The vehicle came to a steady stop in front of the magnificent yet oppressively ancient main entrance of the Twilight Mansion. Other detectives, scholars, and treasure hunters who had arrived earlier were gathered in small groups in the plaza before the door, either talking in low voices or warily scrutinizing this legendary building and each other. The air was thick with a complex atmosphere mixing expectation, greed, unease, and professional alertness.
After getting out of the car, Saguru Hakuba and Ooka Momiji subconsciously looked at Kanjuro, as if waiting for his "instructions" or "permission." Kanjuro only gave them a gentle smile and made a "suit yourselves" gesture, as if they were truly ordinary friends traveling together. The two exchanged a glance and, with hearts full of doubt and heaviness, walked toward the edge of the crowd, attempting to gather more information and instinctively wanting to stay a bit further away from a source of danger like Kanjuro.
Kanjuro did not enter the mansion immediately. He stood alone by the car, his back to the bustling crowd, facing a somewhat dark area to the side of the mansion planted with a forest of giant conifers. The last rays of the setting sun stretched his slender shadow long, almost merging it into the shadows of the forest.
He took out his encrypted communicator; the screen lit up, still displaying "Vmou~th."
Connected.
"You've arrived," Vermouth's voice came through. The background was exceptionally quiet, as if she were in some enclosed, soundproof space.
"Mm," Kanjuro responded, his gaze falling on the windows of the mansion reflecting the dull golden light. "There are more people than expected. It seems 'That Man' is quite willing to set out bait."
"Bait?" Vermouth chuckled, her laughter carrying a trace of imperceptible fatigue and sarcasm. "Perhaps. However, according to the intelligence I just confirmed, these people gathered here for a more direct reason besides the temptation of 'treasure'—the Boss hopes they can 'unite'."
"Unite?" Kanjuro's brow arched slightly.
"Yes," Vermouth lowered her voice and spoke faster, conveying the urgency of the information. "The Boss clearly feels threatened. Spreading news of the treasure to attract these sharp-nosed, pretentious detectives and adventurers is, on one hand, to use the mansion's complex environment to create chaos and barriers. On the other hand... I'm afraid he has the intention of 'driving tigers to swallow wolves' or 'killing with a borrowed knife.' He hopes these people, in the chaos, will unintentionally or forcibly become obstacles against you, or even... weapons."
Kanjuro listened quietly without any expression of surprise. Instead, the curve of his lips became more pronounced—it was the pleasure of seeing a prey make an interesting struggle.
"Unite to deal with me?" he repeated, his tone full of playfulness. "Truly... an interesting arrangement. A rabble of people, each with their own schemes and suspicions, attempting to oppose another existence they don't understand at all, within a labyrinth owned by a master who controls their lives. Has That Man become so old that he's started to enjoy watching such farces?"
Vermouth was silent for a moment on the other end of the line before saying, "Perhaps he believes that numbers, combined with the mansion's 'home-field advantage,' can always create some trouble and exhaust your energy. After all, you are his 'greatest threat'."
"Greatest threat?" Kanjuro chuckled. "I'm honored he thinks so highly of me. So, my dear Vermouth, where are you now? In some secret room of this Golden Cage, accompanying that terrified 'old crow'?"
Vermouth didn't answer directly, but asked instead, "What does Father need me to do? Act as an internal contact? Or..."
"Come out," Kanjuro interrupted her. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unquestionable tone of command. "I want to see you. Now."
The other end of the phone fell into a brief silence again. Kanjuro could almost imagine Vermouth's possible expression at this moment—the corners of her mouth, which always wore a mysterious smile, might be slightly pursed, and a complex weighing of options would flash in her ice-blue eyes.
After a few seconds, Vermouth's voice sounded again. In her usual laziness and magnetism, there seemed to be a hint of helplessness, a hint of resignation, and even an extremely subtle, indescribable ripple.
"I know..." she said slowly, her voice as light as a sigh, "you have always wanted to 'have' me. Since a long time ago, from the first time we had meaningful contact."
Kanjuro did not deny it, merely listening quietly.
"In the Organization, I am the Thousand-Faced Demoness, the capable subordinate whom Boss trusts (at least on the surface). I manipulate hearts, control intelligence, and walk the line between light and shadow." Vermouth continued, as if dissecting herself. "I have met countless powerful men, and I have used them and discarded them. I thought I was strong enough, cold-blooded enough, to forever control my own destiny and emotions."
