in the corner.

Every step he took resonated deeply with everyone.

With a gun pressed against his forehead, Mezzo's gaze followed his subordinate's movements, and the mockery on his face seemed to deepen.

She did not answer Rum's question, but simply shook her head slightly, as if lamenting the folly of a dying man.

This subtle action completely enraged Rum, and amplified the unease in his heart.

He thrust the gun forward again, almost pressing it into Mezzo's forehead: "Answer me!"

Just then, the subordinate who had been inspecting the box walked up to it.

He cautiously poked the box with the muzzle of his gun, listened intently, and then crouched down to inspect the latches and supports.

"Lord Rum."

The subordinate looked up, a hint of confusion on his face. "The box... is locked, but it's very light, it seems to have no weight."

"Open it!"

Rum said sternly, his ominous premonition growing stronger.

His subordinates responded and began trying to pry open the lock on the box.

The faint sound of metal rubbing together was particularly jarring in the silent passageway.

Curaçao stood a little further away, gripping his gun, watching Mezzo and the surrounding movements warily.

At this moment, she felt a little uneasy, just like Rum.

Mezzo's nonchalant gaze and his inexplicable, fearless charge at Rum just now suggested that he truly didn't care about the box at all.

Is Cointreau's plan truly foolproof?

Rum's men finally pried open the lock on the trunk. He took a deep breath and flung open the lid—

It was completely empty.

There was nothing but a soft padding at the bottom of the box.

"Empty..."

The subordinate turned around in surprise and looked at Rum.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment.

Rum's smugness and excitement completely shattered at that moment. His one eye stared intently at the empty box, his facial muscles twitched violently, and then disbelief and rage surged onto his face.

"Empty?! How is that possible?!"

He roared hysterically, his voice echoing through the corridor, "I clearly saw you carrying it! You've been protecting it! How could this be?!"

He whirled around, almost shoving the gun into Mezzo's eye, grabbed her collar with his other hand, half-lifted her off the ground, and roared with a ferocious expression:

"Where's Karasuma Renya?! Where's that old bastard baby?! Where did you hide him?! Tell me!!!"

Mezzo was roughly lifted up, the excruciating pain from her ripped wound making her even paler, but she grinned, revealing her bloodied teeth, and laughed.

The laughter was hoarse and broken, still carrying a mocking tone.

"Heh...heh heh heh, guess, Rum." She gasped for breath, each word laced with blood. "Weren't you so smug? Didn't you think you were sure to win? And now? You've bet everything, and you haven't even caught a glimpse of the Master...hahahaha...cough cough—"

"Shut up!"

Rum roared and slammed the butt of his gun into Mezzo's cheek, producing a dull thud of flesh hitting bone.

Mezzo's head was knocked to one side, blood gushing from the corner of her mouth and nostrils, but she was still smiling, her contempt as sharp as the most piercing knife.

“That man is more afraid of death than you think.” Zoe spat out a mouthful of blood, but his voice was unusually clear. “You’re dead, Rum. The man’s reckoning afterward will show you what real… pain is.”

"Shut up!!"

Rum interrupted her furiously, his knuckles turning white from the force, almost pulling the trigger.

But his remaining rationality told him that killing Mezzo might really cut off the trail.

At this point, Curaçao also started to panic.

The outcome that seemed certain to be won took such a dramatic turn at the last moment. She was just as flustered, but she forced herself to calm down and hurried forward:

"Lord Rum, could it be that there are secret passages in the tunnel that we don't know about, and the target was secretly moved halfway through? We should start searching immediately."

"A secret passage...yes, a secret passage!"

Rum seemed to be awakened by Curaçao's words.

The fear of not being able to catch Karasuma Renya was now eroding his ambition. He could almost see that man's cold gaze watching him from somewhere in the shadows of the tunnel, watching him struggle like a clown in this filthy tunnel.

"Damn it, I will find it... I must find it..."

Rum released Mezzo's collar, took a step back, and scanned the dimly lit passageway around him with a hint of anxiety, as if trying to find hidden answers in the textures of the stone walls.

He cannot accept failure, cannot accept that all his efforts will be in vain!

A few seconds later, he suddenly raised the muzzle of his gun and, without hesitation, aimed it at Mezzo's forehead on the ground.

“Since you won’t talk…” Rum’s voice was hoarse, like a demon, “then die. I’ll find him myself!”

boom!

The gunshots were particularly deafening in the confined space.

Mezzo's body convulsed violently, revealing a shocking bloody hole in his forehead.

The last trace of mockery on her face froze, and her eyes quickly dimmed.

