Chapter VIII

Chrollo watches his Kurta from the corner of his eyes. He makes himself appear uncaring of her movements, but in truth, he is very much interested to watch her that, oftentimes, the book in his hands goes forgotten. With her back turned to him like this, he puts his book aside, rests his chin on his palm, and watches her.

It has been two weeks since the underground casino in Lencasser. Since then, the two of them have been driving from one small town to another, finally reaching the other side of the country within three days. Now, they are staying in a cheap hotel in a seaside town, the calls of the gulls and the rhythm of the waves a constant companion to their usually quiet afternoon.

Valtiel sits on the window ledge, her attention forever on the passing people and cars and birds, perking up whenever something or someone gets too close to her window. She places a hand flat on the glass as she peers forward, noting every little detail that her untrained mind is still unaccustomed with. Sometimes, she asks Chrollo questions, and sometimes, she wonders to herself about the foreign world she never seems to know or remember.

Her memories come in dark blurry images in her mind. Most of them confusing and downright frustrating, she spends nights awake and staring at the ceiling. Chrollo's quiet page flipping does its wonders, lulling her to sleep more often than not.

Sensing his gaze on her back, she looks over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow questioningly at him.

Chrollo rises from the bed. He has been there since early morning, perched on his side of the bed and reading to his heart's content. He joins her by the window and rests his forearm against the glass.

Looking outside, he notices the narrow, winding streets and the people strolling with baskets of seafood in their hands. This is a sight and ambiance he could get used to−something peaceful and domestic−but there is nothing peaceful and domestic for the leader of the Phantom Troupe. Never.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, looking down on her. It is half past three in the afternoon, and he mentally scolds himself for missing lunch for both of them.

"A little," she answers with a shrug. "Do we get to go outside, Danchou?"

"Of course." He gives an indulgent smile and pushes himself off the window. "Get dressed," he adds as he crosses the small room and grabs his black jacket.

The world outside their hotel room is a landscape of small houses, each with colorful paints and awnings over wooden stalls. The streets are none too heavy, only plagued by the few merchants and fishermen the little town could afford to have and pay. A mixture of fish scent and salty ocean lingers heavily in the air.

None of those is a concern to Chrollo and Valtiel as they leave the hotel, their arms intertwined. In their two long weeks together, Chrollo has learned that keeping both eyes and hands on the Kurta is the only way for her not to get lost in a crowd. He keeps her hand tucked in the crook of his arm, while his other hand is in his pocket, ready to seize whatever form of money or jewelry he could reach.

It is only a short walk to the café he spotted on the first day. The place is small and cozy, its wooden walls adorned with paintings of the seaside scenery and sunsets. The servers inside welcome the pair with feigned enthusiasm. They judge them both from their clothes, comparing the young man's dark shirt and sleeves to his partner's white blouse and dark blue skirts.

Chrollo ignores their staring and looks up at the menu written in swirling calligraphies. "Anything you want?"

She clamps her mouth shut, though her eyes are roaming around the deli cases inside.

He scoffs at her stubbornness. "Don't worry. I am going to pay real money this time."

She looks at him closer, trying to find the lie in his face.

"Really, Valtiel." He sighs, exasperated. "Is there anything you want? You are free to choose."

"Very well, then." She lets her eyes roam again, noting every careful details on top of the cakes, muffins, and pies. Most of them have strange patterns, topped with a mixture of strange fruits and trimmed with white puff creams. She wrinkles her nose at each of them, and then notices one that appeals to her. "That one, I like that one," she says, pointing to the cake.

He doesn't hesitate. He turns to the cashier and smiles. "We would like to have two slices of that cake, some caramel pudding, and coffee. Would that be all right, darling?" He directs his smile to Valtiel, who raises her eyebrow while pointing at herself.

The female cashier interrupts them. "Would there be anything else, sir?"

