He stiffly, bit by bit, turned his neck as if it were rusted (if there were still normal physiological structures beneath it). He "looked" at his most relied-upon left and right hands as if looking at two completely strange monsters.
"You... you...?" The synthesized voice became extremely weak and intermittent, filled with absurdity and collapse. "Gin... Vodka... what are you doing?! Get up! Kill him! I command you!!"
However, the two kneeling on the ground acted as if they hadn't heard. Gin even slightly turned his head to cast a glance in Renya Karasuma's direction. That gaze was cold and indifferent, like looking at an irrelevant, babbling source of background noise.
Vermouth's laughter rang out at the right time, like silver bells, yet more piercing than any mockery. "Oh my, Boss, don't you understand yet?" She walked to Kanjuro's side, almost leaning on his shoulder, her face blooming like a flower. "Gin and Vodka haven't been your dogs for a long time. They... in the depths of their souls, have long been engraved with Father's mark. You were just too confident and too dull to ever notice."
She extended her slender fingers, playing with a strand of Kanjuro's black hair, her tone as relaxed as if sharing gossip. "The power of the dark bible isn't just about controlling obvious targets. It influences subtly, erodes the essence, and stamps a brand in the deepest layers of consciousness... by the time they realize it themselves, they are already unable to resist, and even... willing."
Renya Karasuma's body began to tremble uncontrollably and violently, and the high-backed chair let out an overburdened creak. The strongest force and most loyal blades he relied on to control his massive organization and implement his century-long ambition had actually changed masters at the soul level long ago! And he had known absolutely nothing! He had even smugly arranged for them to be by his side as his final shield!
This was not just betrayal; it was a total negation of his entire existence and capacity for control! It was a spiritual execution far worse than if Kanjuro had simply killed him!
"No... impossible... when did you..." The synthesized voice was broken, filled with a death-struggle-like raspiness.
Kanjuro finally spoke again. He appreciated Renya Karasuma's visible collapse as if watching a brilliant tragedy. He lightly raised his hand, signaling Gin and Vodka to rise.
The two immediately obeyed, standing up silently and raising their guns once more, but this time, the direction they guarded had completely shifted.
"When?" Kanjuro walked slowly toward the high platform, his boots making clear tapping sounds on the transparent floor. Each step seemed to stomp on Renya Karasuma's crumbling psychological defenses. "Does it matter? What matters is that now, here, your reliance, your rules, your game... they are all over, Renya Karasuma."
He stopped at the edge of the platform, tilting his head slightly to look at the figure that appeared exceptionally small, withered, and pitiful under the oversized black robes and mask.
"Now, it's just you and me." The corners of Kanjuro's mouth curled into a cold, heartless arc. "Oh, right, and those pitiful, laughable obsessions of yours regarding 'immortality.' We can have a good chat about how you turned yourself into something neither human nor ghost, and... how to put a 'perfect' end to this long and sinful life of yours."
Standing behind him, Ooka Momiji watched this subversive scene, her heart racing uncontrollably. Gin and Vodka's kneeling gave her a bone-chilling coldness even greater than Kanjuro tearing off his disguise. It was a deeper, more absolute form of control, where even the souls and wills of others could be quietly altered and claimed as his own. Kanjuro's fearsomeness far exceeded anything she had previously imagined.
And Renya Karasuma, that mysterious and terrifying 'king of crows,' now seemed like nothing more than a hollow, nearly shattered husk under the successive blows. His final pride and trump cards were vulnerable and weak before Kanjuro.
In the scorching hall, the atmosphere reached a bizarre peak. On one side was a century-old ghost, completely broken and isolated; on the other was a profound Dark Monarch in total control, along with the sharp blades under his command that had already defected. The outcome seemed predestined. The only suspense remained in how Kanjuro would lower the final curtain on this dark chapter that had lasted far too long. The finale of the Twilight Mansion concluded with Renya Karasuma's decayed body, which carried a century of ambition, turning to ash under the reflection of dark-gold lava (or some other end fitting Kanjuro's wicked sense of humor). The 'king of crows' who once loomed over the shadow world became history entirely, and the vast, sprawling dark empire he left behind—the Black Organization—welcomed its new, younger, and even more terrifying master.
A few days later, somewhere in Tokyo, hidden deep beneath a cluster of modern skyscrapers, was the secret conference hall belonging to the core of the organization.
