Author's Notes:

RATING: Mature

CONTENT WARNINGS (in the uncensored AO3 version): Explicit sexual content, consensual non-consent, roleplay, knifeplay, gunplay, dirty talk. Please refrain from reading if these topics are triggering or objectionable to you.

NOTE: To read this story's missing scenes, check the uncensored version on Archive of Our Own (AO3 username: lemonpika).


Chrollo is prowling through the corridors of a billionaire's manor, which dedicates an entire wing to a collection of sculptures, paintings, and the rare acquisitions of an evidently ruthless flesh collector. Everything in sight is decadent, yes, but nothing thus far has been sufficient to arrest his attention.

Perhaps his thoughts have succumbed to the trap of pessimism too soon. When he turns a corner, he comes upon a glass case that stops him in his tracks.

Inside are a couple of rubies with a round cut. Given the generous illumination overhead and the countless facets carved into the brilliants, the twin rubies cast a fiery glow on the cream-colored satin lining the bottom of the box.

These are, without a doubt, the loveliest gemstones he's ever seen.

Kneeling with something like reverence, he extracts a zippered pouch from a pocket of his black pants. This pouch contains his tools of the trade. He slides his trusty glass cutter from its slot.

With practiced efficiency, he slices a circle through the glass then sets the severed fragment aside. Heart beginning to thump, he bunches up his fingers before sticking his hand into the round hole.

Just as his fingertips brush against the many-faceted surface of the first ruby, a steel object bumps against the back of his skull.

He knows without turning around that he's being threatened with a gun. This isn't the first time he's been caught red-handed in such a vulnerable position. Nor will it be the last. These risks come with the territory of being who he is.

"Hands up." The voice of the person behind him is a soft tenor, more melodic and appealing than it has any right to be.

Chrollo opts for a conversational tone even as he raises both hands. "You can't be the owner of this manor. There's just no way. Your voice is too effeminate, a far cry from the booming thunder of that brute. Are you one among the arsenal of bodyguards he's hired to cover his ass, perhaps?"

"Does it matter? What's important is I'm a witness. This should be your primary concern. I've just seen you in the act of laying your hand on what isn't yours."

"You do realize your boss isn't entitled to these rubies either? These mafiosos, all they do is take, take, take what doesn't belong to them. They have zero regard for the string of casualties they leave behind. They're in the business of ruining lives to enrich their own corrupt existences. By thieving from the worst of thieves, I'm simply tipping the scales back to their proper place. That's only fair, don't you think?"

"Quit your philosophizing." The voice from behind him doesn't sound impressed. "You've just admitted you're a thief so spare me from your hollow excuses. For your information, my employer won these rubies fair and square in the annual Yorknew City auction by outbidding all other prospective buyers."

"He paid with money plundered from the pockets of others. Same difference, if you ask me." Chrollo hums as an idea occurs to him. "What if I told you I have a way for the both of us to leave this situation as victors? As long as you agree to my plan, you'll no longer have to answer to anybody ever again, least of all to a nefarious mobster like Light Nostrade. For a mere employee like you, that's the dream, isn't it?"

Silence follows these words. That must mean Nostrade's bodyguard is listening. Chrollo soldiers on with his explanation.

"All you have to do is let me walk out with the rubies. That's it. I'll do all the heavy lifting. I'll sell the gems for a pretty price to a few of my trusted connections in the black market. I'll then come back for you after that's settled. You have my word."

The bodyguard's voice is vicious. "What good is a thief's word to me?"

Chrollo chooses to ignore his poisonous tone. "We can split the profits fifty-fifty. Frankly, I intend to divide my earnings into thirteen equal portions. You see, I have people from back home — from Meteor City — for whom I provide. As for you, you can run away with your half of the pot and spend it as you see fit. For some reason, from the very first words you spoke, I intuited right off the bat that you must be the type of person who earnestly wishes to make the world a better place. Well, if you seize this opportunity I'm offering, you will finally have the chance to live your life as an honorable man rather than serving dishonorable men to make a living. I can't imagine a better outcome for you than that."

Satisfied with the way he's made his case, Chrollo straightens up from his kneeling position.

"Did I say you could stand?" the bodyguard snaps. "You keep yapping away as if you believe you can persuade me to release you unscathed. You're wrong, you know. I perceive you as nothing more than a spider I've trapped inside my glass. From this point onward, I forbid you from moving until I tell you to."

"And I'm telling you," Chrollo insists, "this deal can only benefit us both. Even if you were brazen enough to steal the rubies for yourself, they'll only end up as weights in your pockets. However, if you let me take them, I can maximize their potential by transforming them into mountains of jenny — more jenny than you can ever spend in your lifetime."

When Chrollo tries to turn around, the gun's barrel jabs the back of his head.