He shakes his head and pays for their food using a card. He whisks his companion away from the cashier and picks a table in the balcony, which allows them better view of the surroundings. Like a gentleman, he guides her to sit and smiles all the way as he sinks into his own chair from across her.

Valtiel twirls the credit card between her fingers, her golden eyes boring through his dark ones. She glares as she reads the name aloud: "Alvan Derwood, huh?"

The Spider leader has the grace to smile. "The businessman we passed by in the corner," he says without much care. "I did say I am going to pay for our food, did I not?"

She flings the card at his face and he grabs it without effort. "Very clever."

"Don't fret. You will learn my crafts in due time," he says teasingly, propping his chin against his palm. "As for now, I need you to be agreeable and obedient, and not questioning my actions and decisions. It would cost us too much energy and time for nonsensical arguments. You are part of the Spider, so you cannot act like stealing is too low for you."

"But it is," she shoots back, leaning closer to the table. "Or, at least I think it is." Her voice quavers, and her eyes go down to her fingers, doing anything to avoid his intense gaze. "Did I steal things before? Or, I don't know, hurt and killed people like you do?"

"N-No…" he answers. The surprise of her question knocks some smugness out of him. He stops smirking and leans back to his chair, his jaw set and hard. He knows he has to lie from the moment he found her, until the moment either one of them dies or she starts remembering. His resolve is solid, his lies polished to perfection. "You are a Spider," he says firmly, "but you always have different ideals."

This is better, he thinks to himself, watching her face. She is soothed.

A server arriving with their order saves him from more questions. He nods at the server, ignoring her seductive smile as she leans forward, her breasts pressed atop her tight blouse, trying to entice him with her exposed skin and plump red lips.

Chrollo snorts, fighting the urge to roll his eyes, and tries to catch Valtiel's attention instead, hoping she would see through this pathetic attempt at seducing him. To his dismay, the Kurta is much too engrossed in her cake, too excited to even glance at his direction.

He waves the server away, and she leaves with a frown.

He sips at his coffee and enjoys the silence that falls between them. He wants to think it is because his lie is perfect, but a small part of him also knows that it is only because Valtiel is busy munching on her cake, the crumbs gathering on the corners of her mouth.

"You like chocolate," he observes, saying the words to himself.

She hears him, stops, and nods. "Um, yes, it's very yummy."

He closes his eyes at the childish term. Yummy−who says that these days?

"Are you going to eat yours?"

"What?" He snaps his eyes open again and finds her platter empty. Done already?

"I was hungry," she says in her defense, licking at her fingers. She is too engrossed to notice the Spider head glaring at her bad manners. She keeps licking until the chocolate icing is gone, and then wipes her fingers off on her blue skirts.

She's just as bad as Uvogin. Chrollo caresses the bridge of his nose and heaves a deep breath. "All right. You can have my share, but please don't lick your fingers in public. It is unsanitary and unbecoming of a young lady such as yourself."

Valtiel only smiles. "Does that mean I can have yours?"

He pushes the plate towards her. "Yes, it does."

After their late lunch, the pair walks down the streets to entertain themselves. Well, it is more for Valtiel's convenience, since the raven-haired man beside her is only there to keep her from straying too far. The sea stretches as far as they could see, and the several boats docked on the pier bright with their red, yellow, and blue paints. Few children run past them with curiosity in their eyes, studying the two foreigners−one who looks around herself as if the world is fascinating, and one who seems would rather be inside the house and sleep.

Valtiel leads the way around the unfamiliar town, stopping every once in a while if someone happens to catch her attention. Then she would tug at Chrollo's hand and lead him there, and he would follow, powerless to stop her raging curiosity over every little thing.

When she leads him to an antique bookstore, he stops sulking and his features light up.

A bell dings as they enter, Chrollo opening the door like the gentleman he is. The bookstore is grey and dusty, cobwebs thicker than any Chrollo has seen in his life. The windows are thick with dust and stains combined, and the shelves, he also observes, are in no better condition. An old man stands on the counter across the room, tinkering with an ancient clock.

