"Big Brother, is that kid really reliable?"
Vodka, seated at the bar, couldn't help but glance at Gin. "What if he messes up and the rat gets away? Wouldn't that be a pain? Why don't I just go and kill him?"
"No need for that, Vodka," Gin replied, setting down his glass—now containing only a slowly melting ice ball.
He tilted his head slightly.
A rare, sharp smile appeared on his otherwise emotionless face. "In fact, I'm starting to look forward to him."
"Huh?"
Vodka blinked, puzzled.
The Organization was vast—far too large for so many government agents to have infiltrated it by mere chance. Yet, despite its size, there were few who earned the honor of a code name. To Gin, most of them were just dead weight—people who lacked real ability.
That was why Gin had always kept an eye out for new talent.
Among the recent personnel files, one had stood out to him: Eitan.
First, the kid had a striking appearance. That alone could prove useful in many situations. The Organization had always believed in using any means necessary.
But what intrigued Gin more was that Eitan had written two best-selling mystery novels.
In this world, being a detective carried real weight. Perhaps it was the legacy of Yusaku Kudo, but the public often believed that a novelist who could craft brilliant mysteries might also possess the mind of a great detective.
Eitan's recent releases—Kindaichi Case Files: The Opera House Murder Case and Kindaichi Case Files: The Strange Mansion Village Murder Case—were flying off bookstore shelves. The latter especially had sparked serious buzz and discussion.
That kind of brain was rare in the Organization.
After Gin's explanation, Vodka finally understood.
"As expected of you, Big Brother. But you sure that kid won't run?"
"He only has one day. And with the Organization keeping tabs on him, anyone with a functioning brain wouldn't even try it."
Gin lowered his eyes and smirked. "But the real test starts tomorrow night—once he takes action, he won't even think of running."
"Heh, so that's why you arranged to hype up his books and make him more famous?"
Gin said nothing.
People with polished public reputations feared losing them more than most. Once Eitan committed murder tomorrow night, the Organization would have leverage. There'd be no risk of betrayal—not unless he wanted to fall from a celebrated author to a despised criminal.
Coercion and temptation. That had always been the Organization's way.
Would a decaying fossil like Pisco, a titan in the financial world, really be doing the Organization's dirty work if not for fear and blackmail? Of course not.
---
It was just past ten when he returned to the apartment.
Eitan stepped into his rented room, switched on the living room lights, and dropped onto the sofa.
He'd known what Gin wanted from the moment he was told to kill someone. He also suspected that the contract he signed today was quietly orchestrated by the Organization.
Not that it mattered now.
What mattered was what came next.
The Organization was dangerous. With his record already blackened, he had no means of resisting them head-on.
Unless he could somehow get names, photos, and key intel on every member.
But walking that dark path to its end… wasn't realistic either.
Though the original story hadn't concluded before he transmigrated, Eitan understood one thing: good always triumphed over evil in the end. And he knew that staying with the Organization only had two outcomes—death or prison.
Given that, he'd need to forge a Detective identity.
And that part was doable.
He could simply use the Death Note to control a high-ranking Detective agent and have them add his name to their undercover roster. If that felt too risky, he could manipulate others to collaborate and cover the tracks.
"...Next, let's begin another test."
Ding.
With a quiet flick, he lit a lighter and held it under a torn page of the Death Note. He dropped it into the ashtray, watching it burn.
The firelight flickered in his dark eyes.
Buzz... Buzz...
His flip phone vibrated in his pocket.
A message from Eri Kisaki.
Eri Kisaki: "Are you back yet, Eitan?"
Eitan: "Yeah."
Eri Kisaki: "Then come over now."
Eitan: "Alright. Be there in a sec."
After dumping the ashes from the tray, he slipped on his shoes and walked to the door. The apartment hallway was quiet as he crossed it to the opposite unit.
The door was ajar, so he pushed it open gently.
"Excuse me."
"You went out just now?"
Eri Kisaki's gentle voice floated over.
Eitan looked up. The elegant woman had clearly just showered. Her damp hair clung to her neck, still trailing wisps of steam.
