CHAPTER SONG: Sibella — Bryce Pinkham
Hello, lovely readers! How have you been?
We're going to deal with a whirlwind of events from now on! There are soooo many things I have planned for Cataclysm that I couldn't explore before, I'm excited to finally be able to do so lol
Thank you all for leaving kudos, bookmarking and commenting on the last chapter! I'm really grateful for all the readers and friends I've made through this story, you guys are always encouraging me to keep updating and writing new content... Seriously, thank you so, so much!
Please do not forget: updates take place every Monday and Friday from 12pm to 5 pm PST!
See you,
—Cherry
Everyone in the ballroom was staring at Medea.
And why was that?
Because she was being guided to the center of the hall by the patriarch of the Zoldyck family.
He was a few inches shorter than her, probably due to his advanced age, but she didn't mind it — to her, it was actually pretty funny. He placed his right hand slightly below her shoulder blades and held her gloved hand gently, positioning herself perfectly before starting to rotate with her in a waltz. His movements were precise and calculated, typical of someone who was used to dealing with murders.
Medea didn't expect anything different from someone of such importance.
In the background, the sound of several musical instruments played in harmony with the almost choreographed steps of the duo gliding through the white floor, lightness and serenity in their steps amidst the couples. Killua's grandfather stared at her for a few seconds, attracting her attention that, until then, was focused on the chocolate fountain.
Realizing that the moment could favor her, Medea decided to test the waters before she tried to fish any information on the scroll. "Mr. Zoldyck, do you know anything about ancient civilizations?" She inquired.
He raised an eyebrow. "I suppose. Why the question?"
"Recently, the topic's been appearing in several books of mine, but somehow none of them can explain a specific period." She sighed, feigning sadness. "Knowing your family's influence and the vastness of your library, I wondered if you could enlighten me about the Irhenian period."
The man chuckled, a calm, entertained sound, and shook his head. "Unfortunately, my dear, I don't think I can be of much value in this matter." He commented. "There are almost no traces of this era to talk about, and even researches on it haven't yielded positive results, they're not so useful."
"Almost no traces? Do you mean there's still any chance of knowing more about it, then?"
His eyes shone and he smiled cunningly. "There are few documents currently available, yes, but they are very rare."
"Then I suppose you are in possession of one, is that right, sir?" He nodded.
"Please call me Zeno, there is no need for such formality." The man said. "However, I must say that you're correct, I do have a scroll about the era's final years in my personal collection." A siren rang in her head.
What were the chances of being able to find out details she'd need for the mission's success without having to let someone grope her? Next to nil! She'd found out about the location of the target just by eating a cupcake! Everything was going well as she hoped for. Certainly, the Great Changeable was smiling at her.
"Ah! How interesting! Did you finish reading it?" She asked with false naivety. The last thing she wanted was to alarm him about her interest in the scroll, so she would have to play the erudite role for a while longer.
"Oh, no, it's more of a decorative object than anything." Rich people and their bizarre habits, she thought, nodding softly. "It's too fragile to be handled frequently." His grayish eyes stared at something behind the young woman and he ceased the waltz, smiling mysteriously, and she tilted her head in confusion. "Well, it was a pleasure dancing and talking to you, miss, but now I'm gonna leave you alone so you can enjoy the rest of the event."
The old man walked away without waiting for her response, and she shrugged it off. Rich people were already strange, but old and rich people? Those were even more chaotic.
She walked to the chocolate fountain and took one of the metal sticks that held the fruits together, dipping them into the liquid before proceeding to taste them. Since she was already there anyway, the least she could do was enjoy the food, right? Some droplets of the now warm chocolate dripped down the side of her mouth and dirtied her chin as she finished eating a grape.
Before she could look for something to clean herself, a gloved hand extended her a linen napkin, which was promptly grabbed. "Thank you very much." She turned to the person.
She held her breath and froze.
A deer caught in headlights.
