Thanks for reading! This chapter is a little... world-buildey I guess? Also, this fic as a whole will be dealing with child abuse: nothing worse than canon for the Zoldycks, but I wanted to warn just in case. There is a section describing an incident later in this chapter.


You will burn and you will burn out; you will be healed and come back again.

—Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov


"He has no idea what he's getting into, does he?"

Chrollo leaned back in his desk chair, boots resting on his desk. He folded his arms behind his head. "He's hardly a naive rich boy, Machi."

Machi scowled. As usual, her pink hair looked as if she hadn't brushed it. "Any friend of Hisoka's I am immediately suspicious of."

"I wouldn't have allowed him to live here if I didn't think the same and thoroughly interview him," pointed out Chrollo. Bitterness stung his throat at the mention of Hisoka. Outside his window, clouds rolled in.

The semester was about to start, and everyone had returned to the rickety old house Chrollo and his friends rented one block from campus. Well, Hisoka had returned. It wasn't as if any of them had anywhere to go over the break besides Hisoka, who gave no explanations. He just appeared and disappeared at will. Chrollo doubted he was visiting doting parents like other college students.

Their new tenant was arriving just now. He did have parents. A unique trait in this house. The past three years, Chrollo had bribed inspectors not to come because it would surely be condemned. But Shizuku and Franklin assured him it was actually livable. And they didn't have many problems besides plumbing spurting at random on occasion, a broken banister, and three cracked windows. Oh, and a broken floorboard in the library, but they all knew not to step on it. Chrollo had money to keep them afloat. Or rather, he procured it by any means necessary. Trying to repair it all would just be greedy.

"If Hisoka causes trouble this year, can I kill him and bury him out back?" Machi asked.

"If I get to do the honors." Chrollo picked up a pen and clicked it over and over again. He was not at all happy about Hisoka still living here in the house Chrollo had… acquired. But he had no choice and no recourse to kick him out unless he wanted to hire some scumbag lawyer and open the house up for inspection.

"I can't believe that prick wouldn't even switch rooms," Machi said.

"He wants to antagonize me." Chrollo bet it would be no time before Hisoka started taking lover after lover. Or, person-to-be-used after person-to-be-used. Love had nothing to do with it. Not for either of them, but sleeping with Hisoka had been fun while it lasted. And then it blew up in his face.

"I can show him to his room," Machi said reluctantly. "I guess." She sounded remiss about helping anyone connected to Hisoka.

"Thanks." Chrollo heaved a sigh. He dropped his boots onto the wooden floor with a thud. "I guess I should get my books for the semester."

"Good luck." Machi turned and left. Downstairs, he heard the sound of Shizuku vacuuming. A mechanical engineering major, Shizuku had created the vacuum and named it Blinky.

Chrollo shrugged into his coat, the one he found at a thrift store for less than half of what it was worth, and which he hadn't paid for at all. He'd had it since he was twelve and he slept in it more nights in his life than not. He only hadn't needed to since obtaining the papers for the house they lived in now.

He left the house, the door creaking as if the hinges were pleading with God himself for replacing. Well, God didn't care to answer and neither did Chrollo.

The other students liked to comment that the house looked haunted. But that was what drew Chrollo to it. It was well over a hundred years old, huge and clearly originally two houses, unevenly built and with history and fate embedded into each nail. If there were ghosts, so much the better, but Chrollo had yet to see one.

"Yo, Danchou!" Uvogin waved as he headed up towards the house, his arm around Shalnark. Chrollo nodded.

He made it to campus, ignoring the perfectly neat brick dorms that he couldn't afford. He sauntered towards the bookstore, where he charmed Neon, the clerk, into not realizing he was leaving with books he hadn't paid for.

"Oh, so you're taking Russian Literature," commented a voice behind him. "How interesting. I didn't think a gutter rat like you would be interested in such a high art."

Chrollo spun on his heel. "Excuse me?" He kept his tone pleasant.

