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"Wasn't that going too far?" Steven thought as he watched Ran walk numbly toward the bathroom. "She's still just a high schooler."
Smack!
The next second, he slapped himself hard across the face.
"What am I thinking?" he sneered. "You're a hardened criminal. There's no turning back. You should learn from Zu."
"Besides, some high schoolers these days play harder than the girls at Heaven on Earth."
"She's just a tool to get back at that four-eyed brat Conan. Use it, toss it, what's so strange about that?"
Rubbing his cheek, Steven stroked his chin and pondered life.
If Vermouth was rich, mellow wine, then Mouri Ran was early spring tea.
A glass of wine at night, a cup of tea in the morning.
That was how life should be lived.
"Even tools need maintenance," he muttered. "You never know when you'll need them again."
Steven got up and headed into the kitchen.
Half an hour later.
Fresh from the shower, Ran Mouri sat silently on the sofa in her bathrobe, saying nothing.
"I warmed the medicine up for you. Drink it before it gets cold."
Steven set the bowl down and slid it over in front of her.
Gulp.
Ran picked up the bowl and drank it down without a change of expression.
The two of them said nothing. The silence was terrifying, as if the air itself had frozen solid.
Creak.
"Steven, thank goodness Yukiko tipped me off. I didn't expect you really were the bomber. You hid your identity and applied to be my assistant, so what were you after? What did you do to Ran?"
"Your cover's blown. The local police and the FBI are searching the whole city for you. I'm calling them right now!"
Vermouth theatrically pulled out her phone, shooting Steven meaningful looks the whole time.
The acting was flawless.
She'd said everything she should and shouldn't have said, blatantly feeding him intel.
Steven held back a laugh and instantly understood. Akai Shuichi must have already exposed his real identity to the Japanese police, Mouri Kogoro, and the rest. Otherwise, Yukiko would never have known.
"Miss Chris, run! He's a heartless monster!"
Ran looked up and hurriedly warned her.
"Don't be afraid, Ran. I'll bring people back to save you, I promise."
Vermouth finished speaking and turned to leave.
"Trying to run? Since you're already here, why not stay and keep me company, hehe…"
If you're acting, you go all the way.
Steven lunged forward, grabbed Vermouth, shoved her aside, and locked the door behind him.
Licking his lips and rubbing his hands together, he pulled exaggerated leering faces like some sleazy thug straight out of a movie.
"I'll take both of you. No favorites."
"Don't come any closer!"
"You filthy pervert! I'd rather die than let you have your way!"
"..."
In the living room, an intense action-packed fight scene unfolded, one man versus two women.
With Vermouth half-intentionally cooperating, Steven's so-called "Eighteen Techniques of A-Wei" completely dominated the fight.
An hour and a half later.
Steven pulled out a lighter and, thoroughly satisfied, lit himself a cigarette.
"Ran, what exactly happened? How did you end up in this scumbag's hands?"
Vermouth played dumb despite knowing everything, and for realism's sake, she shot Steven a fierce glare.
"Yesterday, on my way back to the Linglong 85 Hotel… room 2104…"
Curled up in Vermouth's arms, Ran choked out the whole story through her sobs.
"Chris… this is all my fault. If you hadn't tried to save me, you wouldn't have been taken by that demon and…"
Honestly, what Steven did really was a bit too much.
No matter what, laying hands on an innocent high school girl crossed a line.
Thinking back to how Ran had tried to save her yesterday, something inside Vermouth slowly began to shift.
"Only an angel would try to save someone who wanted to kill her."
Once, Vermouth believed the world was nothing but darkness. Now, she finally saw a glimmer of light.
Even if it was faint, it was enough to melt the ice in her heart.
"What are you crying for? If you hadn't falsely accused me…"
Bang!
Out of nowhere, Vermouth hurled her phone at Steven's arm. The cigarette slipped from his fingers and landed squarely on his little brother.
"Hot, hot, hot! I almost lost it…"
Steven hurriedly slapped the cigarette away, then turned to glare at Vermouth, about to demand what the hell she was thinking.
Using someone and then trying to cripple them afterward was just vicious.
"What are you staring at? Get out. I don't want to see you."
As she snapped at him, Vermouth subtly flicked her eyes toward the phone.
Then she went right back to comforting Ran.
"Ran, don't apologize. You know I'm a movie star. Please don't tell anyone about what happened today, especially anything related to me."
"A single scandal can destroy a star's entire career. I'll just pretend I got bitten by a mosquito."
Wow. That was insulting.
A mosquito?
That was clearly the proudest masterpiece of the Gintama universe: the Armstrong Cyclone Jet Armstrong Cannon.
Grumbling internally, Steven picked up the phone that had fallen beside him. When he opened the message, he saw something strange.
The content was simple. Just a time and a location.
After a moment's thought, he realized it was Gin, asking to meet.
Since the Organization's top workhorse was showing him respect, he figured he might as well go see him.
As for whether he'd actually join, that would depend.
After Steven left, Vermouth continued soothing Ran.
The elite PUA skills of a Black Organization veteran were not something an ordinary person could withstand.
After her careful guidance, a seed was planted deep in Ran's subconscious. A "good woman never marries twice" kind of belief, one that would someday take root and grow strong.
…
Join the Organization and do big things?
Yeah, right.
Most of it was fake booze anyway. Easy way to get alcohol poisoning.
Following the coordinates, Steven arrived right on time at a discreet, hidden bar.
Along the way, he'd come up with plenty of reasons to join the Organization. In the end, his goal was simple. Joining to do big things was hard. Making money was easier.
After all, fake booze ruins lives.
"Steven, over here. The boss is waiting for you."
The moment Vodka spotted him, he stepped forward to lead the way.
Have we met before?
Steven frowned slightly. Either Vermouth had sent his photo to the Organization, or they'd already investigated his background.
Soon, the two of them reached a corner booth.
"Boss, he's here."
Vodka gave the reminder and gestured for Steven to sit.
Click.
The very next second, Gin pulled out a gun and pressed it against Steven's forehead.
"Talk. Which country's undercover agent are you? Japanese Public Security? The FBI? MI6? Or some other organization?"
Pathetic.
A workhorse as capable as Gin had been driven into full paranoia by a bunch of fake operatives.
Steven didn't panic at all. He calmly sized Gin up.
Black trench coat, long silver hair, an icy aura, and those razor-sharp eyes. He looked mysterious, like a demon straight out of hell.
Even scarier than he was on screen. The kind of face that could stop a kid from crying at midnight.
"If you don't trust me, why invite me here at all?"
"First meeting, so I'll only say this once. I hate it when people point fire pokers at me, especially at my head."
"Pulling a gun at every turn. You think that makes you cool?"
Bang!
The instant Steven finished speaking, the wine bottle on the table exploded.
Smoke burst into the air, briefly forming the letters "SB" before slowly dissipating.
A show of force?
Steven had expected this. It was a classic move straight out of the movies, so he'd prepared in advance.
When he sat down earlier, he'd taken advantage of Gin's inattention and smeared a little booger onto the bottle.
Then, with a thought, he triggered the explosion. A flashy display, and a counter–show of force all in one.
"....."