The Zoldyck's lavish young lady was reduced to her original form when she was alone.
The evidence was that she couldn't help but check yesterday's spending records and account balance.
True heiresses wouldn't care about such things, right? That's why she never became a true heiress.
Good heavens, is this magic?
Is this the magic of the Hunter Association's mission rewards disappearing within a day?
The氪金 intensity required to feed the third young master of a wealthy family is not something one can casually endure.
"Come see me again!" The four-legged, money-devouring beast's enthusiastic farewell echoed in Mols' mind.
Thinking back now, wasn't her situation very similar to those lonely elderly people in the "real world" who were confused by the affectionate greetings of health supplement salespeople?
No, no, no, Killua truly considers you family, and even if you don't spend money on him, he'll still see you as a sister, and...
Here I am.jpg
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Mols, you have to be more optimistic. You're not the person you used to be. You're no longer the poor person from the "real world"!
However, currently, it's all superficial splendor. If you count the 89 billion JEN debt, in the "real world," it would be advisable to jump off a building.
It can't be helped. The Phantom Troupe isn't making money fast enough. After participating in Troupe activities, Mols still has to check the Hunter website for requests. She took on a bounty request, completed it relatively smoothly, and decided to indulge in some entertainment. She never expected that the reward she just received would be entirely "paid for love" before she could even warm her hands.
The experience of collecting Hisoka's illustrated guide last night was not pleasant at all. Mols canceled her plan to continue the bounty missions and decided to return home for a few days of rest and recuperation.
Not back to Kukuroo Mountain, that's not freedom. Of course, she's returning to her rented apartment, where an NPC has been left unattended for a long time.
She sent a text message to notify him to prepare for his master's return.
The last time she sent a text message, it was to ask him to change residences. Following the address he replied with, Mols arrived at the newly moved-in apartment and rang the doorbell.
The door opened.
"Welcome home." The man seemed to try to force a happy smile, but it wasn't pure; some worry was mixed in. "Your errand this time took longer than usual... Did something happen?"
Mols, having changed into slippers, turned around. The man quickly added, "I'm just asking. If it's inconvenient to say, please pretend you didn't hear me."
It wouldn't hurt for the man to know some of her work details, so Mols took out her Hunter license.
The man had never seen a Hunter license, but the Hunter Association was a world-renowned organization that frequently appeared in the news, so he knew what the Hunter Association's logo looked like.
Upon seeing the text on the card, the man finally understood that this seemed to be what was rumored to be possessed by only a few hundred people worldwide...
"Hunter... License?!" The man was shocked beyond measure.
When he came back to his senses, Mols had already entered the bathroom. The man could only wait for Mols to finish bathing and then ask her incredulously, "This... This is a Hunter license? A real Hunter license?"
Mols nodded, removed the dry hair towel wrapped around her hair, and began to dry it.
"I, I've heard of it before! This is the first time I've seen the real thing!" As if holding a celebrity's autograph, the man carefully held the Hunter license with both hands, afraid of damaging it. "This... this... is this yours?"
Mols nodded.
"I heard that hunters are chosen from a million, extremely capable people," the man stammered, pausing for a moment before continuing, "Then you... shouldn't be short of money, right?"
Why do you still need money from home? The man didn't voice this question.
Mols picked up the notepad on the nearby table and wrote: I owe my family 89 billion JEN.
The man read the sentence over and over again, confirming that the unit after the number was "billion." This amount completely exceeded his comprehension. He swallowed with difficulty. "Why... would you owe so much money..."
Mols patiently wrote: I destroyed a lot of things in the house.
What did she destroy... How much did she destroy... to have such a astronomical figure...
For some reason, the man didn't think Mols was lying. Mols herself was too unusual in many ways. Anything that exceeded the man's understanding seemed possible for her.
She is a being from a completely different world than mine, the man was sure of this.
It would be meaningless to ask any further.
Knowing too much isn't a good thing.
The man wisely kept silent and helped Mols dry her hair with a hairdryer until it was half dry, then applied hair oil and blew it dry again.
During this time, Mols was not idle; she picked up a nail clipper to trim all her nails.
After dinner, she reclined on the sofa and watched the news for a while, casually informing the man that the work she'd recently taken on mainly involved catching wanted criminals.
She explained by pointing to a fugitive bounty on the television, indicating she'd be back shortly.
Don't go, it's dangerous... No, that doesn't seem quite right.
The man walked her to the entrance of the residential area, swallowing the words of dissuasion, "... I wish you all the best."
Even a mosquito's leg is still meat.
