Yuriu Derringer’s Greetings 1
I scatter disease across the world.
A disease for which there is no cure.
"Pleasure to meet you, Signorina. You’re exactly on time."
The man with the aquiline nose sitting opposite me opened his mouth to speak.
His blonde, wavy hair was slicked back, and he was dressed in a high-class suit. The man, Luciano Benetti, regarded me with a pretentious air.
"Your parents must have raised you well. These days, there are plenty of women who think keeping a man waiting is a way to get his attention."
"Oh, surely not, Mr. Luciano. Keeping so many gentlemen waiting? I couldn't possibly."
Luciano and I sat facing each other at a round table. Surrounding us was a crowd of men who looked exceptionally thuggish.
"Ahaha. This is making me a little nervous, you know."
I tried to gauge his mood with a playful smile.
The men were all bristling with hostility, clearly thinking they looked intimidating. They reminded me of children peeking out from the wings of a school play, nervously waiting for their cue.
"Don't mind them. They're all just practicing their pantomime right now. They won't twitch a muscle until I give the signal. No matter how much they might be seething inside."
"Until you, the Boss, ring the bell?"
"That's about the size of it," Luciano said, tilting his coffee cup.
If he said that was the size of it, then it probably was. After all, Luciano was a genuine, bona fide Mafioso. If he rang his bell, he was in a position to make even government officials jump.
At the counter, the pale-faced Shishou of the café was polishing cups with a blank expression.
The blinds were drawn, leaving the interior dim. There didn't seem to be a back exit in this room located at the rear of the shop.
"Shelly Rum, freelance newspaper reporter... is it?"
Luciano dropped his gaze to the business card on the table and spoke my name.
"I’d like to hear the heart of the matter—why you went through the trouble of setting up an agent just to drag me out here."
"I want you to tell me something. I want to know the source and destination of the tens of millions of euros you’ve been moving recently through Swiss accounts."
"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."
"Lately, massive amounts of funds have been flowing unnaturally all over the world, as if trying to avoid public scrutiny. Do you know nothing about it?"
"I believe I just said I don't know."
Luciano's voice dropped an octave, and the murderous intent from the surrounding men swelled.
"I’ve also heard rumors that after passing through multiple dummy corporations, those funds eventually flow into a certain organization."
"And what organization might that be?"
"Who knows? That’s what I want to find out. If it were some nature conservation group or an orphanage in Brooklyn, that would be fine, but..."
I said this without breaking my smile, causing Luciano to lean back and laugh. He laughed so hard it looked like he might tip his chair over backward.
"Is something so funny?"
"No, it's just... I thought you were a fine woman, exactly as I’d heard. Very well."
"What are we talking about?"
"You really are exactly as I imagined—no, even more of a woman than I thought. Yuriu Derringer."
The moment he spoke my name, he hurled the cup in his hand at the floor. The sound of shattering pottery echoed through the reserved café.
The men all trained their gun barrels on me in unison.
"You’d best not move. Neither the tear gas nor the stun gun in that bag of yours will do you any good."
"...So, you knew from the start."
"Did you think I would grant an audience to a lowly reporter? Yuriu, you aren't going home. If you had a date with a man planned, consider it canceled."
"Oh dear. If I’d known that, I would have worn something a little more decent."
I pursed my lips and obediently raised both hands.
"I’ll have you spill everything later—slowly—about exactly which source gave you information on my money."
"Which source? Do you really think I can narrow it down to just one? Don't make me laugh. I'm Yuriu Derringer, you know?"
If this were a movie shoot, it would be great, but unfortunately, no matter how much time passed, the director's voice shouting "Cut!" never rang out.
Pinch, pinch.
Aww, Shishou. Save meee.
Just kidding.
Ahyahya.
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