I'm such a big son

The maids sent Rimbaud to the tower of the castle where the guests lived. When they stood outside the door and said goodbye, the head maid sent the little girls to go first, and when he turned around, he approached Rambo and gave her a note.Miss Killer looked down, and there was a string of phone numbers written on it, and the last number should be the room number.

The Italians are really as romantic as the French.

Rimbaud stuffed the note into his suit pocket with his backhand, and his good mood disappeared when he opened the door and saw the extra boy in the room.

It’s not that the child is unattractive, but that he is stepping on the coffee table trying to throw the rope to the chandelier, as if he wants to try some performance art about suicide in the new environment...

Think about it, if you slow down a few steps, you will see a "corpse" floating in the wind, who can feel better!

"What are you bastard doing?"

Zhong Yuanzhong was also exhausted. He pushed Rimbaud into the room and turned to close the door. He went straight to the sofa and sat in with an expression of impatience.Rimbaud took off his coat and hung it on the hanger, opened the refrigerator door and took out two cans of drinks, one of which was thrown to Zhongye, and the other was opened by himself while drinking and walking: "This kind of chandelier is not good for load-bearing performance, the fragments Sharpness is easy to cause secondary damage. The most important thing is that the material is expensive and has a long history, and there is a high probability that it will not be compensated if it is broken.”

"so!"

Dazai tugged hard at the rope that was thrown up, but it really didn't feel very secure, so he had to take it and jump off the coffee table resentfully: "Miss Rimbaud, you are going too far, secretly taking Nakaya all over the world to have fun, take me Throwing at home alone guarding an empty room... oh..."

It really looks like a jealous and wronged child trying to win the care and attention of his parents.However, Lan Bo's mother was determined, she raised her legs to lean on the sofa and poured a carbonated drink: "What's the matter? Don't you have the ability to come here by yourself, so I don't need to file a report."

"Vongola is standing on the precipice of division and civil strife, which side does Mr. Sen plan to bet on?"

She threw the empty bottle into the trash, leaned back on the sofa and looked at the black-haired boy.Osamu Dazai smiled and picked up the suitcase he brought, put it on the coffee table and opened it, a piece of silver-gray paper was buried in a pile of messy bandages.

"Mr. Mori said that you are fully authorized to represent all matters here, and this 'silver oracle' can mobilize any member of the organization, including cadres."

This thing is a piece of paper to Rimbaud. Who can she mobilize from PortMafia in Italian territory?

"Me, me, you forgot that I am also a member of the PortMafia organization..."

Unwilling to be lonely, Dazai raised his hand to show his presence. Ms. Rimbaud glanced at him, and said "Yes", "Got it."

The response was rather lukewarm.

"We're here to pick up the goods. We want some compensation at most. We don't intend to cut flesh from Pengo Li. You should grasp the limits and come to me directly if you need help."

She sat there with her legs crossed, her hands pressed on her knees, and she couldn't see the indulgence she had wandered with the bohemians for half a month before, as if it was just a mirage.

Zhongyuan Zhong also thought to himself that he could finally rest assured that Rimbaud would not be careless in other people's base camps. Seeing that she had regained her usual composure, she found an empty bedroom and went in to catch up on sleep.

He said hello, and didn't care if Osamu Dazai would find another beam nearby, close the door and fall into the quilt if he was still holding the sling. How did Bo fall asleep peacefully lying in a strange truck, anyway, he felt that he was going to die of sleepiness.

The two people in the living room watched him close the door and continued the previous conversation.

"Okay, what other orders does Mr. Sen have?"

If it was just for Vongola's business, Mori Ogai would have signed the Silver Oracle directly when she left Yokohama, and there was no need for Osamu Dazai to make another trip.

"Of course." The black-haired boy pretended to be mysterious and squeezed his eyes: "It's still the trouble left by Murata. Recently, a member of an overseas underground organization came to the door and said that Murata had reached a consensus with its senior management on a certain drug... Although I Hopefully the guy will be as lackluster as his face, however, it 'seems' to be true."

"Mr. Mori hopes that you will settle these two matters together before leaving Europe. This piece of paper is given to you so that you can use your strength to escape, huh? It's so strange. With Miss Rimbaud's strength, you don't need it at all, right? Why is this?"

There was some teasing in his voice, and Rimbaud rolled his eyes: "Let's talk about the business, the information about that organization!"

"A very mysterious transnational criminal group, most of its members are dressed in black, and their code names are all kinds of alcohol. Have you heard of it?"

"puff!"

Rimbaud responded with an earth-shattering cough: "Cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough cough!"

"Looks like an acquaintance, reunited after a long absence? You seem very excited."