In front of her was a tall man with long black hair, and even if he wore a mask, she knew it was him, she could recognize those dark eyes anywhere.
That was the assassin of whom she'd become an accomplice on Evanor Lasym's murder.
Medea felt her nose throb just by staring at him and her heart began beating faster.
What was he doing here? This was a private event that she had successfully crashed, and she was sure they wouldn't let any assassin come in without an invitation... Unless he was someone important. An acquaintance, probably, because there was no way he had any family ties with the Zoldycks.
This hypothesis was extremely unlikely.
Medea was surely able to identify the similarities between the Zoldycks by now; they were so alike! And he was nothing like the others — no light eyes, no fox-like gaze, no witty remarks.
Could he have been aware of that other acquaintance's presence at the Hunter Association's Annual Ball, then? Because the siblings' mother had said he had left an invitation to this very event on that same night, and since this man had also been there, maybe they had met, right?
That would have been such a huge coincidence.
Such a huge, unbelievable coincidence.
So, so coincidental.
Or…
Something in her mind clicked and she went pale. No. No way. No fucking way!
This man, this terrifying man, could be related to Killua and Alluka!
Could it be true?
Could he be one of their uncles? No, Zeno seemed too old to have a child that young. A cousin, perhaps? Did any of the siblings even mention having uncles or cousins? Not that she could remember. Then, maybe, he was something else.
A brother.
Fucking hell, he's Killua and Alluka's older brother!
The assassin, whose name Medea didn't know even though they'd met three times, looked closely at the woman in front of him, who was as static as a statue while her brain struggled to process the newly acquired information. The white napkin was still placed over her dirty chin and she didn't seem to make mention of moving it to clean up so soon.
He arched an eyebrow, expecting a reaction from her.
As if waking up from a trance, she cleaned herself up and tried not to reveal the nervousness she felt, hoping that he would not recognize her. "Sorry, I think the wine made me a little dizzy." Medea played it off.
He didn't answer, but continued to stare at her analytically, like a scientist dissecting a frog to toy with its insides. A slight crease appeared between his eyebrows, as if he was frustrated with something. Sighing, he shook his head slightly and cleared his throat. "My grandfather advised me to ask you to dance." His voice was as serene as she remembered, but it didn't sound as annoyed or ironic as the other times, making it possible for Medea to taste it carefully.
It was low, contained, and silvery. Extremely soothing, despite the airy tone it always carried.
"Does that mean you want my company on a waltz?"
"Obviously." He replied matter-of-factly, sipping the champagne in his glass with little interest.
The thief took a hand to her lips and snickered.
"Do you consider this a decent invitation? Do you believe I'll simply accept it because your grandfather sent you here?"
He rolled his eyes, certainly bothered by the answer, and his posture became a little more rigid. "You came to this event out of your own free will, the least you can do is accompany your host in a dance."
"Indeed, but you didn't ask me to accompany you, right?" She retorted.
"I do not need to."
"Oh, so that means you expect me to obey you like a lap dog?" She crossed her arms. "Since you have not a single drop of politeness in yourself, I suggest you demand the company of another guest, for I will not do it."
Medea simply turned around, ready to leave him and eat some more, but stopped as soon as his hand held her wrist. His touch was strong enough to attract her attention to him once more, but not to hurt or coerce her. Closing his eyes, the man sighed. "Wait. I suppose we got off to a bad start."
"Really? What makes you think that?" She sarcastically remarked.
"Would you give me the pleasure of your company?"
Although his words carried no emotion, like they usually did, she felt the corners of her lips curl ever-so-slightly. It was better than she had expected.
"Good boy." She teased and he frowned, not too pleased with her choice of words. "I'll be yours until the end of the song."
She extended a gloved hand and allowed him to guide her to the center of the ballroom.
