Vodka: "..."
Fate? You, a scriptwriter who had no idea how many strings you'd pulled behind the scenes, had the nerve to talk about fate? You wrote yourself in as some god of fate, didn't you?!
Fortunately, although those words sounded mystical and bizarre, he understood the point—Uzo had no intention of reneging on the deal. Those three people would soon be silenced.
That made Vodka breathe a sigh of relief. He no longer felt quite so cheated, and his heart settled a little.
Still, no matter what, surviving was a profit in itself.
Vodka's attention soon shifted to something else. He glanced at his car, which Uzo was currently leaning against. As he wondered whether he should give it a thorough disinfecting when he got back or just replace it outright, he cautiously approached. "If there's nothing else, I should get going."
"Sure." Jiang Xia actually didn't stop him. "Have a safe trip."
Vodka: "..." It was obviously a blessing, but why did it feel like this brat was cursing him?
As he muttered to himself, the person behind him suddenly said, "Are you getting addicted to being a detective? Or being a detective's assistant?"
Vodka: "..."
He had to admit that, when everyone else was at a loss, lifting his chin and laying out his deduction until everyone's glasses fell off was indeed satisfying. If there were also a culprit who started out arrogant and ended up weeping bitterly, the joy might even double.
...But the moment he remembered that, for Organization members, the identity of "detective" was completely bound to Uzo, all that happiness immediately became nothing more than the sugar coating around poison!
Vodka: "..." Hah! I can still tell the difference between brief happiness and a long life.
But aloud, he merely compromised. "It's all