Chapter XVI

"Are we there yet?"

"Not yet."

"I was talking to Franklin-san."

Chrollo glares up from his book and finds Valtiel smirking at him over her shoulder.

She scoots closer to the driver's seat and peeps behind Franklin's massive build. "Are we there yet?"

"Close." Franklin glances at her on the mirror, and then to their Danchou, who sulks back on his seat and raises his hardbound book so that it covers his entire face. Franklin could not help but smile a little, finding their interaction somewhat strange and amusing. Not one of the Troupe members has the gall to talk back to their leader, but here is the Kurta girl that none of the Spiders respect, teasing him.

"I can't wait to see home." Valtiel returns on her side of the car and looks outside the window. The land is dreary and barren as far as the eyes could see; there are no signs of life or vegetation, no skyscrapers or shops. She cranes her neck upwards and spots few black birds flying around.

"You'd find it warmer than this landscape," Bonolenov, seated on the passenger's seat, comments. He turns back to see her nodding at him. "There's nothing for a while but this wide stretch of land."

"Why is no one developing it?" she asks them. "There's still so much land."

"Because we do not have the resources," Chrollo answers, face still covered by his book. "Meteor City is as spacious as it can get, and the citizens are quite fine with their living space."

"And the Mafia doesn't like the idea of Meteor City expanding," Franklin adds.

"Why not?" She looks back and forth from Franklin to Chrollo. "What is the Mafia have to do with anything?"

"The Mafia means everything." Chrollo turns big, round eyes at her and stares. In that silent communication, his message comes across to the young woman and she nods again, letting her questions end at that. He flicks his attention to Franklin and their eyes meet on the rearview mirror. Once again, his message is sent and a comfortable silence hangs between the four of them.

A few minutes of staring out her window, Valtiel perks up on her seat as she notices a dark, smoky city looming on the lifeless horizon. As the car approaches, she presses herself closer to the window−various people have started emerging from the place, gathering around the entrance, all of them garbed in a wide array of clothes and accessories. Most are adults, dark-faced and sneering, almost reminding her of Feitan. Others, high-ranking ones perhaps, are dressed from head to toe in white protective gears and goggles. Despite the differences, they all gather to meet the car as Franklin swerves it to a stop in front of the crowd.

Franklin and Bonolenov get out first. Chrollo follows, and for one reluctant moment, Valtiel. She has one hand over her heart as she studies each face sneering at her, as if she has done something wrong. This is not home at all. This is not the warm place Bono told her about.

A large, warm hand touches the small of her back. She blinks and turns to Chrollo, her eyebrows knitted together. He only smiles at her−his gentle, reassuring smile−and takes her by the hand towards a small group of masked individuals.

"Welcome back," one of them says.

"It has been a while," Chrollo agrees. He observes the entirety of the place, nodding to the people he recognizes and smiles to those he doesn't. More than a few have come to see them again. "Where's the Elder? I wish to speak with him first."

"Who's the girl?" The man jerks his head to Valtiel.

"That's what I am here for," Chrollo says. He feels Valtiel clutching at the sleeve of his dark suit. His gaze on the short man never flickers. "I need to speak with the Elder."

The man appears as if he would have prolonged the conversation, but then he nods. His small group parts at the middle and he gestures a hand towards a middle-sized church at the heart of the city. "He is in a meeting with the others," the man says. "You can wait for him there."

Chrollo smiles again. "Of course. Thank you." And he turns to Franklin and Bonolenov. "You stay here for a while. I have an important matter to discuss with the Elder. Franklin, Bono−the two of you keep Valtiel outside, make sure no one comes contact with her until I returned. Especially not the adults."

Bonolenov salutes with a gloved hand. "Understood, Danchou."

"Wait−" Valtiel grabs the hem of his sleeve and forces him to face her. She takes a cautionary glance around herself and pulls herself flush against him, to whisper in his ear. "Take me with you."

"I should be back shortly," he assures her. He removes her hand on his sleeve and presses a feather-light kiss on her knuckles, and then gently pushes her back towards Franklin. "Stay."