The dark-haired assassin placed a hand on Medea's left shoulder blade and took her right hand as she placed the other on his shoulder. When the melody began, he took a step forward, and she did the opposite before they started sliding through the other dancing pairs. Under the diffused light of the crystal chandelier, his mask shimmered as if it were made of pure silver and his red garnet tuxedo contrasted with his extremely pale skin. It almost looked like porcelain.
For the first time since they met, Medea was able to observe him, not just get glimpses.
He had thick eyelashes, which created shadows on his prominent cheekbones, and framed his large black eyes. There was a pattern in the Zoldyck siblings' eye shapes — all of them were slightly almond-shaped and feline, some more than others, but that detail was still there. She had to hold back a sigh. Apparently, there was something that gave away his Zoldyck genes, she should have realized it sooner, but, honestly, they always met in the worst moments, so she wasn't really to blame.
His rosy mouth was small and she noticed that his lower lip was plumper than the upper one, making it even more delicate. The long, upturned nose reminded her of Alluka's, yet his was less delicate than that of his sister.
His long locks were stuck in a low ponytail that fell over his right shoulder, and when they slid from side to side or spun during the waltz, a few strands close to his face loosened and moved as well.
Medea thought it was funny.
She would have never thought that someone so impeccably dressed would allow that small flaw, however she didn't comment anything.
Slightly tired of the boring silence, she decided to start a conversation. "Am I not your type?"
"Huh?"
"You said your grandfather told you to ask me to dance, implying that you wouldn't have done so if you had the choice. Not that I care," She shrugged. "but I'm curious. It's not every day that someone comes to me reluctantly."
He took a deep breath, probably annoyed.
"It's unnecessary for you, or anyone other woman here, to fulfill some kind of requirement of mine. It's not like I have much choice, after all." He replied, looking away to stare at the door expectantly. "Inevitably, endurance and intellect, in addition to family influence, will be the criteria used by my family to choose my bride." He shrugged.
Medea paled and she stared at him, lips ajar with words that refused to leave.
Bride?
Did he think she was there to be picked as a bride?
His bride?
She was about to ask him to let her go when the waltz ended and she found herself under that heavy, domineering gaze again. She couldn't move a single muscle, she felt like a mouse being trapped by a cat — frightened and afraid to make any sudden movement.
If he noticed it, he didn't care.
As soon as the next melody started, his long fingers intertwined with hers and he pulled the woman with him as they left the ballroom. Upon realizing that she was already outside, in front of the garden's ivy walls, Medea tried to pull her arm. "What do you think you're doing?" She inquired, glaring at him.
He tilted his head to the side, slightly confused, and narrowed his eyes. "Taking you to a private place. I have to test you, of course."
Medea felt heat spread to her cheeks and ears. "Are you crazy? I'm not going to fuck you! Let go of me right now!"
She stuck her heels on the soft ground as he continued to pull her to the mansion, creating resistance for him. "We will not have sex, you idiot, you'll be tested with the other preselected women."
Great, he thinks I came here to be his bride!
He didn't stop dragging towards the inside of the mansion, passing through the crowded entrance of the mansion. The employees stared at them uncomfortably, like adults watching a child throw a tantrum in a mall. She was sure that her whole face was completely flushed at this point. "But you said you couldn't choose your bride! And I don't even want to participate!"
"My grandfather chose you among all the others, your presence is indispensable." He remarked and stared at her over his shoulder. "By the way, the invitation was very explicit about the event's purpose. If you didn't want to risk being chosen, why did you come, in the first place?"
She continued to thrash around, desperate to break free and run from him. "I only came for the food!"
Medea couldn't attack him with her weapons. She hadn't discovered the location of the collection where the scroll was yet, she'd lose all chances of stealing it if she did — and she would most likely be slain since this bastard was great in combat, but she didn't want to think of that possibility.
Therefore, she had to use her secret talent: being annoying. If she irritated him enough, he would grow tired and release her.
"Get the fuck off me!"
"Shut up."
"Let go, you pervert! Anyone, help! There's a pervert trying to kidnap me!"
