Conan: Begins to collaborate with Miss Bayonetta and become famous

Chapter 914 What about Vermouth?

"Huff... huff..." Baijiu gasped for breath, his chest heaving violently.

The bridge was deserted, except for a woman's corpse lying disheveled on the cold stone steps.

To be honest, the first thing Bai Jiu felt upon seeing the corpse was not sadness, but an overwhelming sense of relief—he was glad that Vermouth hadn't listened to the "intelligent entity's" bewitchment and hadn't stepped into this doomed situation.

But he still couldn't understand: why would Grace choose to fight Rum?

She was just a thief and could have avoided this whole mess entirely.

She had so many ways to survive... but she chose the only path that led to death.

Of course, this may also be the reason why Vermouth was able to survive.

Judging from Rum's arrogant and confident expression that night, in the hundreds of millions of deductions by the "Intelligent Body," the person who died in the vast majority of the endings should be Vermouth.

Baijiu shook his head, forcing himself to clear his mind of distractions.

He silently pulled the dagger from Grace's chest, tossed it into the rushing river, then gently stroked her cold forehead and tenderly picked her up.

Vermouth slowly emerged from the depths of the alley and calmly shook her head.

“It’s hopeless. I came to see it five minutes ago.” Her voice remained calm. “I knew it was fake the moment that imposter opened his mouth.”

She crossed her arms and said firmly, "You would never willingly put me in danger."

“Find a quiet place and let her get a good night’s sleep.” A rare hint of tenderness flashed in Vermouth’s cold eyes. “She shouldn’t have been dragged into this.”

At that moment, two speedboats sped up and docked at the shore.

Old Black and McCallum, armed with weapons, leaped ashore and surveyed the scene with grim expressions. Only when they saw that Baijiu and Vermouth were unharmed did they both breathe a sigh of relief.

McClane patted his chest and breathed a sigh of relief: "Thank goodness... everyone's alright, that's the best news."

"Although we didn't get the key... at least there were no casualties." He pursed his lips, trying to break the heavy atmosphere.

“The key was left behind.” Vermouth took the lead, pulling a bloodstained key from her waist. “It was found in a dark corner of the steps. She risked her life to save it.”

She showed the key to everyone: "This was probably left by Rum on purpose—he must have had his reasons."

“We should pay tribute to her,” Vermouth said. “Although she nearly ruined the liquor several times, she left us with the most crucial bargaining chip.”

next morning

Baijiu walked alone to the rooftop, leaned against the iron railing, and silently gazed at the water city shrouded in morning mist.

“Rum…” he murmured the name, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.

On the table, the key, though cleaned, still bore faint traces of blood.

Old Hei poured hot water for everyone and handed a glass to the person who drank baijiu.

"I'm sorry." Baijiu took the water glass, looked at the keys, and said softly, "Sleep well, Grace."

“Gentlemen,” Old Black rolled up his sleeves and glanced at his watch, “it’s time to discuss our next move.”

“That’s right,” Vermouth replied coldly, “This mission is inherently brutal, and we’re used to it.”

“Killing Rum and destroying the ‘Intelligent Body’ is the best way to honor all the victims.”

“In about three hours, the White Widow will board the Orient Express bound for Innsbruck.” Old Black looked at White Wine and Vermouth. “You should be familiar with that train.”

He shrugged: "I heard Baijiu mention that you guys carried out dangerous missions there."

“That’s all in the past,” Vermouth replied curtly. “This time, the buyer will complete the transaction with her in the car and receive the complete keys.”

She crossed her long legs and looked at him questioningly: "But the problem is—she doesn't have the complete key."

“The White Widow doesn’t exist,” McCullen added, “but I’d thought of that a long time ago.”

“We can ‘make her have it,’ in the way we do best.” As he spoke, he slowly lifted the cover of a large machine, revealing the sophisticated instruments inside.

This is the pinnacle of disguise technology—the "Super Disguise Machine," which fully absorbs the essence of Vermouth's disguise techniques, integrates cutting-edge technology, and was developed over three months.

It makes identity replacement more efficient and accurate.

"That was quite efficient this time." Vermouth gave McCullen an approving look for the first time, and it was also the first time she had directly affirmed him.

“This time, it’s no child’s play.” McCallen said solemnly, quickly typing commands on the keyboard to start the machine.

In just five seconds, a face mask that was indistinguishable from the White Widow's was perfectly created. Its delicate texture and realism even surpassed the limits of traditional handmade disguise.

Bai Jiu slowly emerged from the shadows and took the meticulously crafted disguise mask, identical to that of the White Widow. He walked up to Vermouth, gently placed the mask on her, carefully smoothing the edges and every wrinkle, and then gently smoothing a few stray strands of her hair.

Vermouth gazed at her completely unfamiliar reflection in the mirror, studied herself for a moment, and a satisfied smile curved her lips. She turned to McCallum, unusually, and gave him a clear thumbs-up in approval. Baijiu nodded silently, his hands in his pockets, his eyes revealing his approval of Vermouth's current appearance.

Outside the window, nestled among towering mountains, a train trails white steam as it winds its way through the depths of the valley. Lush greenery covers the mountainsides, even extending to the mountainside. A gentle breeze stirs, creating shallow ripples on the lake's surface.

McClane's mind was already rehearsing the details of the operation: Baijiu and Vermouth would disguise themselves as the White Widow and her brother, respectively, sneaking in from the top of the speeding train, entering the target compartment undetected, and using a powerful tranquilizer to incapacitate them. Then, they could assume their identities, move freely within the carriage, meet with the buyer as planned, and seize the other half of the key. Finally, they would tear off their masks on the roof, deploy their parachutes, and make a stylish escape…

"Wait... let's stop for a moment." Vermouth's voice interrupted his thoughts. "So, how exactly do we retreat? We can't... just jump off the train, can we?"

She glanced at McCallum and Old Black, her gaze sharp, automatically ignoring Baijiu—she believed Baijiu must have a more elaborate plan.

"Take the key, open the parachute—don't tell me that's really what you're thinking. Do you treat your opponents like robots, or like NPCs in a game to be manipulated?"

“That’s right.” Baijiu pursed his lips and replied calmly.

"Are you serious?" Vermouth asked again, her tone scrutinizing.

"Think carefully, I'm not going to skydive." She looked directly at the liquor and specifically instructed, "If you're going to jump, you'll jump alone—or you'll have to take me with you."

“To add to that,” Baijiu took a deep breath, as if still weighing some important decision, “I never said ‘we,’ but rather I was referring to myself alone.”

"Oh?" Vermouth raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Then what should I do?"

She paused for a moment, seemingly gradually grasping the unspoken meaning in Baijiu's words, and understanding why he had remained silent.

"Are you..." she began, her tone growing serious, "...thinking of taking a big gamble?"

"You're right." Baijiu didn't deny it.

"When the time comes, you will be arrested by the people sent by the organization." He put his hands in his pockets, looked out the window, and spoke calmly.

But who knows how much inner struggle he went through to say those words?