The man's gaze went to his forehead, to the cross tattoo he got when he was sixteen. "You hardly look the type to attend this university."

Tserriednich Hui Guo Rou. A political science major, he was the son of one of the professors and as much of a sleaze as his father, according to rumor. And that made him very typical of a college frat boy, and that made him boring.

Chrollo yawned. "In contrast to you. You very much look the part. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Oh, say, weren't you just telling me you were taking Russian Lit too, Kurapika?" called Tserriednich.

Chrollo stiffened. He peered past Tserriednich, to where a blond boy with a sullen expression and arms laden with legally bought books glanced over at them.

"I am," confirmed Kurapika, though he looked as if he was going to vomit at the thought. "Unless I can switch out, which suddenly I have the urge to do."

"Shame for all those books you just bought," Chrollo said sweetly.

"Oh, you two know each other?" asked Tserriednich, a smirk spreading across his face. His gaze lingered on Kurapika with a gleam Chrollo recognized and which disgusted him.

"Shocking," Chrollo replied. "I have to get back to my house. The one I own." He nodded at them. "See you in class, Kurapika."

Kurapika muttered something like "not if I can help it" which was slightly less spicy than the "see you in hell" Chrollo had been hoping for.

I'm surrounded by enemies.

Fate wasn't going to be terribly easy on him this semester, it seemed.

Well, he'd never turned down a challenge.


Kurapika stomped into his new on-campus apartment, slamming the door behind him.

"Be nice to the door!" squawked his roommate, Leorio. He'd spent the morning mourning over his wallet for all his biology textbooks. Since he was pre-med, every textbook cost a ridiculous amount, and they were only in their second year at school.

"Kurapika?" asked a voice. His cousin, Pairo, appeared. Hanzo waved behind him.

Their two other roommates—whom Kurapika didn't really know very well but were looking for apartment-mates at the same time—were arguing over football. Or really, Knuckle was arguing while Shoot looked pained.

"I'm fine," Kurapika said. "But you'll never believe which bastard is in my Russian Lit class." And it was the class he was looking forward to most! It was only offered every other year! He didn't want to wait until his senior year to take it, so—

I'm fucked. I can't switch out.

He groaned.

"Honestly there are a lot of dicks on campus and even more people you don't like," said Leorio. "I need a name because I have no idea."

Kurapika snorted. He set his books down on the simple kitchen table and plugged in the electric kettle. This called for tea. "Chrollo Lucilfer."

Pairo sucked in his breath. Chrollo was, after all, the reason they weren't quite roommates any more. It'd taken convincing for Pairo to even agree to share the apartment. Shame pressed into Kurapika's shoulders.

"Damn," mused Leorio. "You gonna be okay?"

"Haven't got a choice." He was used to squashing his feelings anyways. Or, trying to, at any rate. Kurapika rummaged through the cabinet, finding his favorite chipped mug. His parents gave it to him when he was sixteen.

But they died last year. He spent the summer with Leorio, at Leorio's family's place, because he had no place left to return to. Kurapika ran his thumb over the chip, wishing an edge would prick his finger. It didn't. It was too dull. He scowled.

A knock on the door. "Melody!" shrieked Leorio. "How are you? It's good to see you and—"

Kurapika glanced over his shoulder. A music major, Melody shared one of his general required classes his first semester, and they'd wound up unlikely friends. She'd been disfigured in a car accident years ago, and when his parents—she and Leorio and Pairo were the glue that helped keep him together. He rubbed the chip in the mug again.

"How's your apartment?" asked Leorio.

"Nice," Melody responded. "It's me, Komugi, and Palm Siberia. Palm's a freshman, but I guess she—"

"That explains why I don't know her." Leorio brightened. "Is she pretty?"

Melody rolled her eyes.

"I don't remember Komugi," said Kurapika.

"I do," said Pairo. "She's blind. Completely. Even more than me." He touched his eyes. "She's very nice."

Kurapika nodded.

"She's got a boyfriend," said Melody. "Meruem."

"I thought he was a frat boy."

