Be a vampire in the world of Conan

In the dark basement, only a little bit of red stood out.

The surrounding environment seemed very depressing, with two figures looming, as if surrounded by smoke.

Finally, after an unknown amount of time, one of the burly men spoke.

"Big... cough, cough, brother, you'd better smoke less."

Although the sound is a bit irritating, you can tell it is vodka when you hear it.

On the sofa opposite the vodka, through the thick smoke, a strand of blond hair can be seen.

In Gin's left hand, he was holding the finished cigarette and pressing it among the pile of cigarette butts, extinguishing the last sparks.

It is easy to tell from the ashtray filled with cigarette butts that they have been here for a long time.

What was incompatible with his black clothes was his entire right hand, which was fixed in white plaster.

After Gin put out the cigarette butt, he took out the cigarette case from his arms again and prepared to smoke another cigarette.

But as soon as he opened the cigarette case, he stopped - he had finished smoking again.

"Vodka, go buy another pack of cigarettes."

After a moment of silence, Gin spoke.

His voice became very hoarse from excessive smoking.

"Brother, smoke less. Smoking too much is not conducive to recovery."

Vodka shook his head and persuaded Gin, while looking at Gin's plastered right hand with worried eyes.

That night, after they retreated, they contacted the organization's medical staff as soon as possible and went to the organization's base to perform replantation surgery on their severed limbs.

Fortunately, because the incision was very smooth and not much time was wasted in between, Gin's arm was easily reattached with the organization's advanced and powerful medical methods.

But there is also bad news, that is, although his hand is connected, its flexibility and endurance are greatly reduced.

And the doctor told him that it is best not to use this hand to shoot guns or do other strenuous activities, otherwise it will cause irreversible damage to the arm.

You can't shoot, which is undoubtedly fatal for a killer.

You can tell with your toes what will happen to a killer who can no longer shoot.

Fortunately, this does not apply to gin.

Except for the reason that he was dedicated to the organization and made great contributions.

The more important reason is that he is originally left-handed and is better at his left hand.

The inability to shoot with his right hand has little effect on him.

However, even if he said this, it was already a fact that his right hand was his weakness.

And killers are not allowed to have weaknesses.

Now, the reason why they are staying in the basement is to wait for instructions from their superiors and a phone call.

This phone call is likely to determine Gin's future stay.

After hearing Vodka's words, Gin glanced at the ashtray filled with cigarette butts and stopped talking, apparently acquiescing.

Now he also has a burning pain in his chest and throat due to excessive smoking.

"Vodka."

After a while, Gin spoke again.

"Brother, I'm here."

Even though the smell of smoke around him was very strong, which made him feel very pungent as a smoker, vodka still answered immediately.

"Did Pisk find it?"

Pisk, an elderly codenamed member of the organization.

The death of Shigehiko Tonkou at the previous memorial service was also his work.

Just, what a coincidence.

When Pisk raised his pistol and aimed it, he was captured by a reporter's camera.

The intention of the organization at that time was to let Gin kill Pisk and shut him up forever.

But he didn't expect that an accident occurred midway, and his arm was cut off by an unknown object.

While Gin was receiving treatment, Vodka had been trying to contact Pisk and kill him on Gin's behalf.

However, Pisk disappeared without a trace as if he had evaporated from the world.

Now, the organization has regarded Pisk as a traitor and issued an order to kill Pisk.

"Brother, not yet."

Vodka shook his head. He later carefully checked the traces there, and even disguised himself to find someone to inquire about Pisk's whereabouts.

After all, Pisk's disguised identity can be regarded as a celebrity.

However, it was as if he disappeared out of thin air. After the chaos at the venue, no one saw him.

It was as if he had grown wings and flown away so that he could avoid everyone's gaze.

"is it?"

When Gin heard this answer, he said softly and fell silent again.

He failed to track down the traitor and failed in the mission to kill Pisk, and his right hand became ill as a result.

All kinds of reasons gathered in one person, in a ruthless organization, will only end up as a cold corpse.

"Brother, how about..."

Seeing Gin's appearance, Vodka hesitated to speak.

"Vodka, shut up."

Of course Gin knew what vodka meant, this wasn't the first time he said it.

If it were anyone else, he might have given the other person a peanut.

That is to say, Vodka has followed him for so many years, and Gin knows that Vodka only has good intentions and does not want to betray the organization.

In fact, Gin could have simply gone anonymous and left the organization, just like Pisk who had "defected".

The organization still has no intention of restricting his actions.

But he can't and won't.

He grew up in the organization, was trained by the organization, and devoted himself wholeheartedly to the organization.

Even if the adult ordered him to commit suicide, he would not feel the slightest resentment.

After all, this time the matter was indeed his problem, and he didn't bother to shirk responsibility.

Vodka looked at Gin's pale face, his eyes full of worry.

buzzing...

At this moment, the phone on the table vibrated.

On the screen that lights up, the encrypted asterisk reveals the identity of the caller—the boss.

Under Vodka's nervous gaze, Gin immediately stretched out his left hand, picked up the phone from the table, put it to his ear, and connected the call.

"boss..."

……

Tick, tick.

In the dark and damp small room, a rancid-smelling liquid dripped from the ceiling to the floor, causing small splashes.

On the side, a white-haired old man was trapped in a chair, unable to move.

His lips became chapped due to long-term lack of water, and his wrists and ankles had become swollen and congested due to long-term binding.

And his eyes revealed a strong aura of twilight.

He didn't know where this place was or how long he had been imprisoned.

But he knew that he was dead.

Click.

At this moment, the door of the small room was opened, and a beam of light shone on his eyes, forcing him to close them.

From the direction of the door, a voice of relief came.

"It turns out it's not cold yet."