Conan: When Shinjiu and Maolilan swap bodies

Vermouth wore a smile of delight, as if she had just received a toy, and her red lips parted slightly:

"I will conduct an assessment of you. Only if you pass the assessment will you be able to obtain a code name and become a code name member."

"Okay, teacher."

The boy nodded obediently, appearing completely harmless.

The boy followed Vermouth and left Japan for America, where he began a new academic life.

Vermouth was not an easy person to please; living under the same roof, she was fussy and picky.

We should eat the best food and use the best things.

The boy was more like a servant or a toy than a student.

She only teaches things when she's in a good mood, such as acting or pretending.

"I don't like your eyes, they're so fake."

"If you want to deceive others, the first person you have to deceive is yourself."

"The core of acting is to immerse yourself in the role."

"Don't wear your emotions on your sleeve, and don't let others see the emotions in your eyes. A true master of disguise won't let anyone notice anything amiss."

"Remember, never let me see the disgust in your eyes again, or I will kill you."

"Okay, teacher."

The boy nodded earnestly.

Even occasional, spontaneous guidance and instruction are invaluable to a teenager who is figuring things out on his own.

He truly learned to hide his thoughts and emotions.

He would no longer show any disgust or aversion when Vermouth dressed him up; he buried all his emotions deeper inside.

He can switch between various titles and roles skillfully without any psychological burden.

He is Vermouth's daughter, son, cousin, and brother...

He was an obedient and well-behaved student.

He is a work that has been polished.

Looking at the beautiful "girl" in front of her, dressed in a Lolita princess dress and with exquisite makeup, Vermouth nodded gently.

"That's more like it, my lovely student."

Chapter 303 Destroy the world!

This is an assessment.

The task is to infiltrate a wealthy man's mansion alone and kill him despite the heavy security.

There was only one proctor, his teacher—Vermouth.

The boy readily accepted the task.

From the moment he pulled the trigger that day, he had accepted his fate as an assassin.

During his time learning from Vermouth, he had already acted as an accomplice in killing many people.

The boy disguised himself as a maid and infiltrated the mansion. He spent nearly a week investigating the target's preferences, habits, and security, and then planned, laid out, and waited for the right opportunity.

Finally, at a banquet, he made his move.

The wealthy man put the wine glass, stained with potassium cyanide, into his mouth. As the corpse fell, the maid disappeared into the crowd.

"Well done, but too slow."

Vermouth offered a succinct assessment.

"You're too soft-hearted. You didn't need to spend so much time."

"Don't think I don't know that the reason you've been dragging this out for so long is because you want him to spend his daughter's birthday with her."

The boy remained silent and did not speak.

He accepted his fate as an assassin, but that doesn't mean his conscience wouldn't ache when he took action.

Looking at the boy who had followed her for more than half a year and had learned to hide all his emotions, Vermouth felt a pang of pity.

"You've passed the assessment. Your code name will be issued soon. Don't say you're my student when you go out."

As he turned around, the boy heard her whisper.

"By embarking on this path of the devil, we will eventually become the very people we hate most."

The boy paused for a moment, then continued forward.

The boy received a code name, and he was given a name in the organization's sense—Koniak.

He did not follow Vermouth any further and returned to the organization.

At the age of 14, he became a codenamed member of the organization.

But this does not mean that he has gained freedom.

Organizations are dog-eat-dog worlds where rules and order exist only on the surface.

Here, having a beautiful color can actually be a dangerous thing.

He's not strong enough; he can't beat those who've crawled through mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

He needs a protector, a suitable patron.

After searching for a long time, the boy found himself a new teacher.

At that time, Gin was in his early twenties, exuding a sharp and piercing aura.

Black clothes, top hat, long hair, and an air of superiority.

This cool look instantly captured the boy's long-dormant, childlike heart.

"teacher!"

Gin frowned as he looked at the boy who had been following him for several days, suppressing his burgeoning killing intent.

"I am not your teacher!"