This place was starkly different from the ancient luxury of the Twilight Mansion, filled with a cold, hard sense of technology. Cold metal walls and faint blue holographic projections suspended in mid-air displayed intelligence nodes and capital flows from around the globe. The long conference table was made of a matte black composite material, reflecting the sickly white light from the ceiling. The air was thick with the scent of disinfectant, the subtle hum of electronic equipment, and an invisible, breathtaking sense of oppression.
Inside the hall, almost all the backbone members of the Black Organization in Japan, as well as important global cadres who could be urgently summoned, had arrived. Dressed in uniform black suits or tactical gear, they stood silently on both sides of the conference table like soldiers waiting for inspection, yet the atmosphere was far more solemn and eerie than any military gathering. Every face bore unconcealable suspicion, unease, and deeply buried fear.
News regarding the fall of 'That Person' and the change in the organization's supreme power had already spread like wildfire through specific channels, but the details were blurry, and the truth was shrouded in layers of mist. They only knew they were to meet their new leader today, a terrifying existence who reportedly overturned the old order with thunderous methods and even made Gin and Vodka submit.
"Tap, tap, tap..."
Crisp, steady footsteps approached from the alloy corridor at the side of the hall, striking the heartstrings of everyone present.
Everyone's gaze focused there instantly.
The first to walk in was Gin. He was still dressed in black, his long silver hair meticulous, his cold face devoid of expression. His ice-green eyes swept across the room like a scanner, bringing a wave of freezing chill. He held no gun, but his invisible killing intent made many hearts shudder.
Following closely was Vodka, his gaze behind his sunglasses equally solemn, his burly frame like a moving iron tower guarding the side.
Then came Vermouth. She had changed into a sharply tailored dark-red suit skirt, her blonde hair pinned up to reveal her elegant, slender neck. A signature, mysterious smile played on her face, and her steps were elegant and composed, as if she were walking onto a red carpet at a high-end banquet rather than into a grim command center.
The appearance of these three, especially their clear posture of 'guarding' and 'leading' at the front, silently confirmed some of the most unbelievable rumors.
Finally, the owner of the footsteps appeared.
Kanjuro wore a custom black suit without a tie, the top button of his shirt casually undone, the lines of the jacket perfectly fitting his tall, slender frame. He walked slowly into the hall, his face devoid of any deliberate majesty or killing intent, even carrying a hint of faint laziness as if he had just finished a boring meeting. But his eyes—those eyes as deep as the night sky that seemed capable of swallowing all light—simply swept calmly across the room, and it was enough to make everyone who met his gaze instinctively lower their eyes, feeling their very souls tremble.
He walked straight to the only vacant high-backed command chair at the end of the conference table, which was clearly distinct from the other seats, and sat down in a relaxed manner. Gin, Vodka, and Vermouth naturally stood behind his chair to the left and right, like his most loyal vanguard.
One could hear a pin drop in the hall; even the sound of breathing was deliberately suppressed.
Kanjuro did not speak immediately, merely tapping the smooth tabletop lightly with his fingertips, creating a rhythmic sound. This sound was amplified in the silence, like a countdown's second hand, drumming on everyone's nerves.
After a long while, he finally spoke slowly. His voice wasn't loud, yet it reached everyone's ears clearly, carrying an unquestionable, calm power:
"From today on, I am in charge here."
There was no impassioned declaration, no lengthy explanation, only a statement so simple it was profound.
"The old era has ended. Renya Karasuma and his ways, along with his Twilight Mansion, are things of the past." Kanjuro's gaze slowly swept over the crowd, as if evaluating the worth of each tool. "I don't care who you were loyal to in the past or what thoughts you harbored. I only care about your loyalty, your efficiency, and your value from this moment forward."
He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table and fingers interlaced, his gaze becoming sharp: "The organization's goals, structure, and style of operation will be adjusted. Gin and Vermouth will convey the specifics to you later. For now, you only need to remember one thing—"
He paused, his voice suddenly turning cold, like a Siberian wind sweeping through the hall:
"Those who follow me shall prosper; those who oppose me shall perish."
The cold killing intent wasn't intense, yet it was like physical ice water soaking into everyone's marrow. No one doubted the truth of these words. A man who could silently deal with Renya Karasuma and make the likes of Gin submit definitely had the ability and resolve to put those words into practice.
"To ensure the purity of the new era," Kanjuro's tone returned to being flat, as if discussing clearing out a warehouse, "we need to first deal with some... leftover 'impurities'."
