Wogan had always been someone with a fierce sense of pride. Even though he was only a teenager, life in Meteor Street had already molded his temperament into something stubborn and unyielding. In fact, it was precisely because he was at this age that pride settled into him even more violently, like a fire he had no intention of extinguishing.
So when Morgan told him to beg, Wogan exploded on the spot.
"Are you kidding me?!"
He shot straight up from the ground, fury radiating from his entire body.
"If you told me to kill someone for you, or give you something of mine, or run some dangerous job, that I could accept." His voice rose higher, louder, angrier. "If it were for good food, I'd swallow that much."
"But this..."
Wogan's face twisted with rage. "You want me to throw away my pride and beg you like some dog?"
"Keep dreaming!"
He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles cracked like snapping twigs.
"I don't care if I never get to eat food that good again. I don't care if I starve to death. Even if I die in some gutter, I will never come crawling back to beg you!"
His shout echoed with such conviction that even the air seemed to stiffen. But in Morgan's ears, his dramatic declaration sounded oddly familiar, like something he had heard before. And the kind of person who said such things...
Well, they usually ended up doing the exact opposite in the end.
"We're leaving, Maggie!"
Still steaming, Wogan grabbed Maggie by the wrist and dragged her toward the door. Just as he reached the entrance, he paused. He looked back over his shoulder, expression torn between anger and something that almost resembled awkward gratitude.
"You fed us. That mochi was rare and precious. You didn't have to give it to us, but you did."
"Whatever your reason was, that doesn't change the fact that we ate it."
Wogan jabbed a finger toward Morgan.
"So listen up. If you ever run into trouble and can't handle something, you can come find me."
"I, Wogan, will never say no!"
Bang!
He shoved the door open and stormed out, dragging the still-silent Maggie along with him.
Morgan stood there, blinking slowly.
He had asked Wogan to beg him. One moment later, Wogan threw the exact same words right back at him, declaring that Morgan could come and beg him anytime. Truly, the spirit of youth was something fierce. Especially the competitive nature of a pure Strength-type kid like Wogan.
Morgan chuckled softly and shook his head.
"Very typical of an Enhancer."
But there was no need to rush things. Meteor Street was a place where patience was rewarded and opportunities never truly disappeared. Morgan had time. Plenty of time.
"After all, it is only 1983. The Phantom Troupe members are just kids right now. No rush. Everything in good time."
He stretched his neck lightly. Patience was a virtue. Just like how you could not eat hot tofu in one bite.
Speaking of tofu... Morgan suddenly found himself missing a steaming hot bowl of mapo tofu with rice.
He let out a small sigh.
"Once my ability grows a bit more, I can handle bread, tofu, all of it."
With that thought, Morgan closed his eyes once more. The glow of aura and Nen gradually wrapped around him like a thin veil of light.
His ability, Master Inventor, was powerful. Incredibly powerful. But the toll it took on his Nen reserves was brutal. Every invention demanded massive amounts of aura, and Morgan felt that drain acutely.
Powerful cheat abilities had powerful drawbacks, and Morgan knew he needed to find ways to weaken the cost of his creations.
The best method, naturally, was a vow and restriction.
The tighter the conditions, the more efficient the ability.
Morgan had dozens of ideas swirling in his head. All he needed now was time to test them.
Meanwhile, outside...
"That arrogant, self-important bastard! Making us beg him..."
Wogan stomped through the trash heaps like an angry rhino, kicking debris aside. His voice echoed through the piles of broken metal and stacked garbage.
"It was just a few bites of food! As if none of us have eaten before!"
"I thought he was a decent guy, but now..."
He scoffed loudly. "He is no different from those rats who sneak into my territory all the time to steal things!"
Maggie followed behind him silently. But unlike Wogan, her mind wasn't on the insult, or on Morgan's pride, or on the argument that had taken place moments ago.
Instead, she was thinking about Morgan's strange inventions. The mochi machine. The crops. The harvesting tools. Everything she had seen in that room defied logic and her understanding of Meteor Street.
They were extraordinary. Fascinating. Impossible.
How did he create them?
Or more accurately, how did he invent them?
Her thoughts were so deep that she bumped directly into Wogan's back.
"Oof... What is it?"
She staggered back and looked up. Wogan had stopped moving. His jaw was clenched. His fists were trembling with rage.
Maggie peered past him.
Three boys stood in their territory. And they were all very familiar.
Wogan sucked in a breath and filled his chest with air before bellowing a name that shook dust off the nearby rusted metal walls.
"Chrollo!"
"You little thieves! You dare sneak into my territory again?! You have guts, I will give you that!"
"Today, I swear, none of you are getting away!"
Without waiting another second, Wogan charged straight down the slope toward them.
"Ah crap, it is Wogan!"
"Didn't we just say we wished this wasn't his turf? And now he shows up right away?!"
"That makes no sense! This is not even the time he usually patrols. And didn't he just finish chasing those other guys earlier? How did he get here so fast?!"
The three younger boys panicked, scrambling like startled animals.
Among them, one boy stood out. Pale face. Black hair. A pair of calm, intelligent eyes that flickered with something too sharp for his age.
Chrollo.
Even now, even as a child, he had a presence that made Maggie instinctively tense.
Wogan charged forward like an angry beast, ready to unleash all the frustration from his encounter with Morgan onto these three trespassers.
And Chrollo... simply watched him come.
His eyes did not widen. His breath did not quicken. His posture did not shift.
He simply observed, analyzing, calculating, the faintest hint of a smile touching the corner of his lips.
The kind of smile someone wore when they saw a piece of a much larger puzzle fall exactly into place.