"I am not a dog," she mutters under her breath, but still loud enough to earn a soft chuckle from Chrollo and a horrified gasp from the two Spiders at her sides. She sighs, holding her hands together, letting the stinking air that has been hanging heavily in the atmosphere, stir her hair.

Franklin's large and heavy hand falls softly on her head. He ruffles her hair a little, eliciting a quiet laugh from her. He grins down. "You let Danchou handle everything, Val. He knows what he's doing."

She purses her lips. Does he? For a moment, she feels as if she has been in the same situation as before−trusting Danchou to do everything while she sits back and wait, like an obedient puppy. She realizes then how much she hates leaving everything to him when she could do things by herself, that she should be treated like an invalid when she has a mind and body to use for herself. Her frown deepens as Chrollo disappears into the church. Her eyes are boring through the church's double doors so intense that she did not notice a pair of children gathered around her.

Blinking, she turns golden eyes to the children's faces. Their eyes are big and round−like Chrollo's−and are filled with brightness and wonder−like Chrollo's. She melts at the sight of them and smiles. "Hi."

"Who are you?" asks a tall boy, dark-haired and grey-eyed.

"My name is Valtiel," she answers, feeling a familiar warmth swell in her heart. "What is your name?"

"I am not supposed to tell my name to strangers," he retorts, very stubborn.

"Hey," comes Franklin's voice filled with authority. "Play nice with her."

The boy snorts and sticks out a tongue at the large man. Then he turns narrowed eyes back to Valtiel. "I saw you arrive with the Phantom Troupe. Are you a member, too? Their newest member?"

Again, Franklin scolds the boy. "Warren, that's too far."

Valtiel shakes her head at the boy's stubbornness. In her eyes, he could be no more than fifteen years old−already quite tall for his age, with a gaunt face and skinny limbs, dressed in rags and wears no shoes. Observing that the children are dressed the same, she rather feels out of place, dressed in an off-shoulder lavender dress and white low-heeled shoes. Why did Chrollo have to insist her wearing such, in a place like this? Then again, the leader himself is wearing one of his elegant black suits.

Suddenly, a young girl of about six years old tugs at her skirts. She has dark blonde hair and bright brown eyes. A ragdoll is tucked in her elbow. "Are you Chrollo's girlfriend, miss?"

"What…?" Valtiel, Franklin, and Bonolenov ask at the same time.

"Well, you arrived with the Spiders and that's the first time Chrollo brought someone back," the girl explains.

"I don't think−" Valtiel sputters, at an extreme loss for words. She flushes in embarrassment and looks over her shoulder to ask for help.

Much to her chagrin, Franklin pretends to be busy scolding some of the children and Bonolenov coughs and whistles. She pouts at their helplessness, before turning back and kneeling in front of the young girl.

Then a mischievous idea pops. "I am not sure if I am even allowed to answer that question. Why don't you ask him when he returns?"

"Oh, okay!" The girl beams, very enlightened.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Julia!" she chirps, and holds up her doll. "And this is Julia!"

Valtiel laughs and points at the little girl. "You both have the same name?"

Julia hugs her doll to her chest, combing the yarn hair. "My mama said Julia is a pretty name, so I wanted to give my doll the same name. Your name is pretty, too, Valtiel. Oh, I know! If I get another doll, I'd name her after you! Is that okay?"

"I would be very honored, Julia." Valtiel smiles and pats the girl's head. "Thank you."

"Where did you come from?" the dark-haired boy asks again.

"I live here."

"You? No way. I don't know you!"

"Warren," Franklin says in a warning tone. The giant steps forward and casts a large shadow over them all. Eyes narrowed, lips curled into a sneer, Franklin has his threat on point. "That's enough."

"It's fine, Franklin-san," Valtiel soothes the large Spider. She faces Warren again and meets his scowl with a smile of her own. The boy continues scowling at her. She could not blame him. "I lived here in Meteor City for a time, and then I went to travel around with the Troupe. I had an accident a few months ago and now I could not remember much of my past."

"You don't remember anything at all?" Warren asks.

"Well, I do remember a few bits, but most of them are still dark." She reaches out to pat his dark hair, but he slaps her hand away and steps backwards. "That's why I came back home, to remember more."

Franklin and Bonolenov exchange cautious glances at each other.

