Conan: Begins to collaborate with Miss Bayonetta and become famous

The positions of the interrogator and the interrogated seem to have subtly reversed at this moment.

The kava remained silent for about three seconds.

Those three seconds felt exceptionally long in the silent cell.

He quickly assessed: How did the liquor company know?

How much do you know?

What is the purpose?

Ultimately, he opted for the most defensive response—a rhetorical question—while attempting to regain control of the pace.

"So what?" he retorted, his voice a little colder and harder than before. He leaned back slightly, adopting a more relaxed posture, trying to downplay the importance of the issue while observing the reaction of the liquor.

He didn't sway the spirits of the liquor industry.

His gaze remained calmly fixed on the kava, but his words were as precise as a scalpel, slicing through the kava's feigned calm:

“So, I was right, wasn’t I?” He repeated softly, not as a question, but as a confirmation, “You are the son of Merlot.”

Kava's Adam's apple bobbed slightly as he made a subtle swallowing motion.

This subconscious physiological reaction once again revealed his inner turmoil.

He neither admitted nor denied it, but a half-smile appeared on his lips, and his eyes became deeper and more unfathomable.

That smile held no warmth, only a cold scrutiny and assessment.

He was trying to figure out what the liquor company's next move was.

The liquor seemed to need no answer. He tilted his head back slightly, leaning against the cold metal seat back, his gaze seemingly piercing through the cabin ceiling, casting a look towards the void of the past, his voice carrying a reminiscent, even somewhat sentimental tone:

“You’re just like your father…” He paused, then added, his voice soft but like a hammer blow to the heart of a kava, “...He was also a member of the organization.”

After saying this, Baijiu closed his eyes, his brows furrowing slightly, as if recalling something, or perhaps resisting a scene that was flooding his mind.

Kava stared intently at him, her breathing unconsciously slowing down.

A few seconds later, Baijiu reopened his eyes, looked at Kava, and his gaze held a complex expression. He continued, his speech calm yet carrying a cruel undercurrent of reopening old wounds:

"Just as you were about to... well, in the organization's words, 'fall into' the Eastern European department—I remember it was a handover mission near Kiev that went wrong, involving a batch of sensitive 'antiques'—your father disappeared. He was never seen, neither alive nor dead. The file said 'mission failed, presumed dead,' but you know, that was just a platitude to appease people."

Under the pale light, Kava's face seemed even paler.

His hands, resting on his knees, clenched slightly into fists.

The details Baijiu described closely matched his memory of his father's last mission.

Some inside information that he thought only he and a very small number of high-ranking officials knew.

“You climbed desperately upwards,” Baijiu’s voice remained calm, yet it was like a dull knife cutting through flesh, peeling away the layers of Kava’s hidden past bit by bit. “You completed the mission at all costs, cleared obstacles, and demonstrated your ‘value’ and ‘loyalty.’ Finally, you left that quagmire in Eastern Europe and were transferred to the Tokyo headquarters, entering the inner circle.”

"Then, you began to consciously and deliberately try every means to get close to me." Baijiu's gaze sharpened, staring directly into Kava's eyes, as if trying to see into the depths of his soul. "Whether it was the 'coincidence' of the task assignment, the 'accidental' sharing of certain intelligence, or even... your seemingly proactive yet actually cautious approach in several operations against me. I used to just think of you as a formidable opponent, ambitious and cunning. It wasn't until later, after carefully analyzing all the details, that I slowly began to taste something different."

The baijiu paused for a moment, giving the kava time to process this information, before presenting its core deduction:

"Your goal has never been simply to capture or kill me. What you really want is to find out what happened to your father back then through me. You suspect that his disappearance is related to certain secrets of the organization's upper echelons, certain factional struggles, and even... possibly some earlier 'purges'. And I've been in the organization long enough, the levels I've been exposed to are complex enough, and I know enough 'old stories'. I am the most likely breakthrough for you to find the truth, right?"

Kava's facial muscles twitched uncontrollably. His fist, resting on his knee, clenched tighter, his knuckles turning white.

Every word Baijiu uttered was like a precise scalpel, dissecting his carefully concealed motives and scars.

