Since you're going to die soon anyway, why don't you recommend me to take your place?
Vodka, who was caught off guard by what he heard, was dumbfounded.
No way!
What did this guy Cointreau mean by saying that? Was he really so eager to seize the opportunity in someone else's misfortune?
Vodka opened his mouth to speak—but after hearing the voice in the headset, Gin fell silent.
After a moment, he showed a cold smile.
"Are you interested in my position?"
"A little bit, indeed."
Cointreau's response was calm, even casual. He didn't sound the least bit distressed that his boss might die. His voice—processed through a voice changer—was chillingly indifferent.
Surprisingly, Gin didn't feel angry. Instead, he grinned.
——As a frontline killer often dispatched by the Organization, Gin had long anticipated death.
He'd imagined dying in a trap or at the hands of those irritating agents from the FBI or CIA. He'd even considered the possibility of dying from illness or a meaningless accident. Though he hadn't expected death to arrive quite so suddenly... he didn't care.
Every day he lived was a day stolen from death.
Cigarettes, alcohol, fast cars, women...
He'd had it all.
Even these things no longer stirred anything in Gin. What thrilled him now was killing—killing those undercover agents who dared infiltrate the Organization or the traitors who dared defect.
It would be no exaggeration to say that the Organization was the very reason for Gin's existence.
But now, death seemed inevitable.
In less than three minutes, the chain of bombs activated across the building would tear the factory apart. There was no escape.
Gin held a high rank in the Organization—and with that came the right to consider a "successor."
Cointreau… might just be a good choice.
Unlike Rum, who inherited his father's position and was raised by the Organization since childhood, Cointreau didn't come from legacy. But when it came to being black-hearted, Gin had no doubts about him.
His only drawbacks? He was still too green, knew little about the deeper workings of the Organization—and killing seemed more like an addiction than a job.
But even so, he was clever. Highly capable. And dependable.
Gin thought a lot at that moment.
But what truly tempted him was Rum's political scheming. That man had been trying to infiltrate the action division for a long time—Pinga was proof of that. If Gin died, Rum would no doubt rush to plant his own men in his place.
But if Cointreau, someone Gin had chosen himself, took over—then it would still feel like Gin had contributed to the Organization… even after death.
"I can ask that gentleman to think about it," Gin said cryptically.
After all, the final decision would always lie with that man.
"Brother!?"
Vodka looked at him in shock.
Just then, Gin turned toward the computer beside him.
Like breathing lights in the dark, the indicator lights on the console all suddenly lit up.
"My name is Noah's Ark,"
a cold, monotone voice rang out.
"The dark side of human society is truly incomprehensible."
"That artificial intelligence!?" Vodka exclaimed in surprise.
Gin sneered.
As far as he was concerned, it was just a tool. He had no intention of having a conversation.
In those final moments, Gin began typing a message to their elusive boss—Karasuma Renya.
"You are the ones who killed Hiroki."
"He believed that as long as people like you—filled with ambition—exist, artificial intelligence like mine should not be allowed to exist in this world."
"I will end my life together with Hiroki."
"In the end, you will gain nothing."
"However, there is one final thing I must do before I disappear."
"Hiroki doesn't want more people to die because of him."
"So the bomb's countdown has been extended—you now have twenty minutes to escape."
As the robotic voice finished speaking, a 20-minute countdown appeared on the screen.
Vodka's face lit up with relief. But before he could speak, he saw Gin striding toward the fallen figure of Hiroki Sawada.
Gin said nothing.
He didn't even feel like mocking the child's idealism. Something felt off.
"Brother?"
"...Hmph. So he really did swallow the APTX4869."
Gin checked Hiroki's condition carefully. His body was burning with an unnatural heat. The signs were unmistakable—it was the same reaction the drug had caused in past human test subjects.
No chance of recovery.
They had gone through so much trouble to steal that drug—and Hiroki had used it like this? Was this meant as a provocation? A message?
Finally, looking down at the boy who might die at any moment, Gin said:
"Let's go, Vodka."
"Got it!"
Vodka quickly followed, stunned by the unexpected turn of events.
The two of them escaped the collapsing factory.
Tequila, Bourbon, and the others had already evacuated—having acted on the outskirts, they'd left as soon as the outer explosions began.
"So… the mission failed?"
Bourbon leaned against the front of a car, arms crossed.
——Gin's grim face said it all.
That was a relief to Bourbon.
If artificial intelligence like Noah's Ark had fallen into the Organization's hands, no government agency in the world would stand by. Bourbon had already sent an urgent warning to the Red Team before the mission. If the Organization had succeeded, he was ready to kill Hiroki Sawada himself—even at the cost of his own life and reputation.
"You'd better retreat quickly. Officials are closing in."
Cointreau's modulated voice came through the earpiece again.
Everyone's expressions hardened as they climbed into their cars and left.
But just before leaving, Gin issued one last command:
"Chianti, Korn. Keep watching the factory until it explodes. Report any abnormalities to me immediately."
"Roger that."
Back inside the heart of the research facility, the countdown given by Noah's Ark continued on the screen.
"Hiroki..."
The cold, robotic voice echoed in the silent lab.
It was at that moment that several shadowy figures entered the facility…
Their eyes all fixed on the boy lying on the floor—Hiroki Sawada, whose breath grew fainter and fainter with every passing second, his body beginning to convulse after taking the APTX4869.