"Feel free to look around," the man says without raising his eyes off his work. A cigar burns between his lips, dark from the years of smoking. "It's been a while since someone dropped by."

"You are still selling these books?" Chrollo questions. His gaze drifts to every corner of the place. There are only few books left in the shelves, and if there are, they are in a poor condition. In his peripheral vision, the Kurta slips towards the back of the store, away from his close watch.

"To anyone who wants them, yes."

"Then you wouldn't mind if we look around."

"Knock yourself out, boy."

Chrollo lets the insult pass, and plunges himself in the dimness of the store. He mourns the sad state of the books, yellowed pages with hardbound covers ready to come apart at the slightest touch. He checks whatever seems to be in good condition; some are written in a language he cannot understand, others are epic tales of ancient warfare, strategies, and rare others about myths, fairytales, and even a machinery guidebook. He basks in the words, allowing himself to get lost in them. He has in mind to pocket a few of them and stuff them in his jacket.

He moves on towards the next shelf and notices that Valtiel is standing on the other side. Smiling, he removes the thick book that separates them, and Valtiel blinks at him, then smiles.

"Found something you like?" he asks, leaning closer to the shelf.

"I think so," she murmurs. "And you?"

"Several already," he returns with a pointed smirk. "Shall we make our escape now?"

The look she gives him is hard and filled with disappointment. Two weeks spent with Chrollo Lucilfer has taught her that nothing can escape the man's quick hand. Though, even as he steals, she has also learned that he does not steal unless they need it−his new books, the new limousine, the food on their table, and even the clothes they wear. He steals, but nothing too unnecessary.

He purses his lips at her reaction. "Your book," he says instead, "may I see it?"

Reluctantly, she passes her book over the shelf. Her golden eyes turn elsewhere. She does not want to see the look on his face when he finds out what she wants; he is such a professional in anything literary that her simple choice of one might be too easy and embarrassing for him. Ever since the Troupe dispersed, she has not read many books and that makes her wonder if she read books at all before the loss of her memories.

A hum escapes Chrollo's lips. One finger to his chin, he seems drawn to her book.

"This is interesting," he says at length, passing the book back to her. "Take it home."

"You mean steal it?"

"Whatever comforts your fragile pride, Val."

She turns away from him and his smile, knowing the tease and the vehemence masked behind. She might have lost her previous memories, but the memory of Gareth with his chest ripped apart and of Chrollo acting nonchalant about killing him haunts her for days on end. That, and the constant frustrating visions that she gets every night are enough to make her feel on the edge. She walks away from Chrollo as if she could escape him, as if she could find her memories by herself. Yet she knows she needs him. She is part of the Spider, they are her family, they are her only sanctuary and home.

As she moves away, Chrollo follows suit, his dark eyes boring through her. They move in unison until they meet at the end of the shelf, purposely bumping onto each other−Valtiel trying to shake him off while Chrollo blocks her pathway with his larger build. She hits her face on his chest and she looks up, glaring.

"Oh, look," comes his nonchalant voice as he reaches for something behind her. He holds up a black book with a grotesque imagery at the front. A small smile crosses his lips. "Feitan likes his works."

"What?" Brows furrowed, she turns her attention to the said book.

"Take this one, too," he says brusquely, shoving the book to her hands.

Then, without an explanation, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and whisks her out of the bookstore, barely glancing at the old man and his clock in the counter. He leads her back out into the quiet streets, feels her squirm against his firm hold. With a chuckle, he releases his hold on her and puts both hands in his pockets. He blocks her pathway again and peers on her face.

She frowns at the books in her hands. When Chrollo opens his jacket to boast the other books he grabbed, her frown deepens and her eyes darken ever so slightly at him.

