books44 Chapter 136 The Road to Crimson Sin
Chapter 136 The Road to Crimson Sin
A small knife flew past my cheek.
Kuromon Haruya tilted his head slightly, bent down and put his arm around Gin, who was trying to escape. He bounced him around; Gin was skinny and weighed like a puppy.
"He's in alright, his limbs are slender but healthy, just a bit malnourished. Can this child talk? Is he intelligent?"
The body in his hands paused for a moment upon hearing this, clearly understanding English.
Although Sindora was still angry, she realized there was still business to be done, so she closed the door without giving Julia a second glance.
“I didn’t have much contact with him. This child came with Julia when she came to live with me. He usually lives in the storage room of her room. He’s probably about six years old this year.”
“I’ve met him a few times before. He seemed quite well-behaved and cute on the surface, but I never expected him to be like this at heart. Take him if you want; I won’t keep a dog that has bitten its owner.”
Sindora looked down and met Gin's ruthless gaze, and sighed inwardly at her bad luck.
It's a pity that this face, inherited from Julia Roberts, is so beautiful. Silver hair is a rare commodity in high society, and at the very least, it could be used to train someone as a child star. But once someone's hands are stained with blood, regardless of gender or age, once they've tasted the power, they can no longer be treated as mere playthings.
"Then I'll take this dessert with me!"
Watching the dark figure disappear from sight, Sindora immediately got up and dialed the break room's internal line:
"Hello, it's me. Send the parrot new information via email in five hours: Lucius is a pedophile who likes light-haired, blue-eyed people. Yes, it's highly credible, extra money required..."
As Kuromon Haruya stopped at a secluded corner within the hotel, a small, blood-red mouth lunged at his carotid artery—
"Hey, do you want to be a little vampire? Why are you so obsessed with people's necks!"
Reaching out, he pulled Gin away. Kuromon Haruya watched the child, who was flailing his arms and tearing at his left hand, feigning a headache as he pulled a real pistol from his pocket, then slammed the child against the wallpaper, his neck gripped behind his back.
"Kid, behave yourself if you want to live."
The gun barrel, still smelling of gunpowder, left a red mark on his forehead. Kuromon Haruya restrained himself by lightly biting the tip of his tongue with his molars, reminding himself to act calmly.
The suffocating feeling of being tightly bound wrapped around his throat, and Gin could only make gasping sounds. Kuromon Haruya's technique was very measured, avoiding the trachea while still inflicting pain.
'Much gentler than that woman's methods when she went crazy,' Gin thought.
Seeing that he had stopped resisting, or perhaps he had already lost his strength, Kuromon Haruya slowly let go and patted the panting child's back to help him catch his breath, saying, "Be a good boy, don't let me down, understand?"
'He's a psychopath just as bad as his mother,' Gin thought to himself.
"Ahem, I understand."
“Very good.” A subtle low voice rang out as Kuromon Haruya hugged him again and, based on the map of the Sindora Hotel that the intelligence members had gathered in his mind, headed towards the back door of the kitchen.
The crisp, indifferent footsteps echoed on the floor. Gin quietly raised his head, peering at the man's expression through the gap in his bone-white mask. Listening to the calm, steady breathing, he had a vague premonition that his life was about to be completely changed.
Before his mother sought refuge with Sindora and was still engaged in prostitution in the red-light district, there were many people among the guests who were interested in him.
But those emerald green eyes held no alluring or sordid desires. They were like a mirror veiled in a painting; at first glance, they appeared as a beautiful scene in the artwork, but upon closer inspection, they became a reflection of oneself, and no one could glimpse the truth beneath.
"I don't care about your past experiences or identity, today is the day you are reborn."
From this day forward, you will be my adopted son, named Kurosawa Jin. Your codename in the organization will be "Gin," and you will be responsible for using force to eliminate any threats to the organization, carrying out the boss's will, and serving as the future head of the Operations Department.
A hint of confusion flashed in Gin's eyes as he repeated, mimicking Kuromon Haruya's pronunciation, "Kurosawa Gin?"
"It's a Japanese name, pronounced 'Hei ze zhen' in Chinese." Recalling that the organization would one day return to its homeland to exploit Japan, Kuromon Haruya silently added language learning to Sharon and Kurosawa Jin's schedule. "You also have an older sister who's six years older, but let's talk about that later. We have guests waiting for you. You can kill, can you?"
As soon as he finished speaking, he realized he had asked a stupid question.
…………
Atop a building opposite the Sindora Luxury Hotel, the "Locust," staking out his mission target, gazed at the bustling street through his binoculars, his mind drifting into drowsiness.
"My God, that guy has been listening to opera for three hours straight! How bored is he?! Why did the parrot make us monitor this kind of guy?"
Beside him, a woman with Mediterranean features, codenamed "Crocodile," was listening to a report on a walkie-talkie:
"Shh! Keep your voice down, something seems to have happened at the hotel. We can't get in touch with Fidel, and the hotel is currently under lockdown."
The locust pursed its lips and picked at its ear: "Maybe someone finally couldn't stand his despicable behavior anymore and decided to uphold justice."
As he got up and climbed onto the balcony, Locust was about to investigate the situation when he suddenly caught a glimpse of a reflection in his peripheral vision. Before he could react, a burning sensation instantly spread from his earlobe!
*Thud.* The sound followed immediately; an off-target bullet struck the floor with a muffled thud, and a moment later, a faint gunshot, masked by the city noise, came from ahead.
"Attack! Sniper!" Crocodile dragged Locust behind cover by his legs and reported over the radio.
Meanwhile, in a hotel suite a hundred meters away from them, Kuromon Haruya ruffled the hair of Kurosawa Jin in his arms, a smile playing on his lips:
“A very good attempt! If you had done it yourself instead of me pulling the trigger for you, the bright red dahlias would have already bloomed over there.”
Gin is only six years old now, and subjecting his body to the recoil of any firearm could result in permanent aftereffects. So, Yoruichi Kuromon simply became a human cannon for little Gin, with him in charge of pulling the trigger. Once little Gin locked onto the target, he would press the finger on the trigger to signal him.
Gin's fair cheeks flushed with excitement. He looked up from his scope, his pupils dilating. After a moment of stunned silence, he asked, "Why did it bloom?"
Kuromon Haruya gestured for Gin to refocus on the target, while he used the crow's extended field of vision to aim at the prey, slowly and deliberately targeting the relaxed crocodile: "Look."
"In the instant you identify your target and pull the trigger, in the remaining blank time after the bullet leaves the shell, none of us can be sure that we have hit our prey. Will he survive, or will we take his life with our own hands? The unsettling uncertainty is like slime clinging to bones, dazzling and unsettling."
"Then, after what seems like an endless, yet in reality, fleeting few seconds," Kuromon Haruya pulled the trigger, the heavy recoil slamming into his shoulder, causing his body to vibrate. "Life explodes in its final burst, and the most beautiful radiance that unfolds will give you a definite answer."
The skull explodes, and through the magnifying glass, the physiologically repulsive tissue fragments are subconsciously ignored; only the gushing bright red blood plasma appears briefly. Vibrant life is embodied in this moment, like an unlit flower blooming in the deep night sky, passionate, unrestrained, and honestly open.
A chilling sense of self-identity surged from his toes to the top of his head like an electric current. Gin had never felt so clearly about himself, about his identity as a human being, and about the irreversible sin of harming his own kind.
At that moment, a clear and calm voice in his ear pointed him in the right direction: "Then savor the taste on your tongue, the sweetness that comes after the flowers have blossomed and borne fruit."