Spots of black danced against a white background. Through thick eyelashes, the ceiling blurred into existence. The chains on his hand soundly shifted when he searched contact with his head, fingers reaching through uneven bangs of blonde hair to press against a sweaty surface. The cold draft of the half-open window helped little to the heat he felt in his body and when he subconsciously tugged at his clothing, he was forced to acknowledge a tightly knitted material covering him. …A blanket.
His own in fact, but rarely used since its purchase, spending most of its time neatly folded on top of the couch. A thoughtful frown settled on his features as he sat right up, his eyes darting back and forth the room a couple of times in tense anticipation… before concluding that he was alone.
Kurapika turned his attention to his laptop, whose screen on standby was requesting a password. He could not recall exactly when he had passed out, but it must have been at least three hours since, judging at the battery life. It bothered him that he had not only passed out, but to such a point of exhaustion that he couldn't notice someone approaching him in such a vulnerable position. While Nen raises your limitations to a certain level, it cannot replace every basic need for a long period of time. He needed to be more actively aware of his own limit regarding the inconsistency of his sleeping cycles and prevent such an occasion to happen again in the future.
He started clicking away at the files he had left opened – which did involve the name and face of today's client. A chubby face with a greying beard stared back at him with beady black eyes; one of the board members of a growing chain of banks that is well-known because of its low interest rate. Of course, the roots of these banks sink deeply into the underground, as they are the cover-up used to whitewash dirty money. The very top of the company is involved with illegally mined and smuggled gold from drug-trafficking organizations. This man – Barrage Sammar – favors to launder his fortune on rare stones and minerals. Tonight, he was to join a charity event, auctioning off several pieces of these precious gems. The two bodyguards he ordered were mostly there to keep his recent purchases safe.
As this information, amongst other sketchy conspiracies around the man were all clearly readable on his computer screen, Kurapika searched for any signs of unauthorized access or hacking. While he doubted that anyone trying to be stealthy would cover him up with a blanket, it did no harm to run an extra security check. His room was a prohibited area for his subordinates, so this violation of his personal space bothered Kurapika on a different level as well – someone entered his room for a good reason and left without addressing the issue. It was troubling to think that this was acceptable.
After making certain that the files on his computer were not tempered with, the blonde moved to stand up – steadying himself, he swallowed away the nausea lingering from the horrid visions that made him relive the sight of blood mixed with the metallic scent of his chains. He moved towards the draft of the window, inhaling a breath of cold December air. The widely shaped glass was designed to give him a clear overview of Yorknew city, yet his eyes were naturally drawn to the sky. Through the cool blue and purple tones of the clouds was a vibrant pink and orange glow of the setting sun, setting the sky aflame.
He was mesmerized by it for a moment, feeling a bit more at ease without really understanding why. Perhaps it was the complete contrast of these colors – they should clash together, but instead, they strangely complimented each other.
Lowering his eyes, he turned his attention to the missed calls on his cellphone, scrolling past the same number over and over again until one other contact took his attention. Kurapika swiftly pressed the call-back option and placed the device against his ear, waiting for the other end of the line to pick up. "It's me. Is there a problem with the transportation I arranged?" he asked as soon as the call connected.
"…No, we have actually arrived at the location an hour ago. The client will not arrive before seven," the smooth voice at the other end of the line softly answered. "But when I picked up my tag, someone had left an envelope to my name. There was a small key inside of it, nothing else. I don't know what to make of it. I feel like something isn't right."
"…I understand," Kurapika replied, closing the hatch of the window. This was troubling. Whether an emails exchange has been intercepted or whether this information reached a third party through other means, someone had clearly taken an interest in Melody. "Then I'll be heading your way. It is rush hour, so it may take a little longer. Make sure you stay in a crowded area, preferably the lobby so I can meet you at the entrance."
He could hear a stretching pause on the other end. "Kurapika, are you sure?" Melody's soft voice called. "Your heart is consistently pumping twenty extra beats a minute; it therefore isn't caused by an emotional response. I think you may be experiencing a fever."
"…Don't hesitate to contact me if there is any trouble. I will call you as soon as I arrive." He decided to end the call there. There was no need to take any of his belongings. Kurapika ran a hand through his disheveled hair and straightened the folds in his jacket. His men were likely still looming around in the living area of the suite, an area he needed to visit before heading out. Weakness was not permitted and especially unwise while handling men who had previously been involved in lots of sketchy businesses within the mafia. With short fuses and more brawn than brains, they were eager to take orders as long as it suited their interest – which mostly consisted out of the height of their paycheck, mind you.
The first thing the blonde noticed when reaching the spacious room was the absence of his second-in command; the only licensed Hunter in his team. He was greeted with a surprised turn of heads, the bustling room growing suspiciously quiet at his entry. He subconsciously placed one hand into the pocket of his dress pants as he stared the six of them down. Something happened.
