Chapter XI

Being Chrollo Lucilfer's doll is an odd thing.

One moment there are countless dresses, shoes, and jewelries spread across the floor of their bedroom. Like children at play, they would sit cross-legged across from each other, matching tops to skirts, hats to shoes, earrings to bracelets. Most of the time it is him finding the best match for her, and he sits back and watches her in fascination as she would don the clothes, make a little performance of showing it off to him.

In other times, instead of a delicate porcelain doll that he makes her feel, he sends her at play with their clients. For the past three months, she has learned how to dance at the tune of Chrollo's orders−entertaining, bargaining, and sometimes threatening their clients into purchasing their Scarlet Eyes. There are times when she would simply sit and watch as deals are done, threats are given, money is transferred. In such occasions, she feels truly like a doll−only for show; there for his beck and call, always at arm's reach for his gentle fingers to brush over her cheeks or lift her chin a fraction of an inch.

More often than not, in the dimness of their shared room, Chrollo would sit her on the bed and face her, the glow of the lamp in his handsome face.

"It is a woman's greatest asset that she is a woman," he would say. "She has the greater advantage to any man. You must know how to enchant him, how to turn his head and keep his attention on you, never making him realize that you have entrapped him."

She tilts her head to the side, blinking, mulling over this strange lesson.

He smiles and swipes the pad of his thumb under her right eye. "You have beautiful eyes," he says. "You must know how to use them to your advantage. Any woman can communicate with her eyes, that is true, but an intelligent woman knows what to do beyond that. A lady commands both respect and desire to any man−she can flick her eyes and smile, and he would interpret that as hidden pleasures all at once."

"Why are you telling me this? Do you want me to do exactly this to our clients?"

"Of course. It is good practice, and a basic lesson you must master."

"To use my eyes?" She sounds bewildered. "To catch their attention? It works like that?"

"It works to any man of any age," he explains, kind enough to ease her through her innocence. He should know these kinds of things, being a young man himself, who has travelled the world and seen different kinds of women−the most naïve, the seductresses and temptresses, the stubborn-type of women. He knows them all, and knows that no man could resist a woman who is irresistible. He smiles at her again. "Besides, what man would object a younger woman's advances?"

Valtiel falls silent, embracing a pillow to her chest. And then: "I should advance on them, then?"

He is aghast. "Heavens, no." He chuckles. "Though some men would appreciate a bold woman, I would not want you to be so tempting. You must learn how to lead men on, and then draw back. Keep their sights on you, but forever at arm's length away from them. You are a lady: you can lead him onward, then run away. Make promises. Enchant him. Confuse him. Make him laugh."

She pores over the words again and again.

Chrollo smirks deviously. "And I will teach you how to do it."

The lessons are thorough, very thorough, when it comes to the Phantom Troupe leader.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Tonight should be no different.

It is their final transaction after three months of going back and forth across the continents, sleeping in either expensive hotels or rural cottages. Tonight, they are staying in the most expensive hotel the metropolitan city could offer. The place reminds her of Lencasser, only this one is perhaps a hundred times more sophisticated and elegant, too big with bright lights and breathtaking cityscapes.

"Are you ready?" Chrollo's familiar voice comes from behind.

Of course, his voice is familiar now. Too familiar in fact. For three months, she has not known any other man but Danchou−heard no one, smelled no one, saw no one but Danchou. Her life since her memories disappeared has revolved around him.

She rises from the bed, the soft fabric of her skirts falling across her bare thighs. Her platinum blonde hair is twisted thickly in a bun, high behind her head, contained inside a jewel-encrusted net. She has a sapphire worth a fortune in her earrings. Her sapphire necklace glimmers between the valley of her breasts. Chrollo has chosen her attire for tonight, a deep blue strapless dress, especially for the occasion.

Dark eyes critically observe her. He has one finger under his chin, a low hum rumbling in his throat.

"Is this not okay?" Valtiel asks, rather insecure at his intense staring. The low neckline already makes her feel too exposed for her liking. She keeps still so as not to cover her exposed shoulders and arms.

