Chapter 9: Joining the Winery
The tension in the room hung heavy, yet Alhaitham simply lowered his weapon. He turned his back on the dark muzzle of the firearm leveled at his head and walked toward the plush sofa, completely ignoring the threat on his life.
The absolute lack of fear drained the amusement from the executioner's eyes. Finding the reaction entirely boring, Gin lowered the gun, the metallic click echoing in the quiet room.
Alhaitham settled into the cushions. "Speak," he said, his voice perfectly level. "Since you have no intention of killing me, what exactly do you want?"
"What makes you so certain we don't intend to kill you?" Gin asked, his gaze cold.
Alhaitham reached for the thick hardcover resting on the coffee table and flipped it open, not even bothering to look up. "If you wanted me dead, a pressure-triggered explosive would have been waiting for me the moment I opened the front door. I highly doubt a group like yours lacks the means to acquire a simple bomb."
A dark sneer twisted Gin's lips. "I hope your next choice proves equally intelligent."
"Then please stop wasting time. Get straight to the point."
Seeing that his elder brother was not going to elaborate, Vodka stepped up to fill the silence. "Ahem. We are here to formally invite you into our organization. Naturally, you have the right to refuse, but the consequences of doing so..." He let out a forced, grating laugh, attempting to sound menacing. "...would be highly unpleasant."
Alhaitham ignored the clumsy threat entirely. He had already calculated this exact trajectory; in fact, his own subtle manipulations had accelerated this very outcome.
The Black Organization was often mocked in certain fictional depictions as a hollow shell where only Gin did any actual work while the rest were either incompetent fools or undercover agents. But reality was far less forgiving. A transnational underground syndicate capable of operating in the shadows, surviving the combined infiltration efforts of multiple global intelligence agencies, possessed absolute, terrifying substance.
Conan Edogawa survived his repeated encounters with them through sheer luck and the protective halo of a protagonist. The Traveler did not possess such a luxury. The overarching mission was to balance the Red and Black factions, meaning direct contact with the syndicate was inevitable. Infiltrating their ranks early was the most logical step to monitor their movements, intercept their plans, and allow the Traveler to make proper preparations.
Still, Alhaitham had not anticipated Gin moving with such aggressive speed. Less than three days had passed. He had calculated a longer observation period before they made direct contact.
"Sure," Alhaitham replied, his tone entirely flat.
"Huh?" Vodka blinked, his menacing posture faltering. In all his years of recruitment, targets always resisted. They begged, they threatened to call the police, they demanded lawyers. It always took a few broken bones or a gun to the head to force compliance. This immediate, frictionless agreement felt entirely wrong. "You aren't just saying yes now so you can look for a chance to run to the cops later, are you?"
Alhaitham finally looked up from his book, his eyes reflecting pure exasperation. "Don't say stupid things. You never intended to give me the option to refuse from the very beginning. I am simply skipping the tedious intermediate process of your probing to save us both some time." He raised a single finger, pointing casually toward the apartment door. "Since the matter is settled and I have agreed, you can leave. Assuming you have no other business here."
Vodka's thick neck flushed dark red at the sheer dismissal. "You little—"
Gin raised a hand, cutting his subordinate off. He wasn't angered by the scholar's arrogance. He simply stared at Alhaitham's relaxed figure on the sofa for a long, silent moment. Then, he turned on his heel and walked toward the exit.
"Do not leave this room tomorrow," Gin ordered over his shoulder. "A car will collect you at eight in the morning to bring you to the organization's base."
Seeing that Gin had made his exit, Vodka swallowed his anger and quickly followed his brother out the door.
The vintage Porsche 356A glided through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo. Vodka gripped the steering wheel, glancing at the rearview mirror. "Big Brother, do you think it's a trap? That kid agreed way too easily. And where did a researcher learn to fight like that?"
Gin withdrew a cigarette from his silver case, lighting it with a sharp flick of his lighter. He took a slow drag, exhaling a plume of gray smoke against the windowpane. "There is no issue. The organization has already thoroughly vetted his background. Alhaitham. An outstanding graduate from a top-tier university in Country Y, employed at a private research institute immediately after graduation. We have already established contact with his institute through the shell of White Dove Pharmaceuticals. Officially, he will remain in Japan as an exchange researcher."
