Chapter 60: Negotiating Cooperation (Part 1)
After Vodka dropped Vermouth off at her residence, the heavy hum of the black Porsche's engine tore through the quiet night streets. At Gin's strict instruction, Vodka steered the vehicle toward one of the Black Organization's hidden research institutes.
"It is well past operating hours. You had better have a genuinely urgent reason for waking me up so suddenly."
Alhaitham pushed open the heavy, reinforced laboratory door. He stood in the threshold, his expression flat and thoroughly unimpressed as he addressed Gin, who was stalking down the corridor right behind him.
Gin completely ignored the complaint. His cold gaze swept over the sterile white room. Seeing that they had reached a secure testing environment, he reached into his dark trench coat and directly thrust a small glass bottle toward the researcher.
"Check the chemical composition of this potion. How long will it take?"
Alhaitham stared at the familiar curvature of the glass vial. Not a single muscle in his face twitched. He took the item from the executive's black-gloved hand, held it up to the harsh fluorescent light, and pretended to observe the swirling liquid inside for a few seconds.
"Come get the results at nine in the morning," Alhaitham replied, his tone dry and dismissive.
Having received a definitive timeline, Gin did not waste another breath. He turned on his heel, his long silver hair sweeping behind him, and walked out into the shadows of the hallway.
Alhaitham watched the door click shut. He walked over to the security terminal, his fingers flying across the keyboard to loop the laboratory's surveillance feeds. Once the cameras were handled, he set the vial down on a stainless steel counter. He did not bother uncorking it. He simply turned his back on the workstation, fully intending to go right back to sleep.
A single glance at the bottle had been enough. It was an alchemical life potion, and a high-grade variant at that. Currently, the only person operating within their circles capable of brewing such a flawless, high-quality concoction was Lisa. Since he already knew exactly who the producer was, he could just find a spare moment tomorrow morning to send her a text message and ask for the exact ingredient list. There was absolutely no need to waste his own time running redundant chemical tests.
Lately, his schedule had been entirely derailed. Because Sherry had defected and their previous laboratory had been blown to pieces, the research division had been bogged down in endless relocation logistics. He had only just managed to secure a few hours of proper rest, and he harbored zero intention of working unpaid overtime for Gin's paranoia.
Alhaitham returned to his private quarters attached to the lab. He sat on the edge of his bed and pulled a small, encrypted USB drive from his pocket. It contained the raw data regarding APTX4869, files he had quietly copied during his previous infiltration of the archives.
He plugged it into a secure tablet. He had briefly skimmed through the directories before; the data was heavily fragmented and incomplete, consisting almost entirely of Sherry's later-stage research notes. The files were primarily focused on programmed cell death, apoptosis triggers, and lethal toxicity. There was absolutely nothing regarding cellular rejuvenation or age regression, likely due to the strict research direction the organization had forced upon her at the time.
He tapped a finger against the edge of the screen. He wondered if this specific batch of data overlapped with the intelligence Kaeya had managed to extract today. It seemed he needed to manufacture an excuse to leave the facility soon and deliver this drive directly to the Traveler's side.
The next morning, sunlight filtered thinly through the reinforced windows of the Black Organization's laboratory.
When Gin and Vodka pushed the doors open, they found Alhaitham sitting behind his office desk, casually turning the pages of a thick academic tome. The mysterious potion Gin had handed over the night before sat exactly where it had been left on the table, looking as though it had not been touched at all.
Hearing the heavy thud of Gin's boots, Alhaitham marked his page, closed the book, and picked up a freshly printed sheet of paper. He handed it straight across the desk.
"The liquid has been fully analyzed," Alhaitham said, his voice smooth and practiced. "It consists entirely of common, naturally occurring plant extracts. I also ran a series of biological tissue experiments. There is no toxic danger."
Without missing a beat, Alhaitham proceeded to recite the exact regenerative functions of the alchemical life potion, phrasing Lisa's magical properties as though they were the documented results of a rigorous biological trial.
"If you actually intend to ingest it, given the severity of the gunshot wound on your arm, I suggest drinking exactly half the bottle. That dosage should be sufficient to repair the damaged tissue."
Vodka blinked, looking from the printed report to his superior. "What do you think, Big Brother? Do you want to try it?"
Gin did not bother replying. He snatched the glass vial from the desk, popped the cork with his thumb, and downed exactly half the glowing liquid in a single, smooth motion.
As he swallowed, a strange sensation bloomed in his chest. It felt as though a distinct, soothing heat was sliding down his throat, pooling warmly in his stomach. Initially, the rest of his body registered nothing out of the ordinary. But seconds later, Gin's jaw tightened. A deep, intense itching sensation flared up directly beneath the fabric of his sleeve, right at the site of the bullet wound.
He set the half-empty bottle down and reached over, gripping the edge of the medical bandage he had tightly wrapped yesterday. He pulled it loose.
Vodka gasped. The torn, mangled flesh that had looked so hideous the night before was visibly shifting. The angry red edges of the puncture were knitting together, the damaged muscle fibers repairing themselves at an impossible speed. Gin watched the process with cold, calculating eyes. He estimated that before long—less than twenty-four hours at this rate—the gunshot wound would be completely eradicated. By tomorrow morning, nothing more than a faint, pale scar would remain on his bicep.