"You are stunning as always," he quips, "but I am worried about your neckline."

"You and I both."

He chuckles and approaches her. He falls silent as he tries to think of alternatives for the exposed skin, but his usually sharp mind could not think of anything else. He is distracted by her eyes, wide and round as she looks up at him and waits for his amendment of the current problem.

He grabs his dinner jacket and puts it around her shoulders. "Okay?"

"No." She shrugs the jacket off, glaring at him. "We won't convince the client if I am wearing that."

"Then you admit you're fine going there are you are now." He smiles, glad that she is participating.

"We asked for this." She shrugs, thinking back on the tedious process of securing this meticulous client. Just the mere thought of it sends shivers down her spine. Perhaps she should take the jacket offer. Or not.

"Let's go now. Better earlier than the client."

With a possessive hand on the small of her back, he leads her out of their hotel room and hails one of the passing cabs. He sets the large box of the Scarlet Eyes across his lap, feeling the weight of five pairs and one dismembered head of a young Kurta. He had been careful not to let Valtiel see the head, for fear and caution that it might trigger some old memories that are best forgotten. His experimentation on her is not yet finished; in fact, it has barely begun.

The cab stops in front of a multi-story club, another high-end place in this city. He pays their fee, clutches the treasures in his left hand, while offers the right to Valtiel. She takes his hand in hers, and with a blink, he realizes that she is shivering with nervousness.

"You'll be all right," he whispers in her ear, as they pass through entrance doors.

He peels himself away from her, only for a moment, to let the burly guards check his person for weapons and bombs. He shows them a fake identification card and sidesteps them. To his relief, no one stepped forward to check on his female companion.

She links their arms together, leaning the length of her body against his. "This is our worst transaction yet."

Despite himself, he laughs. "But our most expensive, too."

"It would have been better if our client is not some old pervert with a fetish for young women."

"Now, now," he coaxes her sharp tongue. In the last three months, her usually sharp tongue has indeed gotten sharper. "It would be better if you present yourself as calmly and professionally as you could, like you have always done before. You are a lady, not some random girl on the streets. You must command respect from him."

"Hm? Is that so?" She raises her eyebrow at him. "You make it sound so daunting."

"Not at all." He smiles as they come through another door. The hallways grow dimmer with each passing step. The further they walk, the louder an energetic music rumbles. "To you, nothing should be so daunting. You are a Spider, after all. We do not bend or break."

"Shall I get a spider tattoo on my back, too?" she teases, but more to ease her nerves.

"No." He frowns at the thought of her porcelain skin blemished with ink. He wants the last Kurta in the world to be pristine. Untouchable by all but him.

"Danchou?" She blinks up at him.

"Hm?"

"You went quiet."

"Oh... You should not worry too much. I promise to keep an eye on you every step of the way."

The club looms before them now, all red-blue-green lights flashing in different directions, hurting their eyes. The upbeat music from the loud speakers makes her head nauseous. Dozens and dozens of people are all clad in leather or skimpy clothing, boots, and glittering silver necklaces. It is so crowded that is it hard for them pair to pass by some people without being bumped into or shouted at for interrupting a dancing session between couples. Chrollo smiles and apologizes to them all, pulling his partner towards a quiet corner of the bar for some respite.

For the first time in months, Valtiel wrinkles her nose in disappointment.

"What kind of place is this?" she shouts over the loud beat of the music.

"A club, though I wouldn't expect you to understand," he says and snaps his fingers for the barman. He whispers a series of drinks in the barman's ears and slips a wad of cash over the counter. He turns back to her and grins at her almost disagreeable face. "Val, a lady does not frown so."

"How could I not?" she snaps, the clamoring noise making her head ache. "I would rather stay in our room and read books, wouldn't you?"

"You and I both," he agrees, quoting her own words, earning a snort from her. He puts a hand on her knee and leans close to whisper. "Our client should be here in a moment. Give him time. Besides−" Smirking like a handsome devil, he fishes out a small hardbound book from his jacket− "I brought entertainment."

"A book inside a club?"

"Why not?" He finds his bookmark and begins reading, chin propped onto his palm.

