The scene fell silent. Everyone stared at the gun in Reid's hand, but in the end, nothing happened at the muzzle, as if there had never been a bullet in the chamber.
"An empty gun?" someone muttered quietly.
"How could that be—" someone else immediately objected. "This isn't Russian roulette. I watched him fill the cylinder!"
Fermi narrowed his eyes. "I'm an official agent of the Organization. What do you call that? A naked threat?"
"Of course it isn't a threat. It's the truest thought in my heart." Reid gave a cold smile. "Precisely because it is true beyond doubt, the gun won't fire."
"Give me the gun," Abigail said.
She took the gun and pulled the trigger at herself as well. "I will approve of his actions."
The gun still didn't fire.
"Now it's your turn to prove yourself." Abigail handed the gun out.
"This is simply a farce—" Fermi shook his head in disbelief. As the head of the Intelligence Unit, he naturally understood what the other party meant by "taking care of" him.
"Whether it's a farce depends on your result," she said blandly.
No matter what they were saying, the hostility in the air had never faded.
"I've really had enough. Let's get this over with." Fermi snatched up the gun. "I'll say it again: there's no way I could be a member of the Gospel Society. I have nothing to do with them!"
He viciously pulled the trigger.
The gun did not fire.
Fermi froze for a moment, then glared at Abigail. "Well? Are you satisfied now—"
Bang!
The flames erupting from the muzzle cut off his impassioned speech. To everyone's shock, the handgun that had clearly been lowered suddenly went off. The lowered barrel should theoretically have had no way of hitting Fermi, yet