"I already told you I don't plan on sleeping with you." He replied, not even bothering to look at her.
"Let me go! I'm going to scream!" She threatened.
"You already are."
"Stop touching me! I want to go back to the Ballroom!"
"No."
"Someone help me!" She yelled, attempting to pull her arm back to herself. "Help! Help!"
In the blink of an eye, Medea's back collided with something cold and harsh, snatching a grunt of pain from her.
The air disappeared from her lungs when his hand squeezed her neck, pinning her against the corridor's walls. He stuck his nails into her tender skin, towering over her, which wasn't difficult due to their height difference. He glared at the thief, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Silent and cold type of fury. His face, however, remained as inexpressive as it had been during the waltz.
He choked her a bit tighter and her heart raced in her chest, blood pumping through her veins faster than it should.
"You're getting on my nerves." The assassin whispered. "Either you shut up now, or I swear I'll break your neck, am I making myself clear?"
Although every fiber in her being told her not to, she forced herself to nod.
His black eyes stared at the point where his hand pressed her golden skin, where her carotid pulsed avidly, thumb sliding slowly through part of its path, and then drifted back to her eyes. They narrowed briefly, but he sighed and let go of her.
Medea groaned in relief when the air invaded her body again. She coughed a little, regulating her breathing, and didn't fail to notice how calm he remained even as she glared at him.
Maybe he liked being hated.
Or perhaps he was the kind of guy who liked to spank women.
She felt sorry for the poor girl who ended up married to him, she'd get an ass whooping every single day.
The rest of the path was followed in silence and he no longer touched her. In fact, he didn't seem to even acknowledge her presence anymore; it was as if he was on autopilot.
It was like being next to a ghost.
She frowned. For someone who had asphyxiated an alleged suitor a few minutes ago in a fit of rage, he seemed way more relaxed now.
A chill ran down her spine as she wondered if Killua or Alluka had been victims of this kind of situation.
He followed the path to what appeared to be the basement, leading the woman down the staircase that happened to be as luxurious and cold as the rest of the decoration in that mansion.
Underneath the flowy dress, her phone vibrated. She gulped, but relaxed when it stopped. It was probably a notification from one of those cat games she liked to play, nothing to worry about.
Then it vibrated again. And again. Incessant and persistent, like a crying baby. Her hands were cold and sweaty. She begged the Ever-Living Goddess for it to stop, but it only seemed to intensify.
It had to stop.
It had to.
What was going on? Why didn't it stop?
A huge metal door appeared in the distance, at the end of the corridor, but the sight was obscured by the assassin, who stopped in front of her abruptly and squinted his eyes. "What is that noise?"
Oh, no. This wasn't good.
She felt sick.
A drop of sweat dripped down her back and she said the first thing that came to her mind: "My vibrator."
There was silence for what seemed forever, the two of them simply staring at each other as the phone continued to vibrate.
"Your vibrator." He repeated, emphasizing the word.
"Yes."
"And why is it on?"
She giggled, trying to hide how nervous she felt.
"I guess it's kind of obvious, right?" Medea responded, putting a strand of hair behind her ear and batting her eyes at the assassin. "I have a thing for choking."
He stared at her.
She stared at him.
He blinked.
She winked, biting her lower lip as seductively as she could considering the urge to puke due to the nervousness.
He looked at her from head to toe, studying her, and her heart almost stopped.
Don't tell me he's actually thinking I want him! Oh, fuck no!
But then, to her relief, he turned around and headed to the door. It opened as soon as he got closer and he distanced himself from her as quickly as he could, probably disgusted by the vulgar behavior exhibited by her.
Medea sighed, relaxing, and followed him into the chamber.
The place was a training room, she quickly noticed. Various types of equipment for torture and weapons were exposed everywhere, from the oldest and most obsolete to the newest and deadliest, each worse than the previous one.
This family is feared for a reason.