Resentful that he should ignore her in a place like this, Valtiel leans over his shoulder and reads with him. She rests her chin on his right shoulder, their cheeks pressed together. If Chrollo ever reads too fast and flips a page too early, she would tug at his sleeve and he would chuckle, return to the previous page, and wait until she finishes. Somewhere along the lines, the barman serves their drinks and disappears again.

Valtiel reaches for the glass, but Chrollo snatches it far from her reach. "Hey! What gives?"

His lips spread into a smile against the rim of the glass. "You're not drinking. You have a client, remember?"

"Oh, come off it."

"You come off it."

"Danchou!"

"Yes, beautiful?"

She clamps her mouth shut and scoots away from him as far as her seat could allow. She turns her attention back to the ongoing party, somewhat envious that the people around her age are having fun in their own yet strange way. A sudden thought comes across her mind then−what would it be like if she's the one dancing there, surrounded by strangers? Would Danchou even allow that? Does she even know how to dance? She never knew she could cook before she tried. Perhaps dancing is the same and−

"Don't even think about it."

"Think about what, Danchou?" she fires back with a little pout.

"I know that look," is what he says, but his eyes are glued to the brittle, yellowing pages of his old book.

"Don't you dance?" She shivers, sending goosebumps on her shoulders and arms.

"Not dances like these, no."

"What kinds then?"

He looks up and meets her curious gaze, sees the petulant pout on her lips. "Ballroom dances."

Suddenly, his phone vibrates. He checks the screen and the smile on his face vanishes. He discards his book and picks up the Scarlet Eyes from the counter. He shoots her an expectant look. Time to work.

Valtiel follows closely behind as they weave through the crowd, crossing the dancefloor and heading towards the other side of the dark place. There, near the stage, is a group of three young men dressed in black tuxedo ensembles like Chrollo. Two of them look more like bodyguards, while the man at the center is fair-haired with hazel eyes and an easy smile. He immediately recognizes them as he nods to Chrollo and shakes hand with him.

They share a few whispered words between them, ending with Chrollo nodding. Then the man turns his full attention on Valtiel, sidestepping the Spider head as if he is nothing but a commoner, and smiles and offers to kiss Valtiel on the cheek.

She gives him her hand, but her golden eyes are glaring at Chrollo.

"My name is Mark," the young man says. "These are my companions, Caz and Brecker."

"Valtiel Eleison," she returns. "We're here for the Scarlet Eyes, no?"

"We are." Mark laughs, throwing his head back. When he calms, he snaps his fingers and the two bodyguards take the parcel from Chrollo. "Mister Eleison and I have agreed that the Scarlet Eyes would cost 5 billion for each pair, while a head with the Scarlet Eyes costs 10 billion."

"Yes." Chrollo steps closer to them both. "In total, 30 billion Jenny."

"Exactly," Mark beams at him. "But there's a catch; Mister Eleison and I already agreed to this."

His cheerful gaze lands on Valtiel. Without any thoughts on subtlety, his hazel eyes roam over her shoulders, the sapphire necklace over her chest, the deep blue skirts dancing about her knees. He nods in appreciation−much to Valtiel's increasing nervousness and to Chrollo's deepening annoyance.

"My boss promises to add another billion if Miss Eleison here comes with me to meet him."

"Right," bites out of Valtiel. "So I heard."

"You're not happy about it?" Mark cocks his head to the side.

Behind him, Chrollo stiffens at the possible sharp answer his partner might give.

Instead of her usual snide remarks, she smiles sweetly and even manages a little laugh, demurely covering her mouth as she does.

"It would be my utmost pleasure to meet him," she says.

Chrollo lets out the breath he doesn't notice he's been holding.

Mark then places a hand on the small of her back, taking Chrollo's usual spot by her side, and orders the bodyguards to stuff the Scarlet Eyes into their car. According to him, the payment would be transferred later when Valtiel is done meeting with their client and his boss.

As she and Mark are exiting the noisy club, she glances over her shoulder for Chrollo. He simply nods, though his jaw is set and his eyes are darker than usual. He would be with her every step of the way, but first, there is a strong Nen user somewhere in this club that he has to find.