"You are a Spider," he repeats his mantra. "This is what we do." And he strides off, letting the gentle breeze stir his raven hair. He knows well enough that despite her misgivings, she would always follow behind him. In a world that seems so unfamiliar to her, following after him is only the option she has.

"Are we heading back?"

"Do you want to?"

"No." She shakes her head. "Can we go somewhere else?"

"As you wish." He is not loath to spoil her, if it means advancing his observations of her. He enjoys her company thus far, despite the little arguments here and there. Again, he tucks her hand in his arm and crosses the road with her, guiding her along the streets that lead uptown.

They pass several buildings and shops, though none of them is interested in entering the shops. They have had enough for today, Chrollo with his stolen books and Valtiel with the man's thieving. Instead, the pair falls into another wave of silence, both seemingly prepared to ignore each other until the end of the day.

Without warning, Chrollo stops walking, his abrupt halt and firmness of grip on Valtiel's hand sending a quick chain of reaction: Valtiel stumbles from the abrupt stop, tripping on her low heels, and flies backwards toward the Spider leader. Chrollo, not ecstatic to damage his Kurta treasure, moves forward to catch her as she falls, but she grabs on to his shoulder instead, the sudden movements banging their foreheads together. While Chrollo feels nothing, the young woman moans at the pain.

She hisses under her breath. "Danchou! What the f−"

He clicks his tongue. "Language, young lady."

"Flipping pancakes," she finishes with a grumble, and straightens herself again. The Spider leader helps her recover by smoothing out her blouse and skirts, tucking a lock of her platinum blonde hair gone astray from her poor ponytail. "Why did you stop so suddenly?"

"More importantly, where did you learn such obscenity?"

Her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She feels like a child caught red-handed and plays with her fingers. When she peeps at him under her lashes, he is still staring and waiting for an answer. "I heard it from someone before," she mumbles.

He tips his head to the side. "Who?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters."

"Just someone from the television." A shrug. It sends a mental signal to the man not to let her watch on her own again. She sighs. "So, why did you stop?"

It is his turn to shrug. "I found something. Come."

Chrollo takes her hand again and they cross another road. They stop before a massive structure with glass windows, ceilings and even columns, refracting the late afternoon sun in thousands of mesmerizing arrays. A crowd gathers at the front of a large poster, and the pair shoulders their way to the front.

Valtiel raises her brow, unable to make something of the poster. "So?"

Dark eyes continue reading the words, until Chrollo has memorized them. "It seems there would be an evening gala tonight, in celebration for the museum's latest masterpieces. We could take a look tonight, see what they are so proud of bragging in front of the public."

She is not impressed. Nothing about him and his thievery impress her. She snatches her hand from his and walks away, bumping onto several people. Whenever she moves, she knows Chrollo is not too far behind. They know each other that much, even without the words.

A hand presses itself on the small of her back−gentle, reassuring. She raises her eyes and meets his gaze. She reads something behind his intense dark eyes, and knows well enough what he wants.

He wants to go home. And she follows, like she always does.

As always, despite her misgivings, Valtiel prepares for the gala. She wears a white lace evening gown with flimsy straps over the shoulders, the backless design reaching down and exposing her spine, and it takes her a moment not to shiver. Her platinum blonde hair is pulled up into a bun, pulled away from her face by a diamond hairpin. She glares at herself before the mirror, half-exasperated and half-annoyed that she has to do this again.

The bathroom door opens, and she turns toward it. Her golden eyes drink in the sight of Chrollo, handsome and elegant in his black suit ensemble and tie. What catches her attention the most is his hair: dark as ebony and slicked back from his head as if proud to show the cross tattoo on his forehead. He smirks at her as he catches her staring, and she snorts.

"You look stunning," he says, nodding to her white gown.

"And you look strange," she counters, still eyeing his hair and tattoo.

"You do not like it? I had thought it would look refreshing."

"For you."

