But what did Dazai do wrong?

On rainy days, the light rain hits the petals of the pink and white roses, and the wet fragrance sneaks into the room through the gaps in the glass.

Riri Yamabuki has always regarded rainy days as good weather for sleeping.

The slightly cold coolness and the white noise of nature trapped her in the soft quilt, and she was too lazy to get up even if she woke up early.

There is fresh bread and jam in the refrigerator, and the locker is full of snacks that Osamu Dazai bought and hasn't eaten for a long time.

Filling the stomach a little bit, lying on the sofa with the puffed food that gives people a sense of happiness and watching a movie, it is another dull but satisfying day.

Riri Yamabuki passed by the huge fish tank in the living room and couldn't help but stop.

A small fish with a golden red tail fin and white spots flicks its tail leisurely alone, swimming in a viewing tank that will not be crowded with dozens of fish.

The bottom of the fish tank is paved with a layer of carefully selected smooth pebbles, and the small stone bridges and small stone pavilions used for landscaping on the pebbles are all expensive.

A goldfish that is caught once for a few hundred yen is not in harmony with a fish tank where adding three zeros after the price of goldfish may be considered a small amount.

She was right at all, Osamu Dazai is a prodigal son.

"Suddenly I can understand the reason why he pays such a high monthly salary but still pays for free whoring on credit." Ritsu Yamabuki ideally, Osamu Dazai's money is probably spent in places that ordinary people can't understand.

The fish are fed.She said she wanted Dazai to raise it by himself, but he honestly searched the Internet for the precautions for novice fish farming, copied it and pasted it next to the fish tank, and set an alarm to remind himself to change the water and feed.

Hope Osamu Dazai's reputation as an animal and plant killer ends with this fish, amen.

Riri Yamabuki opened the glass door on the balcony, and the rose buds were delicately stretched out in the open air and rain.

She reached out to catch the raindrops from the tips of the petals, and looked down at Yokohama shrouded in mist and rain.

Osamu Dazai really did not work overtime last night.

He carried the goldfish all the way back to Yokohama from Tokyo, and spent most of the night tossing about the fish tank on the principle that it would be better to stay up all night if he was woken up by a deadly ringtone in the middle of his sleep.

Tossing until dawn the next day, the quartz clock in the living room points to Osamu Dazai's usual time to go to work.

"He hasn't come yet?" Osamu Dazai sat at his empty desk.

The increasingly cold and lonely room on rainy days makes the subordinates who come and go more frightened, for fear that their blood will be washed into the sewer together with the rain.

"Yes, Mr. Dazai." The subordinate lowered his head and said clearly, "We have not received any news from the black organization, and the responders are always on standby."

Regardless of Osamu Dazai's public-funded date, and countless digressions in the middle, this cooperation is actually very important, otherwise he would not have traveled all the way to Tokyo-Yokohama is not without an amusement park.

"What did Mr. Mori say?" Osamu Dazai tapped his finger on the table lightly.

"Boss said that Mr. Dazai will be responsible for everything, and he only cares about the result." The subordinate lowered his head even more.

Trouble, Osamu Dazai thought blankly, big trouble.

The port of Mafia has been expanding outwards. It is what Mori Ogai has been doing to strengthen its control over the power of small western countries with the help of the black organization's overseas development for so many years.

Osamu Dazai is not the only person in charge, and he and Nakahara are also in charge of different fields.For example, the jewelry business is managed by the Central Plains, and I heard that it is not going well in Europe.

Mori Ogai stretched out his hand so long, naturally some foreign local organizations wanted to chop off his hand.

The relationship between the leader and his subordinates means that before Mori Ogai's hands were chopped off, Osamu Dazai had to take away other people's knives first—if he couldn't take it, it was his hand that was chopped off.

It hurts so much, and the phantom pain started again, in a trance, I even wanted to usurp my position to get rid of this daily mess.

"Buzz, buzz."

The phone on the desk vibrated.

Osamu Dazai glanced at the contact person, it was gin.

"Rare." The thumb slid across the screen, and the timed call page popped up, "You actually called me yourself."

Gin's voice on the other end of the phone was deep, suppressing anger and vigilance: "Ogier Brandy is dead."

Ogier brandy?Osamu Dazai quickly flashed a piece of information detailing his family address and personality traits in his mind, and matched the name mentioned by Gin with his own cognition in half a breath.

It is not an exaggeration to say that his grasp of the information on the members of the Black Organization is far greater than that of Gin.

Although it is a cooperative organization, there is also a relationship of peer competition. Port Mafia is not generous enough to help the other party find out the undercover agent.

The Ogier brandy in the mouth of the gin is a rare real wine in the black organization, no wonder he is so angry at the other party's death.