A black limousine awaits outside. Valtiel shuffles inside with Mark, Caz and Brecker taking the driver and passenger's seats up front. Mark drapes an arm over the seat's back, inches from her skin.

"So, are you and Mister Eleison together?"

"Oh, no," she says, finding the question quite rude to begin with. "We are… acquaintances…"

"Acquaintances," he drawls, amused. "It feels something else to me though."

"Ah, then your feeling is unfounded, good sir." She flashes golden eyes at him, her voice playfully on the edge, and then her fair lashes sweep down her cheeks as she looks down. Instead of a doll or a lapdog, she feels more like a harlot passed between different men. Danchou must pay dearly for this insult.

"Judging on how easily he let you go, I would believe yes: you are acquaintances."

"It is as you say," she says aloud, but her mind screams.

A few minutes later, the limousine stops before a grandiose hotel. Valtiel's eyes widen as she comes face-to-face once more with the hotel she is sharing with the Spider head. So this is where their client is, after all? Her subconscious laments that she has to suffer through the noise and blinding lights in the club when they could have arranged a meeting here in the first place. Perhaps Danchou did not know their client's whereabouts, which should shock her all the more. Danchou knows everything, down to the last insignificant details. This could mean trouble for her.

Anxiously, she searches left and right for him. He promised that he would keep an eye on her. He should be around here somewhere, stalking them as a predator would to a prey.

Mark intertwines their arms as they enter together. He takes her to the forty-fourth floor.

"Welcome to the prince's suite." Mark opens a door that leads to an extravagant room−possibly the most extravagant Valtiel has ever seen in her life. "The prince is waiting for you in the living room," he adds, pointing to the right wing of the suite, hidden by purple velvet curtains with silver ropes.

"Make yourself comfortable," he says after a while.

"O-Oh, thank you." She nods her thanks and feels quite alone when Mark shuts the door. What now?

The spacious room doesn't look like someone is here. She allows her sight to roam around the place, admiring the gilt-edged paintings and porcelain jars inside glass cages, the ancient armor standing by the couch, the crystallized chandeliers and rich velvet carpet. Her formal attire might not match the club earlier, but in a place like this, she looks the part.

She spots an extensive bookshelf and immediately approaches it. There are many volumes written in swirling calligraphies, old tomes with flaky covers, scrolls and scrolls of some religious teachings. An unbidden smile graces her features. She thinks of Chrollo, how he would riot to be in her stead.

She notices an extensive collection of scrolls and illuminated manuscripts. Curiosity piqued, she runs her fingertips over the delicate papers and reads some passages. It discusses something about ancient warfare and leadership. She turns to the next page, then the next, and another page… until footsteps resonate from the other side of the suite.

"You are a fan of Han Feizi?" a voice asks.

She flinches and steps away from the shelf. "My apologies," she mutters.

Across the room, holding the purple curtain off his face, is a young man about Chrollo's age. He has pale blonde hair and a thin moustache. If he is a prince like Mark says, then this man does not show it. He wears a simple cream tunic over his turquoise shirt and pants. The only indication of his extreme wealth is a golden belt around his slim waist; it is embedded with multi-colored gems, putting Valtiel's sapphires to shame.

The prince smiles warmly as he comes nearer. "Please, don't be shy. I'd love to hear your opinions about Han Feizi's works. I am especially intrigued in his philosophical approach regarding human nature and political methodologies."

She glances at the collection he is referring to, and returns the warm smile. "I am more curious about his stance in the warring periods of his country, which his predecessors have all experienced," she explains, bluffing her way through the conversation with what little information she read before he appeared.

"I have a feeling you and I would enjoy each other's company." He fetches the box of Scarlet Eyes.

"Likewise, Your Highness." She bows.

"Oh, please." He snorts, waving her bow with his hand. "Let us have this conversation in the presence chamber. I want to hear more of your opinions from many other subjects. I do love hearing from the common folk. Come, sit with me."