He chooses to ignore the slight edge in her voice and approaches her instead. He fixes her elaborate bun and admires the way the diamond blinks when it catches the light. The tips of his fingers brush her cheeks, his thumb sweeping under her eye, reminiscing the night when they glowed scarlet so brilliantly and angrily. He sighs then, withdrawing his hand, and finishes his preparation for the event.

En route to the museum, he hails a taxi. The night in a seaside town is cold and clammy, still accompanied by the relaxing sounds of waves and boats bumping against each other. Arriving at the museum, people of all classes and cultures start to crowd the place. Chrollo pays the driver his fee−real money, if he can add−and sees the relieved look in his partner's face.

The entrance to the museum is blocked by two armed service men. One of them checks the invitation while the other pats the guests from head to toe.

Chrollo narrows his eyes and momentarily disappears behind a clump of trees, leaving the Kurta standing alone and anxious. When he returns, he does so with a confident smile playing along his lips. He offers the first guard their invitation.

The guard squints his slant eyes at them. "Mister and Miss…?"

Chrollo smiles his usual pleasant smile. "Vermigli," he says.

"Ah, of course." The guard returns their invitation and gestures for his partner to start checking them.

The second guard comes forward and pats Chrollo on the shoulders and around the waist. Then he turns for Valtiel, pauses to double-check her overall appearance, and reaches out for her.

Chrollo grabs his outstretched arm. "That won't be necessary. I would ask you politely to keep your hands off my wife."

With a glance at the first guard, the second snatches his arm from the raven-haired man and nods, stepping back so they could enter. He does not stop glaring until the pair enters through a long hallway, very well out of his sight.

Now that they are out of guards' earshot, Valtiel opens her mouth to speak, to voice against the Spider head's former statement, but gets cut off with a quick "Don't even think about it" from the man himself. She clamps her mouth shut then, swallowing whatever question and argument she has in mind about being referred to as his wife, when they could have gone as a simple couple as they had in Lencasser before. Perhaps the Danchou is in no mood for another debate, since his attention seems much focused on the task up ahead. She understands that part at least; there is no need for a debate now. Later, perhaps, when they return to their hotel.

The gala takes place in an open space behind the museum. The glass ceilings are gone, replaced by the endless stretch of midnight blue skies and silver stars. The garden is wide and packed with guests seated on glass tables and chairs. At the head of the garden, there is a raised platform with a humongous flat screen behind, the screen displaying collages of the museum's newly acquired paintings.

Chrollo chooses the table in the far corner. He only needs the basic information about the paintings. Locating them would be easy afterwards. He directs his attention to his companion, whose golden eyes are roaming the place, from the flat screen to the waiters offering drinks and desserts.

"Enjoying yourself?" He accepts a wine from the waiter and handpicks a small platter of chocolate mousse from his tray. When she turns back to him to answer, her mouth gapes at the sight of the dessert. He expects just as much a reaction, and offers it to her. "You know, you could use some good manners."

"But why?" She shoves a spoonful of the chocolate and closes her eyes at the yummy goodness. She hears another low chuckle rumbling from the Danchou's throat.

"A young lady such as yourself?" He leans back against his seat and raises his glass to her. "Why not?"

The gala starts with an inspiring speech from the museum's directress. She is an older woman with coiffed blonde hair streaked with grey. After her speech, to which the guests start applauding, an elderly curator takes the stage and explains the nature of the new set of paintings. According to him, the paintings showcase parts of an ancient Bible from a culture long since forgotten by time. Chrollo listens with his full heart, while his companion drowns herself with the chocolate mousses and keeps asking for more.

The curator then boasts five paintings, depicting a red, large seven-headed dragon that is believed to consume the world at the end of time. Intrigued and enchanted, Chrollo could not keep his eyes off the pictures on the flat screen, showing the paintings one-by-one.

At the end of the presentation, a small tribal group ascends the stage and performs a dancing ritual considered sacred to their culture. But since their culture is all but forgotten as well, the curator explains that the tribe now performs in the streets to earn money to live.

