Upon arriving at the Phantom Troupe's temporary base with Chrollo, Moles was still worried about potential unfavorable changes in the group's atmosphere. She had considered refusing to accompany Chrollo to avoid suspicion, but with their destination being the same, such a sudden proposal could only arouse Chrollo's suspicion. Since Chrollo could act so casually, she had to feign a similar indifference, even though her body still retained some lingering sensations.
Did Chrollo not have any lingering feelings? Who knew? This individual didn't care about such things at all, keeping his personal and professional lives strictly separate.
Getting overly emotional was a major taboo. Digging her nails into her palm, Moles steadied herself.
All the members had arrived, including Hisoka, who had killed member No. 4, Omokage, and wanted to join the Troupe...
This was exactly the outcome Moles had expected.
Even if time had been altered, the power of the original work could, to some extent, be considered the power of "destiny."
Thanks to Hisoka's eye-catching performance, the Troupe's attention was mostly drawn to him, making the arrival of Chrollo and Moles appear as a perfectly ordinary entrance. It seemed everyone simply understood the situation as "the boss had handled the issue of member No. 8 (Moles) going AWOL without authorization."
The Scarlet Eyes were a personal hunting target set by the boss. Since the boss had received some satisfactory answer, the members had no intention of questioning it. Unless it involved the entire Troupe, "non-interference" was an unspoken rule among everyone, thereby maintaining team balance and preventing a swift disintegration.
Even more surprising to Moles was that Shalnark greeted them as usual, his cheerful expression impeccable, as if he hadn't noticed anything unpleasant.
Before Chrollo and Moles arrived, Hisoka, known as the "fruit farmer" in fan circles, had scanned the arriving Troupe members from head to toe with his unabashed appraisal of fruit. His palpable, viscous gaze made even the thick-skinned Enhancers of the Troupe want to roll up their sleeves and punch him immediately.
Then, Hisoka, who had provoked them to the brink of outburst, suddenly let out a strange laugh and shifted his gaze.
No~ I haven't seen the rest yet~ There might be even more delicious fruit~
Hisoka thought, suppressing the excitement that was about to spread below his abdomen.
Discovering "The Phantom Troupe" as a toy box was an unexpected delight. When he met the Troupe members who came looking for him to join, if they hadn't acted as a group, preventing a one-on-one full-power duel, he might have been unable to resist testing their taste directly, rather than merely observing.
After seeing the other Troupe members, Hisoka became even more determined to suppress himself and await the arrival of the Troupe leader.
In fact, the wait was worthwhile.
While strength or potential was certainly important, compatibility was also something Hisoka highly valued. For strong individuals, what Hisoka enjoyed most were those brimming with confidence.
...The joy of destroying a tower.
Mixed with malevolent excitement, Hisoka exuded an aura that made the Troupe members' nerves tighten.
Taking advantage of Hisoka's intense gaze on Chrollo, Moles subtly moved to the side.
Before the boss's arrival, some members had already felt dissatisfied with Hisoka's lack of restraint, but no matter what decision the boss made, they would unconditionally support him.
Since Hisoka met the conditions for joining the Troupe, according to the rules, those who killed a member could take their place.
As the boss, Chrollo had to faithfully adhere to the rules he set when founding the Troupe, "Hisoka, I've heard about you. Welcome to the Troupe, you'll be the new No. 4 from now on."
[Phantom Troupe Organization Member List Updated]
[Member List (13/13):]
[No. 0: Chrollo]
[No. 1: Nobunaga]
[No. 2: Feitan]
[No. 3: Machi]
[No. 4: Hisoka]
[No. 5: Phinks]
[No. 6: Shalnark]
[No. 7: Franklin]
[No. 8: Moles]
[No. 9: Pakunoda]
[No. 10: Kortopi]
[No. 11: Uvogin]
[No. 12: Hisoka]
Hisoka's intentionally displayed ill intentions were all lightly dismissed by Chrollo.
"The Troupe prohibits internal conflict," Chrollo continued. "If there are disagreements among members, decide by flipping a coin."