She saw an electric chair in a corner of the room and chills ran through her body yet again. There was a black spot marked in the shape of a person. It was too small for that of a healthy adult and seemed to have increased with the passage of time, since the higher parts of it were lighter than the center, which was almost pitch-black.
That had been used on a child.
She looked away, suppressing any reaction that could've shown vulnerability to the real candidates and the rest of the Zoldyck family.
The candidates kept quiet, waiting for the two men standing to start talking. One of them was Mr. Zeno, who, upon seeing her, smiled at his grandson, who remained impassive. He sat next to a corpulent boy who couldn't stop complaining, but she couldn't understand what it was about. On his other side, there was an extremely tall and muscular man, with long blond hair and purple eyes. He emanated power and authority, like a great lion.
It wasn't hard to conclude he was Alluka and Killua's father.
The man stared at her and a smooth crease formed between his eyebrows. He turned to Zeno, who merely made a hand gesture. His son nodded in return.
Once the doors closed behind her and she positioned herself next to the others, the man began to speak, voice grave and clean as cello note: "You're here because your families want to form ties with the Zoldyck family. You, on the other hand, came out of your own free will. Some out of greed, some out of fear, some out of power... All of you will be tested to prove that you are worthy of bearing this surname, regardless of why you're here."
On her belt, her phone vibrated again and she bit the inner part of her lower lip, trying to control herself. The man didn't even turn his head towards her, only shot her a deadly side glance. A lump formed in her throat.
Shit, shit, shit.
She didn't want to be among this group of insane women. She wanted to get out. Maybe she should have listened to Kurapika and given up on the mission.
"We have eleven ladies in total," Continued Zeno. "You will be divided into five pairs and will fight each other so we can evaluate your skills. The best two will be summoned to a private meeting with our family and, in the end, it will be up to Illumi to decide who he will choose."
Wait.
What had he called him?
Her eyes widened.
Is this a joke? It has to be… There's no way I allowed this information to go unnoticed.
But then again, it kind of made sense. There weren't two people at the Annual Ball. Of course there weren't. It had been him and only him all along. He was the one who left the invitation there, not an acquaintance like she had presumed. She resisted the urge to huff.
Why hadn't she realized it was just one person all along? It made so much sense.
She mentally face palmed herself for being so slow.
Thinking about it, now she could understand why Alluka's empty gaze seemed so familiar — because she had seen it before.
She sighed. So that was his name.
Illumi.
Illumi Zoldyck.
She tried to repeat the name in a whisper, feeling it roll through her tongue easily.
Speaking of Illumi, where was he? She couldn't see him in his original place anymore. Had he left the room and she hadn't realized it?
One of the women raised her hand, and the patriarch gestured for her to speak up. "You said we'll be split into five pairs, how's that going to work if we're eleven...?"
He chuckled. "Oh, do not worry about that. We just have to deal with the intruder first." He answered calmly.
Medea held her breath.
They knew the thief was among the women. Did they already know it was her? Was that why Zeno chose her?
Her phone vibrated for the millionth time that night and she felt a pair of hands grab her from behind, lifting the puffy skirt of her blue dress. She turned around, punching her attacker, who prevented the blow with his own hand and twisted her arm, throwing the woman against the cold floor.
Her head ached, but she continued to resist, trying to sit up. She attempted to kick Illumi, but he grabbed her ankles and pulled her towards himself.
Medea yelped.
Positioning his legs on the sides of her thighs, he knelt down and held her neck to keep her trapped beneath his body. Even if she was resisting, it didn't seem to mean much to the assassin, who shoved his free hand under the dress.
She gasped, wide-eyed.
His cold fingers went straight to her thigh and her blood ran cold. It wasn't hard to understand what Illumi intended, so she kneeled his groin with all the strength she could gather. The assassin shot her the deadliest glare he could, but he didn't scream or move, instead, he pulled the multi-utility belt hard enough to snap it off. It stung.