"Explain," Kurapika spoke, straight-to-the-point.
This caused the tallest of them – a bald man with broad shoulders and large muscles to jump from his seat. "…Boss!" There was a nervous expression on his face that indicated trouble. "This lady from the reception rang. Someone gave off a letter an hour ago."
The blonde's eyes narrowed. The timing was too perfect to view this as two separate occurrences. For security purposes, he had booked this suite under a name that could not be linked back to Nostrade. Meetings with clients are scheduled elsewhere for the same reason. While it is not impossible to find their location, it would be challenging to say the least. Whoever was sending these was well-informed. "Have you checked which name the sender is registered under?" That was a basic hotel security procedure.
The brute shifted his weight. "Yes, but… the receptionist didn't ask for identification."
Kurapika let this piece of information sink in with mild surprise. The very reason he booked this hotel was because of its value of privacy and security of its guests. If someone managed to persuade the receptionist not to identify himself despite their strict protocols, it suggests either… very polished social skills or the use of one's manipulation-type ability.
"Where is Hitan?" Kurapika decided to ask, suspecting that his desk worker's absence was directly linked to the delay of action.
"Huh?" His subordinate blinked at him, clear confusion visibly on his expression. "Ah… H-he left two hours ago. He was going to take his girlfriend out. He went to your room to make sure you remembered that?"
Kurapika's shoulders lowered at the realization that he did not think today's date through. The charity event was scheduled at the 24th. That explained the unexpected intrusion in his room... and no wonder Leorio had tried to reach him more stubbornly than usual.
It was Christmas Eve.
…Which was bad news for his travel plans. With all these shops and restaurants cashing in on couples, last-minute shoppers and tourists basking in the holiday ambience, the usual rush hour would be a whole other beast. He needed to depart right away.
"Alright, listen well," Kurapika had collected his thoughts, speaking to his men with clear conviction. "I need one of you to pick up the letter at the reception. Exit the building immediately – don't open it – and destroy it from a safe distance." The decision to get rid of it came naturally. He wasn't willing to play right into the hand of whoever sent it his way, whether this was a trap or a simpler threat. He planned to do the same to the key Melody had received. Nostrade had plenty of enemies still, most because of the newfound legality of his business and Kurapika admitted his personal responsibility for a handful of them.
Surprisingly, there was a delay of response from his subordinates who merely exchanged a nervous glance; voicelessly debating – something.
Kurapika exhaled a breath. "There's a problem. Tell me."
"…That's the thing, boss. It's a personal delivery," the muscled hireling said. "To your name."
Well, that is not much of a surprise. If the sender was able to figure out their location down to their room number and floor, they must have the basic knowledge about the structure of their organization.
"…Your… full name," he reluctantly added.
Kurapika stared straight into the man's eyes. "I beg your pardon?" he had to verify.
"K-Kurta?"
The blonde tightly pressed his lips together at this. He has never registered his clan's name anywhere and certainly not as a substitute of a surname. The chains on his hand sprung alive at the insinuation, their unconcealed presence causing immediate tension within his men. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, a sickening feeling that made him relive his earlier nausea. He decided not to take any risks as he reached for both the elevator pass and his gun, making sure it was fully loaded. His chains, which he swiftly covered with In, were dangling and ready… just in case his presence alone triggered something.
"…Boss?" One of his men's grungy voices called out his title. "Want us to come with you?"
These words made Kurapika glance up, meeting the man's gaze through blonde eyelashes. Small, brown eyes stared at him in expectation – eagerness to please, as well as sincere determination were glinting inside of them. Breaking their eye-contact with the flutter of his lashes, Kurapika kept his left hand resting on the handle of his gun. "No. Just stay here."
He exited the suite, the door soundly closing between them. The narrow hallway's only function is its single elevator, which he called upon with a swipe of his pass on its digital sensor. Without an authorized pass, the elevator is not operational and even with one it will only ascend towards their registered floor and return to the lobby. There was no need to press any buttons as he stepped inside…
His reflection in the large mirror heavily contrasted the cheerful elevator music as it started to descend. He watched each floor pass by in a blur, absently counting them all, before a bell and the feeling of slowed gravity announced his arrival. The doors of the elevator swiftly swung open and outstretched to him were the open French doors leading to the lounge area of the lobby.
Walking past polished tables, comfortable lounge chairs and luxurious flower arrangements, he travelled the patterned carpet to reach the two security guards standing watch at the entrance of the lounge. They tipped their caps to him and wished him a good day, as there was no need for identification at this side of the hotel. Visitors can't access further than the hotel front desk without registration and signed permission of the room they're visiting.
Kurapika did not respond, his eyes scanning the handful of people lingering at the reception. None of them looked blatantly suspicious or even the slightest bit familiar. Still, he could not shake off this feeling of unease as he approached the receptionist, who smiled at him in a pleasing way. "Good day sir, how may I help you?" she delivered the line professionally.
