Conan: Begins to collaborate with Miss Bayonetta and become famous

Inside the carriage compartment

“It’s settled then.” Gin’s hand rested casually on the table, his knuckles tapping the smooth wooden surface silently. “I will include the exemption for baijiu and its new status in the terms.”

“Next…” Before he could finish speaking, he flicked his wrist, and a thin, blade-like phone silently slid out of his sleeve. He gently pushed it with his fingertips, and it glided across the table, stopping precisely in front of Vermouth. “Enter your bank information.”

Vermouth took the phone expressionlessly. The screen lit up, revealing a glaring red number—one billion US dollars. An amount that could drive anyone mad, yet her eyes remained unmoved.

She only cared about one thing now: why hadn't Baijiu boarded the car yet? The agreed time had passed, and she had even deliberately delayed Gin by several minutes. According to the original plan, the two of them should have already subdued Gin by now.

She quickly cut off her chaotic thoughts; the most important thing right now was to fool the man in front of her, the most difficult man in the world to deceive.

However, this was not difficult for her. Don't forget, she is a woman of a thousand faces, a top-notch actress.

She deliberately shielded the screen with the side of her palm, slowly and methodically entering her username and password; each keystroke was exceptionally clear in the quiet carriage. Finally, under Gin's gaze, she looked up and pressed the "confirm" button without hesitation.

The progress bar begins to slowly climb, 1%... 2%...

A fleeting look of surprise crossed Gin's eyes. He finally pulled his hand out of his right pocket and relaxed it on his lap. His wariness of the "White Widow" before him crumbled at that moment. He couldn't imagine that the real enemy would press that confirm button. If she had been even half a second later, the gun already loaded in his pocket would have pierced her heart without hesitation.

Would rather kill by mistake, never let go.

This time, Vermouth also became a gambler.

And she won her bet.

This risky move, completely outside the plan, turned out to be the right one.

The words Baijiu had spoken before the operation echoed in my mind: To deal with all unplanned events, one must use reverse thinking.

Among countless "impossible" branches, there are always outcomes that even intelligent beings cannot predict. Even with power as insignificant as an ant, one must dare to raise a fist against the gods.

How can you know the outcome if you don't try? She never believed in fate. If everything is predetermined, what's the point of struggling and living?

“The key.” Gin’s voice pulled her back to reality, his eyes sharpening like knives once more.

“I was ready long ago.” Vermouth gracefully crossed her legs, and with a flick of her wrist, like a magician, two keys lay quietly in her palm.

She placed the key flat on the table and gently pushed it towards Gin with her fingertips.

Gin slowly picked up the key with both hands, his eyes filled with scrutiny and a lingering doubt, while a bloodthirsty glint still lurked in his deep eyes.

"The time for verification has come," he said coldly.

He precisely joined the two keys together, and from within the cross-shaped structure at the ends of the keys, a faint crimson light flickered. Gin carefully examined the ominous object in his hand, his last guard finally lowered. At this moment, he was completely convinced that the woman before him was the White Widow.

"I wonder what caused your earlier guardedness?" Belmod spread her hands, even generously opening the pockets on both sides of her trench coat to show that they were empty. "I trust you completely and didn't bring any weapons." She narrowed her eyes slightly; every step she took at this moment was outside of her plan, as if she were walking on the edge of collapse, with only a desperate struggle for survival.

“No matter how you look at it, you won’t find any flaws.” She continued to apply psychological pressure, her tone confident, “because this is the real key.”

"Your choice is correct," Gin replied calmly. He had no greed for power; if it were anyone else in the organization, their heart would probably have leaped out of their chest the moment they touched that key.

“This key…” Gin took a deep breath, but his eyes unexpectedly became empty and distant, as if piercing through the carriage and looking towards the unknown future. He whispered meaningfully, “It will… completely end the old era.”

"The new world... has finally arrived..." He half-closed his eyes, his voice tinged with an indescribable weariness and a sense of destiny. Inside the compartment, only the regular, muffled rumble of the train seemed to accompany his whispers.

The air in the Alps is so crisp and cold, as if it had been chilled by millennia-old glaciers.

The roar of the engine shattered the silence of the mountains.

A rugged off-road motorcycle is climbing up a steep, dizzying hillside in an almost defiant manner.

The rider was indeed a baijiu (Chinese liquor).

He leaned forward, almost becoming one with the bike, his black cycling jersey splattered with mud and snow.

The wind howled past the visor of his full-face helmet, accelerating everything around him into blurry patches of color.

Only the ridgeline outlined by the sunlight ahead became increasingly clear.

The slope became increasingly steep, almost at a 45-degree angle to the ground, but the motorcycle's momentum only increased, with an unwavering determination to move forward.

Finally, with a slightly rough roar of the accelerator, the front wheels lifted off the ground and then crashed heavily onto the flat ground at the top of the mountain.

All sound stopped abruptly.

Baijiu squeezed the clutch and deftly stepped on the brake, bringing the motorcycle to a steady stop at the very edge of the cliff.

One inch further, and it will be utter destruction.

He braced himself on one foot and turned off the engine.

In an instant, the world plunged from extreme noise into extreme silence.

Only the whistling of the mountain wind brushing past my ears, and the faint, calm beating of my own heart.

He reached out, unfastened the buckle, and took off his helmet.

The icy air instantly enveloped his forehead, which was beaded with sweat, bringing a sharp, sobering sensation.

His deep gaze was directed beyond the cliff.

Below is an unfathomable void.

The clouds swirled and dispersed beneath my feet, occasionally revealing glimpses of the dark green forest tops, as tiny as miniature models.

The cliff face is almost vertical, steep as if cut by a knife and axe, and extends all the way down.

The liquor stood quietly at the intersection of heaven and earth, with people and cars forming a solitary silhouette.

"McCarlan, are you sure what you're saying is correct?"

"Or rather... I just took the wrong turn."