"He was, but now he's living in an apartment across the hall, with Pitou, Pouf, and Youpi."

"Well, fuck," said Leorio. "I'm not dealing with their parties every night."

"He seems to have calmed down. Must be Komugi." Melody smiled. "Palm seems—interesting. She has a massive crush on Professor Knov."

Yikes. Kurapika pulled out another mug for Melody, and honey from the fridge, since she liked her tea sweet.

"How was your break, Kurapika?" Melody wanted to know.

"Fine." Kurapika smiled, and in that moment he knew that all his friends knew he was lying, but none of them would call him on it. It wasn't Leorio's fault, or his family's, or—or anything. Or anyone.

It was the universe's, for stealing his parents. He couldn't stop wanting their arms around him, wanting his mother gushing over his grades like Leorio's, or scolding him even, his father trying to talk to him about girls, anything. Not that Kurapika was really into girls. And not that he'd ever had a chance to tell them that.

It'd been so long since he heard their voices. He retreated to his room, making an excuse. He clutched the cup of tea to his chest and pulled out his phone, listening to their voices again, in his voicemails. He only had three saved, but they told him they loved him in them. They told him they wanted him to call.

I want to call.

I don't know how to reach you.

I can't reach you. You're gone.

The fact that he'd had to see Chrollo today just rubbed salt in a festering wound, one that hadn't healed and one that he wasn't sure he even wanted to heal.


Illumi checked his phone. Three missed phone calls and five texts. All from Mom. He texted her back.

Just got here & dropped Milluki off at the dorms. Will call later.

He grabbed the only bag he had and walked up the winding driveway. The house rose in front of him, towering and uneven. A tangled forest rose behind it. It looked like a dump, but he had no other options besides moving in here for the year.

He knocked on the door, folding his arms. A girl with a messy pink ponytail answered. "You Illumi Zoldyck?"

"I am," he said.

"Machi Komacine." She stepped back. "Hisoka's out now."

Illumi was not surprised. "I see."

Two samurai swords hung over the fireplace in the dingy living room. Nobunaga Hazuma examined one of them. He gave a lackluster wave. Illumi nodded at him. A woman with a severe bob and a hooked nose sat legs crossed in an overstuffed armchair, studying a psychology book.

"You're on the third floor," Machi said, leading Illumi to a narrow, winding staircase. "Each floor has its own bathroom, but each floor shares it."

Illumi could only imagine sharing a bathroom with Hisoka. Well, it was only for a year.

"The basement has four bedrooms. Nobunaga, Bonolenov Ndongo, Kortopi, and then Shalnark and Uvogin share a room because we needed more help with rent. Not that I think you'll have a concern with that," she added.

"I won't," Illumi confirmed.

"First floor has the kitchen and the appliances won't electrocute you, promise, the living room and dining area, and then down the hallway off the living room is three bedrooms for Phinks Magcub, Feitan Porter, and Franklin Bordeau. Second floor has a library but it's mostly used for storage and the books aren't useful unless you're into literature, and Paku, Shizuku Murasaki, and I have rooms there." Machi gestured down a hallway, walls painted what might have been mint green once. She pushed open another door, heading up an even steeper flight of stairs, not winding this time. "And the third floor's here. Just three bedrooms and a bathroom. Chrollo's got the largest one and Hisoka's is next to the bathroom. Yours is here." She pushed open a door.

Illumi noticed an even smaller flight of stairs. "Where does that go?"

"The attic," said Machi. "Storage."

Illumi nodded. He entered his bedroom. It was small and cramped, but livable for a year, certainly.

"Is that all you brought?" asked Machi, nose wrinkling as she took in his one suitcase.

"All I need," Illumi responded, opening it to unpack.

"All right then. I'm off." Machi turned away.

Illumi didn't bother to say goodbye. He unpacked clothing and textbooks, the ones he'd gotten in advance. It was part of his desperate attempt to set a good example for Milluki, because Dad spent the break ranting over Milluki's lack of studying.

