Daisuke Jigen's Melancholy Bet: Seven Days Chasing Fujiko Mine - Borsalino in the Night Rain

Rain was falling. In the old quarter of Caglione at night, the wet cobblestones gleamed. The streetlights were few, and the narrow alleyways created pockets of darkness that seemed to reject any human presence. The damp wind of the port town carried the scent of the sea and something like rusted iron. When I pushed open the weathered wooden door of the tavern "La Luna Rossa," a bell jingled softly. The interior was dim. Twelve seats at the counter, about six tables. Old boxing posters covered the walls. Massimo the bartender was a man who had once stood in this city's ring. Now those large hands were polishing glasses. Only one other customer. A man sitting in the corner seat, a cigarette dangling absently from his lips. A black Borsalino hat pulled low, a thin black necktie. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up carelessly, revealing supple forearms. His sharp, piercing eyes stared at something beyond the polished glass. I, Jigen Daisuke, slowly exhaled a stream of cigarette smoke. "Another job for the lady, huh?" Massimo, whiskey bottle in hand, poured amber liquid into the glass he'd set before me. Straight, no ice. "...Who knows." I answered curtly and picked up the glass. The aroma of whiskey tickled my nose softly. One sip, and the back of my throat grew slowly warm. Massimo didn't ask further. He knew both the light and dark sides of this city, but he didn't pry. That was the way of this establishment. He just sighed quietly and resumed polishing glasses. A good place. Caglione is a small port town facing the Mediterranean. Population around two hundred thousand. Tourists snap photos of the old quarter's cobblestones and the sea view from the hilltop mansions, then go home. But the true face of this city emerges at night. In the harbor warehouse district, the criminal syndicate "Verde Noir," which controls Europe's underworld, has sunk its roots deep. Arms smuggling, black-market gem trading, money laundering. Their revenue streams are countless. With nearly a thousand members, this port town is their headquarters. This tavern serves drinks to those types and others alike, without distinction. With Massimo's intimidating presence, no fool would draw a gun here. I liked places like this. I could drink without anyone bothering me. For a lone-wolf gunman, that was enough. Another sip of whiskey. The peaty fragrance spread slowly across my tongue. Up until a week ago, this had been fine. —Until that night. My gaze drifted unconsciously to the ring finger of my left hand. A rugged silver ring. When I removed it, a small scar remained. An old bullet wound. Without thinking, I traced that scar with my thumb. In my mind, the events of that night resurfaced. A week ago. At "Villa Sombrese" in the hilltop district — a grand mansion with thirty-two rooms and two thousand square meters of gardens. A party hosted by some magnate was underway. I had infiltrated, blending in with the invited guests. Not that I had any particular target. It was just a job that happened to come my way. Under the chandelier lights, lavishly dressed men and women laughed and clinked glasses. The garden had a pool, its surface shimmering. I stood by the wall, cigarette in mouth, watching the scene with feigned boredom. That was when it happened. A sweet voice whispered in my ear. "Jigen, you look bored." I turned, and there she was. Mine Fujiko. Lustrous black hair cascading to her waist. Large brown eyes, calculating yet tinged with a strange melancholy. Bewitching eyes that could lead any man astray. The lines of her body, wrapped in a party dress, were illuminated by the mansion's lights. A dress with a deeply exposed back. The whiteness of her skin stood out starkly against the darkness. "Look who's talking. What are you doing here?" I kept the cigarette in my mouth and directed only my gaze at her. Fujiko giggled. That smile was, as always, bewitching and elusive. "I've got a rather interesting proposition for you." She stood right next to me. Close enough that our shoulders almost touched. The scent of her perfume mingled with the cigarette smoke. I had nothing but a bad feeling. This woman's "interesting propositions" almost always ended with me getting seriously hurt. One hundred percent of the time, it was my loss. She was a woman born under that kind of star. But — I didn't leave. Fujiko lowered her voice and continued. "The Moonlight Tear — have you heard of that jewel?" The Moonlight Tear. A blue diamond exceeding one hundred and twenty carats. An outrageous item valued at three hundred million euros on the black market. Once owned by Middle Eastern royalty, it had been stolen and traded repeatedly, and now Verde Noir was preparing to transport it in utmost secrecy. Of course, I knew that much. "Yeah, I know it. So what?" "Won't you steal it with me?" Fujiko stared intently into my eyes. My face reflected in those large pupils. "What about the transport route intel?" "I got it from Pietro. The antiquarian book dealer in Caglione. It's reliable information." Pietro Cavaliere. A treacherous informant. Friendly to everyone, but ultimately a man who only moved for his own profit. Whether he was reliable was highly questionable. But Fujiko smiled with confidence. That smile, for some reason, snagged in my chest. A perfect smile. A calculated smile designed to make a man feel a certain way. But. For just an