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

"But I just saw the news about James Black on TV. They actually chose to expose his identity directly?"

Upon hearing Hayashi Yoshiki mention James Black, Amuro Tooru seemed to shift his mood, stating quite frankly, "Regarding James's death, the higher-ups' attitude is rather ambiguous right now."

"How to say?"

"The crash of the two planes, although it did not cause large-scale civilian casualties, has put enormous pressure on international public opinion. Countries around the world are questioning Japan's airspace security and counter-terrorism capabilities."

Amuro explained, "So the higher-ups decided to reveal FBI agent James's identity. After all, he inexplicably showed up there with binoculars, and it might lead public opinion toward 'international espionage' or 'conspiracy theories,' thus diverting some of the public's attention."

"Because the FBI does not have law enforcement authority in Japan, admitting that he was there on a mission would be tantamount to admitting that the United States was illegally enforcing the law in Japan, which would cause even greater diplomatic trouble. So the higher-ups are currently defining him as a private tourist, probably still weighing the pros and cons, and seeing whether they need to play the card of his illegal entry again later."

"I see."

This kind of political consideration was not unexpected for Lin Jiashu.

Therefore, he did not make any extra maneuvers on the two planes. Sometimes, the simpler you do things, the less likely you are to expose any flaws.

"In short, Yoshiki, be careful lately. This incident could affect many people. Tell me immediately if you notice anything unusual."

"Don't worry, Mr. Amuro."

Lin Jiashu responded gently, "I'll be careful. You too, don't push yourself too hard."

The other end of the phone hung up quickly.

Lin Jiashu closed his book, looked at the blue sky outside the window, and the smile in his eyes gradually deepened.

Amuro Tooru remained astute, but what he saw was merely the tip of the iceberg when it came to the truth of last night.

"Cleaning...?"

He muttered to himself, his fingers gently stroking the phone screen.

This was indeed a purge.

However, the one holding the broom is myself.

James's death, Rum's downfall, and now Karasuma Renya, who is completely under his control, will all become footnotes to the end of the old era.

On this ruin, a new order is growing wildly under his will, like vines, tightly binding the entire organization and everything deeper within it.

He will not only control the darkness, but will also live a more glamorous life in the sunlight than anyone else.

That's his game rule.

Everything always goes according to the script.

-

Ah, last night's title, "Epilogue," refers to the end of the event; there's still some wrap-up to be written.

Chapter 127: Inheritance

In an inconspicuous safe house in Tokyo.

The air was thick with the smell of disinfectant and alcohol. Gin was shirtless, and the bandages on his body had been re-bandaged, but even so, there were still a few spots of blood seeping out.

He held a cell phone in his hand, the screen displaying an encrypted electronic document—a list of Rum's remaining forces, strongholds, and lurking agents in various locations.

"Big brother, what is this...?"

Vodka stood to the side, holding anti-inflammatory medicine and gauze, staring wide-eyed at the list on Gin's screen, his eyes behind his sunglasses wide open.

"Rum's Legacy".

Gin's voice was hoarse and cold. He turned off the screen and casually tossed the phone onto the table beside him with a soft "thud." "It was sent by that woman, Vermouth."

“Vermouth?” Vodka was taken aback. “When did she get this list?”

"That's not important."

Gin coldly interrupted him, "The important thing is that someone wants us to clean house."

He stood up, ignoring the pain from his wounds, and draped a black trench coat over his body, covering his scars.

"So what do we do now...?"

"Go and finish up."

Gin put on his black top hat, his eyes instantly becoming as sharp as a knife. "Now that we have the list, there's no reason to waste it."

He strode toward the door, the black hem of his coat drawing a cold, sharp arc behind him.

“Cohen and Tequila are seriously injured and can’t move for the time being.” Gin paused, a hint of amusement in his voice. “However, Cointreau is quite considerate and has arranged two good helpers for us.”

"A helper?" Vodka asked, puzzled.

Gin sneered, "Two women, hopefully they'll be of some use."

……

Over the next three days, Tokyo and the surrounding underworld experienced a silent but brutal massacre.

There was no large-scale gunfight, no major operation that alerted the police; everything proceeded quietly in the shadows of the night.

One by one, inconspicuous safe houses were quietly demolished, and one by one, deeply hidden middlemen, intelligence brokers, and even some officials and businessmen bribed by Rum suddenly disappeared or encountered "accidents" on a certain night.

Shimizu Reiko and Urako Seiran demonstrated astonishing professionalism and ruthlessness. They were able to complete the cleanup mission efficiently without much direction from Gin, and were even more adept than some members of the action team.

In an abandoned dock warehouse in Tokyo Bay, Gin sat on a dilapidated chair, toying with a Beretta pistol in his hand, his gaze coldly fixed on the few people kneeling on the ground in front of him.

These men were all Rum's capable henchmen, responsible for the operation of the intelligence network and the management of the financial chain.