"Is he the cooperator you plan to send over?" Osamu Dazai asked.

"Yes." Gin held tightly the photo of Ogier Brandy's death scene in his hands. The man who was sleeping with his head down in the back seat of the car was pierced by a bullet through his temple and died.

Under the grand fireworks festival, amidst the amazement and laughter of countless people, Ogier Brandy died quietly, and the driver who was less than one meter away from him only knew the dazzling fireworks, but did not know his tragic death.

"How could my people be killed so quickly?"

Qin Jiu questioned: "When the target is moving at high speed and has a blind spot, one shot is fatal. Even Bodo is no more than five well-trained killers. Behind the killer, there must be forces secretly supporting him, and he is by no means an unknown person. "

The implication: Is it because Mafia, your port, provoked someone who deliberately took revenge on the person who killed him?

Deliberate must be intentional, there will not be any killer holding a gun and blowing cold wind on the rooftop in the middle of the night just to kill people casually for fun.

The most suspected motive is undoubtedly Mimic.

Ogier Brandy died, and the cooperation between Port Mafia and the Black Organization was forced to postpone, and they were the direct beneficiaries.

The issue is--

"Who disclosed the news to them?" Osamu Dazai's voice was almost inaudible.

The cooperation between the two organizations involves a lot of people. There are not many people who know the news, and there are not very few, at least not so few that the leaker can be easily identified.

Osamu Dazai first suspected the Black Organization, and he can say bluntly: the winery is a sieve.

The sweeping ladies they hired may all be undercover agents sent by the FBI and CIA. The concentration of undercover agents is so high that everyone except the model worker Gin has nothing to say. few.

It's all like this, and Qin Jiu has the nerve to question him!

Osamu Dazai has countless proofs and gin theories. He randomly picks a few bottles of fake wine around him to open the bottle for inspection. The police, FBI, and CIA have everything that one expects to find. The list of suspects cannot be written on a single A4 paper.

There is only one thing, Osamu Dazai has a grudge.

A shot to the head is not the style of the red side.

If Ogier Brandy is about to detonate a bomb that threatens the lives of the entire city, or if he can't think about driving an Osprey helicopter into a building, it is still expected that the red side will kill him.

Just cooperating with the port Mafia, the red team may intercept, hinder, or destroy midway, but it will not simply kill the head at the very beginning, choking everything that will happen in the future in the bud.

It's too crisp.

Extremely unscrupulous, but retreated completely.

"There is a one-in-a-million possibility that something went wrong on our side." Osamu Dazai walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked down at Yokohama in the dark and rainy.

A personal name appeared in his mind, their recent behavior, scope of activities, and unknown secrets...

Lines of intelligence were intertwined into a gray net, covering everyone in the five buildings.

Fireworks at twelve o'clock and bullets fired at the same time. It is a good choice to cover up the gunshots with the sound of fireworks exploding. The gorgeous fireworks will distract people's attention, and the possibility of success will be greatly increased.

It's reasonable, but Osamu Dazai just finds it weird.

He recalled the scene of last night:

When Ogier Brandy died, he was standing under the night to watch the fireworks in the sky, holding a soft and cold hand in his palm, and the black-haired girl spread her palm to try to catch the falling sparks.

A little further on, the people gathered in the night market counted down loudly, counting from "ten" to "one", and a soft echo came from his ears: "three, two, one."

Going forward, when he was complaining about going back to work overtime tonight, she rubbed his head and comforted him by saying that it might not be possible, and we will go back after watching the fireworks.

In the end, in the restaurant for couples with a strong aroma of roses, he said unhappily that the increase in work was so annoying, and she said softly: That's really too bad.

There is no evidence, and the intuition whispers faintly:

"Have you forgotten? She knows, she knows everything."

She personally witnessed the conversation between Dazai Osamu and Gin, and knew every word and every word they discussed, and her dark golden eyes absorbed the expressions and whispers of the people at the table.

"Do you think you know her well? How much do you know about her history and past?"

A few words.Her past is a cloud of fog. To whom does she entrust her faith and vows, and who will follow her footsteps to serve loyalty?

No one knows.

The whispers in the ear gradually faded away, and the dissipated voice slid across the back of the neck like a snake's tail, arousing a numb chill:

"Did she really only expect fireworks last night?"

The cold darkness like fog enveloped Osamu Dazai, and the empty office opened its bottomless mouth like a man-hungry beast, trying to swallow him up.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the rain streaked across the glass, leaving staggered water marks.

Osamu Dazai's fingertips touched the bone-piercing coldness of the glass, and he closed his eyes to cover the creepy gloom in his eyes.