Gin tapped the ash from his cigarette. "As for his combat proficiency? Country Y is crawling with private military contractors and foreign mercenaries. Border conflicts are a daily occurrence, especially in the deep rainforest regions. Our intelligence confirms he spent a significant amount of time surviving in those border jungles. If his skills were lacking, his bones would currently be rotting under the canopy."
A dark, twisted smile crept across Gin's face, his eyes gleaming with predatory anticipation. "Of course, if he truly is a rat... that would be even better. I will have all the time in the world to toy with him to my heart's content."
The sheer density of the killing intent radiating from the passenger seat chilled the air inside the car. Vodka swallowed hard, deciding it was best not to disturb his elder brother's violent fantasies. He kept his mouth shut and focused entirely on the road.
At exactly eight o'clock the following morning, a sleek black sedan idled outside the Beika Hotel.
The journey was entirely silent. Neither the driver nor Alhaitham spoke a single word as the car handled the morning traffic, eventually arriving at the sprawling complex of White Dove Pharmaceuticals. They bypassed the grand main entrance entirely, circling around to a heavily concealed service door in the rear alleyway. The driver punched a code into a hidden keypad, scanned his fingerprint, and pulled the heavy steel door open. He gestured for Alhaitham to step inside, handed him over to Gin, who was waiting in the shadows, and departed without a sound.
"Keep up," Gin commanded, turning down the sterile hallway without wasting a single breath on pleasantries.
The corridor stretched out long and empty. Overhead, rows of incandescent lights buzzed with a low, electric hum, casting harsh shadows across the linoleum floor. The heavy thud of Gin's boots echoed off the bare walls, designed to create a suffocating, oppressive atmosphere for newcomers.
Alhaitham remained entirely unaffected. He walked with his hands tucked casually into his jacket pockets, his pace steady and unhurried, as if he were taking a leisurely morning stroll through a public park.
Gin stopped before a reinforced door, inputting a complex sequence of passcodes before the heavy locks disengaged with a pneumatic hiss. He pushed the door open, stepping into a pristine, high-tech laboratory.
Someone was already waiting inside. It was Shiho Miyano, the young woman Alhaitham had encountered just yesterday.
"This is one of the organization's researchers," Gin stated, his voice flat. "Codenamed Sherry." As the words left his mouth, Gin snapped his head toward Alhaitham, his cold eyes narrowing into slits. "You two crossed paths yesterday. Did you discuss anything?"
Sherry's breath caught in her throat. Deep inside the pockets of her pristine white lab coat, her fingers curled into tight, bloodless fists. Panic flared in her chest. If Alhaitham mentioned the warning she had given him, Gin would demand answers. While her status protected her from immediate execution, any misstep could result in the organization further restricting the already rare, precious meetings with her older sister.
Alhaitham's expression did not shift by even a fraction of a millimeter. "We did not discuss anything of substance. We merely exchanged standard greetings. I was unaware she was also affiliated with your group."
Gin scrutinized Alhaitham's face for several long seconds, searching for a micro-expression, a twitch, a lie. Finding nothing but absolute indifference, he turned away.
"The organization uses the names of alcoholic beverages as codenames," Gin explained. "Only core personnel are granted this privilege. Your future codename will be decided by the Boss, entirely dependent on your performance and utility. Sherry will draw your blood now to collect your genetic data and elevate your security clearance within this facility."
Gin stepped back, gesturing for the female scientist to proceed.
Alhaitham offered no objections. He simply rolled up his left sleeve and extended his arm, allowing Sherry to prepare the equipment. Gin stood mere feet away, watching the procedure with unblinking focus.
The entire process was clinical and swift. Sherry remained completely silent, her eyes fixed on the needle, only uttering brief, necessary commands when she needed him to adjust his grip or hold still.
Once the dark red vial was sealed and labeled, Gin motioned for Alhaitham to follow him once more. He led the scholar down another branching hallway, finally stopping in front of a massive, fully equipped laboratory.
"This will be your personal workspace from now on," Gin said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register. "Draft your research proposals and submit requisitions for whatever materials you require in advance. I expect to see tangible results very soon. Otherwise..."
He let the threat hang heavily in the sterile air, turning his back and walking away.
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