He felt as if he had been stripped naked and exposed to the scrutinizing gaze of the other person.

Anger, shame, and a hint of panic at being completely seen through were intertwined.

He wanted to deny it, to roar, to use violence to shut the liquor up.

But his remaining rationality told him that doing so would only make him appear guilty.

He forced himself to remain calm, but his eyes grew even colder, almost as if they were filled with ice.

Seeing his reaction, Baijiu knew that his words had hit the nail on the head.

He knew when to stop, not delving deeper into the psychology behind cava, but instead shifting the subject in a more subtle yet unsettling way, touching on the possible core issue: "Later you realized..."

Baijiu paused deliberately, seemingly choosing his words carefully, or perhaps observing Kava's reaction. "...Things might be more complicated than you think. I can't give you a definite answer about your father's fate. The organization's records about that matter are vague; those who know are either dead or remain silent."

He met Cava's suddenly urgent and dangerous gaze and said slowly and clearly, "All I know is that at that time, he... had two choices."

"What choice?!" Kava finally couldn't hold back and blurted out, his voice trembling with excitement.

He leaned forward, almost standing up, his eyes fixed on the liquor.

Baijiu didn't answer immediately. He closed his eyes again, leaning back in his chair, seemingly exhausted, or perhaps recalling some extremely distant, unpleasant scene. Only the hum of the ventilation system and the two men's slightly heavy breathing filled the cell.

Silence spread, like a noose tightening.

A few seconds later, Baijiu opened his eyes again, his gaze filled with a complex emotion that bordered on pity. Looking at the "enemy" before him, who was obsessed with his father's whereabouts and might even go astray because of it, he said softly, "One is to join my group, which is me, 'Baijiu.' Or..." He paused, his gaze calmly turning to Kavajiu, "...to spend the rest of your life in prison."

These are the "two choices" he mentioned regarding Merlot back then.

It's either this or that; there's no middle ground.

Either become a member of the "baijiu" team and step into a deeper and more unpredictable vortex; or lose all freedom and rot in the organization's dark prison.

After hearing this, Kava did not show the shock, anger, or sudden realization that Baijiu had expected.

His expression was unusually calm, even eerily calm.

The turmoil that had just occurred due to the revelation of his background and motives seemed to be instantly sealed by an even thicker layer of ice.

He slowly leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes deep, his tone flat and emotionless, as if he were discussing someone else's affairs.

“Just like you, baijiu,” he said, his gaze fixed on the baijiu, “the difference is…”

He paused deliberately, as if enjoying the feeling of being in control, even though his mind was probably in turmoil.

"Your 'crime' back then was murder, wasn't it?" Kava asked a seemingly unrelated question, but his eyes were sharp as hooks, locking onto every change in Baijiu's face.

This refers to a vague record in the organization's internal archives about a major "mistake" or "treason" in Baijiu's early days. That incident led to Baijiu's marginalization and indirectly contributed to his later relatively independent mode of action.

Baijiu's eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly, but he didn't deny it. He just quietly looked back at Kava, waiting for what was to come.

Cava seemed to need no answer, continuing on its own, its tone carrying a strange mix of inquiry and a certain certainty of "having already seen through it all":

“But I suspect… you’ve actually been framed. Or rather, things are far more complicated than what’s written in the files. Like…”

He tilted his head slightly, as if recalling something, “...just like several months ago, when you said you were framed in Prague. In that mission, the target died mysteriously, key evidence pointed to you, and your entire team was almost wiped out, with only you and a seriously wounded liaison surviving. Your insistence at the internal hearing was that there was a mole, and the mission was betrayed by someone at a higher level.”

With each sentence he spoke, his pace slowed, and his gaze sharpened, as if he were using the scalpel of language to peel back layers of long-buried memories:

"And your statement... that flawed yet undeniably falsifiable report, those vague clues you hinted at pointing to a 'high-level conspiracy'... made my father, who was in charge of coordinating Eastern European affairs at the time, the prime suspect, the 'traitor' in their eyes."

The last few words were practically squeezed out through gritted teeth. The mask of calm he had been maintaining finally cracked, and years of suppressed pain, anger, and the chill of betrayal surged in his eyes.