Chrollo barely touches his food afterwards. The anticipation rises in him, his fingers itching to touch and hold the painting for his trained eyes to judge. A seven-headed dragon, destined to consume the world−how does that not entice him so? He wills himself to calm and looks across the table, for Valtiel.

Already full from the desserts, she watches the performance now, gasping and clapping when the tribesmen spout flames from their mouths and into the midnight skies. Her eyes catch the glow of the flames, the scarlet and the golden mixing together so well.

More presentations come after, although most of them are minor sculptures and jars that Chrollo could care less. He takes his time observing their surroundings, noting every point of entrance and exit, the number of the guards and their weapons, the strange behavior of some guests. One particular guest grabs his attention: dressed in a dark blue blazer and red tie, the man glances at him and Valtiel every so often. Chrollo cannot tell whether the man is cautious of him or is only checking at Valtiel. He would vote the former, considering how anxious the other man appears.

The gala ends an hour before midnight. Slowly, the packed garden starts to empty, leaving only the waiters and janitors to finish their jobs. Chrollo and Valtiel stay behind in their seats, waiting for everyone to leave, waiting for the anxious stranger to make the first move.

Finally, he does.

"Time to go," Chrollo whispers in Valtiel's ear as he takes her hand and leads her out of the garden. He keeps his sight on the man, his steps quiet and even against the marbled floor. Like a predator, he basks at the sight of his prey squirming and sweating, no doubt aware of what might happen to him if he chooses the wrong move.

"Where to?"

"Wherever he goes, I am sure he leads us to the treasures."

Pale as a sick dog, the man hurries towards a corner and races down a long flight of steps.

An explosion sounds from below. Chrollo and Valtiel break into a run after him, though when they turn a corner, they find the guards stationed at the treasure room dead and burned, their black skin sizzling and smoking. Valtiel covers her nose from the stench, while the Spider head forces the metal door open with one powerful punch on the lock.

The door gives way, creaking as it opens to reveal a large sealed room filled with the original paintings, relics, and other treasures shown in the presentation before. The pair enters the room, Chrollo three steps ahead of Valtiel, shielding her from whatever is waiting for them inside.

Two men separate them from the treasures. One of them is the anxious stranger in the dark blue blazer, while the other is a bald man in the black uniform of the guards outside. Both men sneer at the pair.

"What do you want?" demands the first man, still sweating like a sinner in a church.

"What you want," says Chrollo, inching forward. The second man reacts and curls his fists. Chrollo smells their fear emanating from them, and he gives a little shrug. "You must have sensed me as a fellow thief," he says to the first man. "That's why you are so nervous. You are afraid of a little competition?"

"You want to play with us?" the second man growls.

"Perhaps," the Spider head answers, and he means it. He could sense the aura leaking from them, and he could not afford a serious fight between two Nen users with Valtiel behind him. And so to distance himself from her, he approaches the thieves and receives snarling threats. "There is no need for a fight."

The second man raises both fists in the air. Two balls of energy form in his palms. He tosses both of them at Chrollo's direction, and the latter dodges without much effort, landing on the other side of the room. Again, the man keeps shooting Nen balls out of his hands. Chrollo keeps dodging, though at this rate, he is afraid that the treasures would be destroyed.

At the man's final throw, Chrollo closes the distance between them, smirks deviously in his face, and impales him with a blunt spearhead he snatched from one of the sculptures.

"B-Bastard!" The bald man howls in pain. He clutches the deep gouge in his stomach where the spearhead embedded itself. He falls to his knees, his life's blood pooling and seeping to his black pants.

"And you said you wanted to play," Chrollo muses. He allows the first man to attend to his friend's needs, knowing well enough that a wound that deep would only result in death. He looks back at Valtiel, still standing by the closed door, though her expression screams horror and fright from his actions. A frown tugs at his lips, unsure how to make things better for her.

