He turned to Vermouth: "Arrange a more 'comfortable' place for her. From today on, 'Mizunashi Rena' needs long-term recuperation due to 'failing' a mission and being'seriously injured,' cutting off all contact with the outside world. Understood?"
"Understood, Father."
Mizunashi Rena understood. Imprisonment. Not immediate execution, but a total loss of freedom, becoming a living chess piece in the other party's hand to be used for trade, misleading, or satisfying other purposes. This was more despairing than death.
She wanted to resist, but the auras of Gin and Vodka had already locked onto her. Vermouth's smile also hinted at danger. And the Kanjuro before her was even more unfathomably deep.
In the end, she dejectedly unclenched her tight fists, allowing two silent members of the action team to step forward and lock her hands with a special, non-scarring but absolutely secure restraint device.
Kanjuro gave her one last look, his gaze deep, as if evaluating the potential of a collectible.
"Take her down."
Mizunashi Rena was led away from the hall, heading toward an unknown, long life of imprisonment. Her mission as an undercover agent had "ended" at this moment in an unexpected way.
Kanjuro sat back in the command chair, his gaze shifting to the holographic screens glowing with a faint blue light, where countless nodes representing the massive dark machine of the Black Organization were flashing and operating.
Gin and Vodka stood by like the most loyal shadows, while Vermouth obediently poured him a glass of red wine.
A new era had begun. Establishing authority through an iron-blooded purge, steering the overall situation with unfathomable control, and casually turning potential threats into potential assets—Kanjuro had declared his absolute sovereignty over this dark domain in the most concise and efficient manner.
The future of the Black Organization, under the will of this new master, would sail toward an even more unpredictable and dangerous abyss. The landscape of the world's dark side had quietly changed because of his ascension alone. The underground core area of the Black Organization was quickly imprinted with his personal touch after Kanjuro took over. Amidst the cold, hard sense of technology, some luxurious and private elements were quietly blended in—for instance, in this top-floor command room and living suite exclusive to him.
The room was extremely spacious, with one side being a floor-to-ceiling glass curtain wall overlooking the brilliant night view of Tokyo, and the other side being a massive array of screens embedded in the wall, displaying the organization's various data and global dynamics in real-time. The floor was covered with a thick, dark carpet, and in the center was a set of high-quality sofas with smooth lines. The air was filled with the faint scent of cedar incense, mixed with the mellow aroma of top-tier red wine.
At this moment, there were more than just the backbone of the Black Organization in this room.
Ran Mouri, Suzuki Sonoko, Akemi Miyano, Elena Miyano, Nakamori Aoko, Koizumi Akako... these women of different identities and ages were all quietly standing or sitting in different parts of the room. They wore various styles of clothing—some pretty, some elegant, some mysterious—but their faces all bore a similar, almost submissive calm, and the depths of their eyes reflected an absolute focus on the man in the center of the room.
Kanjuro leaned back on the main sofa in a lazy posture. He had just finished another round of brief instructions on the organization's structure and future direction; Gin and Vodka had taken their orders and left to execute the specific purge and integration tasks. Now, those remaining in the room were all "his own people" who had a "closer" connection to him.
Yukiko, the former star, was now wearing a form-fitting dark red velvet gown, kneeling on a cushion by Kanjuro's leg, gracefully and skillfully pouring deep red wine into the empty goblet on his knee. Her blonde hair fell like a waterfall, revealing her beautiful neckline as she slightly lowered her head, her eyes filled with an undisguised obsession amidst her docility.
Eri Kisaki stood behind the sofa, wearing a sharp, well-tailored dark gray suit skirt that made her look intellectual and capable. Holding a silver ice bucket, she timely added ice to the wine glasses of Kanjuro and Yukiko, her movements precise and silent. Her gaze occasionally swept over the other girls in the room with a sisterly tolerance, but it would always ultimately land back on Kanjuro, her eyes filled with absolute loyalty and hidden adoration.
"Husband Kanjuro," Yukiko said, handing the poured wine glass to Kanjuro, her voice soft and charming, "all those troublemakers in the organization have been mostly cleaned up, right? Looking at you just now, it seems like something is still on your mind?"
Eri Kisaki also leaned forward slightly, her voice calm and concerned: "Lord Father, the foundation is stable. What is the plan next? What do you need us to do?"
Kanjuro took the wine glass, his fingertips gently swirling the deep red liquid inside as his gaze swept over the women in the room. Ran Mouri and Little Ran sat quietly at the bar nearby; Little Ran was carefully preparing a glass of warm milk for her sister (Shiho Miyano/Ai Haibara, who might not be present or was assigned other tasks); Suzuki Sonoko leaned in close to Akemi Miyano, whispering something, though both were clearly focused on Kanjuro; Nakamori Aoko and Koizumi Akako stood side by side by the window, looking at the night view in relaxed poses, yet equally attentive to the movements here. Elena Miyano sat on a single sofa, flipping through a thick volume of pharmacological notes, but looked up at Kanjuro from time to time.
