Carrying the first-aid kit, Gin walked into the bathroom and looked at Ritsu, who was removing the bandage from his forehead.
The wound wasn't small. In fact, after being soaked by the water gun, it had started bleeding again.
Narrowing his eyes, Gin asked in an irritated tone,
"I didn't assign you any missions. How did you manage to get yourself injured?"
Ritsu took the first-aid kit from him, skillfully found the rubbing alcohol and sterile bandages inside, and lowered his voice as he explained,
"There was an accident over at the MPD. I got caught in a bomb blast. Didn't I call you about it?"
"Calvados didn't take you to the Organization's hospital?"
"You know me. I don't like that strange woman at the hospital. The way she looks at me has always been... weird."
Even now, Ritsu hadn't forgotten the surprise Taylors had given him when they first met.
If Gin hadn't barged in back then, he probably would've knocked her unconscious with a punch.
Gin turned around, pushed open the bathroom door, and left behind a remark that made Ritsu feel rather helpless.
"...You're always getting hurt."
Ritsu pursed his lips but said nothing. It was true, he got injured often.
But he was only human.
Whether as a police officer or an Organization assassin, no one could make it through every mission without getting hurt.
After quickly tending to his wound, he stepped out of the bathroom.
The first thing he saw was Chianti sitting obediently on the sofa with her head lowered, while Gin beside her radiated an oppressive aura.
It was obvious the poor little maniac had just been disciplined by Gin. Who knew how many mission payouts had just been deducted from her earnings?
Ritsu walked over and sat beside Chianti.
"Why are there so few people today?"
Vodka crouched in front of the refrigerator, taking out the ingredients he'd marinated the day before.
"Because Aniki sent everyone else out on missions. When we're resting, someone else is always out working."
"Oh, I see."
Kir's gaze drifted toward Augier from time to time.
Earlier, she'd deliberately passed by the bathroom door and had clearly heard the words "MPD."
'Could it be... Augier had successfully infiltrated the MPD?'
She sighed inwardly and took a sip from her teacup.
Even if she had obtained such valuable intelligence, what good did it do? The CIA had practically forgotten about her.
With no handler to report to, all she could do was bury the information inside herself.
Who knew... perhaps one day she'd lose her life carrying out one of the Organization's missions.
"U-Um..."
"Hm?"
All four people on the sofa turned toward the source of the voice.
They found Vodka standing with his legs tightly pressed together in an awkward posture, clutching his stomach.
Although his dark sunglasses hid much of his expression, the cold sweat pouring down his face was impossible to miss.
"My stomach hurts. Can someone keep an eye on the kitchen for me?"
Ritsu's eyes landed on the ingredients Vodka had already prepared.
Many of the seasoning bowls were already filled with perfectly mixed sauces.
This seemed like the perfect opportunity to improve his cooking skills.
'Opportunity only knocks once!'
Kir was about to stand up when Ritsu rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt while expressionlessly walking toward the kitchen.
To stay in character, he coolly tossed out only tough words.
"I'll do it."
"Thanks, Augier!"
Vodka dashed into the bathroom at full speed.
At the same time, he found himself looking forward to it. After all, Augier had lived alone in Zurich for an entire year.
His cooking had to be pretty good... right?
Kir couldn't shake the feeling that someone like Augier couldn't possibly be good at cooking. Watching his busy silhouette from behind, she asked Gin worriedly,
"Gin... is he actually good at cooking?"
Gin stubbed out his cigarette.
After a long silence, he slowly answered uncertainly.
"I don't know."
Chianti, who had only moments ago been caught causing trouble, immediately jumped in after hearing Kir question Augier's cooking. Like an eager lackey trying to curry favor, she said,
"Mr. Augier is definitely an amazing cook... right?"
No response came from Augier himself.
At this moment, Ritsu had already become immersed in his own little world. He was imagining everyone tasting his cooking and wearing expressions of complete satisfaction.
'This time... I have to make something edible. I have to get rid of the title of "male witch."
Then I won't have to survive on instant noodles anymore...'
...
'Oh, wait. Akemi cooks for me now. There's actually no reason for me to learn...'
The more Ritsu thought about it, the less interested he became.
Without knowing what any of the black or golden-colored seasonings actually were, he dumped all of them into the pot in one go.
This time, however, he was experienced.
The instant everything went into the pot, he slammed the lid shut with lightning speed, crossed his arms over his chest, and struck the pose of a professional chef.
'Mm. This time it'll definitely work.'
"Augier! Could you microwave the beaten eggs I prepared? I'm going to be in here for a while longer!"
Vodka's voice echoed from inside the bathroom.
Ritsu frowned.
Suddenly, the food simmering in the pot didn't seem nearly as appealing.
He grabbed an unlabeled glass bowl, poured the beaten eggs into it, shoved it into the microwave, and, having absolutely no idea how long eggs should be cooked, turned the timer knob all the way to the maximum.
Five minutes later...
Kir, who was watching the evening news in the living room, suddenly smelled something strange.
It smelled... like food had been burned.
Turning her head in confusion, she looked at Augier, who was leaning against the refrigerator while playing on his phone.
"Augier, are you sure you don't smell something burning? Did something in the pot burn?"
Ritsu looked up, about to check on the pot.
But then—
BOOM!
A deafening explosion echoed through the house.
Gin, seated on the sofa, instantly drew his Beretta and aimed toward the kitchen. His expression turned deadly serious, as if facing a formidable enemy.
One thought flashed through his mind.
'Vodka got careless after all. The safehouse has been discovered.'
The entire kitchen burst into flames. Realizing something was seriously wrong, Ritsu shouted,
"Gin! Get out of here! I think there's going to be a second explosion!"
"Got it."
Ritsu watched as Gin immediately vaulted out through the living room window. Then Chianti jumped out after him.
Kir hesitated for a moment... before climbing out the window as well.
"...??"
Standing at the front entrance with the door already open, Ritsu was completely baffled.
'Why does nobody ever use the front door?'
The instant he shut the front door behind him—
BOOM!!
A second explosion ripped through the kitchen.
Inside the bathroom, the blast startled Vodka so badly that he nearly lost control of the hand he was using to wipe himself.
Even in the middle of a crisis, the cleanliness-obsessed man still washed his hands at lightning speed before climbing out the bathroom window.
He hurried into the yard where Gin stood with a grim expression.
"A-Aniki! Could the Nisen-kai have been following me? Did they plant bombs in my kitchen?!"
Kir remained silent.
For some reason, she didn't think the situation was nearly that complicated. Her gaze slowly shifted toward Augier, who was calmly walking over.
Relying purely on a woman's intuition, she had a feeling he was the real culprit.
The neighboring residents also rushed out of their homes to see what had happened.
And then...
Whether their luck was good or terrible, police sirens began approaching once again.
"A-Aniki! There's still—"
"Shut up."
The moment Ritsu heard the sirens, he realized a patrol unit just happened to be nearby. Swiftly putting on his gold-rimmed glasses, he brushed aside his bangs.
Since he had no other disguise materials with him, he took out an adhesive bandage and covered the cross-shaped scar on his face.
Looking as though nothing had happened, he quickly tossed two items toward Vodka and Gin before wearing a bright smile to greet the female police officer who had just stepped out of her patrol car.