In the time it took for a casual stroll, Mols, as the newly appointed hunter "Mo Er · Zhan Jiang," apprehended a fugitive and received a bounty of 500,000 JEN.
Even a mosquito's leg is still meat. Ordinary people don't earn 500,000 JEN from a simple walk.
"..." In the end, the Zoldyck family was still the highest-earning platform.
Shiba knew this very well, which was why Mols would eventually return to the Zoldycks. For her, there was no better place in the world than the Zoldyck family.
Was there none?
Was there none?
Mols gazed at the ceiling. The man's sweat dripped onto her shoulder as he exerted himself. She raised her hand and cupped his face.
"... Mols... Mols..." The man murmured as if in a dream, collapsing on her, exhausted, still asking, "Did I... do well?"
Mols stroked the man's head, left the bed before the sweat turned cold, took a bath, and then slept alone.
Before sleeping, Mols took out her phone and opened her contacts.
"..." She missed Shalnark's (toy) a little.
No, she couldn't let Shalnark get too far ahead. If he got everything he wanted, he'd get bored quickly.
It wasn't appropriate to trouble Machi frequently either.
Phinks seemed to be angry. Should she send something to ease the tension? As for what exactly to send, or whether to send it at all, she'd think about it tomorrow.
Before long, Mols fell asleep. Hisoka, whom she had deliberately relegated to the corners of her memory, had reattached his severed hand and was slowly flexing his fingers to confirm the healing effect.
Using "Bungee Gum" to conceal the stitches and other wounds, Hisoka was once again in flawless condition. Even with the illusion, the injuries remained, and he actually needed a few days to recover his normal state—he wouldn't reveal his weakness.
No, there was still something missing: the bloodstains and torn clothes had yet to be dealt with.
He twisted the shower knob, and the steam spread. The water flowing into the drain gradually changed from red to clear and colorless.
The sound of water ceased, and Hisoka stepped out of the bathroom barefoot.
He didn't want to put on clothes for the time being. After all, he had been strangled by that chance encounter lady. The lady had finished too quickly; there wasn't enough time to tell her she had the wrong size.
"..." In short, he wanted to experience the feeling of his body being unrestrained for longer.
As night receded, the city beneath the floor-to-ceiling windows began to awaken. Although he hadn't slept all night, the hormonal secretions within the human body would still be as usual, with male hormone levels peaking in the early morning.
Hisoka glanced down and recalled the brief time he spent with her.
That period clearly wasn't a pleasant experience for either of them, and she was likely the one who had it worse.
Her cautious fighting style, yet so reckless when acting... like an ignorant young beast, unable to grasp the proper measure, hastily stealing forbidden fruit, a little creature choked by her haste.
More surprising than that was the combat proficiency she displayed. She must have undergone long-term professional training.
She was quick at forming text with Nen; she was a skilled Nen user. The strength of "Ren" could indirectly reflect the Nen user's strength. Her "Ren" was somewhat weak, which didn't quite match the strength she later displayed, causing Hisoka to misjudge her initially.
Let's put her in the toy box. She's an object worth more entertainment.
Licking his lips, a twisted excitement emanated from him.
"... This is a bit troublesome~" Hisoka knew it would definitely not be easy to find her.
People in the dark world knew how to conceal their tracks. The act of flirting and running away... was maddening.
Moreover, this experience was not good, so the difficulty of inviting her next time would be even higher.
... I'm really looking forward to it.
Hisoka's judgment was not wrong. Even her (nominal) boyfriend, Shalnark, couldn't always track Mols, who was constantly on the move. Contrary to their expectations, Mols' life was actually quite simple. Outside of Phantom Troupe activities, she basically spent her time as "Mo Er · Zhan Jiang," diligently earning money by taking on bounty requests found on the Hunter website.
Work, eat, sleep.
Although the locations weren't constant, wasn't this just another form of a "three-point line"?
It seems like there's no difference from her life in the "real world."
Life is just such a boring thing, isn't it? At least my life is just this miserable. Mols thought.
Thinking too much is useless. In three months, she'll have to report back to Kukuroo Mountain.
Another welcome from Kikyo.
Another lavish meal.
Another invitation to sleep together.
The only surprise was that Kikyo didn't comment on the ambiguous marks on Mols' body, completely ignoring them. Mols had expected it to provoke some strong emotional reaction from her.
Mols closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep again.
"Mols." Kikyo moved closer. "You've grown up, and you know about taking precautions... We've taught you all this, but..."
The deliberate pause made Mols open her eyes.