This statement served as a reminder to everyone, including Hisoka.
Although the brawlers within the Troupe tended to fight at the slightest disagreement, they never went for the kill; it was more like "sparring," and their bonds actually grew stronger. This was not what could be called "internal conflict." However, Hisoka was different; he was already restless from the start, clearly intending to stir up trouble. Simply accepting his provocations would be playing right into his hands.
Hisoka knew he wouldn't be able to handle an attack from the entire Troupe. He put away his ill intentions and put on a seemingly friendly smile, "Got it~ Boss~"
The final syllable rose with an unnatural lilt, and the oddly intimate way he enunciated made the less resilient Troupe members break out in goosebumps.
With Chrollo becoming Hisoka's primary target, the effect exceeded Moles' expectations. Hisoka hadn't spared her another glance, his attention entirely focused on Chrollo's every move, perfectly aligning with Hisoka's character setting in the original work: "joining the Troupe is just to fight Chrollo."
This is great, this is great, this is great! Moles' psychological pressure was greatly relieved. She had expected trouble during her reunion with Hisoka, but she didn't expect Hisoka to completely disregard her!
As expected of a character who "doesn't care about the past and has no interest in it"!
Although being "completely disregarded" was a bit hurtful, it was much better than getting involved in troublesome affairs!
Besides, Hisoka was a character she had already "collected." Moles had no need or interest in "renewing their past relationship" with such an unpredictable and troublesome character.
As a member of the Troupe, Hisoka naturally used his status to ask Chrollo for his phone number.
At this moment, Chrollo had no idea how much harm keeping Hisoka in the Troupe would cause. In the original work, Hisoka would betray or kill several members, and a relatively popular "massacre" plan in fan fiction involved collaborating with Hisoka.
After obtaining Chrollo's phone number, Hisoka let out a strange laugh from his throat while holding his phone, seemingly falling into another kind of excitement. The scene was truly perverse.
"Boss!" Phinks could no longer stand it. Restrained by the boss's recent reminder of "prohibiting internal conflict," he chose to alter the Troupe's atmosphere in a way other than using his fists, "Since it's rare for all Troupe members to gather, why don't we take this opportunity to reconfirm our rankings?"
His incomplete statement caused most of the Troupe members to look confused.
"It's that thing!" Phinks realized he had overestimated his companions' tacit understanding and, feeling slightly annoyed, slapped his forehead before rephrasing, "I mean the arm-wrestling rankings."
"What's this?" Uvogin regretfully relaxed his shoulders. "Do we need to reconfirm this ranking? I'm definitely first, anyway."
"The newcomers haven't tried yet," Phinks directed his gaze at his true target, provocatively asking, "Do you dare to compete with me, Hisoka?"
Uvogin's strength was undoubtedly the highest in the Troupe, but Phinks ranked just below Uvogin in arm wrestling within the Troupe. He was confident he could use this to intimidate the newcomer he disliked.
Let this guy taste my power!
Phinks was filled with fighting spirit.
Hisoka readily accepted the challenge.
Although Phinks could see that Hisoka was also a power-type fighter, he still underestimated the difficulty of overpowering him.
Thus, internal bets within the Troupe had already begun, with more than one member believing Hisoka would win.
Damn it! Phinks angrily condemned the members who thought he would lose during the arm-wrestling match, "You guys, I'll definitely make you regret this! I'll place a bet on myself too!"
Even as their arms bulged with veins from their struggle, Hisoka maintained a relaxed expression, his smile seeming condescending, "Since you still have the energy to speak~ it seems you haven't used your full strength yet~"
His temples twitched violently. Phinks, grinding his teeth, unleashed the explosive power of an Enhancer, and the stalemate began to lean in Phinks' favor.
Like parts reaching their limit under stress, everyone seemed to hear the knuckles of their hands creaking as they arm-wrestled.
Following the common trope in shonen manga where "the louder the cry, the stronger the move," in Phinks' roar, Hisoka's backhand was slammed heavily onto the table by him, shattering the table into pieces.
