Inside the Corridor
Hisoka turned his gaze toward the tall figure who had spoken.
Long black hair, unnaturally pale skin, and pitch-black eyes that seemed utterly lifeless—like a mask devoid of emotion.
"Hmm~"
Upon recognizing the visitor, Hisoka's expression remained indifferent.
"How heartbreaking~ Just a couple of days ago, you asked me where I was, and I thought you wanted to catch up."
"Relax. I wouldn't waste my time on something so pointless."
The visitor was none other than Illumi Zoldyck.
While Kalluto had accepted the contract to track down Moro, the assassination contract for Hisoka had been taken by Illumi.
"I called you to ask where you were simply to save time searching for you."
Illumi casually shook the phone in his hand before slipping it back into his pocket.
Then, without hesitation, he pulled a round-headed Nen needle from his sleeve, holding it lightly between his slender fingers.
A surge of aura flared up around him. The intensity of the energy, coupled with the undisguised killing intent, made it clear that his words were not mere bluffing.
Even as he felt the killing intent, Hisoka didn't react.
If anything, he seemed almost… tranquil, as if in a state of serene detachment.
"Illumi, what would it take for you to drop your killing intent (contract)?"
"No can do. I have a responsibility to my client."
Illumi's face remained expressionless, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
Hisoka half-lowered his eyelids, leaned against the wall, and said seriously—
"More money."
"…Alright. I accept."
Illumi immediately withdrew his killing intent, tucking the needle back into his clothing.
Compared to his father's strict discipline and his grandfather's principled approach, Illumi had far less concern for professional ethics.
As long as the money was right, he could choose whether or not to act.
And unlike his father and grandfather—who upheld an unspoken code about minimizing collateral damage—Illumi had no interest in such rules.
After all, he was a Manipulator, someone who did things his own way.
Tilting his head slightly, Illumi studied Hisoka and suddenly asked, "But… do you even have the money? Last I heard, you spent everything trying to track someone down."
"Oh?"
Hisoka slowly widened his eyes, letting out a soft, surprised sound.
Silence filled the corridor.
For a moment, the two men simply stared at each other, saying nothing.
Then—
"…Can I owe you?"
"..."
Illumi, without a word, reached for his Nen needle again.
Tracking in the City
The scattered paper fragments drifting through the air were inconspicuous.
But for Kalluto, they were guiding markers, leading him toward his target.
As long as the activation conditions were met, his ability allowed him to pinpoint exact locations—even without prior contact or interaction with the target.
That was why he wasn't worried about losing track.
He continued shadowing from a distance.
From the moment the sun dipped below the horizon to the moment the city lights flickered on, Kalluto followed Moro into a dimly lit alleyway.
The ground was slick with filthy water. Trash and debris piled up along the walls. Overhead, a tangled mess of electrical wires sagged down, dangling precariously in midair.
The stench was unbearable, and the water threatened to soak through his white socks.
Even so, Kalluto did not falter.
"Was I discovered… or…?"
As his wooden sandals tapped against the damp ground, Kalluto peered into the shadows ahead, silently contemplating the situation.
He had kept his distance carefully, confident that Moro wouldn't have noticed him.
Yet Moro had suddenly diverted into a place like this.
It was enough to make Kalluto wonder—had his presence already been detected?
"I can't be sure."
The physical distance made it difficult to determine.
If only he had an eavesdropping ability, he wouldn't have to sit here guessing.
"My abilities are still too immature… Forget it. I should deal with the presence behind me first."
Kalluto stopped beside a pile of discarded junk along the wall.
Then, he turned abruptly, staring toward the alley entrance.
A single flickering lightbulb hung from the wall, casting a dim, intermittent glow over him.
At the alley's entrance—
A figure emerged, blocking part of the light.
In the Alleyway
Drip. Drip.
Footsteps splashed through puddles, sending tiny droplets into the air.
Moro didn't care as his pant legs soaked in the filthy water.
He walked through the silent, dim alleyway.
The walls, coated in layers of grime, had occasional hanging lightbulbs, providing weak illumination to this dark underbelly of the metropolis.
In the corners, beside trash bins and scattered debris, hollow-eyed junkies lurked in the shadows.
As Moro's footsteps echoed, their sunken eyes followed him, their hungry, predatory gazes locking onto his clean, well-dressed figure.
For a brief moment, greed and malice flickered in their pupils.
But as Moro drew closer, a strange chill seeped into their souls.
The predatory light in their eyes vanished instantly, replaced by fear and panic.
Their heads lowered.
They dared not meet his gaze.
One by one, they shrunk away, allowing Moro to pass unhindered into the deeper parts of the alley.
Moro walked until he reached a crossroad where several alleyways intersected.
Then, he stopped.
With his back still facing the path he came from, he spoke calmly—
"This should do. What do you think?"
A moment of silence passed.
Then—
From behind, the sound of footsteps stirred the air.
A man stepped out from the shadows, his gaze sharp and filled with hostility.
"When did you notice me?" he asked.
Moro said nothing.
He simply turned around and studied the man.
The stranger was tall and lean, his features sharp and predatory. His eyes carried a sinister glint, and his nose and lips both bore old scars where pieces seemed to be missing.
"Level 18 or so…"
Focusing on the Nen aura emanating from him, Moro quickly made an evaluation.
"Disappointing."
"A Materialization-type user… and an amateur at that."
His gaze flickered to the man's left hand, where Nen was subtly gathering—a telltale sign of his Nen category.
And that face…
He'd seen it before.
Two days ago—at the auction market.
"A fellow scavenger?"
Moro quickly connected the dots.
He had assumed the stalker might be a henchman from the "Menu Organization," but it turned out to be another Nen user hunting for undervalued auction items—just like him.
The only difference?
Moro absorbed Nen energy from his finds.
This guy was simply flipping items for profit.
"Disappointing."
Moro sighed internally.
He had hoped this was a Menu Organization operative—someone worth eliminating.
Instead, he had attracted a jealous scavenger.
A nobody who was angry because Moro had cut into his business.
Such simple, petty greed.
Moro's expression darkened with disappointment.
Seeing this, the tall man grew even more hostile.
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50 Powerstones? (5 Bonus Chapters)
20 Advance Chapters: patreon.com/milezen
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