At this moment, they were all bruised and swollen, trembling all over, their eyes filled with fear.

"Gin... Lord Gin... We really don't know anything! We were just following orders..."

A bald, middle-aged man pleaded for mercy with a mournful face.

"Follow orders?"

Gin's lips curled into a mocking sneer as he slowly raised the gun, aiming it at the man's forehead. "Rum is dead. You bunch of stray dogs should go and be buried with him."

No! Don't—

boom!

Gunshots rang out, and the middle-aged man fell to the ground with a bloody hole between his eyebrows.

The remaining people were terrified, and some even wet their pants on the spot.

Gin didn't even glance at the corpse, his gaze sweeping over the remaining people: "Who else wants to say 'follow orders'?"

"We are willing to surrender! We are willing to pledge our loyalty to you, Lord Gin!"

"Yes! We'll tell you everything we know! Please spare our lives!"

"Swear allegiance to me?"

Gin scoffed, his eyes full of disdain. "No, you are not qualified."

He didn't care who would control the intelligence group in the future. Whoever ended up in their hands, as long as it didn't affect the action group's status, it didn't matter to him. He only needed the knife to be sharp enough; that was sufficient.

He stood up and waved to Vodka behind him.

"Get rid of it. I don't want the trash."

"yes, Sir!"

Vodka stepped forward with a sinister grin, holding a submachine gun fitted with a silencer.

The warehouse was soon filled with muffled gunshots and desperate screams, but then fell silent again.

Gin walked out of the warehouse and stood in front of the railing by the sea, letting the cold sea breeze caress his face.

He took out his phone and dialed the number.

The phone rang once and was answered.

"Is the cleaning finished?"

Lin Jiashu's gentle voice came through.

“Most of them,” Gin’s voice was indifferent. “The rest of the small fry can be dealt with by the subordinates.”

"Thank you for your hard work." Yoshiki Hayashi smiled. "You did a great job, Gin. Even faster than I expected."

"Don't talk to me like that, like a boss."

Gin said somewhat irritably, "I'm just following that man's orders."

"Of course." There was no hint of offense in Lin Jiashu's voice. "The sir is very satisfied with your efficiency."

Gin remained silent for a moment, without mentioning the ownership of Rum's intelligence network. That kind of thing, whoever wants it can have it.

"There's one more thing."

Hayashi Yoshiki's voice suddenly became more serious, "About Kir, that is, Mizunashi Rena."

"..." Gin waited for him to continue.

"She's a CIA agent, infiltrating the operations team as an undercover agent, and she also has connections with the FBI."

"……very good."

Upon hearing the identity of the undercover agent, Gin's face instantly turned ferocious, and he immediately prepared to turn around and kill the guy.

"Don't rush, Gin."

Lin Jiashu chuckled. "An exposed undercover agent is less threatening than a kitten with its teeth pulled. Sometimes, turning the tables on these guys might be a better option. There's no need to rush to kill them."

The current Black Organization is its own Black Organization.

Now that they were all under his control, Lin Jiashu naturally couldn't let these undercover agents harm his interests.

"...Whatever you want."

Gin hung up the phone coldly.

Vodka walked up from behind, carrying a still-smoking submachine gun, and asked hesitantly, "Brother, what's the situation with Cointreau...? How could he...?"

"Shut up, vodka."

Gin coldly interrupted him, "There are some things you don't need to know."

Gin remains tight-lipped about Cointreau's other identity—Mezzo.

This is the BOSS's secret, and also Cointreau's trump card. He will not reveal it to anyone, not even vodka.

Vodka shrank back, not daring to ask any more questions.

As Gin gazed at the lighthouse's glowing light on the distant sea, he felt not anger at being used, but rather a strange sense of irony.

That idiot Rum went to great lengths to set up so many smokescreens and create so much unnecessary smokescreen, but in the end, he was still crushed like an ant.

And Cointreau...

That's a brilliant move to play the dual role.

On the surface, he is a respected detective; in secret, he is Jundu, a member of the organization's action team; and deeper still, he is "Mezzo," the most trusted bodyguard of that gentleman.

This is the real disguise.

Gin even felt a little amused.

In comparison, Rum's methods were laughably childish, like playing house.

"Humph……"

Gin flicked his cigarette butt into the sea, turned around, and got into his Porsche.

"Big brother, where are we going?"

"Let's go back to the safe house first." Gin closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "There's still a lot of mess to clean up."

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.

A few days later in Tokyo, the sky remained overcast, as if the dust kicked up by the devastating explosion had not yet completely settled.

But these things are temporarily completely separated from Lin Jiashu's life.

Mihana Second Apartment.

The curtains were half-drawn, filtering the slightly glaring afternoon sunlight into a softer hue.

Lin Jiashu sat at the computer desk in the study, holding a pen in his hand, with a black-covered notebook open in front of him.