"Bastards! Did you see that?!" Phinks, victorious, was as happy as a child weighing over a hundred pounds – are you in elementary school?!
"Hehehehehe~" Having defended himself with Nen in time, Hisoka's hand was unharmed, but the aftershocks were still present. He grasped his slightly trembling wrist and laughed as if he had won the match, "Not bad~ very good~ you're amazing~"
Although Hisoka's cloying tone made the stoic Phinks feel disgusted, Phinks was in a great mood and didn't bother to argue with him further.
"I lost~ So, my next opponent~" Hisoka, who had already observed the Troupe members, accurately fixed his gaze on Franklin, a strong man over 2 meters tall, just like Uvogin, "Is it you?"
Based on their physique and the strength of their 'Ten' (Nen aura control), Uvogin, Franklin, and Phinks were the top three in arm wrestling within the Troupe. This was no surprise to Hisoka. With Hisoka's experience, he estimated they were likely Enhancers or Emission types.
Phinks is probably an Enhancer~ Hisoka thought. Enhancers' strength is truly unreasonable.
The arm-wrestling match began again, and Hisoka narrowly defeated Franklin.
He's probably an Emission type~ Hisoka judged.
"Is this guy also an Enhancer?" Nobunaga said uncertainly.
He had thought Franklin would win and had lost his bet this time.
"I don't think so," Feitan chimed in. "Perhaps a Transmuter. Tsk, unpleasant."
Similar energies attract each other easily, and they also repel each other easily.
"You guessed correctly~" Knowing the other party's dislike, Hisoka still stepped on his sensitive nerves. Holding a poker card in his fingers, he pointed out Feitan, who had guessed correctly, from the crowd and said in a condescending tone as if bestowing a reward, "I am indeed a Transmuter~ Are you too?"
Towards someone he didn't get along with, Feitan chose to ignore him and coldly averted his gaze.
"I'm third~" Of course, Hisoka wouldn't let go of his most interested target, Chrollo. The Ace of Spades poker card concealed his smiling lips, "I'm very curious~ what's the boss's rank?"
"I'm not sure," Chrollo said, not pretending to be profound. He slowly shifted his gaze to someone hidden in the crowd and said with complete honesty, "There are still people who haven't participated in the arm-wrestling ranking."
Oh, right. Having joined the Troupe not long ago, I've never participated in the Troupe's arm-wrestling competition! Moles, who immediately became the center of attention, belatedly realized this.
She only remembered the Troupe's arm-wrestling rankings written in the original work and was once surprised that "Feitan, who is 155cm tall, ranked fifth in arm wrestling" and "Machi's arm strength was greater than Chrollo's," but she forgot that she was currently in the Troupe and hadn't accounted for her own ranking.
"Currently, I should be in the middle, seventh place," Chrollo thought. "Moles, you should compete with Machi, who is sixth. That should confirm the ranking."
"Boss," Phinks voiced his confusion, "Since you're in the middle, shouldn't Moles compete with you? How can you be sure her arm strength is greater than yours?"
"Because we've already competed," Chrollo answered patiently.
"Oh, so you two fought." Phinks looked at Moles with a hint of admiration, "Being acknowledged by the boss, it seems you're really quite capable."
The simple Enhancer never imagined that the so-called "fight" actually happened in bed.
Compared to Phinks' normal friendly gaze, Hisoka's "friendly" gaze was particularly jarring. Moles guessed he might be recalling the past incident where she was ambushed.
That past event was extremely ignominious, fully demonstrating her卑鄙 means and awkward skills, and there was nothing worth highlighting. She couldn't help but feel her scalp tingle with embarrassment and froze on the spot.
"Don't mind them," Machi raised her hand to block Moles' face. "Let's compete."
Machi's hands were typically feminine, soft, and warm. Her height was also not remarkable among the Troupe members, at 159cm, she was quite petite. However, not only was her arm strength greater than Chrollo's, ranking sixth in the Troupe, but she was also the fierce individual in the original work who used her chest muscles to prevent Kalluto from using [Heart Steal] on her, making it impossible for Kalluto to disengage.