Julia then gives out a gasp of delight and bounces on her little feet. Cheeks burning with excitement, she points an index finger towards the church, where Chrollo is now approaching them. She immediately breaks into a run and clings onto the man's pant leg. "Chrollo!"

The Spider leader chuckles and pats her head. "Hello, Julia. How are you?"

"I am so very good!"

"And how is little Julia?"

The child holds up her ragdoll. "Also good!"

Chrollo's dark eyes soften. "That's good to know," he says and takes Julia by the hand as they walk back towards the others. He meets Warren's dark look and scowl, and decides to ignore the boy. He lets go of Julia's hand as the little girl then jumps to clutch at Valtiel's skirts. "So you've met each other."

"Is she your girlfriend, Chrollo?"

"Wh-What…?"

"I asked her and she won't tell me," Julia explains, sounding a little impatient. Her eyes are wide with a child's utmost curiosity. Even Warren takes a one bold step forward, eager to hear anything new about the Phantom Troupe. Julia blinks brown eyes at Chrollo, and then at Valtiel. "She told me to ask you the same question when you return. So, is she?"

Chrollo glares at Valtiel, who only smirks cattily back at him. In the back of his mind, he knows she must have set this up, either for her enjoyment or his discomfort. Damned woman.

Julia tugs at his pant leg. "So, is she?"

"Are you not far too young about asking such questions?" Chrollo sighs. Questions with this nature are harder to answer than an ancient puzzle. He gazes at Valtiel again, his dark intense eyes on her golden ones, and ever so slowly, his lips smirk. "In either case, I do not think girlfriend is a proper term. Valtiel is undoubtedly more than what a girlfriend is. She is more of a partner." He breaks eye contact with Valtiel and peers down on Julia. "Do you understand now?"

"Yes, I think so."

"I don't." Warren rolls his eyes.

"Why don't you two go back home?" Chrollo prompts. "We have business with the Elder. Go ahead. We can all talk later, if you come visiting us in the church." He watches as Warren takes Julia's hand and leads her away. She waves a hand back to them and Chrollo smiles at her.

Then his smile dies down as he glares back at Valtiel. "What was that all about?"

She shrugs, acting the innocent. "I don't know. She suddenly asked me and I have no idea what she is talking about," she says in her defense, sensing that the man is nowhere amused to be subjected in such questions. She finds it a pity at best: as handsome and gentlemanly as he is, it is a pity Chrollo has no time for romance. "Have you talked to the Elder?"

"Yes, and you're coming inside with me." He slips his hand in hers and leads the way.

"So… partner, huh?" Valtiel peeks at him under her lashes. "Like partners-in-crime?"

"You're not a criminal."

"That's correct, but I do not condone the Troupe's actions. Does that make me an accomplice?"

"Perhaps." A shadow crosses his face as he glances at her. "Though 'partner' is a very vague term, wouldn't you agree? In normal circumstances, a partner can be someone from business−and we are not on a business. It could mean as a team−but we are not the only ones in the team. And as you always say, you are not a member of the Troupe. At best… partner should mean being in an established relationship−"

"Which, obviously, we are not," she interrupts.

"Obviously," he agrees, glowering.

"So, if not partners, then what should we call it?"

"There's the Elder," he interrupts in a hurry. "We can have this conversation next time perhaps."

Inside the church, a small group of short men are seated by the altar. Some are still in their protective gears, others are not, revealing elderly men with thinning hair and white beards. There are seven of them, including the short yet imposing figure seated at the center. He has no gear on, only loose grey robes and a ruby pendant. He is small and bald, with shrunken hands and dreary brown eyes.

Valtiel takes her hand from Chrollo and rushes towards the old man. She wraps her arms around his neck, presses her cheek against his wrinkled temple, and begins to sob. "Grandfather…"

Chrollo quietly studies the exchange.

"My dear girl…" the Elder says in a thoughtful tone. His brown eyes search for the Phantom Troupe leader and a shadow of a doubt seizes his senses. Still, he plays his part well and embraces the sobbing young woman closer, the memories of his own grandchildren long gone flashing back to him. "Oh, dearest Valtiel… You are finally home… Here, let me see you, child…"

"Grandfather…" Valtiel sits back on her haunches, trying to make sense of these strange feelings she has. In her earliest memories she sees him, her grandfather the Elder of the clan, yet now, at arm's length from the only family she has left, something feels odd. Something is not right. Her grandfather is before her, yet she could feel no warmth−only confusion and doubt.

