Disoriented, exhausted, blood drained, limbs weak, vision blurring—
Huaishi Dourou's life was leaking away with every step. The boy stumbled through alleys, his pale face streaked with soot and blood, etched with fatigue.
Behind him, the madman never stopped. Each hand strike carved another wound into his body.
He didn't understand why the man fixated on him, nor did he care. He just ran—through streets and markets, past the echoing screams of bystanders.
Closer. He could hear the engines roaring.
Wiping the blood from his face, Huaishi burst through the checkpoint, fighting off the security guards' grips. Through the haze, he finally saw them—Roy and his loyal butler, standing at the gate, cane-sword in hand, waiting.
In that instant, he wanted to cry. The sting in his eyes—was it blood or tears?
He staggered forward, took a few more steps, then collapsed face-first to the ground.
"I… made it…"
The last of his will carried him to Roy's feet before consciousness vanished.
A gust of wind swept past.
Illumi vaulted the fence, feet gliding in silent Anbu steps, arm raised to strike again—but a calm voice from ahead stopped him mid-motion.
"Had enough?"
Their eyes met.
Wutong dragged Huaishi's limp body away.
Roy stared evenly at Illumi.
Illumi glared back. Silent, unyielding. The air between them stilled—then Illumi withdrew his hand blade, stuffed both hands into his pockets, and brushed past him.
"You'd better keep him alive."
Airport guards rushed over, weapons drawn, but the assassin was already gone—swallowed by the crowd.
Roy glanced at Huaishi. "Patch him up."
Then turned and entered the terminal.
10:00 a.m. — The airship departed.
4:00 p.m. — The airship landed.
A black sedan waited outside the terminal.
Wutong opened the door for Roy, who entered calmly. Huaishi, now bandaged and weak but stable thanks to the onboard medics, followed into the back seat.
The engine roared to life.
Huaishi lurched forward with the car's motion, eyes fixed on Roy's back. From Wutong, he'd already learned the truth—the boy in front of him was the eldest son of the world's greatest assassin family.
"World's number one" and "assassin." The combination alone was terrifying.
In his short life, Huaishi had never heard a name that carried such quiet weight. He turned to the window, replaying that flying slash in his mind. The world blurred by. For the first time, he truly realized he had no idea what kind of monster he was walking toward.
"Remember," Wutong instructed, seated beside him. "Young Master dislikes the back seat. Always take the front passenger side when traveling."
Huaishi barely listened. His thoughts drifted—until the car braked sharply.
"Here."
He stepped out behind Wutong and looked up.
A towering gate loomed before him, divided into seven massive panels—each scarred with the age of centuries.
A uniformed guard waited at the entrance. Seeing Roy approach, he removed his cap and bowed deeply. "Welcome home, Young Master. Allow me to open the gate."
"I'll do it."
It was Huaishi's first task as an apprentice butler. He wanted to make a good impression. Rolling up his sleeves, he stepped forward confidently toward the Gate of Limbo.
The guard blinked. Who is this kid?
He glanced at Roy, who said nothing—neither stopping nor helping.
Huaishi smiled nervously and faced the gate. The noon sun blazed overhead, scorching his back. He took a deep breath, set his hand to the door, and pushed—planning to open it smoothly, then gesture for Roy to enter.
It didn't move.
Embarrassment prickled his skin. He pressed harder with both hands. Nothing.
Red-faced, he tried again—straining until his arms trembled. Still motionless.
The effort reopened his wound. Blood burst through the bandages, dripping onto the stone. His vision swam before he toppled backward.
"If you don't have the skill, don't take the job," the guard muttered, shaking his head.
Huaishi tried to stand, but his body refused. Then—footsteps.
He looked up just in time to see Roy raise a single finger toward the door.
With a low rumble, one of the massive gates swung open effortlessly.
Roy walked through without a glance.
"You'll stay here," Wutong said, pausing beside him. "When you can open the first gate, report to the butler's office."
Boom. The Gate of Limbo slammed shut behind them.
Huaishi sat frozen on the ground.
Inside.
"So, I told you—should've killed him. The Zoldycks don't need dead weight."
Illumi stood against the wall, hands in his pockets, waiting.
Roy walked past him without slowing, eyes forward, voice flat.
"My work doesn't need your opinion. Speak again out of turn, and you'll answer for it."
Illumi's fists clenched tight.
He glared at Roy's back as he walked away, then followed silently up the mountain path.
At the castle gates, Luke was already waiting. He bowed low.
"Welcome home, Young Master."
In his hands, he held a stun baton—not ordinary, but engraved with a glowing character radiating visible waves of energy.
[Divine Script]: A hybrid system combining Nen with specialized sigilcraft. Used for weapon modification and ability amplification.
Its best-known large-scale application: the Greed Island card system.
Roy glanced briefly at the mark, then looked past Luke to the second floor of the mansion.
Behind a wide glass window stood a man—arms crossed, expression unreadable, gazing down in silence.
He didn't speak. He didn't need to. The pressure alone filled the air.
Luke waited, still bowing. "If you please, Young Master, the training hall is prepared."
Roy ignored him. Their eyes met—son and father, lightning flashing in the air between.
"Silva," came a woman's voice from behind the man.
Kikyo slipped her arms around his waist from behind.
Silva stiffened. Without a word, he turned, swept her into his arms, and left the window amid her muffled squeal.
"Shock him good."
The words floated down from above like a casual curse.
Luke looked up, sweating. "Y–Young Master…"
Roy's face remained blank. He walked forward without pause.
Luke dared not move until Roy's voice brushed past him.
"Do you need me to tell you twice?"
"Y–yes, sir!" Luke stammered, wiping his forehead and rushing after him, stun baton humming with charged Nen.
T/n:
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