And the result of Moles' arm wrestling match with Machi was...
"I lost," Machi stood up. Seeing Moles looking somewhat speechless, she patted her shoulder encouragingly, "Keep going."
"Next is... Feitan!" Phinks, who had voluntarily taken on the role of the match announcer, whistled, "This is going to be good! Come on! Hurry and place your bets! Bets are closed!"
The 155cm Feitan, cloaked in icy killing intent, stepped out of the crowd. It was clear that Feitan was full of fighting spirit.
"Go, Feitan!" Phinks' shout was particularly prominent, "I'm betting on you this time!"
"..." Feitan glared at Phinks with extreme displeasure because he clearly remembered Phinks' terrible luck, where whoever he bet on, they would lose. No, it wasn't just about luck; the key was that Phinks particularly liked betting on high odds to pursue excitement, so no matter how much money he won, Phinks would spend it even faster, remaining a pauper or in debt for a long time.
Fortunately, being a thief was a profession with no cost and endless profit. Being a pauper or in debt didn't matter much.
Damn it, this time it's not just about losing money. Phinks thinks I might lose?! Feitan frowned.
Shaking off the bad premonition in his mind, Feitan rested his elbow on the low cabinet serving as a table and opened his palm menacingly, "Come."
Moles, after rubbing her wrist, let out a sigh, solemnly placed her elbow, and her palm met the other's. She bent her fingers and grasped the other's hand.
Among adult men, 155cm was not a conspicuous height, but Feitan was an adult man, and his hand was still larger than Moles' 165cm, appearing more powerful at first glance.
However, appearances weren't everything; Chrollo's (177cm) arm strength had lost to Machi's (159cm).
This was Feitan's first time holding Moles' hand so tightly. The slippery touch reminded him of the other parts of Moles' skin he had touched before.
What followed was Moles' experience of standing him up time and time again.
...It was an extremely unpleasant experience.
In addition to engaging the muscles of his wrist and arm, Feitan added the strength of his hand in retaliation, as if trying to crush Moles' fingers with force.
Moles wasn't fixated on victory; she couldn't win first place no matter how hard she tried, and a single victory in an arm-wrestling match held no value for her. The pain only made her more inclined to give up.
"Show me your true strength," Feitan's eyes were sharp as knives. He could see Moles' lack of desire to win. "Otherwise, I won't let you off."
More than losing, an insincere victory was an insult.
*Thump!*
After a moment of persistence, Moles' backhand finally hit the tabletop, and Phinks and the others erupted in cheers.
"Moles," Feitan didn't release her hand, biting her name, his tone dropping to freezing point, "Are you insulting me?"
"..." Moles shook her head, quietly lowering her gaze.
Feitan felt particularly resentful of Moles' increasingly soft demeanor because he knew Moles' true malice.
It was irritating. If possible, he really wanted to torment her severely and make her cry her eyes out.
What would your face look like when you cried uncontrollably? Feitan repeatedly deconstructed the performances of his past bed partners, but he could never construct a satisfactory answer.
Because Moles was different from them.
"Isn't the answer obvious?" Shalnark stood slightly further between them, adopting an objective and neutral tone like a referee, "You hurt her, Feitan."
"Hurt?" Feitan scoffed, meeting Shalnark's superficial smile. He asked with a hidden excitement and a hint of cruelty, "Is she afraid of pain?"
Moles maintained her expressionless facade very well. Almost no one could tell anything was wrong with her. It seemed, like them, she wouldn't even frown if her ribs or limbs were broken.
How could "fear of pain" exist in the Troupe?
It was absurd.
But Feitan sensed that Shalnark might be telling the truth. He remembered many years ago, when he had peeled off her fingernails in Meteor City, her slightly annoyed expression, like the subtle displeasure of hair being messed up by the wind—it turned out she was better at hiding herself than Feitan had anticipated; her mask was thicker than anyone in the Troupe.
"I don't like it." To avoid appearing out of place in a ruthless criminal organization, Moles had to quickly offer a defense.