He takes the Scarlet Eyes to the nearest mahogany table and pulls at the ribbons. He holds one canister in his hands, rotating it around and around so as not to miss an inch of those glimmering crimson irises, the way their eyes are vivid under the crystallized chandelier light.

Smiling, the prince sets the canister down and draws her to an elegant couch. "Would you like a drink?"

Remembering that Chrollo had once forbid her to drink, she nods, only to spite him. "I would be grateful."

The prince fetches a wine bottle and two glasses. He serves her one. "My name is Tserriednich, Prince of the Kakin Empire. And yourself, my lady?"

She almost chokes at the dreadful taste of the wine, having never to taste one because Chrollo said so. The wineglass easily goes forgotten in her hand. "I am Valtiel Eleison. I come from Meteor City."

"Meteor City? Interesting. I heard so many great tales about it. I pray you tell me more."

"Unfortunately, I couldn't, Your Highness."

"And why is that?" he asks again, his voice kind.

"I lost my memories three months ago," she confesses. In the back of her mind, she remembers the Phantom Troupe members back in the church, how she would accompany Omokage in search for white lilies, with Nobunaga and Uvogin as her unwilling bodyguards. "I had been in an accident, and I don't remember much about the past, except for what my friends tell me."

"Tragic," the prince agrees. "Then let's talk Han Feizi. You like his take on the Warring States period?"

"Who wouldn't?" she counters, and his dark eyes gleam with amusement.

In the back of his mind, he has decided that he already likes her.

For hours on end, they speak about a variety of subjects. The prince is well educated on known subjects, and it is only Valtiel's layman's knowledge about them that allows her to breeze through each conversation. She has to thank Chrollo's books for helping her bluff her way around, misdirecting a hard question from the prince with another question or a witty remark that makes him laugh for a few moments, and then forget what he is asking for in the first place.

Such an unexpected turn of events that Chrollo's lectures could actually be put into good use. She should read his books more often, or listen to his senseless ramblings in the wee hours in the morning.

"You are quite a pretty sight, are you not?" The prince traces the curve of her face with his fingertips.

"Th-Thank you, Your Highness." Humility becomes her. She has no more words for him. Discreetly, she glances at the clock on the far side of the wall, wincing to herself. 11:37 P.M. So three hours have passed. Again, the anxiety kicks in. Where is Danchou?

"Come back to Kakin with me," Tserriednich says out of blue.

"I am sorry?"

"I could use a good conversationalist like yourself in the palace. I have no use for men who curse every time they breathe, or for women who call themselves by name." His calm face contorts into a maddening one, reminding her of Omokage's wild eyes and maniacal grin. His hand shoots out from under his long sleeves, gripping Valtiel hard around the wrist, forcing her towards him. When she struggles, he pulls harder, dragging her across the couch.

"Your… Highness…?"

"Come to Kakin…" His breathing becomes labored. "We will use Han Feizi's teachings to destroy the world."

"I couldn't− I am not−" She struggles yet again.

Anxiety turns into a sharp pang of fear. And resentment for Chrollo. How could he leave her to such a deranged man? Is this all for the 31 billion Jenny their client promised? Her wrist starts to hurt from the prince's grip, drawing red lines on her skin. Tears prickle from her eyes.

"Please, I'm not−"

"YOU!"

Tserriednich growls and holds her around the neck. He brings her face close to his, noses brushing against each other. He glares into her eyes, admiring the golden flecks amongst the golden irises. But something else flickers. Under his meticulous observation, the golden flecks are slowly turning into a different hue. Too faint to notice at first, then there it is. As if creeping from the shadows, he sees it: the slow turn of gold to scarlet.

Like a man in a dream, he turns away from the young woman and searches for his latest collection. The Scarlet Eyes. He bends over to one canister, comparing the scarlet hue from this one to hers, and starts to chuckle to himself. His shoulders are trembling with excitement to this newfound information. He could almost feel his own mouth salivating at the thought of it.

He faces her again. At this distance, the scarlet is not too visible in her eyes. She is not scared enough, he realizes. Not scared or threatened or hurt enough for him to earn a reward: her Scarlet Eyes.