"I said don't move." The bodyguard's voice is deathly quiet. "Listen to me. Nobody's taking the rubies anywhere. There's no deal you can dream up that I'd ever accept. You're utterly powerless here. I can make you disappear from this manor — from the face of the Earth — and nobody will ever know where you've gone. Do you understand me?"

There's a distinct click as the gun's safety mechanism is deactivated.

Chrollo swallows. "I understand."

"Disobey my orders again, and I swear I'll blow your brains out."

Even as Chrollo's body turns as still as a statue, his thoughts continue racing ahead. "Look, despite what you might think, I'm not the only one in jeopardy here. If you shoot me now, my blood will splatter all over this pristine glass and the satin inside. You'll get yourself dirty cleaning up this mess that didn't need to exist in the first place. And what will happen if your boss notices even a single spot of crimson that you've neglected? He'll fire you for your negligence without a second thought, and that's assuming he doesn't go the extra mile to bind your wrists, fill your shoes with pebbles, and drop you into the middle of the ocean." Chrollo takes a deep breath before forging on. "As it stands right now, nobody has been harmed. Nothing has been broken. If you just let me go, we can keep it that way."

"Hmm. You're almost right, but not quite. Do you think I'm blind? I can clearly see the hole you've cut through the case."

"It's just glass," Chrollo interjects. "This box looks expensive, certainly, but it's not irreplaceable. I'm more than happy to compensate you for the actual damages to your employer's personal property."

"I don't want your jenny."

"Then what do you want from me?"

The gun's barrel drifts downward then nudges the back of Chrollo's neck. "Justice."


(There is a deleted scene here.)


Kurapika's bruising grip around Chrollo's hips relaxes. Kurapika's palm caresses Chrollo's sweaty back, his touch as tentative now as if he's handling the finest porcelain.

"Are you okay?" Kurapika whispers.

"I'm okay."

"I wasn't too rough on you, was I?"

"You were just the right dosage of rough to keep me functioning at full capacity. I feel newly energized, all thanks to you."

Kurapika helps Chrollo straighten up from his doubled-over position. With a handkerchief from his trousers pocket, Kurapika wipes away the stickiness from Chrollo's bottom half.

Chrollo glances sideward. "I lost all presence of mind and ended up getting the glass dirty. We'll have to replace the entire thing because of the hole I made."

"I'll deal with that later," Kurapika says as he's rebuckling Chrollo's belt. "Security is my responsibility, not yours. For now, let me help you get to bed, okay?"

With his arm wrapped around Kurapika's shoulders for support, Chrollo lets Kurapika guide him toward the primary bedroom. The interior design, specially selected by Light Nostrade, is so opulent it crosses over the line to being obscene.

Kurapika lowers Chrollo into a lying position on the king-sized bed. Kurapika pulls up a reclining chair so that he can settle next to the bed. Chrollo can't stifle a smirk as the velveteen cushions practically swallow up his boyfriend with their obnoxious softness.

"I have to say," Chrollo tells Kurapika once he's managed to stop himself from sinking into the chair's depths, "even if this roleplay scenario was gratifying in so many ways, it hasn't done much to improve my opinion of your choice of employment."

"I didn't expect it to. I fully agree with your assessment that the mafia are scum. I noted an astute point you made earlier — I can pretend I'm a paragon of virtue all I want, but when it comes down to it, I'm no better than any of them. I joined their ranks for my own selfish purposes, after all."

Chrollo reaches up to pat Kurapika on the cheek. "That's not true. Sure, your means may occasionally be dubious, but the end you're seeking to attain is pure. As you leverage Nostrade's misplaced trust in you to accomplish your lofty goals, you're slowly balancing the scales from the inside."

A small smile flits over Kurapika's tired face. "In your own way, you're working toward the same objective from the outside, aren't you? The mafia wronged Meteor City's residents so you're determined to make them pay. Neither of us is perfect, but we're both doing our best to achieve our dreams."

"Together, we'll rain havoc upon them and watch — with you in the front row and with me in the shadows — as they shove each other like the monsters they are and scramble for cover. Justice will eventually be served. I guarantee it. You know, your silly Mr. Nostrade may actually end up being spared from the worst punishment."

"Why so? Because Nostrade's victory over the other factions of the mafia will benefit us? So it's in our best interest to keep him happy?"

Chrollo nods. "That's certainly a part of it. However, on a more primal level, I can't bring myself to begrudge him completely when his naivety ends up affording us with brief moments of respite. Where else can we find preposterous properties like this to spice up the narratives of our roleplay sessions?"

Chrollo waggles his eyebrows at Kurapika, who grins and leans in for a kiss.

Kurapika is still smiling against Chrollo's lips as he mumbles, "House-sitting for a billionaire isn't the worst thing in the world, is it?"