"I got straight As my first year!" Milluki protested. "I will next semester, too, Dad, you'll see!"

Illumi studied his image in a cracked mirror hanging next to one small window. His hair was even longer now. He pulled out his textbooks, preparing to study.

He should call his parents first. Mom would be worrying.

"Illumi!" she cried the moment she answered. "Are you safe?"

"Of course," he answered. "The house is rather run-down, but certainly liveable for a year." Or perhaps two, since Illumi had two left. But he refused to commit to anything beyond that first year. Dad might want him transferred, or offer him a role in the company that would require an apartment between campus and here.

"I'm glad to hear that." Mom sighed. "Illumi, dear, please make sure to check up on Milluki. Dad was not pleased with his attitude the past few weeks."

Milluki had done everything they'd asked, when they'd asked, and done it well, but his brother was lazy and wouldn't go above and beyond like Illumi would. His loyalty to the Zoldyck family was hardly in question, but if he planned to become the head of Zoldyck Industries' coding department he would have to put in more work like Illumi did. "Okay," he promised.

"Your father wants to talk to you."

"Okay," he said again. His heart leaped. Illumi straightened even where he stood in this old room, bed pressed against a wall and bookcases empty save for his textbooks, closet door perfectly shut with his clothes inside, no curtains and certainly no posters or anything of the sort decorating the walls. Just this cracked mirror.

"Illumi," Dad's voice sounded serious.

"Yes?"

"Killua's been getting restless. Your mother doesn't approve, but I worked it out with him that he could spend a few days with you in a few weeks, just to get the feel of college life. He's never satisfied with just doing as he's told, that boy."

"Ah, of course," Illumi said. A smile spread across his lips. Killua was seventeen and about to graduate. He excelled in his homeschooling studies, and Illumi had been privileged to sit in on discussions between Dad and his grandfather about the boy's promise. He could even be the next CEO of Zoldyck Industries. And Illumi loved Killua. He was the brother Illumi was tasked with keeping an eye on, on teaching and helping through their studies when they were younger. Illumi snuck Killua coffee during their many nights spent studying, the ones where they weren't allowed to sleep. They weren't supposed to have coffee either, but Illumi didn't think it would harm Killua. He was too smart. And it hadn't. Killua was still good.

"Illumi, please let me sleep," Killua had begged on the third night they had to spend like that in a row. Killua was five, Illumi eight.

And Illumi relented, and then Mom screamed that he was a disgrace—Illumi was—and Dad broke his arm.

After that, Illumi smuggled coffee for them both.

But while Illumi was home, Killua hadn't been interested in talking to Illumi, hearing about college or anything.

"It's good," Mom insisted. "He needs to be cold to be a CEO."

Illumi agreed. But Killua could be cold and still spend time with him, couldn't he?

Something hit Illumi's skull. He grabbed it. A Starburst? He turned.

Hisoka leaned against the door. "Nice to see you here."

Illumi reached for a textbook. "I was about to study." He was a business management major. His parents thought it'd be the most beneficial for their company.

"So serious," teased Hisoka.

"Hmph." Illumi settled down. "They want my younger brother to visit."

"The one you actually like?"

Illumi frowned. "I love all my brothers." Alluka wasn't family. Dad said so, or he would love Alluka too. And he wasn't supposed to love people who weren't family.

He met Hisoka the year before in a mandatory art class. Hisoka was a theater major, and they teamed up to get the best grades. Despite his party-hopping, reputation, and the clown makeup adorning his cheeks, Hisoka was intelligent. Illumi respected that. And he was always looking for something to invest in. If he'd been born a Zoldyck, he would have made a good one.

"Uh-huh." Hisoka chomped down on some bungee gum, blowing a bubble.

"They want me to make sure Milluki is studying," said Illumi. "They're concerned, as we're not in the same dorm anymore."

"You should be able to go out on your own without a leash named something—llu—something."

Illumi scowled.

Hisoka drummed a long-nailed finger against the door frame. "So. Wanna join me at a party?"