"You must return to Kakin with me," he reiterates.

"You must excuse me, Your Highness." Valtiel stands from the couch. When she does, the prince's maniacal face darkens, threatening her. Her blood runs cold, her legs unable to move. She puts one fist above her hammering heart. "I am very honored by your invitation−"

"It is an order, not an invitation." He growls again, louder.

"A commoner is not worthy of such an honor, my prince." Again, misdirecting. Turning his anger to vanity.

He considers for a moment, and then: "You would cease to be a commoner shortly after arrival."

She shakes her head, backing away from him. She could run to the door, supposing Mark did not lock it earlier. Or she could stay here and suffer his crazed advances. She notices the corkscrew he had used to open the wine bottle. It is not much, but within reach. She saw Chrollo kill annoying people with just a ballpoint pen before; a corkscrew should do better.

More importantly, where is the Danchou?

"Come here now, my lovely Kurta."

He saunters toward her, opening his muscular arms in a dismissive gesture.

Once more, she shakes her head. This time, she takes her chances.

To hell with Chrollo and his promises.

Valtiel grabs the corkscrew from the silver tray and races to the door. She screams when Tserriednich grabs her around the waist, lifts her high above the ground, and spins her further inside the room. Legs kicking wildly, her high heels scratch against his thigh and he cries out, releasing her. She slashes the corkscrew between them, forcing him backwards, but the wide grin on his face says she entertains him.

The prince lunges and tackles her down to the couch. They roll off and struggle on the carpet, all scratching nails and kicking legs while Tserriednich only laughs and evades her futile attempts. At her last slash, the corkscrew slices across his broad chest, eliciting a little grunt of pain. He draws back to watch his tunic stain a deep red. Valtiel, desperate and scared, delivers a back kick to his bleeding chest and scrambles back to her feet. She wobbles as she stands, kicking away the high heels to Tserriednich's face.

To her utmost relief, the door opens. She sobs while on her way to the elevator. Caz and Brecker are not here to guard the entrance points. Behind, the prince catches up, chasing after her like a man possessed.

She pounces inside the elevator and frantically pushes at the buttons.

Tserriednich appears on the other side, but does nothing to stop her. He simply stands there, eyes glazed with dark abandon and a promise that he would return for her.

Shaking, she embraces herself and slides to the elevator floor. Tears are clouding her vision as she watches the numbers go from forty-four to her floor with the Danchou.

After what feels like forever, Valtiel emerges out of the elevator and locks herself inside her shared room with Chrollo. It is so dark inside that only the moonlight gleams between the thin curtains. Her heart still beats so fast and wild that she has no means to calm herself but sit at the foot of the bed, embracing Chrollo's pillow to her chest. Her tears are just as uncontrollable, streaming down her flushed cheeks no matter how much she wipes them away.

What if the prince finds her here? What if his bodyguards take her away? What should she do then? Does she have a weapon she could use in here? Where is Danchou?

The door creaks open. Her breath hitches in her throat.

A familiar shadow enters. It does not bother turning the lights on. It just lets out a tired sigh.

Her heart skips a beat. "D-Danchou?"

Chrollo stops by the door, frozen. Even in this dim lighting, he could tell how distraught she is. One look at her messy hair, skewered dress, lack of shoes, and purple bruises on the neck and red lines on her arm is enough for him to unleash a vehement Nen.

She shudders at the strange sensation of his malicious aura.

He wills himself composure and kneels on the floor before her. As if acting on pure instincts, his thumb wipes under her eyelids, his palm sweeping the tears away. He is in such a state of shock and anger that he could not form the words, eloquent as he is.

"Where were you?" comes her shaky voice.

"I was−" His eyes spot traces of blood on her collarbone− "fighting someone…"

"Did you win?"

"I always win."

Valtiel heaves another shaky breath. She only nods, noticing that he is in no better condition than she is. In fact, he looks somehow worse.

His dinner jacket is torn and tattered at the sides, his inner white shirt peeking between the gashes. His raven hair is a wilder mess than usual, and he has light scratches and dust on his cheeks. A short gash bleeds across where his shoulder meets neck.

