Swaying snow.A black coat standing firm against the wind.
Seeing the woman he had been thinking about day and night, sitting there so helplessly with a gun in her hand—ready to end her life at any moment—Gin's eyes gleamed with uncontainable joy.
"It's so wonderful!"
"I don't know whether you were caught by Pisco or sneaked into the wine cellar without his knowledge, but it was all thanks to this hair of yours… It just happened to fall beneath the fireplace and made me notice the chimney."
Gin spoke as he pulled the trigger toward the slumped figure.
The flying bullet struck the woman's other shoulder precisely.
Next came the legs.
As the bright red blood splattered across the snow, Gin's eyes finally revealed murderous intent.
"Alright. While you can still talk, I'll ask you—how did you escape from the organization's gas chamber?"
The woman, her limbs already wounded, trembled.
She exhaled a hot white breath and opened her mouth to speak—but at that exact moment, Gin sensed something wrong.
Too late.
A bullet from afar suddenly pierced Gin's chest. The sheer impact forced a pained grunt from his throat.
Is it the same sniper from last time!?
Gin instinctively turned toward the direction of the shot. As expected, he detected the presence of an enemy. The moment he had stepped onto the rooftop, he had already scoped out all viable sniper points to defend against ambush.
"Aniki!?"
Vodka shouted in alarm, rushing forward to shield Gin, but his movements were no match for a speeding bullet.
Bang!
Two bullets struck Gin again—but avoided vital areas. Still, the force left him reeling.
"Heh… Hehehe…"
Despite his pain, Gin sneered darkly.
"I see… so that's what this is about—"
Vodka now stood before Gin, acting as a shield. But Gin's eyes pierced past him, staring directly at the sniper's location.
This is a trap.
Whether it was Sherry's hair in the car or in the fireplace—everything had been orchestrated to lure him to the rooftop!
Even wearing the organization's custom bulletproof vest, Gin couldn't stop the blood flowing from his lips.
Far off atop a tall building near the Beika Hotel's old wing, the disguised Scorpion—now adapted to Seiran Hoshi, a sniper from the Black Organization's Japanese unit—held her rifle steady, staring through the scope.
What a terrifying man…
If Gin's attention hadn't been consumed by the woman earlier, he might have dodged her first shot.
And this time, Seiran Hoshi's sniping distance was even shorter than last time.
Still… I can't kill him.
Even though her mission wasn't to eliminate him, Seiran Hoshi had realized: that even if she wanted to kill him, she probably couldn't do it alone.
She pulled the trigger again.
Vodka, arms spread to shield Gin, cried out. The bullet hit his right arm squarely, nearly disabling it.
The same spot as last time...
Is this guy mocking me!?
Gin's glare darkened. But he couldn't deny it: he had failed this time.
"It's time to retreat, Vodka."
"Understood, Aniki."
With cold sweat soaking his brow, Vodka nodded.
They were only two meters from the stairs. The moment Gin sensed another incoming bullet, he pushed Vodka aside.
The sniper's bullet hit his right shoulder—but Gin retaliated with his left hand, firing back.
Bang!
In the swirling snow and smoke, spent brass glinted like dying stars on the white rooftop.
No scream of pain.No resistance.
The woman—who in Gin's eyes was Miyano Shiho—was shot cleanly between the eyebrows and collapsed silently.
The two men immediately dashed toward the staircase.
As they hurried down, Gin remained alert, wary of another ambush. But from the rooftop of the Beika Hotel to the getaway car, there was no further attack.
"Damn it!"
Vodka cursed, one hand on the wheel, gritting through the pain in his injured arm.
Gin remained silent, his face clouded with fury.
"But at least we killed the traitor Sherry, Aniki…"
Gin didn't answer.
Something still felt off.
His obsession with Shirley made him mentally replay every moment from the rooftop. His frown deepened—until his phone vibrated.
An email.
From the Boss!?
Gin's eyes narrowed. He opened the message immediately.
"Eliminate Pisco."
[Image Attachment]
Gin opened the image—and froze.
It was a photo taken at the memorial service. Probably snapped by a rogue journalist when hotel security was lax.
The photo's main focus was the Naoki Prize-winning author hugging a rising musician in the dark, but Pisco could be seen holding a gun in the corner.
Though grainy, the image clearly captured enough.
Pisco is trash.
Rage surged through Gin's eyes. He replied swiftly to the Boss, then dialed Vermouth.
"The Boss has ordered that Pisco be dealt with—immediately."
"Eh? What did Pisco do? I just used my handkerchief to cover for him in front of the police~"
Vermouth's teasing voice came through the line.
"But there's this detective at the scene, you know? They say he solves crimes faster than anyone... but today, he's refusing to help the police~?"
"Tch. That garbage Pisco!''
Gin, already furious, felt his blood boil at Vermouth's cryptic tone.
But he held back, replying coldly:
"Sherry's body is on the rooftop of the Beika Hotel's old building. After you dispose of Pisco, check it immediately."
"Sherry?"
Vermouth's voice shifted into shock.
Then, recalling the research of Miyano Shiho's parents, her tone turned cold:
"Understood."
After ending the call, Vermouth immediately disguised herself and located Pisco—shooting him directly in the head.
She then headed to the hotel rooftop.
Passing a tense-faced Conan Edogawa, she ascended and found the bloodstained rooftop... and the woman's body lying in the snow.
She approached and checked the body, then removed the disguise mask from the woman's face.
It wasn't Sherry.
It was a stranger.