"Do you remember me, child?" her grandfather prompts.

"Yes." She forces the doubt in the back of her mind, and smiles in reassurance. "I do remember you. I remember our home and Meteor City. I remember my childhood with the Troupe members."

"I am relieved to hear it," he replies, running a bony finger across her damp cheek. "I was worried when Chrollo told me about the accident. He warned me that you might have troubles remembering."

"I do, but−" She shakes her head, more tears falling. "I am trying my best to remember. We came back here so I could remember more. Every day there is a new memory, I promise. All I need to do is piece everything back together." Valtiel could hear the desperateness in her voice, almost pleading, almost afraid that Chrollo−and now her grandfather−would be extremely disappointed if she does not remember more. She does not want to disappoint; she does not want to be weak amongst strong people.

The Elder smiles kindly at her outburst. "You should not worry so, my child. You will remember again. Stay here for as long as you like. Or would you leave and travel again with the Troupe?"

She shoots Chrollo the same questioning expression.

"We are planning to stay here for a while," the young man answers. "The Troupe has just finished our series of missions and everyone else is busy doing their own thing. The four of us might stay here for a few weeks."

"That sounds good." The Elder pats Valtiel's hand to calm her. "In those few weeks, I am sure you will remember your family and home. You can wander around and search for something that interests you. You can choose to stay here in the church and help us with the sick ones. You are free here, my child."

"But of course we would need lodging," Chrollo prompts.

"Lodging." The Elder nods to one of the men beside him. The latter stands up and would then start preparing the rooms. "We turned some floors upstairs into guest rooms. You can take four of them."

"We need only three."

"Three? But there are four of you."

Chrollo stares back.

The Elder chuckles, mostly to himself. He glances at Valtiel, and then to the young man's face. "I see, I understand now, Mister Lucilfer. Is this okay, though? A young man and a woman, together in the same bed, without any relationship whatsoever." His eyes harden at Chrollo. "Or am I mistaken?"

"That is something I do not wish to elaborate."

"Ah, then I can ask my granddaughter." The old man pats her hand again. "Is there something between you and Chrollo Lucilfer, my dear? You can tell me, child. You are my responsibility after all."

Glowering still, Chrollo crosses his arms over his chest and waits for an answer.

"I could say that we are partners," Valtiel answers, careful and evasive. She glances back at Chrollo and smiles her devious smile, though she has no plans antagonizing him in front of the elderly. "But not in the nature of business or team partners but… partners…"

"If you say so, then three rooms. Would that satisfy you both?"

"Yes, Elder. Thank you," says Chrollo.

"Good. Then be on your way now." The old man cups Valtiel's cheek and wipes her tear with his thumb. Despite his almost blind eyes, he could still see the youthful face and bright golden eyes. "Dry your tears, child. You are home now. And you will remember everything while you're here."

Sunset comes fast in Meteor City.

The assembly of elders granted them the best and largest room they could offer. It has a twin-sized bed with a small bedside table and oil lamp, a wooden desk and chair pressed to the left. There are no closets, leaving their clothes and other possessions stuffed in their luggage. To the right is a wide window, facing towards the lifeless brown stretch of land and towards the reddening horizon.

Chrollo returns to their room with a sandwich and can of juice. "Here, I brought you something."

Valtiel turns her back against the sunset and rests her hip on the wall. "Where did you get that?"

"Downstairs. There's a group that always volunteers to cook meals for everyone."

"Where do they get the money?"

"I hear they have connections to the outside world. There are times when the Mafia would dump food from helicopters, but that is quite rare." He joins her by the window and sips his coffee. His formal black suit is gone, leaving him with a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow. He observes the sunset for a while, and offers his coffee to her. "Taste?"

She takes a modest sip and hums. "Not bad. I like it."

He smiles and gives her the sandwich. "What do you think of Meteor City?"

