Chrollo Lucilfer, aged twenty-six, was always known to be a wild card.
Nobody really knew anything about him except that he lived in Meteor City where he formed the Phantom Troupe, being its head since the very beginning. With a bounty higher than that of most people he has been targeted by bounty hunters since what felt to him like forever.
He himself never shared anything from before he became the leader of the most feared group of thieves and none of the Troupe members ever asked. They themselves kept their past mostly hidden, as there was no reason to dwell in it.
And so the mystery of the man's origin remained unknown.
Until now, that is.
Chrollo was currently in one of his lesser used hideouts where only the most personal of his belongings were kept. The room was full of books, special artefacts, small piles of money in case of utmost need and many wooden boxes, some ornamented, some bare. He searched one box full of papers and tools after another, keeping his goal in mind.
It was only a day prior that he received the message from his family, claiming that the only member he ever gave a care about was on the brink of death. At first, he was torn between going back or sticking to the unspoken rule: outcasts stay away.
Who he thought of as his family were, of course, his fellow Troupe members, but everybody has a family related by blood, however they may try to deny it. His original family was not in any way usual and he hated them. He hated them for not caring about each other, hated them for ignoring his wishes, for sending him off to Meteor City when he was still so young. He hated them for various more reasons.
But then, he didn't hate all of them. Chrollo knew he had younger siblings that he never met and that he had essentially no reason to hold a grudge against them. They never even met, as far as he knew. There was also one member that he didn't despise, that being his grandma. The only person who was against the family 'traditions' and didn't cause Chrollo any harm.
This grandma was currently dying.
Chrollo thought about the few years he has spent at the family manor all those years ago while searching for the one specific document. Of course, he could always get a new one or use many fake ones he had, but then he didn't want to use some cheap substitutes on this occasion.
No, this time he'll travel using his real documents. If only as a symbol of his acknowledging the old lady who wanted to see him in her last moments.
With these and many similar thoughts in mind he finally found what he was looking for. A card, barely a few inches in size, with one old photo that still – even if just barely – resembled Chrollo Lucilfer. Only one detail would eventually raise questions and that was his name. As this was his first ID card, it still had his real name engraved upon it.
A name he gave up a long time ago.
Chrollo Zoldyck.