Meanwhile, as an Organization Cadre, Curacao knew she could not leave that invitation—whose contents might or might not contain Organization information—behind. Otherwise, if any secret really leaked, Uzo would at most lose a subordinate, while she herself would be implicated through her real identity.
Thinking this, the Organization worker had no choice but to put on gloves and a face mask. Then, under the servants' suddenly enlightened gazes of "So she's a germaphobe!", she reluctantly took the invitation and carefully opened it with the concentration of someone defusing a bomb.
At a closer look, the page was completely blank.
"...?"
Curacao frowned and turned it over several times in confusion, but no matter how she looked at it, it was merely an ordinary invitation with nothing written on it.
"What does this mean?" She would rather have found a bloody threatening letter inside than face this blank unknown. "Did they forget to write it? Did they take the wrong one? ...Or are they simply trying to scare me like this?"
As she was making wild guesses, Curacao suddenly raised her head alertly and saw several police officers escorting someone over from the stairwell.
Her gaze immediately went to the "suspect" being escorted, and she let out a breath, unsure whether she should feel relieved or disappointed. The person the police had brought over was clearly not Uzo.
Curacao tucked away the invitation and, like the other bystanders in the lobby, began watching quietly.
But as she watched, she suddenly noticed that when the officers passed by her, they all turned to look at her in unison, then walked straight toward her.
Curacao: "...?"
The heart she had only just let down rose again. She watched these officers, who had encountered Uzo not long ago, with wary suspicion. What was it