She paused, the helplessness in her voice becoming more apparent:
"But facing you... Kanjuro. Your power, your very existence, is like the abyss gazing back. Resistance, scheming, maneuvering... in the face of an absolute difference in essence, they all seem ridiculous and futile. Just like you told that little detective—'It would be easy for me to kill you, but there's no need.'"
She seemed to smile self-deprecatingly:
"For me, perhaps it could be changed to—'It would be easy for you to have me; my resistance would be useless.'"
A dark light flashed across Kanjuro's eyes. He slowly spoke, "So?"
"Therefore..." Vermouth took a deep breath, her voice suddenly becoming clear and resolute, the helplessness transforming into a certain determination. "Wait for me. I will come out to meet you. Just outside the mansion, at the place you designate. However, please understand that I need some time and skill to leave the mansion without arousing Boss's suspicion. After all, the performance... is always most exciting when played until the very end, isn't it?"
"Very well." Kanjuro's voice held satisfaction. "I will be on the edge of the Spruce Forest, to the right of the main entrance. Don't keep me waiting too long, Vermouth."
"I won't." Vermouth responded softly, and the communication was cut off.
Kanjuro put away the communicator, turned, and leaned against the car door, his gaze returning to the wide-open gate of the Twilight Mansion, which seemed capable of swallowing all light, and the people still bustling outside, oblivious to the darkness about to descend. A deep, expectant smile slowly appeared on his face.
Renya Karasuma attempted to use noise and obstacles to interfere with him.
Yet, he was about to gain the most fatal and beautiful chess piece, one planted in the enemy's heart, who was actively defecting to him.
This game at the Twilight Mansion was becoming more and more interesting. He looked up at the sky gradually being stained by the twilight, then looked at the increasingly heavy shadows at the edge of the forest, quietly waiting for the Thousand-Faced Demoness to arrive. True hunters often quietly lock onto the most crucial target when their prey thinks they have set up an inescapable trap. At the edge of the Spruce Forest, the light was fragmented by the dense needles, forming a quiet shaded area distinctly different from the noisy mansion entrance nearby. The cold scent of pine needles and the dampness of the earth permeated the air. Kanjuro leaned against a thick tree trunk, his posture seemingly languid, but his deep eyes keenly captured every unusual movement in the woods.
He did not wait long.
A figure, like a melting shadow, silently slipped out from the deeper woods. The person was wearing dark, form-fitting clothes suitable for movement, covered by an inconspicuous grey trench coat. Her long blonde hair was simply tied back. Her face was bare of makeup, yet her stunning beauty was undiminished, instead adding a sense of competence and coldness—it was Vermouth, or rather, Sharon Vineyard, closer to her true essence, having shed the glamorous Disguise of the "Thousand-Faced Demoness."
She stopped a few steps in front of Kanjuro, her icy blue eyes like a cold pool in the dim light, gazing at him with complexity. There was none of her usual languid, mysterious smile, nor any deliberate wariness or flattery, only a near-candid calmness, and deep within, an unspeakable tremor, as if drawn by the abyss.
"Father." She spoke, her voice clearer and more substantial than it had been over the communication line.
Kanjuro's gaze slowly swept over her, as if evaluating a precious, recovered collectible, finally settling on her beautiful eyes. "It seems escaping the 'Birdcage' was smoother than expected."
"Boss's attention is mostly focused on how to use those detectives and guarding against a potential frontal assault from you. Monitoring me... inevitably has loopholes." Vermouth took two steps closer, near enough to feel their mutual presence. "Besides, a 'Thousand-Faced Demoness' who occasionally needs to perform reconnaissance or liaison missions alone always has a reasonable excuse for briefly stepping out of sight."
Kanjuro nodded in agreement. "In that case, we now have an entire night." His tone held a hint of playfulness. "Before entering that Golden Cage and facing that Old Crow, perhaps we can first enjoy some rare 'free' time? For instance, a... date, just between the two of us?"
Vermouth did not answer immediately. She tilted her head slightly, seemingly considering the proposal seriously. A glint of near-mischief flashed in her icy blue eyes. "That sounds nice. Away from the Organization, away from missions, just you and me... A date in a place like this certainly suits our style."
She did not refuse; she even stepped forward, reaching out a hand, her fingertips lightly brushing the collar of Kanjuro's jacket, the action carrying a bold sense of testing and intimacy. "However, before enjoying our 'date,' there is a small matter we need to handle to ensure tomorrow's 'performance' is foolproof."