He lifted it up, smirking.
His suitors looked at her in shock, while the rest of the family remained motionless, watching the scene unfold.
"Vibrator, hm?" He got up and threw the chakrams to the ground, making a shrill clink echo through the environment. He took the phone and threw it on her lap. "Unlock it and hand it to me."
Medea stood up quietly, glaring at him.
Since she'd been discovered she had no reason to pretend to be harmless anymore. To be fair, she wanted to see the world burn.
Without a second thought, Medea spat on his face. "Fuck you."
He took his fingers to his face and stared at the liquid with the same expression he had when she made him bleed back in Glam Gas Land. Then, he glared at her. Illumi's bloodlust rushed towards her and she smirked, raising her chin defiantly.
Was it suicidal? Of course, but what could be worse than coming back to the High Priestess empty-handed?
If she was killed there, at least she'd still have her honor — it was minimal but it'd still be there nonetheless. He took his hand to his right pocket and Medea closed her eyes, waiting for the needles, but a voice reverberated through the training room:
"Illumi, bring the girl here."
Purple eyes watched her every step, seemingly wanting to blow her up right there, and she wondered how two such sweet children could have been raised by such a terrifying man.
Illumi released her arm and followed to his father's side, analyzing her. Medea didn't spare him a glance as she stared at his father as intensely as he did. Amethyst colliding with Indigo. "You."
"Me." She replied, devoid of any emotion.
"Were you the one who opened the gates earlier?" He asked objectively.
Whispers flooded her ears, low enough to be indistinguishable, but still there.
"Yes."
"Were you the one who hurt Canary?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"She wouldn't let me through."
"How did you get in the mansion?"
"Through the tree branch."
His wife gasped, fanning herself quickly as her visor shone brightly, indignant that the invader had found out about the secret passage.
The man squinted his eyes. "Take off your mask."
Hesitating slightly, Medea took her hand to the black thread tô untie it, and her bun came undone as well, platinum hair falling like a bridal veil around her body. The dark-blue mask fell to the ground.
Black eyes glimmered behind the silver mask.
Illumi seemed to sketch a minimal hint of reaction for a few seconds before returning to his neutral expression from before. She tried to decipher what was going on in his mind, but did not succeed; he was a locked book even for someone used to reading others with ease like her.
"Who are you and what do you want here?" The man asked.
"My name is Medea Lanfort and I came for the Scroll of Tchingsen." She ran her fingers through her white hair. "Nothing personal, it's just business. It's my last job and I need to finish my career with pomp and circumstance."
"Did you really think you could just steal from us and walk away?"
She smirked.
"Yeah."
"Then you're no more than a fool. No one who enters this mountain unannounced escapes." He stated.
"Oh? But, you see, I thought you were kind of expecting a visit from someone like me…" Medea said. "I came through the front door. It wasn't locked, you know? And it was so easy to open the gates, too." She mocked.
"How many?" Asked Illumi, all of a sudden.
"What?"
"How many tons?" He repeated.
When their eyes locked, Medea shrugged. "Sixteen."
"Are we supposed to believe a low-life thief managed to open the first three gates?" The mother scoffed.
She giggled.
"I'm quite good from what I've heard. And I got in, didn't I?"
"But we caught you."
"Yeah, but look at how long that took you." Medea mocked.
"Why would we waste time looking for you when it was obvious you would eventually come to us?" Asked Illumi's father. "We just had to wait for you to stop hiding like the coward you are."
"I wasn't hiding, I just needed to buy time."
"And are you ready to die now that your time is up?"
Some women snickered, accompanied by the brother who was next to where Illumi had previously been, seeming amused by the idea.
Die.
Was she ready to die?
She thought of her aunt, who said that she wouldn't live past her twelfth birthday. She thought of Araeso, who said she would be incapable of anything other than being a courtesan. She thought of Enoull... When it came to them, yes, she could die.