Rum didn't even glance at the corpse, turned and walked towards the empty crate, barking at Curaçao and his men:

"What are you all standing there for?! Search! Every inch of the wall, every stone slab! There must be a secret passage! Dig three feet into the ground and find that old bastard baby!!!"

The men immediately sprang into action, tapping on the walls and floor, checking every crack and crevice.

Rum stood beside the empty crate, watching his men work tirelessly but to no avail, his anxiety churning within him.

Mezzo's dying words kept echoing in his ears.

(No! I won't lose! I must find you, Karasuma Renya! And then... I'll strangle you, you monster, with my own hands!)

"Faster! Faster!"

He urged impatiently, his one eye frantically scanning the dimly lit passage, as if the baby BOSS was hiding behind the next shadow.

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 black sedan sped along the highway shrouded in night.

Gin leaned back in the passenger seat with his eyes closed, but his tense body and fierce expression showed that he was far from relaxed.

The pain in his ribs with every breath reminded him of the crushing defeat and humiliation of the night. As he drew closer to his destination, the murderous intent in his heart grew stronger.

Vodka drove with focused concentration.

Sudden--

hum.

The slight vibration from his chest made Gin suddenly open his eyes. He took out his phone, opened it, and found an email... and the email address was 9696261—the Boss's email address!

Has communication been restored by now?

Gin's expression turned serious.

"Come to this position, immediately. Alone."

The command was concise, direct, and left no room for argument—a style consistent with that gentleman's.

The email also includes location information at the bottom.

Gin didn't hesitate and immediately said, "Turn around, vodka."

"Huh? Big brother, where are we going?"

Vodka was startled and almost slammed on the brakes.

"The ruins of the former Beika Town Aquarium," Gin stated the coordinates, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Now."

"aquarium?"

Vodka was somewhat surprised.

They're only two streets away from 5-39 Beikacho, so why the sudden change of target?

"The plans have changed."

Gin interrupted him without explaining further, "Execute the order."

"...Yes, elder brother!"

Despite his many questions, Vodka's absolute obedience to Gin made him immediately jerk the steering wheel.

The car traced a sharp arc on the empty road, its tires screeching as they rubbed against the pavement, before accelerating off in the exact opposite direction.

Gin leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the rapidly receding night view outside the window, the faint glow of his phone screen reflecting on his cold, handsome profile.

He examined the email again carefully. Every character and every punctuation mark was unmistakable; it was definitely a letter from the Boss.

(Old aquarium, underground...)

(Why is the gentleman there?)

Also, what exactly is going on between Rum and Cointreau?

Countless thoughts collided in his mind.

Gin touched the wound under his ribs; the pain made him even more lucid.

Vodka.

He suddenly spoke, his voice low, "Once we reach the outskirts of our destination, you will remain in the car and wait. Keep all communications silent, but remain vigilant. Do not approach without my signal, and do not make any rash moves."

"Big brother! Whose message was that just now? Isn't it too dangerous for you to go alone!?"

"This is an order."

Gin's tone was resolute: "If I don't contact you in two hours, or if you notice anything unusual, leave immediately. You can take Chianti and the others and hide."

His inexplicable order made Vodka a little uneasy.

But he couldn't think that far ahead. He could only remain silent for a moment before nodding heavily, "...Understood, brother! Please be careful!"

The car, like a ghost in the night, headed towards the Mikasa Aquarium.

As night deepened, the destination drew nearer.

The old aquarium, its massive outline revealed in the moonlight, resembled a silent behemoth, opening its dark entrance.

This place is somewhat familiar to Gin.

—This is where Cointreau carried out his first mission.

It was precisely because of the series of accidental murders that the aquarium's popularity declined, forcing it to relocate to a new site, leaving the old site closed to the public.

It was precisely because this place was related to Cointreau that Gin had a vague feeling that something was wrong.

But he had to go no matter what.

This is not only out of loyalty to Karasuma Renya, but also to find out the truth and to regain control.

Chapter 123: Please allow me to give a formal self-introduction again.

Mihana Old Aquarium

After the relocation to the new site, this place seemed to have been completely forgotten.

Gin had Vodka park the car in the shadows some distance away, then got out alone and walked toward the tightly closed, dusty side door.

The door wasn't locked; it slid open silently with a gentle push, as if waiting for his arrival.

The interior was not completely dark as he had imagined; the emergency indicator lights emitted a faint green glow, outlining the shape of the empty hall.

The air was filled with a mixture of dust and musty moisture, but there wasn’t much clutter inside, and you could still vaguely see signs indicating the old tour routes.