"Brother…" The first man clutches the other's bloodied hand. "Saikhan…?"

"Selenge…" The other returns, breathing faintly.

Chrollo has no plans to hear their final goodbyes. He walks to the living brother, Selenge, with murder evident in his dark eyes. He flexes his fingers, about to use a technique Feitan had taught him during their early childhood in Meteor City. The technique is easy and quick, and requires no unnecessary dramas. Perfect for a situation like this.

Selenge removes himself from his brother's dead body and glares up at the raven-haired man. He starts to unleash a bit of Nen, and then a stronger one, the force enough to make Chrollo blink and Valtiel cower in the unfamiliar sensation of deadly power. Selenge stands up and brings his hands to the air, chanting words spoken in an ancient tongue. Then, his aura takes form−a tail, a spiky torso, and then bony skull of a fish.

Three fish materialize in thin air, wriggling as if begging to be unleashed by their master.

"Indoor Fish," Selenge explains as the white fish circles above his hands. "Carnivorous, always hungry−they feed on human flesh. They like it best of all." His face grows grim and devoid of sympathy. His teary blue eyes notice the young woman at the back of the room, watching. Then a smile on his lips. "You die. Now."

"NO!" Chrollo shouts in a voice so angry it does not sound like him at all. He attempts to outrun the fish, but they are sleek and nimble, gliding through the air. He reaches out for one, seizes it by the tail, and it circles back to him and opens its sharp jaw. He puts his right forearm to fend off the bite.

A pained grunt rattles him as the fish takes a deep bite in his flesh. Yet Chrollo hesitates. He is expecting sharp pain to register in his system, but there is none. The skin around his wrist is torn, the muscles red and taut underneath the slash. His observations are cut short when Valtiel screams and tries to run away from the fish assaulting her.

Chrollo blocks her pathway, scoops her into his arms in bridal style, and jumps to the other side of the room. He lands on top of the crates, eyeing the fish chasing after them.

"Anyone who feels the wrath of my Indoor Fish cannot feel pain," Selenge explains, growling as he kneels beside his brother's body. "And the fish are alive as long as the room is sealed. You can only die once they are gone. We have all night to play, wouldn't you say?"

"Only a fool would show his hand before the game has actually begun," Chrollo mutters under his breath.

"Danchou?" Valtiel cups his cheek, then her hand strays to his wounded wrist, dripping with blood.

"It's fine." He assesses the situation and waits for the fish to attack them. They do not, however, until Selenge orders them to do so. "I would have to put you back on the ground. The way I see it, I have to disable the user first to disable these fish. Can you keep yourself safe until then?"

Valtiel stares at the fish and one hisses back at her. "Sure. It will be fun."

He chuckles and removes his jacket. He puts it over her shoulders to ward off the increasing chill in the atmosphere.

With a curt nod, he jumps off the stack of crates and settles the young woman near the glass windows. At his movements, the three fish open their jaws wide and prepare to sink their bony teeth into his flesh again. He evades their attack, giving chase around the sealed room, rounding towards the front so he could reach the user.

Selenge anticipates such a strategy and sends his fish again to assault Valtiel.

Chrollo, annoyed that his opponent has to prey on someone else, snatches Saikhan's corpse from his brother's fingers, and tosses it at Valtiel's direction.

The body flies across the room and comes in between Valtiel and the fish. The creatures, smelling the blood on the corpse, sink their teeth onto Saikhan instead, feeding off on their master's brother.

A horrified scream echoes inside as Selenge desperately crawls to save whatever is left of his brother. Chrollo yanks him by the collar of his blazer and forces his face to the ground, smashing Selenge again and again, until his nose is soft and bloody, until his teary eyes are filled with nothing but clotting blood. His fingers twitch, prompting the fish to turn their focus from the corpse to the young woman.

The Spider leader is about to come to her rescue−when Valtiel grabs the nearest jar and smashes it against the windows.

