Chapter XIX

"Gone?"

The prince's voice does not raise above its usual whisper.

"What do you mean by gone?"

One of his subordinates in the underworld stands behind the imposing desk.

With his face turned towards the glass window, Tserriednich could see how fear reflects in his captain's eyes, how well the moonlight shines upon the sweat upon his brow. He basks in this moment, asserting dominance to a weakling, seeing the pathetic purse of his lips as the captain sputters for an answer.

Tserriednich swirls his red wine before taking a sip. "Have you gone mute as well as stupid, Captain?"

The captain flinches and straightens himself. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but we have lost track on the target. I did as you asked; I sent the lowest families to Meteor City to acquire the target but−"

"Somehow, they managed to get past you," finishes the prince, sounding none too pleased. "Meteor City is nothing too special, just a piece of barren land meant for trash, like its people. How could you let the target leave your sight, when the city is not as large as Kakin's capital?"

He rounds towards the captain and glares at him with his glazed dark eyes. "You lost my Kurta, Captain."

"My sincerest apologies, Your Highness," the captain sputters again. "I will disseminate orders to the other families and tell them to secure the city along with the nearby cities. They couldn't have gotten too far."

"And you tell me that the previous families have been annihilated?"

"Yes, all six families."

"Who did this?"

"I believe Meteor City has a special military force," the captain explains. "Information from the two survivors of the Kiyobu Family reveals that a small group that surrounds the target is protecting her. In the latest report, the group seems to have become larger. They all seem to follow a certain dark-haired leader."

"Eleison, then." Tserriednich nods, his thin lips pressed against the rim of his wineglass. He remembers how the young man looks, though he never met him in person. Mark had showed him the picture of the pair−Mister and Miss Eleison−and upon seeing the young woman, he did not bother himself with the man. Perhaps he should have, only to imagine the angered look on Eleison's face when the lady returned to him that night. Eleison must have fumed, to say the least.

The captain shifts uncomfortably. "Shall I send more troops out, sir?"

"Are you familiar with the works of Han Feizi, Captain?" Tserriednich rounds the table as he traces his finger across the books. His serious countenance breaks when he chuckles at the captain's nervous expression. He puts an arm across the captain's shoulders, and whispers in his ear. "I believe Han Feizi is the answer to many problems in leadership, not only in Kakin. Did you know that he wrote about ten faults that followers unknowingly commit against their leader?"

"N-No, Your Highness," the captain says, uneasy. "What are these faults?"

"Oh, I wouldn't expect someone of your standing might understand," Tserriednich says, laughing, "but I will tell you one of them. I think you would like this."

The captain nods.

"Han Feizi believed that some followers only practice loyalty in small ways, which, unfortunately, overwhelms practicing loyalty in big ways," the prince narrates. "There is a story of a king whose commander did not answer to the summons, for he is more occupied in gambling and drinking and whoring. The commander lied to his king for not coming, his reason that he is sick and tired. So when the king came to see him, unexpectedly, he found out that his commander lied." Tserriednich smirks as he tightens his hold around his captain. "Do you know what the king did to the commander?"

"No, Your Highness, I-I do not."

"The king beheaded him," the prince murmured in his ear, so soft and low.

His hand that holds the wineglass then smashes on the captain's forehead, and the prince watches as the other man falls to the carpeted floor, now stained with little spots of red, from both wine and blood.

"The king beheaded him for being more loyal to his pleasures than obeying his king," he growls and slams the glass shards into the captain's face. The flesh comes apart under the sharp glass, tearing and bleeding quite hard.

"Please… Please…" The captain tries to shield himself with his arms, but the prince's weight bears down on him, forcing him to his back, while the prince rears above and shoves a large shard into his eye, one after the other.

"You disgusting failure," Tserriednich hisses at the corpse. His rich satin night robe is drenched with warm blood. His expensive wine, exported from Kakin's Henan province, is spilled. He stomps on the corpse, once, before returning to his desk. He picks up his phone.