"I got notified that a delivery has been made to my name," he explained to her in a clear tone.
"Mr. Kurta, I presume?" The receptionist's smile widened into genuine delight, her features young and lively, betraying her youth despite the layer of makeup and backcombed hair.
Kurapika stared at her for a paused moment of stretching silence. "I'm sorry, I find that a very accurate guess," he straight-up told her. In a hotel with enough space to accommodate five-hundred guests, he very much doubted that he was the only one that had something personal delivered to him this close to the holidays. "I would like you to clarify that for me."
The young woman's cheeks flushed, as if taken aback by the question. "Pardon my rudeness, sir," she told him. "Your friend's description of you has been rather… accurate."
"And what description would that be?" he countered, unblinking. It could give him information to work with.
"…Well," the receptionist hesitated, her cheeks reddening further. "He described your features and used his own height as a reference," she used her arms to explain that she expected him to be just under a head shorter. "You'd have a very straight posture and a natural grace to your movements. You would speak politely, but directly… and would not look too pleased about having to come down here yourself." The receptionist seemed to debate something for a moment as Kurapika silently pressed on. Her behavior wasn't odd in any way, leaving him to lean less towards manipulation. The stream of her aura informed him that she wasn't trained in Nen in any way. "…And he advised me not to repeat his mistake of confusing you as a woman."
Kurapika could not help but be taken aback at that, his thoughts and pulse both racing. He had enough self-reflection to understand that his gender must have been speculated on more than one occasion, yet the only time he had flat-out used his appearance in a feminine way was… "I was informed that this person did not identify himself. Since you had a clear conversation, could you at least offer me a description of him?" he asked in confirmation.
The young lady smiled mysteriously and handed him the small white envelope. "He told me that you would ask that… and that this would be your hint." Gyo picked up nothing, yet Kurapika remained on his guard as he accepted the envelope. "But I can say that he is a rather charming one," she then winked at him.
Kurapika's eyebrows knitted together at this, reluctantly reached inside. His eyes fell upon the cursive lines of the logo and his jaw clenched tight. The urge to release his trained self-restraint and allow a flow of red to wash over his irises was tempting.
It was an unnumbered key card… registered to a room in the Beitacle Hotel.
The days of the underground auction vividly flashed by in his mind – Nostrade, the Spiders, Hotel Beitacle... From somewhere, Kurapika could vaguely acknowledge the pitch of enthusiasm in the receptionist's voice, but had a hard time focusing on her words.
" – well-mannered as well, hard to find those these days."
Kurapika was actively aware of the heartbeat rushing in his ears. He made himself unclench his hand where he had subconsciously crushed the envelope and tried to meet her with a leveled voice. "Is that why you did not ask for his identification? Simply because he is attractive?" It came out spiteful, somehow.
The receptionist tensed at his tone. "I did not mean to insinuate…" Her cheeks had flushed bright-red. "That is not the reason why his name is not registered within the system. It was an anonymous gift… and that's the charm of a Christmas present, isn't it?" She shyly touched her cheek and watched him with round eyes. "Besides, it's not like you have no idea who it came from, right? The way he was describing you…"
"…You're right," left his lips in a mutter. That somewhat confirmed it. Glancing at his watch made him realize that he spent more time here than he had intended. He doubted that she would release more information if he asked her more questions and prying would take too much time on his hand. Kurapika decided to head out, ignoring the young lady's voice calling out to him.
From his inside pocket, he took his car keys and used the vacant space to store the key card. With one click in the parking lot, his car – a black, inconspicuous model – visibly unlocked. When he turned the engine on and placed his foot on the pedal, his thoughts went out to Melody. He had ordered her to stay in a crowded area and he only now realized the flaw in that strategy.
Kurapika's grip on the steering wheel was vice-like and he acknowledged the fact that his fingers were literally shaking – it took all his self-restraint not to lose himself to the white-hot anger he felt spread through his entire body. The blinding urge to kill something was overwhelming and he channeled it through even breaths, using the rhythmic sound of the outgoing call as a guideline. That was when the call connected and the other line stayed silent.
"Oh, no, Kurapika…" Melody quietly exhaled after a long second. "That is an awful sound."
"I received an envelope as well… with a key card of the Beitacle Hotel," he wasted no time explaining, waiting for her to connect the same dots. This taunt in the form of a key card of the hotel Nostrade stayed in during the underground auction would be irrelevant information to any outsiders obtaining it. Yet it outlined a very personal connection to where he'd captured the Phantom Troupe's leader months ago. Along with the information the receptionist dropped earlier…
"…I can still recall some of their walking patterns. I did not hear their leader's heartbeat either, if that is what currently worries you," her quiet voice replied. Leave it to Melody to reach such a faithful conclusion after simply listening to his heartbeat. "However, this is concerning."
