Chapter 59: Life Potion
The night had finally swallowed the chaos of the Haido City Hotel. Rain-slicked streets reflected the yellow glow of streetlamps as Dr. Agasa's yellow Beetle hummed steadily toward home. In the passenger seat, Conan Edogawa sat rigid, his mind racing through the night's explosive events. Curled up in the back seat, Ai Haibara looked terrifyingly fragile. Having just narrowly escaped the lethal clutches of Pisco and Gin, she lay shivering under a heavy blanket, her breathing shallow.
"What?!" Conan whipped his head around to stare at the inventor. "You're saying Gin killed Pisco?"
Dr. Agasa kept his eyes glued to the dark road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "Yes. I heard the entire exchange through the tracker glasses Ai left by the wine cellar's fireplace."
A weak, trembling voice drifted from the back seat. "Then... do they know?" Haibara pressed a pale hand against her feverish forehead. "Do they know my body shrank?"
Agasa glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his expression softening with pity. "Don't worry, Ai-kun. Your secret is safe. However..." He frowned, recalling the chilling audio. "Before Gin pulled the trigger, Pisco was desperately trying to negotiate. He mentioned that the Organization recently secured a highly important collaboration, and his adopted son was directly involved. He claimed killing him would jeopardize the deal. Gin didn't let him finish the sentence."
"A collaboration?" Conan's brow furrowed. He twisted in his seat, peering over the headrest. "Haibara, did you hear anything about this while you were still inside?"
"No." She closed her eyes, the exhaustion evident in her raspy tone. "I was strictly a researcher. They kept me confined to the labs. I wasn't privy to their external dealings." She paused, her eyelashes fluttering as a buried memory surfaced. "Wait. There is one peculiar thing. Shortly before my sister's... accident, the Organization handed me a vial of liquid to analyze."
"You couldn't crack the formula?" Conan blurted out, leaning closer.
Haibara cracked open one eye, shooting him a dry, unimpressed glare. "On the contrary, I analyzed every single drop. That was the problem. It was nothing but ordinary plant extracts, blended together using some highly unorthodox methodology."
Conan blinked, adjusting his glasses. "Then what's so strange about a herbal mix?"
"Patience, Detective," she warned, her tone sharpening slightly. "The anomaly wasn't the ingredients. It was the effect. I tested the compound on white mice. It drastically improved their baseline physique and accelerated cellular regeneration to an absurd degree. Wounds closed in minutes. It's a mixture of mundane flora, yet it defies modern medical science. Doesn't that strike you as strange?"
She shifted under the blanket, staring up at the car roof. "I had never seen a single file on that substance in the archives. If the Organization had developed it internally, I would have known. Therefore, if they are engaging in some high-level collaboration now, I'd wager my life it has something to do with that potion."
Conan rested his chin on his hand, his eyes narrowing into sharp, calculating slits. "You're right. That is incredibly suspicious."
While the shrunken detective racked his brain over the mysterious elixir, the very same substance was currently catching the dim streetlights inside a sleek, black Porsche 356A.
"What is this?" Gin's voice was a low, dangerous rumble. He held up a small glass vial between his black-gloved fingers, inspecting it with deep suspicion.
Kaeya had casually tossed it to him the moment the executive finally lowered his Beretta. It was a transparent, heart-shaped glass bottle, capped and based in polished metal. Inside, a light blue liquid sloshed gently with the motion of the car. As it moved, tiny specks within the fluid caught the light, shimmering like suspended golden sand. It looked less like medicine and more like an expensive, magical artifact.
"A Life Potion—Advanced Version," Kaeya drawled, leaning back against the leather seats with infuriating ease. He gestured lazily toward Gin's right arm, where dark blood still stained the executive's heavy trench coat. "Care to give it a try? If you're paranoid about poison, I'd be happy to take the first sip. It's perfectly safe to consume even if you aren't bleeding out."
Kaeya crossed his legs, a smirk playing on his lips. "In fact, this little vintage is exactly what I'm trading with your esteemed Organization. The sample I provided to Rum for initial testing was merely the basic formula. This bottle? Top shelf. The effects are significantly faster and far more potent. Down that, and your little scratch will close up in no time. I hear you're the Organization's top executioner. Surely, nursing an injury would only delay your... extracurricular activities?"
