Why—
Why was Bonolenov of the Phantom Troupe here? And why had he disguised himself as Saixin? This was clearly a targeted operation.
Staring at Bonolenov, who had shed his transformation, Moro's pupils trembled. In an instant, countless thoughts raced through his mind.
He was certain Bonolenov was here specifically to target him. This led him to consider Saixin's situation and the possibility of other Phantom Troupe members nearby. The worst-case scenario? The entire Troupe was acting together, and he was their prey.
But—
What was their motive? Their reason?
Moro had never crossed paths with the Troupe. A whim? Or had they set their sights on his antique shop? Unlikely. The shop's value was negligible in Youkexin City, far beneath the notice of a group bold enough to rob an entire auction. A spur-of-the-moment decision? Even less likely. If it were, they wouldn't have bothered targeting Saixin first or gone to the trouble of using a transformation—a cautious, calculated move.
This was a premeditated plan, designed to ensure a flawless outcome. And the Troupe member most likely to orchestrate such a strategy…
Chrollo Lucilfer.
The worst possible scenario.
This suggested that, beyond Bonolenov, at least Chrollo—and likely Pakunoda, who was rarely far from his side—were involved.
This was dangerous…
But in times like these, staying calm was paramount.
Why was the Phantom Troupe after him? There was no point in dwelling on the cause now. The priority was escaping this predicament.
Moro abruptly stepped back, grabbing an ashtray from the visitor's desk as he passed.
In the storm, Bonolenov noticed Moro's action but paid it little mind. With his disguise exposed, he felt no rush to attack. He hadn't fulfilled the boss's orders, but the outcome wouldn't change.
"Hm?"
Bonolenov's eyelids twitched. A muffled thud echoed from the shop, followed by all the lights going out, plunging it into darkness.
Realizing Moro had used the ashtray to smash the circuit breaker, Bonolenov remained unfazed, standing still in the rain.
Inside the darkened shop, Moro glanced toward the back door. He could clearly sense a ferocious, unmasked killing intent radiating from that direction.
He was cornered.
Moro exhaled deeply. From Bonolenov's actions, he had deduced that Chrollo and Pakunoda were likely nearby—but it was clear there were more than three enemies.
With no intention of confronting the killing intent at the back door, Moro forced himself to stay calm and stepped out of the shop.
In that brief moment, three figures had appeared on the street.
Leading them was a man with short black hair, a purple cross tattoo on his forehead, and deep, dark eyes. His calm expression carried a faint trace of cold indifference.
To his left stood a tall, curvaceous blonde woman with sharp, striking features, marred only by her aquiline nose.
To his right was a young man with a babyish face, blonde hair, and vibrant green eyes, a smile playing on his lips.
Chrollo, Pakunoda, Shalnark.
Their distinct features allowed Moro to identify them instantly, his heart sinking.
Chrollo, hands in his pockets, gazed at Moro as if he were an object devoid of life. Beside him, Shalnark, one hand on his hip, smiled. "Sharp and decisive. Looks like he knows who we are…"
"Let's restrain him first," Pakunoda said, arms crossed, accentuating her figure.
Chrollo, silent, raised his right hand, channeling Nen into his palm.
Watching Chrollo's movements, Moro's expression hardened, his voice devoid of emotion. "The Phantom Troupe… you really think highly of me. But we've never had any direct or indirect contact, have we?"
Chrollo's eyes remained as still as a dead pond, offering no response. The other Troupe members stayed silent as well.
No answer, huh…
Moro took a deep breath, racing to find an escape. At that moment, Chrollo activated his Nen ability.
Bandit's Secret.
Amid swirling Nen, a book marked with a red handprint materialized in his right hand. Pages flipped in the rain, stopping abruptly. From his left hand, Chrollo conjured a monocle tethered to a golden chain.
Seeing the monocle, a flicker of emotion—relief or anger—flashed in Moro's eyes. That monocle was Saixin's conjured ability. Now in Chrollo's possession, it meant Saixin was still alive.
But given the Phantom Troupe's methods, even if alive, Saixin's fate was likely grim.
Chrollo held the monocle without putting it on. "No rush," he said, halting Bonolenov, who was about to act.
His plan had been to use the conjured monocle to unsettle Moro, creating an opening to capture him alive. Strangely, Moro showed no trace of surprise or confusion.
When a companion's ability was used by an enemy, even the most resolute mind should display some human doubt. Yet Chrollo saw none of that in Moro—no shock, no surprise, only… relief?
Relief for what? Chrollo could only assume Moro had instantly realized Saixin was alive upon seeing the monocle. That implied knowledge of his Specialist ability, Bandit's Secret.
This was intriguing.
"Moro, was it?" Chrollo said, his tone certain, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. "As you said, we've never had direct or indirect contact. But your reaction tells me something—you know my Nen ability."
Not a question, not a guess—a conclusion.
Shalnark, Pakunoda, and Bonolenov exchanged surprised glances.
"…"
Moro fell silent, inwardly startled. A fleeting change in his expression upon seeing Saixin's ability had been enough for Chrollo to deduce his knowledge and assert it with confidence.
This was Chrollo Lucilfer.
Moro suppressed his emotions, resisting the urge to glance at Pakunoda. If there was any chance of escape, it lay in… information.
He was almost certain Pakunoda had used her memory-reading ability on Saixin, extracting details about him. But those details contained a critical error.
In Saixin's mind, Moro was an Enhancement-type Nen user.
In reality, he was Emission-type.
That was his opportunity.