She wants to scold him for leaving her behind like that, for chasing after his own twisted amusement while a dangerous prince is threatening her, but she does nothing aside from wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and sobbing against the curve of his neck.

Chrollo wraps his arms around her waist and adjusts their positions so that he is standing from the floor, the young woman being lifted gently with him. He backs themselves towards the head of the bed and lays her on his pillows. He props himself on his elbows as he hovers above her, the lengths of their bodies pressed together, his legs trapping hers in between.

He leans down and presses a soft, experimental kiss on her forehead. Yes, he has done it several times during their acts as couples, which means nothing. But now, it means everything. Chrollo cups her cheeks in both hands as he presses another kiss on her temple, then to her ear. Moving to the other side of her face, he kisses her temple and ear as well. His lips travel downwards, to her nose, pressing a rather lighter kiss there, though he does brush their noses together.

"I am sorry," he whispers. "I failed you. I am so, so sorry that I have no words."

His thumb sweeps underneath her bottom lip, his dark eyes focused on the movements of his thumb. He could feel her body tense under his gentle caresses, and he knows she is holding her breath in this close proximity. Still, he implores for more, kissing her on the cheek.

"I should have been more responsible," he says.

"Why did you have to fight?" she asks, trailed off with a sigh when his lips nip at her jaw.

"Someone was very strong in the club. I had to fight him and steal his ability."

Her eyebrows furrow. "Steal his ability?"

He nods against the slope of her neck, one hand working on the tangled platinum locks, to clear them away from her right shoulder. He dips down to kiss her shoulder, the sensation of her squirming beneath him as enticing as discovering new books. He wants to read and explore her like one of his books, take care of her and make sure she is in the best condition possible.

"Tell me what happened to you," he demands with a low growl.

"The prince−" She chokes back a sob, remembering the horror of confronting him alone. He hushes her with another feather-light kiss on the temple. "He is a monster. He wants to bring me to Kakin with him."

"Kakin?" Chrollo pulls back and stares down on her.

"He said I'm a good conversationalist for him."

A shadow crosses his handsome features. He grounds his teeth. "Shall I kill him for you?"

Her hand reaches out for his cheek; her thumb grazes over his own scratches. "He's not worth it."

"Are you sure? Killing him would be easy. Give me three minutes−"

"It's fine, Danchou. It already happened. Besides, we agreed to meet with him, remember?"

"But to expose you to danger is not what we agreed."

"You were supposed to make sure of that," she points out, eyes glued to the ceiling. "But you didn't."

That quite knocks him off his perch. But of course she has a point.

Swallowing his pride, Chrollo merely nods. He rises from the bed and turns away from her. He stands and starts removing his destroyed clothes, from the jacket to the shirt, and tosses them into the bathroom. He disappears inside, the shuffle of his clothes unmistakable.

Valtiel moves to rid herself of her dress, too. Her skin has already been exposed to too many elements that she feels quite disgusted with herself. The men's incessant staring, Tserriednich's hands and blood−all of them are making her queasy. But as she slips the fabric off her legs, her cheeks grow warm from the sensation of Chrollo's lips ghosting over the very skin the other men spoiled for her.

She finds herself a pink satin nightdress and rolls on her side of the bed, back against Chrollo.

He changes into his pajamas and slides under the blankets. Normally, he would turn the lamp on and read until early morning, but it seems something has rotten his appetite for reading. He grunts in the darkness, trying to find the perfect spot, when his arm suddenly snakes around Valtiel's waist and pulls himself flush against her, his chest to her back.

"I am sorry," he says again.

"It's fine." She feels for his arm and finds his hand.

"My priorities were askew tonight. In the end, you paid for my mistakes."

Silence on her end.

"I will make it up to you. I promise."

"Of course you will."

A slight shift on the bed from behind. His hold on her tightens.

"Turn around for me?" Chrollo asks.

She gives in, too emotionally spent to give another good reason for an argument. She rolls to face him, resting her cheek against his outstretched arm, and starts to doze off. She could feel gentle fingers working through the tangles of her hair again and tucking them behind her ear. The arm around her waist returns, pulling so ever closer that their legs are now laced together underneath the blanket.