"I think it is marvelous, though the scenery is not exactly as I remember," she says with caution and catches the amused glint in his dark eyes. She rolls her eyes at him and continues: "And it is smaller than what I imagined it would be."

"Everything is bigger when you are a child."

"Yes, and I meant to ask you something−" She shoves half of the sandwich into her mouth and points somewhere towards the horizon. "Vas ish thaft pthing?"

"Stop it. That's uncouth, especially for a young lady," he scolds; she giggles and finishes her sandwich. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he could not tell where she learned such bad manners. Did he leave her in Uvogin or Nobunaga's presence for too long that she has adopted their bad manners? Or is she truly like this, even before the retrograde amnesia? If so, then he has much more to change in her.

"So, what is it, Danchou?"

"You know what? Let me show you something. Follow me."

"Where to?" she calls after him, exasperated. "Danchou!"

She groans and follows him out of their room. They race each other towards the church's highest floor.

At the end of the staircase, she spies him opening a barred window. Under his strength, the iron bars bend until there is an opening large enough for either of them. Chrollo steps out first, then offers a hand to her. He heaves her up to the church's flat rooftop. The air up here is fresher and lighter, and the view is a hundredfold better than in their room. The red-and-orange light of sunset spills across the dark blue paint. Chrollo takes her by the hand and they sit on the edge of the roof, their feet dangling in the air.

Valtiel clutches Chrollo's left sleeve as if her dear life depends on it.

"What's wrong, dear?" he croons at her.

"If you haven't noticed, we are too high and if I fall you would have to bury my broken body. And if that is not enough for you, you would have to tell my grandfather how sorry you are for letting me fall, Danchou."

"You think so lowly of me." He chuckles and points to his left. "You wanted to know about that thing in the horizon, right? That is a construction site for more houses. Meteor City has been around for centuries but we never had proper resources and connections until recently."

"Oh?" She blinks. Curiosity overwhelms fear. "Why is that?"

"The Mafia community monitors everything that happens in this place," he explains. "In fact, I would not be surprised if they have a tracker that monitors who enters and leaves the city. They are invested in this place because our citizens do not exist in any records. We are essentially nothing to the other countries. The Mafia benefits from that sole fact: they can hire untraceable assassins and bodyguards for their advantage."

"And in return?" she prompts. "What does Meteor City get in return of human resources?"

He smiles and peers down. A group of children are running around below them. "Weapons."

Her eyes follow his own. In a moment of complete horror, she could see children as young as Warren and Julia tossing pistols at each other as if they are balls. Not far from the playing group is another child tinkering with what appears to be a machine gun. She is too aghast that she could not form the words. She turns to Chrollo, finds him smiling, and still she is speechless. These are children, who should be enjoying life outdoors by playing with friends, not weapons of any sort.

Chrollo takes her hand and kisses her fingertips, as if that would calm her. "You are horrified."

She snatches her hand from him so abruptly that her body almost slips from the ledge. She steadies herself again, her heart pounding with fear once more. "Children with weapons, Danchou? Come on!"

"I know what you are thinking," he murmurs. "But this is something you cannot change, no matter how much you try. And believe me, many before you have tried and failed. This is our way of life for hundreds of years, Val. You cannot change it because you are against it. The people themselves would not stand for a change. Everyone has grown up under these circumstances, under these rules. You cannot change them."

"But that doesn't mean we won't do anything about it," she counters.

His eyebrows furrow. "What do you mean?"

She gestures to the group of children. "Tell me: what do you see?"

He falls silent as he watches them playing. A switchblade gleams as it flies in the air.

"I see children in the prime of their childhood, making what is best with what their life has to offer them. They are children filled with wonder and thirst for the outside world, but a part of them knows they could not achieve it without making big risks. Most children here have no parents and most have to fight to survive−like we did." The thought of it tugs a sharp pain in his heart. "They look forward to a future that may or may not come to pass, if they ever take risks like we did."

Then he finishes and smiles at her. "Your turn. Tell me what you see."

Valtiel's eyes soften at the children.

