Why…
Why was Bonolenov of the Phantom Troupe standing right here?
And disguised as Saixin, no less. This was clearly a targeted operation.
Moro's pupils shook as he stared at Bonolenov after the transformation dropped.
In that single heartbeat, a storm of thoughts crashed through his mind.
He was certain Bonolenov had come specifically for him.
That meant Saixin was in danger, and there were almost definitely other Troupe members nearby.
Worst-case scenario: the entire Phantom Troupe was mobilized, and they had marked him as prey.
But…
What was the motive?
Moro had zero history with the Troupe.
A whim? Or did they want his little antique shop?
Unlikely.
This shop wasn't even a blip on the radar in Yorknew City. The Troupe once robbed an entire auction house blind; they wouldn't bother with his modest stock.
A random whim? Even less possible.
If it were random, they wouldn't have bothered taking Saixin out first and then using a careful disguise like transformation.
This was premeditated. A plan designed to be foolproof.
And the one member of the Troupe who obsessed over flawless plans…
Chrollo Lucilfer.
The absolute worst possibility.
That meant, besides Bonolenov, Chrollo was here at minimum, along with Pakunoda who was never far from his side.
This was bad…
But the worse it got, the calmer he had to stay.
Why was the Phantom Troupe after him?
No time to dig into reasons. Survival first.
Moro suddenly retreated, grabbing an ashtray off the visitor counter as he passed.
In the pouring rain.
Bonolenov watched the move without much care. Even with the disguise blown, he saw no need to rush the attack.
He'd failed the Captain's setup, but the outcome wouldn't change.
"Hm?"
Bonolenov's eyes flicked up.
A dull thud came from inside the shop. Then every light inside died, plunging the place into darkness.
Only now did Bonolenov realize Moro had smashed the breaker box with the ashtray, fastest way to kill the lights.
Pointless.
Bonolenov still didn't move, standing motionless in the storm.
Inside the pitch-black shop.
Moro looked toward the back door and felt a savage, unrestrained killing intent roaring from that direction.
Back exit blocked.
He exhaled slowly.
From Bonolenov's behavior, he'd already guessed Chrollo and Pakunoda were close by… but clearly it wasn't just the three of them.
No way was he walking into that killing intent at the rear.
Forcing himself to stay ice-cold, Moro stepped out the front door instead.
In the few seconds he'd been inside, three more figures had appeared on the street.
The one in front had short black hair, a purple cross tattoo in the center of his forehead, and eyes like bottomless voids. His calm face carried the faintest trace of cold detachment.
To his left stood a tall, curvaceous blonde woman with icy beauty ruined by a hooked nose.
To his right, a baby-faced blond youth with emerald eyes and a constant smile.
Chrollo, Pakunoda, Shalnark.
The unmistakable features let Moro identify them instantly. His heart sank.
Chrollo stood with hands in his pockets, looking at Moro like he was staring at a lifeless object.
Beside him, Shalnark rested a hand on his hip and smiled. "Pretty sharp, pretty decisive. Looks like he knows who we are…"
"Restrain him first," Pakunoda said, arms crossed under her chest.
Chrollo silently raised his right hand, aura gathering in his palm.
Watching the motion, Moro's expression turned grave, voice utterly flat.
"The Phantom Troupe… you really think that highly of me. But we've never had any direct or indirect contact, have we?"
Chrollo's eyes were still as death. He said nothing.
None of the others bothered to answer either.
No response…
Moro took a deep breath, brain racing for any escape route.
At that moment, Chrollo activated his ability.
[Skill Hunter]
Aura surged. A book with a red handprint materialized in his right hand.
Flip, flip, flip…
Pages turned on their own in the rain.
When they stopped, a monocle attached to a golden chain appeared in his left hand.
The instant Moro saw that conjured monocle, something flickered in his eyes, relief or rage, he wasn't sure.
That monocle was Saixin's conjured item.
Chrollo had stolen the ability, which meant Saixin was still alive.
But knowing the Troupe's style, "alive" probably meant a fate worse than death…
Chrollo held the monocle but didn't put it on.
"No rush."
He finally spoke, stopping Bonolenov who had been about to move.
Originally, Chrollo had planned to use the monocle to rattle Moro's mind and create a perfect opening to take him alive.
But strangely…
There wasn't a trace of shock or confusion in Moro's reaction.
When a stranger uses your comrade's ability right in front of you, even the most iron-willed person should show at least a flicker of human doubt.
Yet the Moro that Chrollo observed showed no shock, no surprise, no confusion.
Instead…
Relief?
Relief about what?
The only explanation Chrollo could think of was that the moment Moro saw the monocle, he instantly realized the original owner was still breathing.
And to make that judgment, he had to know the rules of his Specialist ability, Skill Hunter.
Now that was interesting.
"Moro… as you said, we have never had any direct or indirect contact."
Chrollo spoke with certainty, a hint of curiosity entering his eyes.
"Yet your reaction is telling me something very clearly. You understand my Nen ability."
Not a question. Not a guess.
A conclusion.
Shalnark, Pakunoda, and Bonolenov all looked startled.
"…"
Moro stayed silent, inwardly shocked himself.
Just from that tiny shift in expression when the monocle appeared, Chrollo had seen through him and declared it with absolute confidence.
This was Chrollo Lucilfer.
Moro forced down the turmoil and resisted the urge to glance at Pakunoda.
If there was still a way out, it was information.
He was almost certain Pakunoda had used her memory-searching ability on Saixin and pulled everything she could about him.
And among that information was one critical mistake.
In Saixin's mind, I'm an Enhancer.
But in reality, I'm Emission.
That discrepancy…
That was his opening.