The bright morning sun rose.
I handed Miyano Akemi over to Public Security, then transferred to a filming studio they had already prepared.
The plan was bold, relying on image processing techniques and cinematic makeup to fabricate a video documenting Akemi-san's "liquidation."
I personally oversaw the production.
Gin would inevitably review it, and he had specific preferences regarding camera angles and facial expressions.
Furthermore, the blood splatter from my claws needed to look entirely natural.
To ensure there were no doubts regarding the video's authenticity this time, I decided to present a "special edition": tearing the heart out with iron claws.
We quickly fashioned fake entrails to serve as blood bags and incorporated them into the scene.
After slicing open her abdomen as usual, I used mechanically retractable claws to create the illusion that I had ripped the heart from her cavity.
I hesitated to inflict a large wound on a woman's body, but if there was even a moment of doubt regarding Miyano Akemi's survival, it would be catastrophic.
So, I steeled my heart and inflicted a dramatic, superficial wound without damaging any internal organs.
Naturally, I made sure to heat-sterilize the claws to prevent infection as much as possible.
The expressions of agony on Akemi-san's face as her flesh was torn by the claws stemmed from genuine pain, not mere acting.
The remaining preparations were of the highest caliber as well.
Kazami-san exerted tremendous effort in the preparation, and the crew he assembled included technicians who rivaled Hollywood cinematographers.
And so.
All efforts converged to produce, in just half a day, a bloody film that was a masterpiece no less terrifying than a slasher movie.
With this, Gin would undoubtedly be satisfied.
Especially the scene where I smiled while ripping out the heart; I suspect he will save that screenshot to his "Favorites."
He has a fondness for that serial killer aesthetic, and I am an expert on his tastes.
As for Miyano Akemi, who seemed skeptical the entire time—as if suspecting this was a hidden camera prank—she went through the filming tense and more guarded than a hedgehog.
Ironically, that tension added an excellent layer of realism to the scene, so it was acceptable as long as it enhanced the video's quality.
Miyano Akemi possessed a truly sharp intuition.
The moment the work was finished and I swapped personalities with Furuya Rei, her eyes widened. She whispered, "Rei-kun?" Her astonishment delivered a genuine shock to me, deep within the sea of my subconscious.
Did she sense, on instinct alone, that I wasn't Furuya Rei?
Childhood friends in romantic comedies really are something else...
Yet, despite the weight of their shared memories, the conversation between Furuya Rei and Miyano Akemi lacked vitality. It was limited to fleeting exchanges: "It's been a long time," or "I'm sorry I couldn't help you until now."
Perhaps the passage of time and the complexity of their circumstances had made the words heavy on their tongues.
After a brief exchange, Miyano Akemi asked anxiously about the lover who had betrayed her. "By the way... what about Dai-kun?"
The question caught me off guard, and I unconsciously interjected.
"───Do you care about Akai Shuichi's fate that much?"
"!!"
Miyano Akemi's shoulders jerked.
She seemed to clearly sense that we were two separate entities.
Aside from Scotch, she and Kazami were the only ones to witness this switch. I couldn't gauge how different we appeared to others... but if the distinction was this stark, I would have to rethink my future plans.
"You... who are you?"
Miyano Akemi looked at me with fear and caution.
"I am 'Bourbon.' Or the entity known as 'Amuro Tooru.' —Why did you intervene, Amuro? —It piqued my curiosity."
She stared at us in bewilderment, watching us converse through a single mouth.
By the entrance, Kazami stood as rigid as a statue, silently observing the scene.
"...Does this mean... a split personality? Is Rei-kun suffering from that?"
"Yes, born of my own weakness. Though it is undoubtedly useful."
"Rei-kun is weak? Impossible. I can't believe that."
"For my mind to fracture under the strain of undercover work—what would you call that if not weakness? I am unfit to be an investigator."
Furuya Rei scoffed at himself.
In truth, I was a reincarnated soul possessing him, not an alternate personality... but since that was a secret, I kept my mouth shut.
Think of me as Furuya Rei's unknown alter ego. Let's leave it at that.
"So, there is no need to fear my other side, 'Amuro.' Think of him as a part of me."