"I see a future. You know that saying that children are the hope of the world?" she murmurs and he nods, looking at her thoughtfully. "I believe they are. We live in such shambles everyday that we do not know how to make amends. But the children−we can teach them, and they can learn. They can change the world, but they wouldn't know how unless we show them. And that−" She points at the boy with a switchblade−"is not our future. That is war and fear and suffering. They are young now; they can still learn. Instead of a blade, why not a pen? Instead of guns, why not books?"

"I understand now." Chrollo tucks her hair behind her ears and cups her cheeks in both hands. "Have I ever told you how brilliant you are? If I have not, then I am telling you right now." His thumb caresses the apex of her cheek down to her jaw. "You are brilliant and I adore you."

She scowls at him. "Stop mollycoddling me, Danchou. I am not a child."

He laughs and lets her face go. "But you must tell me more about your ideas," he says. "I am interested and I want to hear all of them. If you so think that children are our future, then what do you suggest now? The children of Meteor City number in hundreds of thousands, if not several millions." He notices the doubt in her face and he softens. "You see? That is too much for you to change. One person cannot change the way of life of a centuries-old city, especially something as Meteor City."

Valtiel shrugs. "I can think of ways."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Do you have a plan then?"

"I do."

"Does it include the Elder?"

"Maybe. I won't tell you."

Chrollo offers a quick, critical glare. "Tease."

"I am not one of your Spiders," she reminds him. "I do not have to answer to you all the time."

"Yes, you may not be one of my Spiders, but you are still travelling with us." A gentle wind blows and stirs his raven hair away from his face. Bathed in the red glow of sunset, he appears more peaceful, making it almost impossible to believe that this man could kill at any moment. Then a smile appears in his face; he looks more charming whenever he smiles. "I seem to recall our previous conversation. We are not partners in every the sense of the word, are we?"

"Guess not." She pulls at the ribbon in her hair, and lets the wave of pale silver-gold over her right shoulder. Her fingers comb through the thick, wavy locks, easing through the tangles. "But we're not friends."

"We're not?" He sounds offended, but his mischievous grin says otherwise.

"Well, you did tell Julia girlfriend is not a proper term," she points out.

"Because the term only applies between people who are dating," he explains. "We're not dating."

"Oh, we're not?" She returns the same offended tone.

"Would you prefer it if we are?" He raises a dark eyebrow. "Valtiel?"

With that kind of expression, with that question spoken in a rather husky voice, Valtiel flushes in embarrassment and turns her face away from him. Rather, she keeps her attention working through the tangles, letting the wind stir her lavender skirts.

She does not answer. In fact, she has no answer. She has no idea which card to play−act innocent, misdirect the question, or ignore him. Peeping at him under her lashes and seeing his haughty expectant look, she settles on the second option:

"Oh, I wouldn't presume to be on that level, Danchou," she answers coquettishly. "I am not worthy."

"You think you are not?" he breathes, leaning so close. His index finger takes her chin and prompts her to look at his dark, round eyes. Under the sunset, her golden eyes dance with the red glow. He loves it. "You are unworthy of me, you say?"

"Of the leader of the Phantom Troupe…" Her voice shakes. "Then yes."

"But what of Chrollo Lucilfer?"

He pulls her toward him, his free hand guiding her body as she slides closer over the rooftop's edge, handling her like a porcelain doll. He pulls her so close that she puts up one hand on his chest, to keep the distance. He removes that hand, and holds it away firmly.

"What of Chrollo Lucilfer, Val? Not the leader of the Phantom Troupe. Not the Specialist. Not the thief. Just Chrollo−an orphan boy from Meteor City. Do you think you are worthy of him?"

Valtiel smiles at him, the red glow dancing in her eyes still. "I might."

And he chuckles and kisses her closed eyes. "Of course you are."

That night, Julia returns home with a full stomach. The dinner of sandwich and juice is delicious, though the line had been too long for her. Good thing Warren was there to snatch two more sandwiches. They ate behind an old rusting pickup truck. That is her home, a pickup truck that houses all the toys she has found over the years. She often asks Warren to join her, since sleeping alone in the dark is nasty, but Warren often reminds her that she is not alone, that she has her toys with her, and Julia would go to sleep with that happy thought in her mind.