"I am Koniak. I speak six languages, am familiar with all kinds of firearms and vehicles, and am also good at intelligence gathering. I am a master chef and an all-rounder in housekeeping. You should need an assistant!"

The boy tried his best to promote himself, hoping to get on the good side of someone powerful.

He certainly didn't just pick this big shot randomly.

Gin – the most prominent person in the organization.

His marksmanship is superb, his close combat skills are top-notch, his sniping ability is also quite strong, and he has extremely strong observation and reasoning abilities. His mission completion rate is 100%, which is the highest possible.

Especially since he's currently a lone wolf, without any followers!

What a great teacher! If he can learn all of this, he'll be able to do whatever he wants in the organization!

Gin was actually persuaded by his self-introduction.

He definitely needs an assistant.

He retrieved Koniak's information, examined him for three days, and tacitly approved of him calling himself a student.

The boy was fifteen years old at the time.

Gin is both strict and lenient.

He would hold the boy to extremely high standards, but if the boy couldn't meet them, he wouldn't force him.

Because he would simply give up.

He was the strictest teacher, and also the best teacher.

The boy learned from his attire, his manner of doing things, his fighting style, his sniping skills, and his caution and cunning.

He is a natural learner; he grasps things quickly and understands them instantly.

His hands were getting increasingly stained with blood, and the sharp stone called conscience was slowly being worn smooth.

Gin chuckled and clicked his tongue as he watched the boy, who was once again overwhelmed with emotion because of killing someone.

"What you should learn most is my cruelty and indifference."

Once they got to know each other well, the boy stopped pretending to have some of his personality traits.

The man with long hair, dressed in a black top hat and resembling Gin Number Two, rolled his eyes.

"I'm not like you, a born villain."

"Since you are not me, then don't try to imitate my style."

"This outfit is so cool!"

Gin remained silent for a moment, then dropped the subject.

The drug trials continued, and the boy's skills improved more and more.

And in return, there are an increasing number of tasks.

One task after another, often with less than three days' rest after completing the previous one, the next task would come.

Their days and nights were reversed, their schedules were chaotic, and they often spent the entire night waiting for their target to appear.

As his targets died one by one and his bank account swelled with money, he felt like a wound-up toy, becoming increasingly indifferent to human life.

At the age of 16, the effects of drug E became fully apparent.

The boy defeated Gin for the first time.

The boss focused his attention on him, and the hypnosis and brainwashing began, even more frequently than drug trials.

Hypnosis has been practiced in the past, but not frequently. The content of the hypnosis was about loyalty to the organization and never betraying it. It was a subtle process, and most people wouldn't notice it.

If it were just these things, there wouldn't be anything unbearable for a teenager.

Hypnosis or brainwashing, while causing some impact, have little effect.

The boy still remembers who he is and what he wants to do.

He never kills anyone outside of missions, nor does he cause innocent casualties.

In his spare time, he often reads books; his mind is calm and his will is unwavering.

Each instance of mind control from the organization was shut out by his own consciousness, which belonged to "self".

He was planning to leave.

If all goes well, it should be achieved soon.

But the more you try to prevent something from happening, the more likely it is to happen.

That same year, he lost his sense of taste, and his eyes turned red.

The world suddenly turned gray, and everything seemed to lose its meaning.

He had no interest in fame, fortune, power, or beautiful women; his only passion was food.

But now, all food tastes like wax, and he can no longer find meaning in living.

He lay dejectedly on the beach, letting the waves wash over him one after another.

I wish I had died on that rainy night that year...

What's the point of living all these extra years?

A huge crack appeared in the heart, and darkness seized the opportunity to engulf it.

He was starting to lose the will to live.

Dejected and resigned, he refused all tasks and everything.

But some things are beyond his control.

A phantom voice echoed in my ears, as if it were crawling out from deep within my skull, and my consciousness felt as if it were being torn in two.

The boy covered his head, his knuckles turning white from the force, his fingernails almost digging into the flesh of his temples.

He felt his existence being forcibly invaded and stirred by an irresistible, viscous, asphalt-like will.