Liam said nothing to Musse's theory.
Too many unknowns. Was the dead woman a Nen user? Was she his biological mother? Who was this guy working for? What was his mission?
I don't know anything.
And that was the problem with his Hatsu. Star Mark controlled bodies, not minds. He could puppet Musse's limbs, make him speak Liam's words, force him to follow orders—but he couldn't dig into the man's thoughts. Couldn't extract information that only existed in Musse's head.
I'm three years old trying to interrogate a professional killer. This is a terrible idea.
Besides, he already had the good stuff: cash, multiple fake IDs, and a Hunter License worth more than gold.
Quit while you're ahead.
Liam chuckled. "What an imagination you've got! That baby cried the whole way here. I tied him to a rock and dumped him in the ocean. When your buddies come looking tomorrow, tell them to bring fishing gear."
"Aren't all my companions already dead?" Musse's face stayed neutral.
Damn. Can't even bait information with lies.
Not that Liam expected it to work. Even if Musse answered, there was no way to verify truth from bullshit. But now Liam had to operate under the assumption that someone would come looking. More killers. More bullets. More problems.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
Liam walked. Musse followed like a shadow, body moving on autopilot while his consciousness watched from a cage.
They reached a windowless room deep in the cabin. Storage closet, maybe. Or crew quarters.
"You are not allowed to come out without my order."
Musse walked inside. Stopped. Stood at attention.
His face remained blank, but internally he was recalculating. This kid's Hatsu has three modes. Full possession—steals my consciousness entirely. Command mode—I'm aware but can't disobey orders. And remote control—voice commands while I retain some autonomy.
Three modes. That much flexibility. That much control.
There HAS to be a restriction. A cost. Nen doesn't give that much power for free.
Liam shut the door. The cabin fell quiet except for the sound of waves.
Inside the room, Musse tested his theory. Can I move?
He could. Slowly. Within the parameters of "stay in this room."
"Remote control mode," he whispered. "Before he closed the door, he switched to the weakest form of manipulation."
Convenient. Powerful. Nearly perfect.
Musse raised his hand. Looked at the closed door. "But you made a mistake, kid. When you touched my face to place your mark, I touched you. We both met our activation conditions."
His fingers curled into a fist. "You should've killed me immediately."
Secret Window.
Outside, Liam walked through the corridor, frowning.
How do I kill this guy?
Musse had a Star Mark. Which meant he had passive regeneration. Liam had tested it on himself—took a bullet through the throat, healed in under a minute. The blood loss made him tired, sure, but he'd survived a gunshot to the neck.
My Hatsu heals people. I gave the enemy my best defensive buff. I'm an idiot.
Footsteps. Heavy. Four-legged.
Lumos padded down the hallway. One eye still crusted with dried blood.
Musse called him "Misery Moon Tiger" earlier. That the species name?
Liam reached up. Grabbed the blood-scab covering Lumos's injured eye. Peeled it away like old tape.
The tiger blinked. Eye perfectly healed. Nuzzled Liam's hand with the enthusiasm of a housecat.
"Misery Moon Tiger sounds stupid." Liam scratched behind the tiger's ear. The sapphire markings pulsed with soft light. "You need a better species name. Something with gravitas."
Lumos rumbled. Happy.
Liam reached under the tiger's belly. Parted the fur. The rose-gold pentagram glowed faintly against white fur.
Hidden rule: touch the mark, remove the mark.
He moved to press his palm against it—
Lumos stepped back.
Liam stepped forward. Lumos retreated.
"Are you addicted to being mark?" Liam advanced. The tiger backed up. "Is this a kink? Is that what's happening here?"
They did this dance for thirty seconds—Liam chasing, Lumos dodging with playful grace—before Liam remembered he had actual problems to deal with.
Right. Priorities. Murder. Survival. The usual.
He walked to the cabin entrance with Lumos trailing behind. Found Fenrir emerging from whatever dark corner he'd been lurking in.
Liam switched to first-person perspective. Felt his consciousness slip into wolf-body. Blinked with wolf-eyes. Then returned to human-body and pointed down the corridor.
"You. Guard that room. If the man inside comes out without my permission, kill him."
Fenrir growled acknowledgment. Loped down the hallway with predatory purpose. Positioned himself opposite Musse's door. Sat. Stared. Green eyes glowing in the darkness.
Good boy.
Liam touched the back of his neck. Felt the Star Mark hidden under his collar.
"I wonder what the limits are." He walked toward the cabin exit. Sat down inside the doorway. Lumos flopped beside him, yawning. "Can it heal a beheading? Missing heart? Where's the line between 'injured' and 'super dead'?"
He glanced back at Musse's room. "Maybe I'll test it tomorrow. With the volunteer in storage."
The Hunter License felt heavy in his pocket. This thing comes with legal immunity, right? Kill a murderer, claim self-defense, flash the card, walk away?
God, I hope hunter privileges work like that.
His foot hit something. The branch. The one that had grown from the leaf he'd used for Water Divination.
Liam picked it up. Stared at it.
One leaf became a branch. What's next? Does it root itself and grow into a tree? Inside a ship?
He plucked another leaf. Turned it over in his fingers.
Not just unscientific. Anti-scientific. Reality-defying.
His thoughts drifted to earlier. Before Musse arrived. When that distant gunshot had echoed across the water and Liam had collapsed—
I grew taller.
He looked down at his clothes. The pants he'd rolled up multiple times. The sleeves he'd folded. They were shorter now. Not by much. But noticeably.
Liam stood. Compared his height to Lumos. To where he remembered being relative to the tiger's shoulder.
Higher. I'm definitely higher.
The pattern clicked into place with awful certainty.
Every death near me—human, animal, whatever—sends that cold-hot feeling into my chest. When enough of it builds up, I pass out. And when I wake up...
I've aged.
He looked at the branch in his hand. At Lumos. At his own child-body that was growing at a rate no biology textbook would approve of.
Rapid aging triggered by accumulated death energy.
Is this a blessing or a curse?
Liam leaned back against Lumos's warm bulk. The tiger's breathing was steady. Peaceful.
The question hung in the air unanswered, tangling with the sound of waves and the weight of a hunter's license in his pocket and the knowledge that somewhere in this cabin, a professional killer was plotting his next move.
Is this a good thing or a curse?