One… two… three, four lives—each sank into his heart and disappeared.
Roy opened his mind and accepted the gifts, and in return was forced to experience a hundred lives.
Sometimes he was Alan, carrying a schoolbag, skipping to school while holding his grandparents' hands. Sometimes he was Mike, the handsome school idol adored by everyone, surrounded by admirers. Sometimes he was Joshua, an heir returning from overseas, forced to manage a billion-dollar company, commanding storms in the boardroom.
But more often he was the sanitation worker sweeping frozen streets at four in the morning, or the factory worker screwing bolts day and night on the assembly line. He was the bald man in his forties crushed under mortgages and loans, or the old vendor pushing a tricycle through alleys, calling out for customers. He was the gray-haired elder cooking a feast for the New Year, waiting in vain for his children to return.
Joy and pain intertwined, ease and burden coexisted. When the boy opened his eyes again, those "past lives" vanished like smoke in the wind. With a long exhale, they faded into the heavens and earth.
"Whirr—" The propellers shredded the air, wind tightening his skin.
Zeno stood beside him, hands behind his back, watching clouds churn into waves as the airship cut through them. At one moment, he glanced sideways. Roy, wrapped in a strange aura of dusk and innocence, smiled slightly, and for an instant even Zeno was lost in thought.
"Grandpa, are you heading back?"
"The target's cleared… shouldn't I get half the commission?"
After all, he had done the killing.
Heh—
Zeno snapped out of it and turned away at once.
A brat barely grown, already eyeing his retirement money—dream on.
With the terrorists eliminated, there was no need to guard the cockpit. Silva's servant Zipo Nian stepped forward, leapt from the airship, transformed into his machine form, and flew toward Kukuroo Mountain.
Wutong, who had followed Zeno earlier, now stood silently behind Roy. Then he heard him say, "Wutong, I've got a mission for you."
Looking up, he saw the boy gazing at him expectantly. "Hire an intern butler. Requirements: must know how to fly, swim, drive off-road, and—must not be worse than Zipo Nian."
Wutong: "…"
His head throbbed.
He was just an ordinary butler, not a wish-granting Nanika.
Still, he braced himself. "Yes."
"Buzz…"
Zipo Nian and Zeno vanished into a black speck on the horizon.
Roy watched for a while, then said, "Let's go."
He led Wutong to another cabin and began leisurely drinking black tea.
Half an hour after the chaos, the airship reconnected with the control tower and resumed normal operation. Passengers were informed that Heavens Arena was less than ninety minutes away, and they were to prepare for police inspection and questioning.
After such an incident, visiting the police station for statements was unavoidable. Roy, unwilling to be tangled in these "mundane matters," decided to disembark before landing.
Members of the Zoldyck family never liked conventional routes.
Just as the airship was descending, a thin figure appeared outside the window—hanging upside down, sliding down headfirst. Roy nearly spilled his hot tea.
Illumi stared at him with those lifeless eyes for several seconds, said nothing, then released his grip and slid down a rope of knotted bedsheets.
No one knew where he found them.
After landing, Illumi stepped lightly and vanished.
"Shall we go too, Young Master?" Wutong asked cautiously.
Following the rule of "waste not," Roy said nothing, pushed open the glass window, and grabbed the rope to leap out. Wutong followed close behind. Once outside the terminal, they caught a taxi. Only then did Wutong realize—the luggage was still in baggage claim.
"Young Master, the hotel we booked can't be checked into now."
"Then we'll go straight to Heavens Arena. I've got money and a room there."
Once you reach the 100th floor, you can own a private room. Over the years Roy had saved plenty of pocket money—enough for any emergency.
As for the luggage, another butler could retrieve it later.
"Vroom—" He instructed the driver to head directly to Heavens Arena. Wutong paid the fare with coins that had once served as weapons and followed Roy into the elevator to the 199th floor.
The elevator attendant wore a pink uniform and had short crimson hair. When she saw Roy, she froze, pointed, and exclaimed, "You—you're that… who was it again?"
"Ilor."
"Yes, Ilor!"
Ilor was the alias Roy had registered under years ago at Heavens Arena.
It had been a long time. Seeing her again was oddly pleasant. Roy smiled warmly, sensing the faint "Nen" aura emanating from her skin more clearly than before.
Obviously, no one could survive here without real skill. In the future, both Gon and Killua would suffer under her fists for that very reason—when she shut the elevator doors and "taught them a lesson."
"Long time no see! Many people have been looking for you!" she said brightly, naming them one by one—Hwashit Dourou, Yun Valley, and several veteran Nen users above the 200th floor. All were recent Arena stars.
Roy knew his arrival would spread quickly without him saying a word. After brief small talk, he and Wutong headed to his private suite: Room 1991—first room on the 199th floor.
Creak. The door opened. Roy slipped off his shoes and sat cross-legged on the sofa to digest the "gifts" from the wrongly slain souls.
Out of habit, Wutong checked for cameras. Finding none, he reported to Roy, took his ID badge, and went to claim the prize money Roy had stored over the years, as well as to buy clothes and supplies.
After he left, dusk settled. Sunlight spilled through the window, tracing the firm line of Roy's jaw, making him look strikingly heroic.
He closed his eyes, focusing on the system panel, deciding to distribute the "30 Life Energy points" to "Constitution" in increments.
With Hiroshi Minamino as precedent, he knew too well the agony that came with "growth." It could hurt enough to make one lose consciousness.
So he started with just three points.
He began.
"Hss—"
A sharp breath escaped.
Familiar pain spread, like ants gnawing his flesh.
Muscles tore, stem cells split faster, mitochondria expanded, vessel walls thickened, hair shed and regrew—
All at once. The pain nearly made him black out.
Then the doorbell rang.
A young girl's voice chirped from outside, "Room service!"
A flat-chested little loli pushed in a small cart. Her twin golden pigtails bounced as she moved, lively and mischievous.