It rings once. A female voice answers. "Yes, Your Highness?"

He feigns a cheerful, energetic voice. "Ah, Theta! I'm finished with this one. Bring in the next."

"Certainly, Your Highness."

The morning after leaving Meteor City is the hardest.

Seated across each other in a train, Chrollo and Valtiel are not speaking. They are not even glancing at one another. It is as if they are complete strangers who happened to pass each other in the train. Chrollo does not mind the silence; he is relaxed despite the silent treatment, occupying himself with his latest book than worrying too much about his Kurta.

Or perhaps he does worry.

He steals quick glances at her face, only to find her turned towards the glass window, admiring the stretch of rich green fields and the blue-grey mountain in the horizon. If she does notice him staring, she chooses to ignore him. Chrollo diverts his attention from her face to the aura surrounding her body and finds it soothing as well as elegant. She has been using Ten even without him ordering her to do it. And after three days, Chrollo could see how well her control has become.

Shifting in his seat, he makes eye contact with Machi and Shalnark. The two Spiders are posing as another couple and are seated down the aisle. After the continuous attacks in Meteor City, not one of the Spiders is willing to let their guards down.

The group disembarks in the last station. Machi and Shalnark go to another way, while the remaining Spiders led by Uvogin scatter throughout the station and observe each point of entry and exit.

Chrollo reaches out for Valtiel's hand, but she sidesteps away from him. He frowns.

Okay, not now.

"Danchou, the preparations are complete." Shalnark stands beside a brand new limousine, sleek and black, stolen from the nearest shop. He looks like a proud father beside it. "We will follow the plan and try confusing any stalkers, but are you sure you and Val should go alone?"

"We are fine, Shal." Chrollo opens the door to the passenger's seat, but Valtiel shuffles into the backseat.

"You guys had a fight or something?" Shalnark wonders.

"She likes being difficult," Chrollo answers with a sigh.

"But you enjoy the troubles, don't you, Danchou?" Shalnark grins, teasing.

"I do." The leader smiles and receives the keys from his Spider. He searches around the greenery where the station is located and spots Franklin and Bonolenov guarding one side. He turns back to Shal. "Make sure no one follows us after an hour. Then try to lose the stalkers, if there are any."

Shalnark waves his phone. "Gotcha! I have two men surveying the area for any suspicious movements. I asked Machi and Uvo to take care of them."

Chrollo pats his friend on the shoulder and smiles his thanks. Then he enters the car, glancing once on the rearview mirror, acknowledging that he and his Kurta are still not on speaking terms.

Despite himself, he chuckles and drives the car out of the station's parking lot, and leads it into the open space of the province, rich with vegetation and livestock. He has studied this place before, a minor province in a minor country, with agriculture its only specialty. Watching the green that surrounds them, he knows the province has done well in its job.

He drives for hours, contented with the silence. Every once in a while, he would peek at his Kurta, who is very much engrossed in admiring the fields and smiling at the cows and farmers they are passing by. Much to his disappointment, they would not be staying in this place. Rather, he aims for a much more civilized town than this one.

The green landscape soon turns into proper towns. Chrollo knows exactly where to go, driving into a small town with historic-looking architecture and flagstone roads. He drives into a small neighborhood at the end of town, and stops in front of a house.

For the first time since they left Meteor City, Valtiel speaks. "Where are we?"

This time, it is Chrollo who refuses to answer. He has the pleasure to watch her glower as she climbs out of the car. He stands with her in front of the bungalow house with blue-tiled roofs and a small manicured lawn. He senses her confusion and wonder, and could not help but laugh and pull her flush against him.

"Do you like it?"

"What is this?"

"It's our house," he says, pulling her towards the door. "This is where we would stay while you are completing your Nen training. It is not too bad, is it? I asked Shal to give us the best lodging he could find." He leads her inside and together they admire the place.