·· 0 flowers requested 0 --- "Oh?" Kanjuro grasped her mischievous hand, his fingertips rubbing the inside of her wrist, feeling the steady, strong pulse there. "Tell me about it."
Vermouth allowed him to hold her hand, her expression turning serious. "Boss doesn't trust me completely. Although he relies on me, suspicion is his nature. I came out this time under the pretext of 'peripheral reconnaissance to confirm if any other suspicious forces are approaching.' But if I return empty-handed, or if I am gone for too long, it will inevitably arouse deeper suspicion."
She paused, lowering her voice. "Therefore, we need a 'result,' a reasonable 'achievement' that can explain why I stayed outside and brought back valuable intelligence."
"You mean?"
"Among those detectives, there is a woman named 'Disguise.'" A cold light flashed in Vermouth's eyes. "She was formerly a Prosecutor, and after resigning, she became a detective. Her observation and deduction skills are excellent, and... she has shown unusual interest in some of the Organization's old cases. She was already one of the targets Boss intended to 'eliminate,' it was just a matter of time."
She looked up at Kanjuro. "My plan is for you to replace her."
Kanjuro raised an eyebrow, instantly understanding her meaning. "Kill her, and I will use Disguise to replace her. Then you 'discover' and 'control' this suspicious person attempting to spy on the periphery, bringing me back as a 'captive' or 'collaborator.' This way, you have an excuse for leaving and 'merit,' and I can enter the core area of the mansion directly under a new, less noticeable identity, observing That Man up close, perhaps even... appearing before him when he least expects it."
..."Exactly." Vermouth nodded, a cold arc curving her lips. "Disguise is a loner, not close with others, and her professional habit is to conduct peripheral reconnaissance after arriving at a new environment. Disappearing for a few hours won't immediately cause a massive disturbance. And with your capabilities, Father, mimicking her appearance, voice, behavioral habits, and even some basic thought patterns should pose no problem."
Kanjuro pondered for a moment, then smiled. "A very interesting plan. It allows you to gain Renya Karasuma's trust while allowing me to make a more 'interesting' entrance. So, where is this Miss Disguise now?"
"Ten minutes ago, I saw her heading alone toward the Old Bell Tower on the west side of the mansion. She said she wanted to check the view there and sketch a simple map." Vermouth reported the information. "That place is remote, a surveillance blind spot—a good place to act."
"No time to lose." Kanjuro released Vermouth's hand and straightened up. "Lead the way. Let us complete the prelude to this 'date' first."
A strange light flashed in Vermouth's eyes. She nodded, turned, and disappeared into the shadows of the woods like a nimble female leopard. Kanjuro followed unhurriedly. Their figures quickly vanished into the deepening twilight and the trees.
A moment later, beneath the dilapidated, vine-covered Old Bell Tower on the west side of the mansion, in a clearing overgrown with weeds.
The female detective Disguise, with her neat short hair and competent demeanor, was focusedly observing the side structure of the mansion with a small telescope, quickly making notes in a notebook. She was completely absorbed, not even hearing the faint, almost silent sound of the grass being parted behind her.
Until a gentle male voice sounded extremely close behind her: "Miss Disguise, is the view good?"
Disguise froze, spinning around abruptly, her hand already reaching for the Self-Defense Stun Gun hidden at her waist. However, she only saw a blurred afterimage and a pair of eyes that seemed to emit a dark purple light in the dimness. The next moment, an irresistible, cold, and massive psychic force brutally rushed into her consciousness, instantly drowning all her thoughts, alertness, and intent to resist like a tsunami.
dark bible: Consciousness Overwrite.
Her eyes instantly lost focus, and her body collapsed softly, without even making a sound.
Kanjuro supported her falling body and gently laid her in the grass. He crouched down, his fingers brushing her cheek, carefully examining her face, hair color, skin details, and even the length of her eyelashes. A dark purple light flowed between his fingertips and eyes, as a deeper form of "imitation," transcending mere Disguise, quietly took place.
Vermouth stepped out from the nearby shadows, watching the scene quietly. There was no pity in her eyes, only a nearly cold appreciation.
Before long, "Disguise" stood up again, flexing her neck and wrist. Her movements and posture were eighty or ninety percent similar to the female detective before. She fi.
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