Gin stared at the shimmering blue liquid. Beneath his icy exterior, a flicker of genuine interest sparked. He despised letting injuries slow his operational efficiency, and logic dictated that this flamboyant collaborator wouldn't be stupid enough to assassinate him in a moving car surrounded by Organization members. Still, temptation was a luxury Gin never afforded himself. He lowered the vial, his expression hardening. He would never blindly consume an unknown substance, no matter the promised miracles.
"What do you want to know?" Gin demanded, his green eyes cutting toward Kaeya. A man this cunning didn't hand out miracles out of the goodness of his heart. Gin's grip on the bottle tightened slightly, a silent warning for the Cavalry Captain to tread carefully.
Kaeya merely shrugged, the playful smile never leaving his face. "In exchange for the vintage, tell me about Cointreau. Nothing classified, of course. Just a simple overview. Since he's the designated liaison for our future cooperation, I simply want to know what kind of man I'll be pouring drinks for."
The request fell within acceptable parameters. Gin exhaled a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing a fraction. He kept his explanation brutally brief. Over the course of a few clipped sentences, he outlined the bare minimum: Cointreau was a veteran member, deeply entrenched in the Organization's history, and highly favored by the Boss. Assigning him to oversee this specific collaboration was a direct indicator of how seriously the higher-ups were treating the Teyvat faction.
"A bit dry, don't you think?" Kaeya sighed dramatically, resting his chin on his hand. "Give me a little more to work with. At least describe his appearance so I don't accidentally shoot him when we finally meet."
Gin's scowl deepened. He turned his gaze back to the rain-streaked window and muttered four words. "Blonde hair. Golden eyes."
The conversation died there, replaced by the rhythmic thrum of the Porsche's engine. Vodka handled the slick streets in silence, eventually pulling up to the curb outside Kaeya's designated hotel.
Stepping out into the damp night air, Kaeya watched the black vintage car peel away into the darkness. He stood under the hotel's glowing awning, his visible eye narrowing in thought.
'Cointreau.'
The codename rolled around in his mind. As far as his underlying knowledge of this world went, that name had never once appeared in the original canon. It was a complete anomaly.
And then there was the physical description. Blonde hair. Golden eyes.
Those were the exact, unmistakable features of the Traveler.
Kaeya crossed his arms, a cold droplet of rain catching on his fur collar. Was it merely a coincidence? Or had the system woven a much more complicated web than he initially realized?
Meanwhile, the Porsche 356A sped down the highway, the heavy silence inside finally breaking.
From the shadows of the back seat, Vermouth leaned forward. The soft click of a compact mirror echoed in the confined space as she uncapped a tube of crimson lipstick. "So?" she purred, carefully tracing her lower lip. "What's your verdict? What do you think of our mysterious new collaborator?"
Gin scoffed, a harsh, grating sound. "A pretentious fox. Half the garbage that comes out of his mouth is a lie designed to test the waters." He glanced down at the shimmering Life Potion still resting in his lap. "But his skills are sharp. He's dangerous."
"I actually found him rather charming," Vermouth countered, smacking her lips together to even out the color. "Witty, humorous... perhaps not a perfect gentleman, but certainly more entertaining than a block of ice who wouldn't know romance if it shot him in the chest."
Gin ignored the barb entirely. His mind was already shifting back to the night's primary failure. A dark, sadistic grin curled the edges of his mouth. "Heh. My instincts were dead on. Sherry showed her face at the memorial service after all." His grin vanished, replaced by a chilling scowl. "A pity I couldn't put a bullet through her skull. By now, she's likely scurrying away into the gutters with whoever managed to save her."
"Oh my," Vermouth teased, snapping her compact shut and flashing him a dazzling, dangerous smile. "I didn't realize you were quite so obsessed with that little girl."
Gin's eyes flashed with venom. "Watch your tongue. Need I remind you which woman specifically called me out here to clean up after that old scoundrel, only for the entire operation to go up in flames?"
Vermouth remained entirely unfazed. She leaned back into the plush leather, staring out at the passing city lights. "True. And it was a humiliating blunder made right in front of an outsider. It's a good thing you put him down. He outlived his usefulness."
"With Pisco dead, we have a loose end," Gin stated coldly. "Irish is his adopted son. Should we swap out the personnel for the Teyvat collaboration? I won't tolerate him causing trouble out of some misplaced sense of vengeance."
"Relax," Vermouth murmured, her tone dripping with absolute certainty. "Irish might harbor a grudge against you personally, but he knows better than to bite the hand that feeds him. He wouldn't dare betray the Organization."
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