An ear-splitting scream echoes again from Selenge, helpless to stop his creatures from fading into dust.

Chrollo smiles in satisfaction and drags Selenge towards the windows. With a devious smile, he kneads the man's face across the floor scattered with shards.

Selenge's screams are both horrendous and a delight. Sweeping his face across the shards, watching the long line of bloody trail on the floor−Chrollo could have gone for more minutes, but Valtiel pushes him by the shoulder to stop him.

Tears stain her golden eyes. The sight catches him off-guard, and he stops abruptly, letting Selenge slide to the floor and weep for himself and his brother.

"Enough," Valtiel says through the tears. "That's enough… Danchou…"

"Val," he murmurs. He never would have expected her to cry, not like this.

"Let's… Let's go home…" When she closes her eyes, more tears fall to her flushed cheeks. "Please?"

He brings a hand to her face and wipes her tears. The gesture is too unfamiliar to him, too tender and gentle that it sends a confusing spark in his system. Yet he continues to do so, if it means she would stop weeping in front of him.

"Give me a moment, then we will go home. I promise."

Chrollo kneels next to Selenge and rolls him over so that his face is turned toward the ceiling. Despite knowing that this might raise some unwanted questions in the future, he summons his Bandit's Secret in his right hand. He feels the sudden interest and confusion rising in Valtiel, but given her current trauma, he knows she would not hound him questions anytime soon.

As part of the conditions of fulfilling the ability, he asks Selenge a few questions about his Indoor Fish ability. Battered and broken as he already is, Selenge discloses everything the man wants to know and puts his hand over the book's handprint.

With that finished, Chrollo leaves Selenge on the floor and approaches the collection of paintings. He identifies those presented earlier in the gala, but only chooses one to steal: a book-sized canvas depicting the seven-headed dragon looming before a blazing sun. He feels a surge of pride for his accomplishments today−the new books, the painting, the new ability, and most importantly, Valtiel crying.

He walks back to her with a small, reassuring smile. "As I promised, we go home now."

Author's Notes: HELLOOOOO, world! It's me coming live at you with some more ChroVal (yes, I am calling these two like this because I'm that lazy to type their full names) m̶i̶s̶adventures. On your left, you will see Dad Chrollo taking care of his youngling! On your right, you will see Spider D̶a̶d̶d̶y̶ Chrollo in his natural habitat of thieving and murdering, with a side quest of making little girls cry and thriving off it. Classic! 💯

About tribes dancing their traditional dances off on streets, these are true in real life. Sadly, their cultures are being drowned out by technology and people choosing more modern things than supporting cultures. I wish I could do more than raising awareness for them.

*xenocanaan - Val will indeed end up giving Chrollo more grey hair, at this rate at least. He's stuck with her on babysitting duty. Haha! Thanks for reviewing!

*polarsky- Thank you for the birthday greetings! 😘 I'm glad Gareth died, too. Such a prick! Ugh. And Valtiel using "I need to pee" is intentional: it does sound a bit coarse and unrefined, but I think it shows off her unrefined way of living before all this (being a Kurta and all, basically an uncivilized person really). It also greatly contrasts Chrollo's sophisticated persona. That, and it also sounds childish, alluding to her childish curiosity about everything she's experiencing. Thanks for asking the question! Also, you're not a native speaker? I wouldn't have known!

*AwkwardBlackCat- She's definitely living the dream! Travelling, good food, expensive dresses, and a handsome escort! The stealing and the murdering are parts of the package too though. If I were her, I'd be willing to overlook the cons. XD I'm glad you liked this chapter!

*Cirrina- Thank you for the double reviews! I love your describing Chrollo as "a mix between gentleman and devil" because he totally is! I'm surprised that some people liked the short FeiVal (yes, I'm lazy) interaction in the previous chapter. They're definitely going to share the spotlight together!

Thank you for reading! Hoped you enjoyed this long-ish and action-packed chapter. Reviews are always welcome! 💕