As his voice fell, a wall on one side of the conference hall suddenly turned into a transparent display screen. A series of encrypted files, surveillance screenshots, and communication records scrolled rapidly across it... it was extremely fast, but enough for those paying attention to see key information: code names, times, locations, transaction partners... The faces of several people standing in the middle and back rows instantly turned deathly pale, their bodies beginning to tremble uncontrollably.
"Chianti, Korn," Kanjuro called out two names, his gaze not even looking in their direction. "Three years ago, you privately withheld transaction funds from Southeast Asia and attempted to cover it up. Last year, you leaked partial non-core data of 'APTX-4869' to an overseas intelligence organization in exchange for a promise of protection."
"Calvados, you've been privately colluding with an Italian Mafia family, repeatedly using organizational channels to launder money and line your own pockets."
"And you, Tequila... oh, I almost forgot, you already died at the Mantendo game release event." Kanjuro's tone even carried a hint of regretful mockery. "However, your subordinates should also be cleared out."
As he called out each name or revealed each secret, Gin or Vodka would give a slight hand signal. Action team members dressed in black, their faces expressionless, had already been waiting throughout the hall. They appeared silently like shadows, quickly seizing the targets who were pale-faced, slumped, or trying to struggle, and dragging them out of the hall. The entire process was efficient and quiet, leaving only the desperate whimpers and dragging sounds of those named, adding to the terror.
In just a few minutes, seven or eight members who held some seniority or power within the organization were cleared out like trash. Their fate went without saying.
The atmosphere in the hall was oppressed to the limit. The remaining people didn't even dare to breathe loudly, cold sweat soaking their shirts. The new leader's authority was established in the most direct and bloody manner. He not only had the strength to overthrow the old master but also knew the inner secrets of the organization like the back of his hand! This unfathomable level of control was more chilling than any roaring threat.
Kanjuro acted as if he had just done something trivial, leaning back into his chair and sweeping his gaze over the trembling crowd once more.
"Alright, the impurities are mostly cleared out," he said faintly. Then, his gaze seemed to land unintentionally on a young woman standing relatively near the front, with short black hair, a clear face, and a calm, capable aura.
Mizunashi Rena (Kir).
Her face was also somewhat pale, but compared to the others, she appeared much more composed, though the slight tightening of her fingers clasped in front of her revealed her inner tension. As a CIA undercover agent who had infiltrated the organization, the pressure she felt now was several times that of the others. She didn't know how much the new leader knew, let alone if her identity had been exposed.
Kanjuro looked at her for several seconds without speaking. That gaze was calm, yet it seemed to possess a penetrating power that made Mizunashi Rena feel as if all her disguises were being stripped away inch by inch.
Just as Mizunashi Rena was about to lose control of her heartbeat, Kanjuro finally looked away, as if it had been a mere casual glance.
"Kir," he spoke, his voice devoid of emotion, "you stay. The rest of you may leave. Remember what I said today. Gin, Vermouth, I'll leave the follow-up matters to you."
"Yes, Boss," Gin and Vermouth replied simultaneously.
The others felt as if they had been granted a grand pardon, bowing one after another. Maintaining the utmost silence and order, they quickly and methodically exited the suffocating hall. Soon, the vast space contained only Kanjuro, Gin, Vodka, Vermouth, and the specifically retained Mizunashi Rena.
Mizunashi Rena's heart sank to the bottom. Being kept alone was never a good sign.
Kanjuro stood up and walked slowly to stand before her. Vermouth wore a playful smile, while Gin and Vodka stood like two guardian deities, blocking any possible escape routes.
"Mizunashi Rena," Kanjuro called out her real name directly instead of her code name 'Kir,' which was in itself an extremely dangerous signal. "Or should I say, the CIA's... Undercover Investigator?"
Mizunashi Rena's body stiffened, her last shred of hope shattered. She snapped her head up to look at Kanjuro, her eyes flashing with shock, determination, and a hint of ferocity as she prepared for a desperate struggle.
"Don't be nervous." Kanjuro waved his hand, his tone almost even being called gentle. "I don't intend to kill you for the time being."
Mizunashi Rena pursed her lips tightly, not relaxing her guard.
"You went deep undercover and your abilities are decent; you even gained a bit of trust from that deceased gentleman." Kanjuro sized her up with interest. "It would be a waste to kill you. Besides, a living, controlled CIA mole is sometimes much more useful than a corpse."
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