Fujino glanced at Vermouth's somewhat troubled expression, but didn't think much of it.
He only felt that Old Auntie seemed to be hiding quite a lot.
Whenever he asked a key question, she changed the subject. Thinking it over, Fujino could understand that she didn't want to talk about it because her own interests were involved.
Fujino couldn't deduce what those considerations were, because they were multifaceted and illogical.
From Fujino's perspective, all he could do in the current situation was wait for her to tell him herself. After all, without any conflict between them, her refusal to speak was itself the biggest problem.
Just like Fujino himself had secrets he couldn't reveal, he felt that her secret was, at the very least, something on equal footing with his own.
With the conversation at a dead end, there was naturally no way to keep chatting.
In the end, after several bottles of red wine had been emptied, Vermouth got drunk first and admitted defeat, collapsing onto the bed and falling asleep immediately.
Fujino emerged from the bathroom and glanced at Vermouth, who lay sprawled across the bed.
Then he left her bedroom for the living room, shoved both hands into his pockets, and looked out through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Tokyo was still bustling with song and revelry that night, peaceful and prosperous as ever, no different from usual.
As Fujino breathed, the alcohol in his body was continuously metabolized, making even his breath smell like evaporating alcohol.
Well, no matter how absurdly powerful he was, his body still had a normal human structure.
Things that needed to be expelled still had to leave through metabolism. His metabolism was simply a little faster when it came to detoxifying.
After waiting for the discomfort from the alcohol to subside, he let out