She was still using the [Wear] voice device to speak. The cold mechanical sound stripped away the intonation, making her statement exceptionally detached, as if she were discussing something trivial.
"Our Moles is quite sensitive," although it sounded like a defense, Shalnark didn't look at Moles while speaking; instead, he stared at Feitan.
"'Our'?" Feitan raised an eyebrow.
"Is that incorrect?" Shalnark smiled. "Moles is also a member of the 'Spiders'."
Is that so? Is this the answer you truly want to convey? Feitan sneered in his heart.
"Feitan," Chrollo suddenly interjected, "You've noticed Moles' change, haven't you?"
This sentence agitated Feitan's nerves. He had to admit, Chrollo was right, hitting the nail on the head.
One day, impurities from an unknown source appeared in his usual drinking cup. Even if they were in micro-amounts invisible to the naked eye, Feitan could still feel a vexing slight discomfort when drinking.
It was a kind of instinct that didn't require thought, a conditioned reflex developed from a long tenure as an executioner. This vexation would not easily disappear until its true nature was understood.
"I restored the part of her brain that was removed," Chrollo explained.
Restored her? Removed part of her brain?
For Feitan, who had no knowledge of Moles' brain surgery from the start, a single sentence contained a massive amount of information.
"She's still Moles, or rather, more like the original Moles," the person in question, Chrollo, commented. "That's what I think."
"Surgery?" The Troupe members all looked at Moles' head, as if Moles was supposed to have two heads.
Surgery was a rather private matter, so Chrollo cast a questioning glance at Moles.
"Yes, I underwent some kind of brain surgery before, and the boss recently helped me restore the part that was removed," Moles, not trusting Chrollo to answer for her, chose to retain the right to explain. "I can feel 'emotions' again."
After speaking, her gaze fell on Feitan's hand. The latter's scrutinizing gaze swept over Moles' lips as she spoke, or perhaps, the spider tattoo on her tongue.
"So, I made you uncomfortable then," Feitan released her hand, his mocking tone completely devoid of apology. "I'm truly sorry."
Moles had just retracted her hand, which Feitan had gripped painfully. Feitan placed his left elbow on the table, "What just happened is void. Let's switch hands and do it again."
"It irritates me when opponents don't use their full strength," he said. "We're even now."
The atmosphere...
There was no choice. Moles knew the atmosphere had shifted in Feitan's favor. The Troupe, the Zoldycks, this world, do not welcome the weak.
Is not liking conflict also considered weakness? Probably. Because you don't have enough ability to maintain your own will and say "no" to everyone.
Just like the brain surgery she had no right to refuse.
The Zoldycks could casually fiddle with her brain; they could lock her up whenever they pleased. She was merely a puppet of the Zoldycks.
But the Troupe... If I try hard enough, maybe I can bring about the Troupe's downfall... Heh.
I will endure. I've done this countless times before; I'm already very skilled at it, Moles admonished herself, clearing her mind for the time being.
Feitan quietly watched Moles' pupils sink into silence. He suddenly realized another reason for his irritation.
Whether it was an illusion or not, Moles' eyes... seemed different from before.
Moles still had many hidden matters, and Feitan knew nothing about them.
Before he realized it, she would probably be far away again.
What sat before him was actually a wisp of smoke, ready to be scattered by the wind at any moment.
Never possessed, yet about to be lost again.
...Damn Shalnark!
*Dong.*
By a hair's breadth, Feitan lost.
"That's more like it," Feitan released his hand, stood up, and the faint hint of brutality vanished. His gaze was heavy, his dark golden pupils like solidified amber, his tone exceptionally calm, "Moles, 'fifth' is yours now."
With his hands in his pockets, Feitan walked into the crowd without looking back, "No need to continue competing. She can't beat Franklin."
In the background, Phinks mourned his lost premonition of victory.
Hisoka recalled what Omokage had said to him as he left, and a meaningful smile appeared on his face.
What should I do?
As Hisoka flipped the poker card in his hand, the suits changed.
Just like his unpredictable mood.