instant. Something flickered deep within her large eyes. A lonely light, as if searching for something. My chest stirred restlessly. I took a drag on my cigarette, hiding my face in the smoke. I know. This is a trap. I remembered something from a few years ago. A job in Paris. A plan to steal a certain artwork, and I teamed up with Fujiko. The operation went smoothly. I drew the security, and Fujiko took the prize. That was the role. But Fujiko completely outmaneuvered me. She used me as a decoy and vanished alone with the loot. I was surrounded by police, driven to the brink of arrest. I managed to escape, but I've never forgotten that humiliation. My hand tightened around an imaginary pistol grip. The pain of betrayal. And yet, I couldn't refuse her request. Why? I stared at my left hand. The bullet scar on my ring finger. A mark from when my partner shot me, long ago. Betrayed by someone I trusted, this finger went cold. That's why I understand. I understand people who hide something behind their smile. The back of someone who puts on a brave front, unable to rely on anyone, yet still trying to stand alone. Fujiko is lonely. More than anyone, she wants to trust someone, but more than anyone, she can't. That momentary lonely look in her eyes — wasn't that her true feeling? Maybe that's just my imagination. Just a convenient interpretation. But. "...When do we do it?" Before I knew it, I had said it. —The bell jingled again. It was that sound that pulled me back from my reverie to reality. The atmosphere in the tavern suddenly tensed. Two men had entered. Black coats. Sharp eyes, making no effort to hide the fact that they were not ordinary men. One was slender and tall. The other had a solid build and an old scar on his neck. The eyes of hitmen. The two scanned the room, and when they spotted me, their mouths twisted into a smirk. They approached without hesitation. "Daisuke Jigen, right?" The slender man sat down in the seat next to me. The other stood behind me. Intending to block my escape route. "You've got the wrong guy. I'm just a drunk." I blew cigarette smoke towards the man's face. He grimaced for a moment. "Don't play dumb. A message from Wolf. Withdraw from this city. Keep your hands off the jewel." Wolf. The leader of Löwenzahn. "Dandelion" in German. Despite the cute name, he's the head of the most feared hitman group in Europe's underworld. A small elite force of six. Each possessing a different killing technique. They were hired by Verde Noir. I slowly finished my whiskey. The unmelted ice clinked at the bottom of the glass. Massimo growled in a low voice. "Take your fights outside." The ex-boxer's thick arms radiated intimidation from across the counter. "...Outside, then." I stood up. Pulling the brim of my Borsalino hat down low. Out in the alley, the rain was heavier than before. Only the sound of rain echoed on the cobblestones. The orange light of the streetlamp reflected dimly on the wet stones. Three of us stood in the alley. "You were warned. Daisuke Jigen. I've heard rumors of your skill. But there are two of us." The slender man slowly reached inside his coat. I watched that movement intently. A single raindrop fell on the man's hand. His shoulder moved. The next instant. A dry gunshot echoed through the alley. In my right hand, before I knew it, was my S&W M19 Combat Magnum. .357 Magnum rounds. A 0.3-second quick draw. The slender man stood frozen, staring at his own hand. There was no gun in it anymore. His pistol, knocked away, skidded across the cobblestones. "Next one won't miss." I said it quietly. The muzzle was now aimed at the other man. The scar on his neck twitched with tension. "...W-why didn't you shoot me?" "Tell Wolf. I don't take orders from anyone." My cigarette was still lit. I took a drag and exhaled the smoke into the rain. "And if you get in my way, I won't be merciful." The two looked like they wanted to say something, but in the end, they left without a word. I was left alone in the alley. Rain dripped from the brim of my hat. I took out my cell phone. Turned on the screen and opened the address book. My finger stopped on the name "Lupin." I put my finger on the call button. But. I put the phone back in my pocket. This time, I'll keep it from my partner. Lupin is also after this jewel. Ally or enemy? For once, I can't read what he's thinking. But that's not the only reason. This is — my own personal bet. I wanted to bet on that momentary lonely look in Fujiko's eyes. The rain is cold. Illuminated by the streetlamp, the shadow of my Borsalino hat stretches long. First, I'll verify the source of the information. Pietro Cavaliere. The treacherous antiquarian book dealer. Is it really "reliable information"? Tomorrow, I have an appointment to go with Fujiko to "Pagina Persa" in the old quarter. There, I'll ascertain the truth. The real objective Fujiko is hiding. If I'm just being used again — this time, I'll cut ties for good. With that resolve in my heart, I started walking down the rainy night street. Clack, clack. My leather shoes struck the wet cobblestones. Only that sound echoed in the quiet alley. I stopped for a moment and looked up at the sky. Through a break in the rain clouds, faint moonlight leaked through. It was a hazy light, like someone's tears.

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Episode 1

Name: Daisuke Jigen's Melancholy Bet: Seven Days Chasing Fujiko Mine
Author: Novelia

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