Chapter 61: Negotiating Cooperation 2
"This is naturally a matter of great importance," Bourbon said, his voice smooth but carrying the unmistakable weight of a seasoned negotiator. "Because aside from the transaction itself, our organization hopes to seize this opportunity to establish a certain level of influence within Country H. Naturally, having local assistance would smooth over many potential obstacles."
"Oh?" Kaeya leaned back in his chair, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his lips. He steepled his fingers, his single visible eye gleaming with amusement. "You want to kill two birds with one stone. Ambitious."
He let the silence stretch for a heartbeat before waving a hand dismissively. "That's fine. I didn't plan on keeping it a secret anyway. Since we're sitting at the same table to collaborate, it's better to lay our cards face up. The truth is, I've recently aligned myself with a certain organization. This little miracle potion of ours was developed by one of our own members. For this transaction, we are officially collaborating with you under our organization's banner."
Bourbon's professional smile faltered for a fraction of a second. "Joined an organization? May I ask which one?" He was genuinely taken aback. His intelligence network was vast, yet he hadn't anticipated the flamboyant cavalry captain having an entirely separate shadow faction backing him. "Forgive my bluntness, Mr. Kaeya, but I find this a bit difficult to comprehend. If your organization possesses such new items, why seek a partnership with ours at all?"
Ever since receiving the encrypted briefing from Cointreau regarding the nature of this transaction, Bourbon had been wrestling with a deep sense of suspicion. The vials they were discussing practically defied modern science; they bordered on the world of pure magic. Any syndicate in possession of such a miraculous asset would guard it with their lives, burying it in the deepest underground vault imaginable. They certainly wouldn't be bartering it away in a quiet room.
"What's there to be surprised about?" Kaeya sighed, letting his shoulders slump in a perfectly choreographed display of theatrical melancholy. "ultimately, I'm merely the adopted son of the Ragnvindr family. It's especially difficult now that the current head of the household is my dear sworn brother, who looks at me with absolute disdain. I can't get my hands on a single cent of the Ragnvindr assets, so a man has to secure a backup plan, doesn't he?"
He chuckled, a dry, self-deprecating sound that masked the absolute nonsense he was spinning. "As for why we're collaborating with you? It's simple economics. These potions won't sell on the open market. Think about it—a product where we can't legally list the active ingredients or clearly explain the manufacturing process? It screams illegal contraband at first glance. How are we supposed to push that to the public?"
Kaeya shrugged, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. "But trading with your organization changes the game entirely. You have the resources to tweak the clinical data, rebrand the formula, and perhaps dilute it into high-end skincare products. You and I both know that women and children are the easiest demographics to profit from. When the time comes to launch a legitimate front company, we'll be swimming in cash. If your people want to break into Country H, I can pull some strings with my organization to form a joint venture with you. It gives you a perfect, clean cover to operate locally. How does that sound?"
Bourbon stared at him, his composure cracking. "Sell it?!" The word slipped out sharper than he intended. "Why on earth would you commercialize a potion like this?"
Kaeya blinked, looking far more bewildered by Bourbon's reaction than Bourbon was by his proposal. "Why wouldn't we? What else are we supposed to do with it? Let it gather dust in some damp warehouse?"
"..."
A tiny muscle in Bourbon's jaw twitched. He suddenly realized that his entire model was fundamentally incompatible with Kaeya's—no, with the entirety of this mysterious organization.
In the Black Organization's eyes, a potion that could restore vitality was a supreme trump card, a closely guarded secret weapon that could snatch a high-ranking executive back from the jaws of death at a critical moment. Yet Kaeya and his associates looked at a medical miracle and only saw a lucrative cosmetic line. Bourbon couldn't help but wonder if the genius who actually brewed these potions knew their precious life's work was being treated like cheap lotion.
"Forget it. That is beside the point," Bourbon said, pinching the bridge of his nose to banish the rising headache. Faced with Kaeya's utterly matter-of-fact expression, he forcibly steered the conversation back to solid ground. "Let us return to the transaction details. I was informed that the life potion comes in three distinct tiers: primary, intermediate, and advanced. Our organization requires you to provide one hundred bottles of each version on a monthly basis. In exchange, we will transfer a portion of our internal research progress to you every month."
"No," Kaeya refused flatly, the teasing lilt vanishing from his voice. "That's entirely too many. You should know how precious these materials are. The extraction and brewing processes are incredibly troublesome."
In reality, the 'troublesome process' was simply the fact that Lisa would absolutely electrocute him if he dumped a quota of three hundred potions on her desk. He couldn't force the Librarian to do anything she didn't want to do. He needed a number she could casually brew during her afternoon tea breaks over two or three days. Anything more, and she would flat-out refuse.
"One advanced bottle, and ten each of the primary and intermediate versions," Kaeya countered, slashing the Black Organization's demand by more than ninety percent without batting an eye.
Bourbon's eyes narrowed. "That is far too few. We cannot accept..."
"..."
The air in the room grew heavy as the two men locked horns. After a grueling, razor-thin series of negotiations, they finally hammered out a tentative compromise. Kaeya's side would provide five advanced bottles, alongside twenty bottles each of the primary and intermediate versions every month. In return, the Black Organization would immediately hand over a cache of early-stage research data regarding the 'Silver Bullet' project, followed by encrypted monthly updates on all subsequent progress.
With the terms roughly finalized, Toru Amuro stood up, buttoning his jacket. He needed to report the results directly to Cointreau. He had no intention of tampering with the official agreement; the terms were too easily verified with a simple inquiry, and risking his cover for petty sabotage was beneath him. However, that didn't mean his hands were tied. As an operative of the Public Security Bureau, he was already calculating how to quietly siphon off a fraction of the subsequent data and a few vials of the potion during the monthly handovers to send straight to Kazami for state research.