Another kiss on the forehead and another, "I am sorry."

She groans, opening one eye to meet with his concerned look. "One more apology and I will−"

"I am sorry."

"Danchou!"

"What?"

"Sleep," Valtiel mumbles, nuzzling against his neck. "I'm too tired for your games."

"Tomorrow, then." He chuckles and closes his eyes, his arms tight around her.

An hour after drifting off to sleep, his phone vibrates on the nightstand. Careful not to wake the girl in his arms, Chrollo reaches out on the other side of the bed and reads a text from their client.

01:12 +81-717-37564: Thank you for the wonderful treasures. I have sent 40 billion Jenny into your account, in lieu of what happened to the lovely Miss Eleison. Please do inform her that I want to see her again.

His mood darkens all at once.

01:13 Chrollo: The next time you touch her, I will dismember you.

01:13 +81-717-37564: I look forward to that, and to Miss Eleison's lovely Scarlet Eyes.

Chrollo starts up from the bed, glaring at his phone and cracking the edges at his firm hold. A low rumble comes from his chest, his fists curled in the sheets. Is this why the prince hurt her? Did he see her Scarlet Eyes activated? To what extent? What measures did he have to use? He has to know.

And to think that someone else−other than Chrollo himself−has touched Valtiel. It riles him up, boils his blood hotter than anything he could have imagined. Valtiel belongs to him. How dare this prince touch her, tarnish her? The mere suggestion that someone else might have gotten his way with her deserves a visit from the entire Phantom Troupe. But he keeps his face stoic: the only indication of his inner turmoil is the growing dark scowl on his face.

Unknown to him, his outburst wakes the Kurta. "Hm, Danchou? Everything okay?"

He covers his face with one hand, trying to get his bearings. Then he smiles as he faces her.

The long hair is rumpled over her shoulders, her eyes bloodshot from crying and hazy from sleep. Such a rare treasure to find in his bed and within arm's reach.

He stretches an arm around her and plants a kiss on her forehead. He pushes her back to the bed with him. It only takes a while for Valtiel to fall asleep again. He takes his phone once more.

01:37 Chrollo: She is mine, as you may already know. I should like to see you try to get her.

01:38 +81-717-37564: Challenge accepted. Sweet dreams, my friend.

Author's Notes: Hoo boy! That was some intense chapter! Anyone who follows the manga knows who Prince T̶e̶r̶r̶o̶r̶S̶a̶n̶d̶w̶i̶c̶h̶ ̶Tserriednich is. In my opinion, his personality is quite frightening, so I hope I did some justice with how I portrayed him in this chapter.

Also, damn! Danchou got wrecked by Tserried! Vows to himself to have his "treasure" all by himself, but Tserried gets to see the Scarlet Eyes. Checkmate, Chrollo! So, the Danchou tries to recover by getting all physical with her. Real smooth there, Danchou. 😓

*xenocanaan - Thank you! Hoped you enjoyed this chapter!

*AwkwardBlackCat - Oh, yay! It's nice to read form you again! And wow, what a long review! I'm glad that you've been enjoying the past few chapters and picking up with the subtle hints in their behavior. And yes, I really found a way to get them into high school! Super shady business going on in there. 😎 And I'm laughing whenever I read Val's "tv priveleges" and Chrollo's "dress-up Val privileges". These two nerds gotta stop giving each other privileges! Haha.

*Amy - Thank you so much!

*Evan - Sorry it took so long, but here it is! You think it's suspenseful now? Just wait until Kurapika finally shows up! I bet this little angery boi will go ballistic, will punch people left, right and center, will go absolutely batshit crazy, when he finds out what Chrollo's been doing to Val. Okay, that might be too intense, but the thought is there! 😂 Thanks for the review!

*minfay - She's gonna end up exasperating the Danchou! Haha.

Okay! That's all for now this week! I hope you guys enjoy your Friday and your weekends! I'll be sure to enjoy mine. Please don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think! 💕