It had to be said—she was truly an incredibly charming woman.
Anyone who saw her would think the same.
Her tall, shapely figure was accentuated rather than hidden by her relaxed home attire, and her demeanor exuded intellect. With her long, brown hair loosely draped and still damp from a recent shower, her delicate features appeared softer, more approachable than when she wore her usual professional mask.
She looked like she had just entered her thirties.
There was a distinct elegance about her—the kind of allure only a mature woman, a wife, possessed.
"I was a bit bored, so I went out for a while," Eitan said with a small smile. "You worked hard today too, Auntie Eri."
"Yes, which is why I treated myself to a rather lavish late-night snack," Eri Kisaki replied, smiling as she walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. "Want a little beer? Consider it a small celebration."
"Sure."
Eitan had no objections.
They lived in opposing apartments. Because Eri's work as a lawyer often kept her up late, the two of them sharing late-night snacks had become a routine.
Though, usually, they didn't drink.
Tonight was clearly different. She was genuinely happy for him.
Sushi, fried chicken, yakitori skewers, oden...
Each dish wasn't large in portion, but all together, it made for a rather extravagant late-night spread.
Eitan and Eri each opened a bottle of beer.
"How do you feel today, Eitan?"
"Very happy, Auntie Eri."
"That's good to hear."
At that, Eri seemed genuinely relieved. She rested her elbow on the table, cheek against her hand, while holding her beer glass with the other. Her gaze lingered on Eitan.
"Cheers," she said, eyes narrowing into a smile.
"Cheers."
Their glasses clinked softly. The beer foamed, swirling slightly.
Eri picked up an oden skewer and took a bite. Maybe it was something she hadn't had in a while, but her expression was especially content.
Eitan tried some as well.
"The fried chicken from this place is always good," he said. "It's just gone a bit soft from sitting out."
"Still tastes great," she replied.
"Auntie Eri, any tricky cases lately?"
"Nothing particularly tricky, but I've had a lot of requests. I had to turn down several follow-ups to focus on the current ones."
"Being a lawyer is tough."
"It is, but you're no different. You've been cooped up in your room creating for a while. That must be tiring..."
Eri spoke softly, raising her glass again. Her bright eyes shimmered with warmth. "Once your new book is out, you should really rest. Maybe go somewhere to unwind. Have you thought about that?"
"Hmm… I'll rest for a bit, but as for where to go..."
Eitan hadn't really given it much thought.
Her saying he'd been creating was a generous way of putting it. After all, he'd just adapted the Kindaichi Case Files into a novel. Plagiarism was still plagiarism. He didn't feel proud, but neither did he feel guilty.
To him, writing mystery novels was simply a convenient step forward.
His silence made Eri a little concerned.
Her voice grew gentler.
"Don't stay home all the time. You should go out more, make friends, enjoy life."
"I've been thinking about it."
"Right? Eitan, I bet girls have approached you plenty. As long as they're nice girls, Auntie's all for it, you know."
"...Unfortunately, I haven't met anyone that caught my eye yet."
"As expected—handsome men always have high standards."
"..."
Eitan was momentarily speechless.
Eri rarely made such playful remarks.
To outsiders, she was always serious, even a little distant. But with Eitan, she was warm... gentle.
If there was a reason, it was probably because of his parents—both gone in this world. From what Eitan understood, his mother and Auntie Eri had been close cousins.
Eri poured more beer into her glass.
Their conversation drifted to everyday things, the atmosphere between them warm and familiar. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Eitan asked:
"By the way, Auntie Eri, do you know about invisible ink?"
"Invisible ink?"
She blinked, then gave it some thought. "You mean the kind that leaves no trace unless exposed to UV light?"
"Yeah. Where can I get it?"
"You can probably find it at most stationery stores. I remember it being really popular with elementary schoolers for a while."
"Got it."
"Why are you suddenly asking about that? Is it a setting you're using in your next story?"
Eri chuckled. "There are also some chemical-based inks, I think. I don't know much about those, but if you need it, I can ask around. Oh—and if you're not particular about the medium, you can use milk too."
"I know about the milk one."
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