"Big Brother, the wound... it really is accelerating its own healing!" Vodka exclaimed, his eyes wide behind his dark sunglasses.
"Hmph." Gin's lips curled into a sharp, dangerous sneer. "No wonder Rum is so desperate to cooperate with that person. I thought the old fool had gone senile again, but it seems this connection might actually be somewhat useful."
Seeing that the flesh was already stable and recovering perfectly, Gin saw no reason to restrict his movement. He ripped the remaining bloody bandages completely off his arm and tossed them into a nearby disposal bin.
He snatched the printed test report from the desk, turned, and strode out of the office without another word.
Seeing his superior leave so abruptly, Vodka scrambled to follow. He paused at the door, glancing back. Alhaitham had already reopened his book, his eyes scanning the text as if the two dangerous syndicate members had entirely ceased to exist. Vodka swallowed hard, his mind flashing back to the terrifying rumors of the researcher's raw combat prowess. After a brief moment of hesitation, Vodka offered a stiff, polite nod and a quick word of farewell before hurrying out into the hall.
Across the city, high up in a luxury hotel suite.
Kaeya was lounging comfortably on the plush sofa, enjoying a rare moment of quiet, when the sharp chime of the doorbell echoed through the room. He set his glass down. Knowing it was highly likely the contact person sent by the Black Organization to negotiate their new arrangement, he pushed himself up and walked over to the entryway.
He unlatched the lock and pulled the door open.
Kaeya blinked, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his visible eye. Standing in the hallway was a young man with striking blonde hair and a dark, tanned complexion. The man's features and build matched the anime's depiction of Bourbon perfectly. The system's shared knowledge had prepared him for many faces, but seeing this specific intelligence officer standing on his doorstep was an interesting development.
Could the organization really have sent Bourbon for this?
"Mr. Alberich, hello. I am the representative sent by the organization to negotiate the terms of our cooperation with you." The blonde man offered a bright, perfectly practiced smile. "My name is Toru Amuro. Code name, Bourbon."
Even as he spoke, Toru Amuro's sharp eyes were inconspicuously sweeping over the man standing in the doorway, analyzing every detail.
The target wore an incredibly ornate, European-style outfit that stood out drastically against the modern hotel backdrop. A heavy blue coat hung over an inner shirt, the collar daringly open to expose his chest. He wore a fitted blue vest, tight dark trousers, and knee-high leather boots. Most peculiar of all was his belt, which was decorated with a heavy chain. Suspended from that chain was a glowing, ice-blue bead that looked like a flawless gemstone, matching the single blue earring dangling from his left ear.
He did not look like a good person. That was Toru Amuro's immediate, instinctual first impression.
The man also wore a dark eyepatch over his right eye. Was the eye permanently injured? What kind of extreme danger could a wealthy, eccentric nobleman possibly encounter to result in the loss of an eye?
"Hello. Just call me Kaeya," he replied, his voice a smooth, charismatic drawl. He stepped aside, gesturing gracefully into the suite to let Bourbon enter. "I must admit, I thought Cointreau would come personally, considering he is the primary Person in Charge of this little arrangement. Besides, I heard three people were assigned to manage this cooperation. Where is the other one? Surely they didn't send just you into the lion's den?"
"Today is merely a preliminary discussion. I am more than capable of handling it on my own," Amuro replied smoothly, stepping into the room. "Cointreau will make an appearance when the final terms of the cooperation are formally drafted. As for the third person..."
Amuro kept his smile fixed, though his mind raced. To be completely honest, Bourbon had spent the entire morning plotting how to ditch Irish so he could control the pace and flow of this negotiation himself. But before he could even enact a plan, Cointreau had contacted him directly, stating that Bourbon would be going alone.
When Amuro had carefully probed for a reason, Cointreau had actually claimed that one of Irish's relatives had passed away, leaving the man in a terrible mood, and so he had been sent back to his safehouse to rest.
Since when did Black Organization enforcers have relatives they cared about? And the fact that Cointreau had actually approved such a ridiculously mundane excuse for bereavement leave was something Toru Amuro simply could not wrap his head around. Was Cointreau really that easy to talk to? If it weren't for the terrifying, overwhelming show of force Cointreau had displayed during their very first meeting, Bourbon might have actually believed the man was soft.
However, he certainly could not voice those suspicions to an outsider. So, Bourbon simply glossed over the absence. "The other agent had urgent, unrelated matters to attend to."
Kaeya had only asked to test the waters. He caught the subtle tension in the blonde man's shoulders and decided not to press the obviously perfunctory excuse any further.
After the two men took their seats in the spacious living area, Bourbon immediately took control of the conversation.
"Mr. Kaeya," Amuro began, his tone shifting into something sharper and more professional. "I heard from Vermouth that you explicitly told her yesterday you are not cooperating with our organization under the banner of the Ragnvindr Family. May I ask... is this arrangement strictly in your personal capacity?"
"Does it matter?" Kaeya leaned back against the plush cushions of the sofa, crossing one leg over the other. He looked back at the intelligence officer with a slow, knowing smile. "Your organization provides the specific data I need, and in return, I provide you with the potions you desire. It is a perfectly fair trade. Does it really have anything to do with what name I choose to use while cooperating with you?"
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