These women had all been captured or reshaped by his power, bloodline, or methods in different ways and at different times. Now, they had all become indispensable parts of his dark empire—or rather, his most precious collections and extensions of power.
"Troublesome?" Kanjuro took a small sip of wine, his lips curling into a cold arc. "Since I am sitting in this position, I naturally have to do things thoroughly. Half-hearted mercy and compromise will only leave endless trouble. Renya Karasuma is a lesson from the past."
His gaze became deep, as if piercing through the walls to look somewhere further away.
"The internal purge of the organization is only the first step. Gin and Vermouth will handle the cleanup." He set down the wine glass, his fingertips tapping lightly on the sofa's armrest. "But externally... there are still some annoying flies that haven't been swatted away."
Yukiko snuggled against his leg and looked up, asking, "Flies? Are they those rats from various countries who are always staring at the organization from the shadows?"
"Exactly." Kanjuro nodded. "The FBI, MI6, BND... they've all left traces more or less. Some were beaten so hard they've temporarily retreated, while others are still itching to move. However, on this land of the Island Nation, the most active and eyesore-inducing group currently..."
He paused, a cold light flashing in his eyes.
"...is that bunch from the CIA."
Eri Kisaki immediately understood: "Is it because of... Mizunashi Rena?" As a (former) queen of the legal world, she also had some understanding of the intelligence world's structure.
"Kir, real name Mizunashi Rena, a CIA mole who infiltrated the organization." Kanjuro's tone was flat, as if stating a known fact. "She is in my hands now. A living, professionally trained agent who knows quite a bit about the CIA's internal contact methods and sleeper networks... is much more valuable than killing her outright."
Yukiko's eyes lit up: "Husband, do you want to pry all the CIA's deployments in the Island Nation out of her mouth?"
"Not just the deployments." Kanjuro's fingertips stopped tapping, his voice low and full of ambition. "I want to know their safe houses, communication codes, informant lists, and even the 'collaborators' they've developed locally. Vermouth is best at this kind of 'heart-to-heart' talk. She will make our Miss Kir... remember everything she should remember."
His gaze swept over the women in the room again, finally landing on the boundless night outside the window.
"Once I have the intelligence I want..." Kanjuro said slowly, every word carrying immense weight, "I intend to unify the Island Nation."
The room fell silent for a moment.
Unify the Island Nation? This wasn't as simple as unifying some underground force or economic lifeline. Combined with the organizational power Kanjuro controlled, his own extraordinary abilities, and the undisguised ambition in his eyes that seemed to consume everything... the meaning of this phrase was heart-stopping.
"Does Lord Father mean..." Eri Kisaki asked cautiously.
"Everything that gets in the way must be cleared." Kanjuro's voice was calm yet contained a storm. "Annoying official forces, annoying competitors, annoying 'justice' organizations, annoying... unstable factors. I want the underground world of this Island Nation to have only one voice, one will. Even the puppets and figureheads on the surface must operate according to my wishes."
He sat up slightly, and that pressure of total control permeated the air.
"The CIA is the first foreign nail that needs to be completely pulled out. Then, the others. The hands the FBI has reached out must be chopped off; those disobedient Yakuza, Zaibatsu, and politicians at home... must either submit or disappear."
Yukiko's eyes sparkled with excitement, showing her admiration without reservation: "Husband is so amazing! This is what a true king should do!"
Although Eri Kisaki remained calm, a sense of agreement and a hint of excitement appeared in her eyes. They had long since bound their fates and emotions to Kanjuro; the greater his ambition, the higher their status would rise, not to mention they agreed with this dark "strength" from the bottom of their hearts.
Ran Mouri gently set down the milk glass, her expression complex, but deep down was a submissiveness to her father's absolute power. Suzuki Sonoko excitedly gripped Akemi Miyano's hand; the Suzuki Family was a Zaibatsu to begin with, and she seemed to see a more thrilling future. Nakamori Aoko and Koizumi Akako glanced at each other, remaining silent, but their postures already indicated they would follow. Elena Miyano closed her notes and looked at Kanjuro; besides being relieved about her daughter (Akemi's) safety, there was also a hint of cautious attention to the picture this "Ruler" was painting.
"This will take time, careful planning, and most importantly, absolute power and control." Kanjuro leaned back on the sofa again, his tone returning to laziness, but the content remained startling. "The organization is our skeleton and blade, and you all..."
His gaze passed over every woman in the room one by one.
"You are my eyes, my ears, the extension of my will, and the most brilliant decorations and cornerstones... on my throne. In the days to come, each of you will have your own position and mission."
