At the same time, Curacao could not help secretly observing Rum's expression again.
Her superior in the back seat was composing an email, practically beaming with delight. Who knew which act of the script in his head he had already written to.
Curacao: "..."
That made her feel even worse. Based on her observations over the past few days and her research into previous cases, Curacao had discovered that Uzo was particularly fond of people in the same line of work—specifically, people who wrote scripts in front of him usually met a bad end.
The two scriptwriters who had been shot in the back of the head in different production crews a few days ago were bloody examples. Even Kurosawa Kazuma and Inozuka Taro, who had previously made guest appearances as theater administrators, had not survived in the end.
As the thought flashed through her mind, the black vehicle silently accelerated.
Rum noticed the change in speed, but did not care. He was impatient by nature, and now that his subordinate was in a hurry too, he only felt that things were becoming more efficient.
Besides, Curacao had always liked driving fast, so Rum paid it no mind and continued composing his email.
However, just as he finished the email under the identity of an innocent victimized sushi chef and was about to send it to lure Uzo in, his phone suddenly vibrated.
Instead, Rum received an email from someone else first.
Curacao was focused on speeding toward their destination when she suddenly heard an email notification from the back.
She pressed her lips together, unable to stop herself from recalling those miserable days when she had been harassed by emails from a certain someone urging his subordinates to work.
Just as sweet, refreshing aloe seemed to sprout inside