"...I understand."
With those words, the switch happened seamlessly, like a shifting of thoughts.
Furuya-san sank into the depths in my place, while I surfaced, wearing a gentle expression before this living testament to his past.
Miyano Akemi's shoulders trembled slightly, as if she couldn't suppress her fear.
"I apologize for frightening you."
"It is fine. I was simply frightened on my own accord."
"Does the dread still linger?"
"...Yes. The scent of blood and the thick darkness of the Organization clinging to you... they remind me of terrible things from the past."
Wait, Sherry said that too. What is the deal with this "scent of the Organization"?
Does the Organization actually have a smell?
I had plenty of questions, but the topic at hand was Akai Shuichi. "Fear isn't a bad thing," I told her in a light tone, then cut straight to the chase.
"He betrayed you. Even so, does Akai Shuichi still matter to you?"
"Akai... whom do you mean?"
"It is Moroboshi Dai's real name. FBI Agent Akai Shuichi. One of the top five snipers in the world."
He was the sniper whom Scotch—or Morofushi Hiromitsu—had praised endlessly.
I wasn't sure of the extent of his greatness, but even Furuya-san had acknowledged his skill, saying, "As much as I hate him, I am forced to admit his competence." No doubt he possessed skills that transcended human limits.
Miyano Akemi smiled and nodded in agreement.
She didn't waver in the face of betrayal, remaining loyal to her love.
"Yes. No matter who 'Dai-kun' really is, he is the person I hold dear."
What a strong woman.
She was indeed the person who had successfully stolen one billion yen after Gin jokingly told her, "If you want out of the Organization, steal it." She had a different air about her.
"We will definitely arrange a meeting between you, your sister Miyano Shiho, and Akai Shuichi. So, do not be hasty."
"I imagine that would be a very dangerous move for you as well."
"It is. But don't I have the right to wish that your feelings aren't wasted?"
I spoke with a seriousness and sincerity that matched her own.
She laughed lightly. "You are a more honest person than I expected."
"I try not to lie whenever possible."
"My goodness, you just faked my death with a massive lie, and now you claim you don't lie? I can't trust you."
It seemed she was a cheerful woman by nature.
Her face was pale, and the large wound I had inflicted on her surely pained her. Yet, she was smiling.
"You are right; that was a slip of the tongue. I am a big liar, so be careful."
"That is scary. If you lie to me, I will complain to Rei-kun about you."
"Oh dear. That would be a big problem. —Rest assured, I will keep a close eye on Bourbon."
"Hehehe. If Rei-kun is watching him, then I am relieved."
As we exchanged banter, my smartphone vibrated.
I had recently changed my phone. It was actually quite moving; the era of smartphones had begun.
It was an email. The sender: Gin, an executive of the Black Organization.
"Come to the Lab immediately. Sherry is acting out. Teach her a lesson about the harshness of reality."
An unscheduled emergency summons.
Incidentally, had a specific time been set, being even a minute late could be fatal. That is the flaw of the silver-haired men.
I slipped the phone into my pocket, returned the claws to my bag, and stood up.
Akemi-san looked anxious and tense, but it was fine.
I gave her a gentle, reassuring nod, and her shoulders relaxed.
"I am going to see Sherry. I may have to put her through a rough ordeal."
"...You will reunite us someday, won't you?"
"I promise."
Then.
As I raced back to the lab, a terrifying realization suddenly struck me inside the car.
Would I be forced to show this fake "documentary" of Miyano Akemi's execution to Shiho-chan now?
It was top-tier gore, a video I had poured my energy into without holding back, assuming the FBI would be the ones watching it!
Showing that to her own sister, Miyano Shiho—wasn't that sheer madness?
Her hatred for me could grow beyond all measure, perhaps to the point where she attacks me one day with a kitchen knife in a suicidal rage.
I wasn't the only one who turned pale.
Deep within me, Furuya-san also hung his head, his face deathly pale, refusing to look up.
What should I do? In that video, I am smiling as I rip out Miyano Akemi's heart.
My face is splattered with blood. I can almost see Gin's satisfied smirk right now.
Someone save me...