"Brother, is that kid really reliable?"
Vodka, seated at the bar, turned to look at Gin with a furrowed brow. "If this fails, it'll be a big mess. If that rat hides, shouldn't I just kill him now?"
"No need for unnecessary action, Vodka."
Gin placed his glass down, the large ice sphere inside slowly melting.
He tilted his head slightly.
That cold, stone-like face curled into a rare smirk. "I'm actually starting to have some expectations for him."
"Eh?"
Vodka blinked, confused.
The Organization was enormous. If it weren't, there wouldn't be so many agents from other agencies constantly trying to infiltrate it.
Yet despite the vast number of grassroots members, very few made it to the elite level—fewer still were granted codenames.
Some codenamed agents, in Gin's opinion, were completely useless.
That's why discovering new talent had become one of Gin's ongoing tasks. Among the files he had reviewed recently, the one that caught his eye most was Hayashiki's.
First of all, Hayashiki's striking appearance might prove useful—after all, the Organization's motto had always been: do whatever it takes.
But what intrigued Gin even more was the fact that this man had written two best-selling mystery novels.
In this world, detective work carried an elevated status—likely influenced by the legacy of renowned figures like Yusaku Kudo. People tended to believe that a skilled mystery novelist was, at heart, a capable detective.
The recent releases The Case Files of Young Kindaichi: The Opera House Murder Case and The Ijinkan Village Murder Case were both dominating bookstore shelves—especially the latter, which had garnered major buzz.
That's why Gin became interested.
After all, the Organization didn't have many "detective-type" talents on hand.
Once Gin explained all this, Vodka finally nodded in understanding.
"You're always sharp, bro... but you sure that kid's not planning to bolt?"
"There's only one day left. He knows he's under the Organization's surveillance. Anyone with half a brain wouldn't even think of running." Gin narrowed his eyes with a twisted smile. "But once he finishes the job tomorrow night, running won't even be an option."
"Heh… so that's why you arranged for his book to get promoted—to make him more famous."
Gin didn't reply.
The more glamorous someone's public persona was, the more they valued their reputation.
Once Hayashiki committed the murder tomorrow night, the Organization would have solid evidence. From that point on, they wouldn't need to worry about loyalty. No bestselling author wanted to fall from grace and become a despised murderer.
Coercion and temptation—this had always been the Organization's method.
Take Pisco, for example. Despite being a powerful figure in the financial world, he still ran dirty errands for the Organization. Why? Because he was terrified of them—and because they had leverage on him.
It was already past ten when Hayashiki returned to the apartment.
He switched on the living room lights and sank into the sofa.
The moment Gin had asked him to carry out a hit, Hayashiki had suspected that the contract he signed earlier might have been arranged by the Organization. But it didn't matter.
What he needed now was a plan.
The Organization posed a very real threat. And with his identity already tainted by its shadow, Hayashiki lacked the strength to go against them outright.
Not unless he could obtain names, photos, and details of every member of the Organization.
But that was nothing more than a fantasy.
Even though the original series hadn't concluded before his arrival in this world, the narrative's core principle—good will ultimately triumph over evil—was crystal clear.
Hayashiki understood perfectly: if he remained in the Organization's ranks, the only things awaiting him were death or imprisonment.
So he needed a countermeasure.
He needed to fabricate a Red Team identity for himself.
It wouldn't be too difficult.
He could simply use the Death Note to manipulate a high-ranking Red Team official, inserting his alias into their records as an undercover agent. For added safety, he could manipulate several others to corroborate the story.
"...Let's begin a new round of testing."
Click.
With the flick of a lighter, Hayashiki dropped a torn Death Note page into the ashtray and set it alight.
The firelight flickered in his black eyes.
Buzz—Buzz—Buzz!
The flip phone in his pocket vibrated again. Hayashiki flipped it open.
It was a message from Eri Kisaki.
Eri Kisaki: "Are you back already, Hayashiki?"
Hayashiki: "Ah, yes."
Eri Kisaki: "Come over now."
Hayashiki: "Okay. Wait for me a moment."
After emptying the ashtray, Hayashiki changed his shoes at the entrance and stepped across the hall to the apartment opposite.
The door was ajar. He pushed it open and stepped inside.
"Excuse me."
"Where did you go just now?"
Kisaki Eri's voice floated from the living room.
Hayashiki looked up. She had clearly just finished a shower—her soft brown hair was damp and still steaming slightly.
He had to admit—she was truly a stunning woman.
Anyone who saw her would likely think the same.
Despite wearing casual loungewear, her graceful figure and refined air could not be concealed. Her mature beauty, warm smile, and relaxed demeanor were a stark contrast to the sharp, professional aura she carried during the day.
She looked like a woman in her early thirties.
Graceful, charismatic, and undeniably attractive.
"I was bored, so I went out for a walk," Hayashiki replied with a smile. "You've had a long day, Aunt Eri."
"Yeah, I have. So I ordered something nice for supper tonight." She smiled back and walked to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. "Want a beer? Let's celebrate your success."
"Sure."
Hayashiki didn't object.
Currently, he and Eri Kisaki lived in neighboring apartments. Because of her job as a lawyer—which often kept her working late—it wasn't unusual for them to share the occasional midnight meal.
But they rarely drank alcohol together.
So the fact that she offered tonight meant she was genuinely happy for him.