Today had been highly profitable. He had successfully mapped out the basic psychological profile of the organization's new partner. At the very least, he confirmed that the Ragnvindr family of Country H was not officially allied with the Black Organization, which was a massive relief. However, the revelation that Kaeya operated under the shadow of a completely unknown third-party syndicate was a wild card Amuro hadn't anticipated.
Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, Amuro realized a glaring omission. He glanced back over his shoulder. "By the way, I don't believe you ever mentioned the name of this organization of yours." He asked it casually, fully expecting Kaeya to deflect or refuse.
To his absolute surprise, Kaeya didn't even hesitate. He swirled the last drop of his drink and smiled. "Teyvat."
Before Amuro could process the word, Kaeya gently pushed the door shut in his face.
"Teyvat?" Amuro muttered the word under his breath, testing the unfamiliar syllables on his tongue. It was a strange, archaic-sounding name. He committed it to memory, resolving to have Kazami scour every international database for any whispers of 'Teyvat' the second he returned to headquarters.
The door suddenly clicked and swung open again. Kaeya poked his head out, his single eye crinkling in amusement. "Oh, right. I should clarify—I belong to the Mondstadt branch, and I'm strictly responsible for external relations. Do try not to confuse me with the other departments if you run into them. Goodbye~"
With a cheerful wave, he shut the door once more, leaving Amuro staring at the polished wood.
While Kaeya was busy cementing Teyvat's lucrative new partnership with the Black Organization—though he still hadn't managed to meet the elusive Cointreau face-to-face, leaving him with the distinct, nagging suspicion that the operative was actively avoiding him—Natsume was falling into a comfortable rhythm of her own.
She tackled her daily commissions methodically, checking off tasks with practiced ease. Whenever her schedule allowed, she would wander the streets of Beika with Mouri Ran, the Detective Boys, and Conan Edogawa. Mostly, it was Conan.
Her life had settled into a bizarre but highly predictable loop: agree to a pleasant outing, witness a horrific incident, call the police, and solve the case before the sun went down.
Thanks to this relentless cycle, Natsume had inadvertently cultivated a reputation as a rather famous local detective. Strangely, despite her rising profile, not a single photograph of her face had ever leaked to the press. She couldn't quite figure out why the paparazzi always seemed to miss her, eventually chalking it up to Japan's surprisingly strong privacy protection laws.
She had to hand it to Conan, though. The boy truly lived up to his moniker as a walking God of Death. Almost every single day she spent in his vicinity resulted in a fresh corpse or a dramatic heist. It was morbid, certainly, but she couldn't deny the results—staying by the shrunken detective's side made farming Primogems incredibly efficient.
Over the past few weeks, Natsume had also taken the time to gently integrate the newest member of the Detective Boys, Ai Haibara, into their dynamic. Whenever the little girl wasn't looking, Natsume would quietly snap a few candid photos of her looking relaxed and safe, immediately forwarding them to Diluc. It was a necessary precaution to reassure Akemi Miyano, keeping the older sister grounded and preventing her from attempting anything reckless out of anxiety.
After all, these children were entirely too restless. More often than not, they would charge headfirst into mortal danger, leaving Natsume to swoop in at the last possible second to clean up their chaotic messes.
This was proven spectacularly true just a few days ago.
Natsume had agreed to join Dr. Agasa and the Detective Boys on a simple weekend camping trip. Naturally, they stumbled straight into a gang of desperate criminals hiding out in a limestone cave. While Natsume had fully anticipated something going wrong the moment they packed the tents, she hadn't expected the situation to escalate so violently, so fast.
By the time she tracked them through the dark, damp caverns, the sharp crack of a gunshot had already echoed off the stone walls. Conan had taken a bullet.
The air had turned freezing cold. Natsume hadn't bothered with pleasantries. She dismantled the armed criminals with ruthless, bone-snapping efficiency, leaving them groaning on the cave floor before sprinting back to the surface. Together with a pale, trembling Dr. Agasa, she rushed Conan's bleeding form straight to the emergency ward of Beika General Hospital.
The sterile scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the hospital corridor, accompanied by the maddening, rhythmic beep of the surgical monitors.
When the operating room doors finally swung open, a frantic nurse rushed out, her mask pulled down. They were critically short on Conan's rare blood type.
Without a second of hesitation, Mouri Ran stepped forward, rolling up her sleeve. "Use mine," she said, her voice completely steady. "We have the same blood type."
Standing quietly by the wall, Natsume watched the exchange. She didn't miss the subtle shift in Ran's demeanor. The high school girl's eyes weren't just filled with worry; they were heavy with a quiet, absolute certainty. The way she looked at the operating room doors, the way she offered her blood without needing a test to confirm compatibility—it was all wrong for a girl looking at a distant young relative.
Natsume leaned her head back against the cool plaster wall, exhaling a soft breath. Ran was suspecting Conan's true identity. No, after the sheer terror of today's events, the suspicion had likely crystallized into certainty.
Honestly, Natsume wasn't surprised in the slightest. Conan was a brilliant detective, but he was an absolutely abysmal liar. He never truly hid his nature. The moment he caught the scent of a mystery, his childish facade would instantly evaporate, replaced by the reckless, adrenaline-fueled arrogance of Shinichi Kudo.
It was entirely normal for Ran to connect the dots. In fact, as Natsume watched the nurse lead Ran away to draw blood, she couldn't help but think that if it weren't for the small army of people constantly covering for him, it would be a genuine miracle that the boy had managed to keep his secret hidden for this long.
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