"Yes, Lord Father / Lord Kanjuro / Husband." The women responded in unison, their voices soft yet firm, echoing in the luxurious and dangerous room.
Kanjuro picked up his wine glass with satisfaction, looking out at the brightly lit land that was about to change color in his hands.
Interrogating the intelligence out of Mizunashi Rena was only the beginning. Clearing out the CIA's tentacles was only the first step. What he wanted was to take the entire Island Nation's darkness and light into his own hands and reshape them according to his will.
A new order would be built upon the ruins of the old world. And these beautiful collectibles by his side, whom he completely controlled yet each possessed their own talents, would become the most handy tools and companions in realizing this massive ambition.
The night was still long, and the ambition had just begun to burn. The brilliant lights of Tokyo, in Kanjuro's eyes, seemed to already be a sea of stars waiting to be conquered on his future map. Somewhere in an extremely secret and completely isolated "Special Rest House" of the Black Organization—more of a high-tech and magical (added after Kanjuro took over) luxurious cage than a rest house. The room itself was spacious and comfortable, even equipped with an independent bathroom and a small landscape window simulating natural light, but the walls, floor, and ceiling were embedded with energy suppression fields and soundproof barriers, ensuring no signal could be sent out and no sound could disturb the outside world.
Mizunashi Rena had been placed here for several days. She had tried every escape method she could think of, from basic observation of weaknesses to using trained physical techniques to try and break seemingly weak links, and even attempted hunger strikes and self-harm to trade for medical treatment or a transfer—but everything was ruthlessly and efficiently neutralized. The people guarding her were not ordinary organization members, but special operations personnel who had been tainted by Kanjuro's power, absolutely loyal and possessing eerie abilities. They were silent, precise, and flawless, just like the cell itself... Her connection to the outside world was completely severed; the CIA's emergency contact protocols and pre-set escape routes had all become waste paper. Despair, like a cold tide, eroded her will bit by bit. She didn't know why Kanjuro had kept her alive; this torment of waiting for an unknown fate was more torturous than physical interrogation.
On this day, the door to the cell slid open silently.
It wasn't a guard who entered, nor was it Vermouth, but Kanjuro himself.
He was still wearing well-tailored black casual clothes, his posture as relaxed as if he were visiting an old friend. Behind him followed Vermouth; the Witch of a Thousand Faces was wearing a black leather outfit suitable for action today, with that signature playful and dangerous smile on her face, playing with a small, complex pendant that seemed to be carved from black crystal.
Mizunashi Rena instantly tensed her body, leaning against the cold wall in a defensive posture, her eyes filled with alertness and a trace of undetectable fear. She knew well how terrifying the man before her was.
"Miss Kir, or should I say, Miss Mizunashi Rena," Kanjuro spoke, his tone flat, "are you getting used to living here? I hope the service here has not been neglectful."
Mizunashi Rena pursed her lips and did not answer.
"Don't be nervous." Kanjuro sat down in the only armchair in the center of the room, while Vermouth naturally stood by his side. "I'm only here today to have a chat with you, and by the way... to confirm a few things."
"I have nothing to say." Mizunashi Rena's voice was dry but firm; this was her final line of defense as a secret agent.
"Is that so?" Kanjuro chuckled softly, a smile devoid of any warmth. He raised his hand in a gesture.
Vermouth stepped forward and gently placed a black crystal pendant on the small table in front of Mizunashi Rena. Under the indoor light, a dark purple fluid seemed to swirl slowly inside the pendant, emitting an extremely faint vibration that made Mizunashi Rena's soul feel uneasy.
"We don't need you to speak." Kanjuro's voice lowered, and his deep eyes began to glow with a dark purple-black light, like two miniature vortexes. "We only need you to... 'remember' on your own, and then 'open' it."
Before his voice could fade, the purple light in Kanjuro's eyes flared brilliantly!
dark bible: Deep Consciousness Extraction and Reconstruction
This time, it wasn't a simple memory reading or emotional interference, but a more domineering, deeper manipulation that touched the very essence of the soul. An invisible and intangible dark force, heavy as a mountain, acted like countless tiny tentacles, ruthlessly breaking through all of Mizunashi Rena's psychological defenses, resistance training, and barriers of will, piercing directly into the deepest part of her consciousness!
"Argh—!" Mizunashi Rena let out a short scream, her body trembling violently, and her eyes were instantly dyed with the same purple-black light. She felt her thoughts, memories, and emotions—everything belonging to 'Mizunashi Rena' and 'Kir'—being roughly flipped open, flattened, and examined like files.
Resistance was futile. Before this power originating from the source of the dark bible, human will was as fragile as thin paper. No matter how rigorous her anti-interrogation training had been, she could not resist this erosion that acted directly on the soul level.
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