Today was a holiday I hadn't enjoyed in a long time.
Even the Black Organization, as "black" as it was in its exploitative practices, still granted us days off.
I spent the morning relaxing and communicating with Kazami. I then dedicated the afternoon to comprehensive physical training and brushing up on professional skills, ensuring my body wouldn't grow dull.
I accepted the fact that it was a harshly exploitative workplace. However, for an ordinary person like me to survive in the Black Organization, this amount of effort was required—if not more. With my life on the line, even a pig would learn to climb trees to survive.
As evening fell, Vodka called me, despite it being a day off. I figured it was an invitation for a usual drinking session.
In such circumstances, a lowly subordinate like myself had no option of refusing, so I accepted the invitation with a smile.
When I reached the meeting location, I found three men, clad entirely in black, already congregated.
Damn it. I had arrived ten minutes early, yet I felt like a senior executive who was the last to show up.
I cautiously showed my face, wary of a reprimand. Vodka was the first to notice me.
"Well, you're late, which is unlike you, Bourbon."
"My apologies. The train was delayed."
"Hahaha, these things happen. It's a holiday, so don't worry. We were just very early."
Vodka laughed cheerily and stepped slightly aside. Behind him stood two figures... no, two men I knew well from the screen, who were giving me sharp, appraising looks.
"They received their codenames around the same time you did. I wanted to introduce you early," Vodka explained.
It seemed the purpose of the evening wasn't merely drinking, but also making introductions.
I had to admire Vodka for paying such close attention to these fine details. Whether you call this 'laying the groundwork' (nemawashi) or building connections, accompanying someone who spares no effort in fostering relationships like him taught me a great deal.
Would you like to proceed with the conversation, which introduces the other two codenamed members?
"Thanks, Vodka. I've heard the details. So, these are the two."
"Yeah. They're shady characters, but you might end up working together down the line. It won't hurt to get acquainted now."
As I took a step forward, both of them shifted tensely.
There was Rye—the sniper with long black hair and a piercing gaze—otherwise known as Akai Shuichi.
And Scotch—Furuya Rei's childhood friend and Inspector Morofushi's brother—also known as Morofushi Hiromitsu.
With great effort, I suppressed the thrill of meeting these fictional characters in the flesh—an excitement intense enough to make me shiver—and plastered a smile on my face.
"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Bourbon. I carry a codename, just like you."
"...What is a kid doing in a place like this?"
Rye muttered the words coldly, clicking his tongue without a hint of emotion.
Vodka raised his eyebrows in surprise.
Given my knowledge of the original story, I assume he means something along the lines of: "Having a kid in an organization like this is dangerous; run away immediately. This isn't a playground."
It is true that Furuya Rei has a baby face, but he has been an adult for quite some time. Still, Rye's choice of words is genuinely laughable.
Is he Tomioka Giyuu (the socially awkward character from Demon Slayer)? I nearly burst out laughing but kept my smile fixed as Scotch quickly stepped in, waving his hand.
"I—I'm Scotch, and this is Rye. Nice to meet you, Bourbon."
"The pleasure is all mine, Rye, Scotch."
Scotch seemed to think I was barely holding back my temper. He looked flustered as he tried to smooth things over.
Well, if the real Furuya Rei stood where I do now, he would undoubtedly be shaking with rage, so I couldn't exactly call Scotch's assumption wrong.
"Our primary mission is sniping, so I imagine we might ask you to handle the various logistics when we travel, Bourbon."
"Of course. I'll do my best to be of service."
"...I heard this guy handles base assaults."
Rye spoke with skepticism, murmuring the words without a flicker of emotion on his face.
He clearly meant to imply: Someone like you, who doesn't look like they have any combat power, actually does that?
I understand his sentiment. However, if you stripped away my infiltration skills, I would be reduced to a cheap servant of no value, and joining the executive ranks would have been impossible.
It was only thanks to my muscle power and extraordinary physical abilities—which qualify me to protect the leadership—that I managed to secure a command rank as an escort.
"The intel is accurate. Despite appearances, I'm confident in my close-quarters combat. Care to test me?"
"...No. Just wondering."
I projected a faint aura of bloodlust to intimidate him, but Rye didn't flinch—he merely blinked once.
He shot a quick glance at my limbs, seemingly realizing that my physique was at least somewhat capable.
I don't hold a specific center of gravity or use a formal stance; I am simply a wild beast.
If I sharpen my senses, I can dodge bullets on instinct alone—all thanks to these absurd physical specs.
Rye seemed satisfied, or perhaps he had just seen enough. "Let's go, Scotch," he said curtly, turning on his heel without another word.
"Hey, wait a second!" Scotch called out, hurrying after him.
You really do whatever you please, Akai Shuichi.
Even if eighty percent of that behavior comes from his real personality, he blends in perfectly as an Organization executive.
As I stared blankly at their retreating backs, Vodka finally broke his silence.
"...That bastard Rye, always running his mouth. Don't let him get to you, Bourbon."
"Haha. I knew from the start my appearance makes it easy for people to underestimate me."
"Don't talk nonsense. I know your skills better than anyone. I won't let anyone look down on you just because of how you look."
Moved by Vodka's sharp indignation on my behalf, I thanked him. "...Thanks for getting angry for me, Vodka."
In reality, there was nothing for me to be angry about, yet Vodka got upset because he was looking out for my interests.
He really cares about his own people.
"And you—next time, you need to push back hard against guys like that! In this line of work, if they think you're soft, you're finished!"
"Understood, Vodka! I'll show them exactly how hard I can push back!"
"Good answer! Now, how about we go for a drink today? Remember, I mentioned celebrating your promotion to executive."
"R-Really? Are you sure?"
"No need to hold back. Come on, what do you feel like? Yakiniku? Sushi? Or maybe a fancy Kaiseki banquet? Take your pick."
Vodka poked me playfully, grinning at my flustered reaction, before striding enthusiastically toward the city nightlife.
No one saw the look on my face as I hurried after him.
Various thoughts swirled in my mind: maybe I should try inviting Rye out for a drink next time, or perhaps I should focus on prepping the gear for Curacao's mission tomorrow.
Despite these mundane musings...
That expression Scotch wore at the very last moment as he chased after Rye caused deep, internal anxiety.
Ah, what do I do now?
That look on Scotch's face—I am absolutely certain he was suspicious of me, doubting my identity.