The teenager tilted her head to express her curiosity, she waved her hands and sat panting for breath: "Ahem, ahem, ahem, at a certain level, this organization is indeed very famous in the killer circle, nicknamed 'International Undercover Training School'. In recent years, it has frequently been revealed that members defected if they were not undercover agents. There is a joke about them—all undercover agents who fail to pass the grades are eliminated by the organization..."

Osamu Dazai showed a shining expression: "Interesting, the leader must be very powerful, otherwise he would be surrounded by undercover agents... Ordinary people would have been imprisoned long ago."

"No, as for the leader of the black organization, I haven't seen any direct evidence of his identity so far. Well... the tail left by Murata, I'll find an intermediary to find out, and the priority right now is that group arms."

Waiting to see Vongola's Jiudaimu to understand what happened.

After talking about the business, Osamu Dazai leaned forward slightly, sniffed the smell in the air, and said "I'm not happy, I want to make trouble" on his face: "It smells of wine, forest, fire, and some hallucinogens mixed in. It seems that you had a wonderful time last night... It's annoying, why don't you take me there, I really want to find pleasure with the happy crowd!"

"Oh, because I have been wanted by the government of country F, I can't be too high-profile and frequently leave traces. I can only move with the wandering Bohemians. As for you, do you really like to mix in the carnival crowd? ?Maybe it will be boring instead."

Rimbaud glanced at him sharply, turned his gaze away and asked, seemingly unintentionally, "Why, do you always want to die?"

Regarding Osamu Dazai, apart from being Chuya's partner and bad friend, Rimbaud's deepest impression on him is that he is looking for death almost all the time, active, passive, and all kinds of imaginative pursuits of death, and he never tires of it.

"Do you think it is meaningful for people to live in this world?"

The iris eyes showed a mocking look. At this moment, he didn't look like an underage cub at all. The darkness and bloody smell deeper than the abyss and the underworld surrounded his side. The black-haired boy raised his habitually drooping eyelids and looked directly at the opposite side. The woman: "Miss Rimbaud, what are you struggling for?"

Rimbaud gave a "tsk" and stood up with his sleeves rolled up. The fast-moving Osamu Dazai couldn't dodge at all, and was instantly smashed against the coffee table with the back of his head.

"You turned out to be an idiot! What meaning do you need to live? My life is itself a meaning!"

"Even if the crime is serious, even if everyone betrays relatives, the only one who can judge me will always be myself."

"Because God was killed long ago, and I was saved by the gods I created."

She let go of Osamu Dazai who was pressed on the coffee table by herself, and the fragile blood vessels couldn't help but hit hard, and the blood hit the thick oak wood drop by drop, and the black-haired boy suddenly burst into a long series of laughter: "Ah... ah... yes of."

The laughter stopped abruptly, and he coughed a few times and whispered: "There is no god of salvation, I should know."

"'Death' is not the opposite of 'live', but a continuation and an inseparable part. I always think that only by understanding what is 'death' can you understand the meaning of your own life..."

"I want to know what 'death' is...well, I know. There is really a suitable place to take you, but, well, let's finish the work first, and then enter the Alps from Milan...through Stuttgart and finally arrive at the destination Land. Be good, and I'll take you to—hell."

A cold smile hung on the corner of his mouth, not like the temperature in the world.

The black-haired boy opened his eyes wide in surprise: "That's really... looking forward to it!"

He jumped up happily, took a few pieces of paper to plug his bleeding nose, and stretched his hand forward when the bleeding stopped: "Mr. Zhongye has a hat as a gift, what about me?"

Rimbaud threw the coat over his shoulders to him: "Is that why you don't like Mr. Sen?"

"People don't like another person who is too similar to themselves, is it strange?"

"Uh... no, I always thought you were more suitable for Mr. Sen's education. I'm not that smart, it's more that life taught me how to face one problem after another, obviously this is not your way..."

Rimbaud sighed: "If you insist, I don't really care."

Satisfied, Osamu Dazai stretched out his arm and stuffed it into the sleeve, half stuffed, and suddenly stopped: "Speaking of which, Miss Rimbaud first met me in that forest...why do you know so much? It's like living next door for years."

"There is such a thing as a prophet, does it really exist?"

Rimbaud also stood up and walked sideways with him, randomly picked a bedroom and opened the door: "Will you care about this kind of thing? I will leave the work to you, and I want to rest. Follow the Bohemians all the way from Rome Sicily, what a dilemma."

"Hey! Miss Rimbaud~ Mr. Lantang~ Is it really good to push Mafia's work to an innocent child?"

Dazai said that he has never been the only one who throws the blame away, and no one can throw the blame back. This is the first time.

Rimbaud, who had already entered the bedroom, showed his face sideways and scanned him up and down: "You say you are a child, I admit it, you say you are innocent? Ha ha!"

A "hehe" said the bitterness of the predecessors, and all the people who were cheated by this guy shed tears of grief and anger across the dimension.