She arranges her toys in order. Her most favorite ragdoll takes the center, surrounded by lesser toys: cars with missing tires, a spinning top, stuffed rabbit toy with a slash on its side, some building blocks. She has crayons, too, given to her by one of the elders, which she uses to draw images on the walls and floor.

As she fixes her toys, she notices one is missing−her dollhouse.

"Warren?" Julia yawns and scratches her eyes. "My dollhouse is gone. Did you take it?"

But the dark-haired boy is nowhere to be seen. How strange. He usually sleeps in a tent outside the truck, but he is not there. Julia wonders if he found some food in the trash and decided not to share it with her. She really has no care about food, not when her dollhouse is missing.

Then a shadow towers over her. "Little girl? I have something to ask you."

Julia turns to the speaker. He is a young man with blond hair and kind blue eyes. He wears a very good-looking suit. "Who are you?"

"Oh! I happened to pass by," he says. "I have something for you, but first, you have to answer my question."

"What is it?"

"Do you recognize this lady?" He produces an image of a young woman dressed in a dark blue dress.

Her eyes light up. She bounces even. "That's Valtiel, Chrollo's girlfriend!"

The man sounds perplexed. "Chrollo?"

"Yes! They arrived just this afternoon! That's Valtiel!"

"I see." He pockets the image and nods. "Thank you. You've been very helpful." He starts walking away, and then pauses and turns back to her. He waves a hand and says, "Your dollhouse… I found it over there."

Author's Notes: Oops! Sorry I didn't update for last week. Things were quite a bit busy and stressful at work, but all your lovely reviews are always so very uplifting whenever I read them at the end of the day. I can't thank you guys enough for all the support I'm getting from this story! I was meaning to write a Valentine's Day-related chapter, but due to the lack of laptop, I really couldn't write my ideas down. Maybe I could post a special one-shot once I have the chapter finished. I'll let everyone know when it's published.

And so, here we are... where the Phantom Troupe began. We have some insight from Chrollo about the dynamics in Meteor City and consequently, the Mafia. We will learn more as the story progresses, but for now, let's have Chrollo and Val low-key flirting with each other. (◕ᴗ◕✿) W̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶b̶o̶i̶ ̶P̶h̶i̶n̶k̶s̶ ̶a̶t̶?̶ (ง •̀_•́)ง

*Amy - Oh, my! Thanks for the double reviews! Yes, I am doing well, just a bit busy with real life stuff. Haha! The last chapter was indeed kinda disturbing, considering how casually Chrollo thinks of killing Val then and there. 😱 All those gentle acts can turn into a gruesome scene if Val's not careful enough. It's already an abusive relationship... either Val gets out of it on her own or Kurapika will drag her away. Or maybe Hisoka? Hhmm...

*xenocaanan - Thank you! Family and friends meant a lot to Val long before the Troupe got hold of her. No amount of Nen can stop that! Muahaha!

*Dear author - Kurapika will definitely play a role in the future. Can't say what for now, but he would be there. He might be furious, he might feel betrayed... Who knows? As for the age gap, Kurapika was 12 or 13 when he left and Val was 18. Five years aren't so badn right? And yay! Did you say Val and Phinks together? I better come up with a ship name for these two, haha! I'm glad you remembered that her real name is Valaerys. I feels like a lifetime ago. She has always been Valtiel to us for a long time now. Thank you for the excellent review! You have my love!

*Dontcha - Jealous Chrollo is such a delicious moment. He might be my love, but Phinks does have my vote on this one. I also love my Gucci boi Phinks! Let Chrollo have his fun with Val before she gets fed up and maybe run into the sunset with anoher man. 😂

*ChroVal - Definitely loving your username! Sleep is for the weak! Keep reading! Nah, just kidding! I love you and you gotta get enough rest, okay? Danchou wants you to have good rest and good health!

*Mia Mena - Your comment about Chrollo's gentle act fading away was timing to that one time he almost slipped. His unpredictability is jarring. Val won't be best pleased, for sure. They appear to be devoted to each other, but deep down, they have doubts with each other. Also, advanced happy birthday! May you have a wonderful time with your loved ones! Val is also greeting you! ❤

*Eric - Here you go! Hope you enjoy this one!

P.S. Thank you so much, guys!