However, although she could not ask, the question marks surging up in Vermouth's mind never stopped for even a moment.
—Why? Why on earth?
"I used to occasionally think of myself as a smart person, and a smart person who had a lot of intelligence..."
Vermouth pressed between her eyebrows, so worried for a moment that she did not even have the will to faint. She muttered inwardly, "But now, with one thing after another, I understand less and less."
Halfway through her fretting, Vermouth was suddenly startled, and a figure surfaced in her mind.
Uzo!
Although there was no evidence, from the moment she arrived in Tokyo until now, whenever there was something she could not figure out, ninety-nine times out of a hundred it was related to that person!
"Could this also be within Uzo's calculations?" Cold sweat slid down Vermouth's temple along with beads of blood, and she could not help murmuring, "How on earth did he do it..."
In the driver's seat.
Gin heard that sentence, gave a cold snort, and casually crushed out the cigarette between his lips.
Stupid woman. She had known Uzo for so long, yet she was still trying to understand the principles behind how he did things... Just this point alone made it no wonder she had been played in the palm of Uzo's hand.
Gin could not be bothered to remind her, either: clearly, compared to this back-seat connection who acted willfully and had sudden whims from time to time, he was still more willing to see Uzo gain the upper hand.
After all, both of them might be mysticists, but at most Uzo would mysteriously harm a few passersby and colleagues, and would not deliberately endanger the Organization. As for what Vermouth wanted to do, that was not necessarily