"I agree. Therefore, I am hereby relieving you from your shift and I want you to exit the building immediately. They are aware of your whereabouts and your abilities. Keeping a good distance from the event in a public area will not keep you safe. Since you are able to pick out most of them, they will likely attempt to distract you by causing a diversion or feigning to approach you. They'd use someone you are not aware of to close in on you. That is why you would be safer in an isolated environment until I arrive."
"I see," she replied. "Do you suppose they would use me as leverage to your surrender?"
"Not very likely when they have the advantage. It would be more like settling an open debt," he replied ominously.
"I would rather not be tortured and killed," Melody laughed nervously. "But if it was their intention to bring us together, I could understand why they haven't attacked us separately."
Kurapika barely glanced in his rear mirror before sharply turning a lane, pressing the gas pedal as far as it went once he reached the highway. Stretched before him was a clouded sky; the sun had already vanished from the sky, leaving it painted in a cold blue hue. "The district you're in will be crowded no matter where you go. So head to the roof of a building and consider anyone following you upstairs an enemy. Text me your exact location later."
"I will," she promised. "Take care of yourself as well, Kurapika."
He ended their call without responding. The itching feeling behind his irises, the thrumming inside his head, the sweat on his hands and the heat burning on his cheeks… if he did not push all of them away to focus on what awaited him at the Beitacle Hotel, he would not be able to function at all. With that in mind, he blindly pressed another number in his cellphone, before pressing it against his ear once more. It only rang twice this time.
"Boss?" the other line answered from back at the hotel room, sounding quite surprised.
"The situation has changed… I need one of you to take over a shift right away. Get a cab to the Occident Congress Centre and meet with Lend; he will have the details of the job." Kurapika didn't wait for a response. "The pay is thrice the usual. Get there as soon as you can."
"Yeah – sure thing… Do you want one specific of us to go, or– "
He ended the call there, already dialing the next person he needed to inform; his client. He made up a brief excuse and formally apologized for his bodyguard running late. In the midst of that conversation, it was clear that traffic started to worsen. It took him an hour to reach the city's center, which was far too long for his liking.
Parking his vehicle was a nightmare and he was forced to abandon it on some corner on the sidewalk, taking his chances with it getting towed away. He was still three miles away from the Beitacle Hotel, which was as close as he was willing to get within the confined space of a car. He rang Melody, got her location and before long, started to ascend the fire ladder of some student dorm to reach the roof. He spotted the Music Hunter easily, the fabric of her dress swaying with the wind, holding unto her hat so it wouldn't fly away. She stared right at him, obviously having heard him approach. In the little light of the night sky, her face looked pale.
"There's no indication that you attracted any attention," were the first words she spoke to him once he was within conversation distance. "I listened very closely to anyone close to you." She then handed him the envelope from her pocket, but when his fingers folded around it, Melody did not let go just yet. "You'd think that they'd approach you directly if they know your whereabouts. Instead, they are luring you," she frowned. "Kurapika, you are directly responsible for the death of two of their members. I have a bad feeling they called you out for a reason."
"Then, we'll separate from here," the blonde replied evenly, taking the envelope with it.
"That's not…" she protested weakly, her sentence dying away with the sound of his heartbeat. "Please listen to me. Going into the building alone is suicide."
Kurapika's eyes shifted to stare through strands of hair blowing in the wind, its irises a light tone of gray. "Then what are you suggesting?" his voice remained eerily calm despite the heavy melody echoing the turmoil hidden beneath the clean surface.
The Music Hunter did not evade her gaze in the heavy tension between them. If she let him walk away now, there was no telling what would be tomorrow's headline. "At least let me come with you to the Beitacle Hotel," she demanded, her voice clear, but firm. There was no change on the blonde's expression, but she heard something that made her slightly hopeful.
"It will be completely booked for Christmas. I told you that a crowded environment won't be safe when they know your ability," he sighed, repeating earlier words to make it extra clear.
Melody paused and decided to share a piece of her mind. "That doesn't stop you, does it?"
It broke the blonde's stoic face as a light frown knitted between his eyebrows. "That's different."
She did not blink, staring back with knowing eyes. He glanced down at the small silver object in his hand, knowing he had been bested. He really wasn't trying to pry the significance behind the numbers 0616 imbedded in the key rather than stubbornly stalling the inevitable.
"I understand your concerns, but you can't deny that my ability will still be useful. Yes, there is a chance that they have manipulated or even hired others, but knowing where people around us are will make a difference, even if there are traps laid by Nen."
Kurapika finally met her gaze. "This will be dangerous. You'd need to fend for yourself and prioritize your own safety."
"Of course," she agreed right away, relief making her lips stretch into a smile. "There's no way you'd allow me to help otherwise."