"Jester. Real name: Jed White. No prior traces. Appeared three years ago on the Yorubi Continent, killed a truck driver, stole his truck, suspected origin Meteor City…"
"Since then he's drifted across continents, more than ten crimes large and small. Each time he's slipped the police, clearly developing a Nen ability suited for 'escape'…"
"A month ago he appeared in the Mingbo Republic, committing the infamous '711 Pirate Ship' incident…"
"Half a month ago he hijacked a Bartochia Republic freighter bound for the Kakin Empire, killed the captain and 173 crew, stole seventeen ancient artifacts… suspected to be a group operation…"
"What can now be confirmed is that he himself should be a Manipulation-type Nen user, ability suspected to be 'Possession,' allowing him to seize control of a body through physical contact. Also, according to the latest from Dwight, customs found no guns, ammo or contraband on him…"
"Therefore, at least one of his accomplices must be a 'Spatial-type' Nen user, between Conjuration and Transmutation…"
Kukuroo Mountain. Half an hour after Roy had left.
Silva, done with Kikyo, draped a blanket over himself, lying on the tiger-skin sofa, sipping red wine, mind elsewhere while a butler reported.
This butler, Hall, was Zippo Nian's son—an old hand raised in the Zoldyck household. From intern to full butler to captain, he'd even attended Roy as a baby until Wutong took over, then was sent to intelligence to handle lists and reports, directly under Silva.
He held a stack of files, narrating smoothly, but fell silent when Silva raised a hand.
"Hall, your wife's due soon, isn't she?"
"October 11th, thank you for asking, Master." Hall blinked, unable to hide his happy smile.
"Picked a name yet?"
"Not yet."
Hall seemed to sense something, hope flickering in his eyes.
The man swirled his glass, thinking. "Rain falling like sound. Call her Yuin."
Hall bowed. "Hall thanks the master on behalf of my daughter Yuin for bestowing her name."
"So it's a girl…" Silva stared out the window, silent a moment, then waved for him to continue.
Hall nodded. "Young Master Roy spotted Jester at the airport. He's suspected of planning a hijacking, a repeat of the '711' tragedy. We've notified Master Zeno, who is on his way back."
"I'm worried he may not arrive in time." Hall's tone turned cautious. "Master, should we send more people to support Young Master Roy? If it's a group, Wutong alone may not be enough…"
Silva said nothing, swirling the red liquid in his glass—blood-red and startling.
The air in the room went heavy. Hasty footsteps echoed outside. The door burst open. Luke's anxious face appeared.
"Bad news, Master. Young Master Illumi has run off…"
Silva's hand froze. Wine spilled onto the carpet still damp from its last cleaning.
Out in the garden, the head was gone, only a pit left. Beside it Mikey strained, face red, trying to defecate into it. At some point his foot slipped, tumbling in, the young butler lunging to grab him—grabbing nothing but empty air.
…
"Whoosh—" Clouds tore apart as Airship K3285 sped toward Heavens Arena…
Roy and Wutong sat calm under the gun barrels pressed to their heads. The little girl giggled sweetly, like the girl next door, holding out a hand. "Big brother, if you won't eat candy, at least have some tea and pastries?"
A sip of tea and a bite of pastry could ease travel fatigue—but poison could be deadlier than bullets…
"We're all minors here. Stop pretending, Mr. Jester." The cane rested against Roy's knee. He'd seen through the ruse, naming the little girl's "identity" aloud while flicking his eyes at Wutong not to act rashly.
Wutong understood, right hand hovering a finger's width from his pocket, silently counting time.
The little girl's face twisted with fury. "Pretend? Who's pretending?!"
"Candy or gun—your choice!"
Without any visible motion, a small gun appeared in her hand. She turned it on the woman next to her and blew her mother's head off with one shot.
Smoke curled from the barrel. Through it, a gaping hole in the woman's forehead. Her body slumped from the seat.
Roy and Wutong's eyes narrowed. Before they could grasp why she'd kill her own, the cabin door opened. Another woman walked in, sat down next to the girl—expression identical to the one just shot.
'Skin swapped, core unchanged. The woman's Manipulation-type, the girl is Conjuration or Spatial-type capable of storing weapons…'
In an instant Roy had the picture. Ignoring the gun at his head, he sprawled on the sofa, feigning laziness. "Let me guess…"
"The clown at the airport was one of your conjured beasts, wasn't it?"
"If you wanted me dead, you wouldn't have fed me candy over and over. So…"
"What are you afraid of?"
Roy crossed his hands over his cane, eyes on them. "My identity?"
The woman and girl's faces changed.
Roy thought, so it's true. He grew calmer, even smiled wryly. "Looks like the Zoldyck name still carries some weight in this world. Even terrorists have to think twice…"
"Young master's right. You should know what happens when you offend the Zoldycks!" Wutong had caught on. Terrorists were terrifying because they feared nothing. If it were him, forget candy—two peanuts up front would've solved everything neatly.
"Shut up about your mother!" the little girl exploded, instantly raising her gun and firing at Roy.
"I hate you arrogant bastards the most! Zoldyck or not—die!"
Anger? Good. Anger meant lost control, exposed weaknesses.
"Wutong—move!"
Roy kicked the table over and drew the cane-sword.
"Bang bang…" Gunshots rang out.
The cabin erupted into chaos. Suddenly a dinner fork whizzed past Roy's cheek, aimed at the girl—
Behind it, a hollow-eyed "little ghost"…
"I knew it. Without me you're helpless…"