"There's one more thing I haven't taught you," Kikyo said in a slightly seductive whisper. "Do you know you can do it by yourself?"
Mols blinked. Kikyo wasn't wearing an ocular implant. Two pairs of cat eyes, black and blue, met each other.
"Sigh." Kikyo sighed softly, her dark eyes revealing an unprecedented sadness. She repeatedly stroked Mols' hair by her cheek. "I don't want to stop what you do outside, but... Mom doesn't want you to get hurt outside. Mols, do you remember your birth was due to a 2% accident?"
The reporting interval was set at three months, with an unstated special significance: to confirm if Mols was pregnant.
No instruments were needed. Nen's essence was life energy. By using "Ko" to observe, she could secretly know Mols' condition, such as whether there was an additional surge of life energy in Mols' abdomen.
"We were planning to get married anyway, so it's fine. If it's just for fun, Mols..." Kikyo's tone was sincere. "I think I can offer you another option."
Kikyo was sincere, hoping Mols wouldn't go too far. Every day, she tried her best to stop herself from imagining how Mols was indulging herself outside. Mols was only outwardly quiet; Kikyo knew how... wild she could be.
She shouldn't let Mols go out, can't let Mols go out... No one knows what else Mols might do.
Perhaps pursuing physical pleasure is an acceptable development.
There's nothing worse than what Kikyo could imagine.
Unlike other children, Mols was a bit slow, or rather, late-blooming. Without detailed guidance, this child might not even know how to entertain herself properly.
No, Kikyo wasn't entirely sure about that. She had never received any news about Mols wetting her bedsheets. Even as an infant, she had diapers.
"Let's try it," Kikyo took Mols' hand.
Her tone was gentle, her attitude patient, just like the first time she taught Mols how to use cutlery.
Mols' shoulders tensed and relaxed, then tensed again. She arched her back, her forehead resting against Kikyo's chest, her posture so fragile it was as if she were a newborn infant.
This was the first time Mols had wet the bedsheets on Kukuroo Mountain.
Mols trembled slightly, her eyes a little moist.
"It's okay," Kikyo soothed her softly, hugging her tightly and letting her bury her face in her chest. "It's okay, Mols."
As expected, this child is truly clumsy.
Kikyo remembered teaching Mols assassination techniques when she was little. This child learned many skills slower than Illumi, but her perseverance was astonishing. Practicing ten, a hundred, a thousand times repeatedly, without needing any supervision. In terms of results, it seemed she never fell behind.
At the time, she didn't think it was a problem, believing it to be a strength. Now, she realized that Mols' unrestrained repeated practice was more akin to self-harm than self-discipline, thus causing many unnecessary injuries.
This child's abnormality had always existed.
Clumsiness too, just like when she was little, not much had changed.
Could this child think that by interacting with people frequently, she would learn the skills with more practice?
No, this way she would only learn skills to please others and passively wait for them to bestow favors.
This foolish child doesn't even consider herself more!
Restraining the urge to give a long lecture, Kikyo pinched Mols' chin. "Mols, don't wait for others to decide your feelings. Learn to take the initiative yourself."
"Starting with the basics... Open your mouth..." Kikyo sat up and placed her index finger on Mols' lips. "Let me teach you how to kiss first."
It was as if she had returned to the days years ago when Mols began her training. Under the earnest guidance of her young mother, Kikyo, the small and helpless Mols followed every word.
The pure white lamb obediently licked and sucked the index finger placed in her mouth.
"..." Kikyo hadn't seen Mols being so obedient in a long time. Along with satisfaction came a hidden excitement.
Mols still harbored extreme trust in her. The evidence was that Mols did not resist sharing the most private domain with her at all.
Yes, Mols was always a part of her. It should be like this.
It should be like this!
"Well done..." Kikyo leaned down, her ink-black hair flowing down,
Obscuring the sky and earth, the light entering her eyes dimmed. Mols unconsciously widened her eyes. "..."
"Then, it's time for practice."
"..."
Mols deliberately avoided the damp spot on the bedsheets. Kikyo couldn't help but chuckle and casually pulled up the blanket, temporarily covering that area.
"You've always been like this since you were little, never asking for anything, always making us guess," Kikyo said lovingly, looking at the disheveled Mols, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. "When you were born, you refused to drink anything, not even when I fed you personally... In the end, we could only put you in an incubator."
"I really want to know... what were you thinking back then." Kikyo smiled meaningfully.
"..."
"Can you accept it now?"
"..."
"Mols, ah, it's okay even if it's a bit rougher."