Chapter 321: Reminding Bourbon Again
Bourbon suppressed the irritation bubbling in his chest. Getting sick from sheer frustration before gathering any actionable intelligence would be a rookie mistake. His sharp eyes tracked Glenlivet from a distance. The Wanderer projected an aura of arrogant simplicity, a brash youth with too much attitude and too little restraint. Yet, Bourbon's instincts screamed otherwise. Anyone capable of walking away from that enigmatic faction completely unscathed had to possess more than just convenient blood ties. Glenlivet harbored hidden depths, a dangerous edge concealed beneath his abrasive exterior. Until he mapped out the exact parameters of the situation, Bourbon resolved to keep his claws retracted. Recklessness was a luxury he could not afford.
Across the room, the volume of Bamba Raita's laughter spiked. The groom-to-be had already drained several heavy glasses of liquor, his face flushed a deep, unhealthy red. He currently had his arms draped loosely around the waists of two attractive women, leaning in close to whisper jokes that earned high-pitched giggles. Natsume averted her gaze, a faint look of disgust crossing her features.
Floating invisibly near her shoulder, Paimon crossed her tiny arms. "Eh? Isn't that uncle getting married tomorrow?" the little guide muttered, her voice dripping with disapproval. "Why is he acting like a total creep? He doesn't know how to keep his distance at all!"
Natsume offered a dry, inward scoff. 'The inherent vice of men,' she mused silently, watching the display of blatant disrespect. Her golden eyes drifted away from the obnoxious groom, accidentally landing on a certain blond waiter handling the floor. A thought sparked in her mind. Pulling out her terminal, her fingers flew across the screen, drafting a quick message to a specific contact.
Miles away, submerged in the dim, oppressive atmosphere of a Black Organization subterranean bar, Cointreau felt his phone vibrate. He retrieved it, his stoic expression cracking slightly as he read the incoming text from his younger sister.
'Brother, do not pick up any bad habits. You must maintain your integrity!'
Cointreau stared at the glowing screen, entirely bewildered. The warning was entirely unprompted, devoid of any context. He analyzed the words for hidden codes, finding none.
"My, Cointreau. What kind of message did you just receive?" A sultry voice drifted through the low lighting. Vermouth sat beside him, her lips curling into a knowing half-smile. Her enchanting, pale blue eyes swept over his confused features, finding immense amusement in his rare break of composure. She elegantly lifted a crystal glass, parting her painted red lips to take a measured sip of expensive vintage. "Could it be some dark, unspeakable secret?" she teased, her tone dripping with velvet seduction.
"It is nothing," Cointreau replied flatly. He locked his terminal and slid it back into his coat pocket, refusing to grant the woman beside him a single glance. Recalling the current operational timeline, he smoothly pivoted the conversation. "Speaking of secrets, I have not seen Bourbon around the base lately. Has he already initiated his move?"
Recognizing the impenetrable wall he had just erected, Vermouth tactfully dropped the subject. She leaned back against the plush leather booth. "Yes. He suspects the Great Detective is not as simple as he appears. He plans to use him as a starting point."
A fleeting shadow crossed Vermouth's face as the images of her Angel and the Cool Guy flashed through her mind. She smoothed away the frown before it could set, resting her chin on her palm. Shifting her gaze sideways, she studied Cointreau's profile. "If he digs around Kogoro Mouri, he will inevitably stumble upon someone's precious treasure," she murmured, lacing her words with faux innocence. "Are you truly not going to intervene?"
This had been her primary objective in inviting Cointreau for drinks. She needed to warn him that Bourbon was inching dangerously close to his beloved Princess. If she could manipulate Cointreau into obstructing Bourbon's investigation, it would serve her own hidden agendas perfectly.
To her mild surprise, Cointreau did not flinch. His expression remained carved from ice. "I have already warned him once."
The temperature in Vermouth's eyes dropped a fraction. When exactly had Cointreau established contact with Bourbon? How had that slipped past her intelligence network?
"But your point stands," Cointreau added smoothly. "I suppose a second reminder would not hurt." He retrieved his terminal, his thumbs moving with practiced efficiency as he drafted a new message to the intelligence operative.
Back in the lively restaurant, Bourbon felt the distinct vibration of his secured phone. Stepping smoothly into a blind spot away from the bustling crowd, he checked the screen.
'Do not do anything unnecessary. —Cointreau'
Bourbon's jaw tightened, a dark cloud settling over his features. Damn it. How did Cointreau manage to send a warning at the exact moment he was operating in close proximity to Miss Natsume? Had the man planted eyes on him? Was he being actively monitored?
Before Bourbon could fully process the paranoid spiral, the situation on the restaurant floor deteriorated. Bamba Raita had recently returned from a clandestine meeting in the restroom with a private investigator he had hired. During that brief exchange, the groom learned that the blond waiter serving their party had a prior connection to his fiancée, Kamon Hatsune. Blinded by alcohol and sudden jealousy, Bamba completely misinterpreted the nature of their relationship.
The drunk man began seeking every opportunity to harass the undercover operative. Natsume watched from her table as Bamba deliberately shoved his shoulder into Bourbon, sending the blond waiter crashing to the polished floor along with a tray of empty glasses. The clatter drew gasps from the surrounding patrons. Natsume fought the sudden, highly inappropriate urge to pull out her camera and photograph the intelligence agent's humiliating tumble.
A soft chime from her own terminal broke her amusement. Natsume opened the notification, her eyes scanning the brief text before she instinctively turned her attention toward the rain-streaked windows.
Outside, a sleek car had just pulled up to the curb. Kamon Hatsune stepped out into the downpour, popping open an umbrella to shield herself. The bride-to-be held her phone up, the pale glow of the screen illuminating the heavy raindrops. The night was pitch black, the torrential rain blurring the details, making it impossible for Natsume to read the woman's exact expression. However, even through the distorted glass, Natsume saw Hatsune's entire body lock up in rigid, absolute shock.
A jolt of pure adrenaline spiked through Natsume's veins. She shot up from her chair, the legs scraping loudly against the floorboards. The abrupt, violent motion drew immediate, startled looks from Conan and Ran sitting at the adjacent table. Ignoring their questioning stares, Natsume bypassed the scattered debris of Bourbon's fall and sprinted toward the restaurant's front entrance, her heart hammering against her ribs.
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