But she remembered Alluka and Killua, occupying a space in her heart that only seemed to increase as the days went by. She remembered Leorio, who regularly face called her to watch A Million Fallen Roses and diss the characters they hated, and Kurapika, who seemed to care for her like no one ever had. Finally, Kite came to her mind.
She sighed and looked up again.
"Not really, but what's a girl to do, right? Life is not as sweet as a strawberry." She answered. "Can I just call my friend first?"
He frowned. "Excuse me?"
"I'd like to say my last words and so on." Medea unlocked the phone quickly, seeing 25 messages and one missed call. "Oh, shit. That kind of explains why it was vibrating so much… Anyway, I promise it'll be really quick."
She didn't even have time to dial Kurapika's number, because Illumi ripped the phone out of her hand sharply, moving away before she tried to retrieve it.
Zeno stepped forward, watching her with a mischievous smile and crossing his hands behind his back.
"You surprised me, young lady." He declared, attracting the eyes of the others in the room. "You seemed quite in your element when you walked into the ballroom, but, unfortunately for you, I know people in your business field like no one else."
"And yet you didn't kick me out or kill me at once. Why?"
"Because if I remember exactly what Silva told me, it was you who fought my grandson Illumi some time ago, wasn't it?"
Medea stared at the dark-haired man, who had stopped reading her messages and sustained her gaze. She felt her mouth go dry and diverted her attention to the patriarch of the family, massaging her temples in the meantime.
"Again, it was just business."
"You injured him."
"Okay, look, just so you know I had to go to surgery because of him!" She pouted, touching her nose with a hand. "If anyone here was hurt for real, it was me! I should sue you guys!"
Zeno shook his hands, uninterestedly. He was about to say something when a noise reverberated through the training room and everyone turned to the entrance.
The heavy metal doors opened abruptly, revealing Killua, who had an uncommonly severe countenance, and Alluka, who clung to her brother's black blouse, marching towards the family.
Medea noticed that the atmosphere became heavier than it already was and saw when their mother held her breath, holding her fan tightly. The boy next to her, Kalluto, almost smiled when he saw his siblings, but held back and looked back at his father.
Killua, as haughty as the rest of the family, confidently approached Medea, his lips pressed in a thin line.
The young woman felt Alluka's hand intertwining with hers, a light touch filled with insecurity. It was weird. Alluka was not like this. It was as if she wanted to avoid drawing the attention of her family to herself. Medea's brows furrowed.
Something was not right.
Silva remained in the same position as he was, looking down at them. "If you're here to free the thief, you're wasting your time."
"What do you want in exchange for letting her go?" The boy asked bluntly.
The man looked at Alluka and she squeezed Medea's hand, shaking a little. She pulled her close to herself, confused by the unusual behavior. Alluka was always so cheerful and talkative, to see her like that was troubling.
"If you want to start negotiating, I suggest you lock Alluka in the room already, or you won't even be heard."
The girl's tremors intensified and Medea put her behind her own body, shielding her.
"Like hell I will! That's out of the question!" Killua practically growled when he said that.
"Then no deal." Silva faced Medea again. "She dies tonight."
"Do you think you scare me?" The woman asked, blood boiling. "You're the one who'll be scared of me if you dare lay a finger on Alluka. I swear I'll cut off your—"
"I saw her footage on the cameras." Interrupted Zeno, talking to Killua as if they were drinking afternoon tea. "It would be a waste to murder her, right Silva?"
His son frowned and crossed his arms, jaw clenching in frustration for not being able to go through with his original plan.
Medea immediately knew there was something wrong. Why would a family of assassins decide to simply have mercy on a thief?
Whatever was going on in the man's head, it was definitely not a good thing, she was sure of that.
"However, I do have a different idea in mind."
Medea was caught. Will she be able to endure whatever the Zoldyck Family has in store for her? Or will she simply... give up?
To find out the answer to these and other questions, stay tuned for the next chapters~