Like everything in this town, the interior looks old-fashioned but warm. Chrollo likes how Shalnark knows exactly what he wants: something that is not too extravagant but not too sordid. He likes the blue curtains and the photography pinned on one wall. There is a small fireplace at the center of the sofa set, along with a brown carpet. In all, he finds the place charming.

Valtiel looks around, before shooting him a questioning look. "We left Meteor City for this?"

"After those six groups attacked us in a matter of days, I thought it would be more efficient if we leave the dangers of the city and come here instead."

He picks up a vintage music box with intricate carvings on the lid. He lets it play and watches the small ballerina rise up and dance to the gentle tune.

"Your grandfather wanted me to focus on your Nen training instead of worrying about the attacks," he lies, for Elder Ryence told him to take her elsewhere, because her wishes for a school are too much for them.

"What about the school?" She raises her eyebrow at him.

Chrollo curses under his breath. It looks like there is no distracting her, despite the mention of Nen. "I talked to your grandfather about it," he answers, treading on thin ice. Either she fumes or she backs down, he is excited to know which one of them wins. "He says he would allow you to learn Nen, under my supervision, before we could start with the school's construction."

"And the funds?" she prompts. "They agreed to let the Phantom Troupe shoulder everything."

"Of course." He waves a dismissive hand. "I think they are more relieved that someone else is handling the funds, the Phantom Troupe no less." He gauges her face, watching the little hopeful gleam. He smirks; he has her where he wants. "However, gathering enough funds takes a long time, even for the Troupe."

"How long then?"

"About a year."

Her face hardens. "You're lying."

A chuckle slips from him. "Now, dear, why would I do that? You cannot say that I lie to you too often. I mean it when I say it would take a year. Just put some trust into my Troupe."

Valtiel shakes her head and lets the conversation end at that. She wanders around the cozy space and curiously studies the rooms, from the kitchen to the bathroom and the single bedroom. She lingers in there and sits on the mattress, trying its softness. A large glass door dominates the right side, framed by blue curtains, overlooking a man-made lake behind the house. She smiles at the sight of the lake and the little porch with a swing and pillows.

Chrollo steps into the porch with her and nods appreciatively at the view. "You must be hungry."

She sighs. "Ravenous."

"Come, then." This time he takes her hand. This time she accepts. "I spotted a café on our way here. We could discuss how we would do things there, and hopefully, you would not be too difficult to handle."

"Am I?" She peers at him under her lashes. "Difficult?"

"Annoyingly so." He laughs.

The café smells of coffee and old books. The pair sits in the farthest corner, hidden away from the servers and few customers by bookshelves that serve as decorations. Valtiel does not miss the lightning-fast movement as Chrollo snatches two books from the shelf and sets them on the couch. When she shoots him a glare, he replies with a sweet smile.

It is late in February, and this town, set with hills on one side and the ocean in the other, is unbearably cold. Frost covers everything that the snows did not reach−windows, lampposts, and even the flagstone roads are slippery and dangerous.

Valtiel is buried in her latest stolen clothes, a grey woolen sweater and maroon scarf. Across from her, proud of his stolen books, Chrollo wears a dark purple coat with a furred collar and a blue-grey scarf loose around his neck.

A server swoops in to deliver their orders, and then swoops back out again.

"How do you like the town?" he starts, sipping his coffee.

"It's lovely," she murmurs, her golden eyes on the people passing by their window. "What's it called?"

"Horologia, known for its museums, historic cityscapes, and the so-called White Tower."

"White Tower?"

He winks at her. "We will visit it later," he says. "For now, I want to discuss the reason why we are here. Not only did we have to leave Meteor City due to the recent attacks, I want to focus on your mastering Nen as efficiently as possible. Judging the flow of your Ten, you are ready for the other principles, though I do not want to rush," he explains, all serious and authoritative. "First, I want you to promise your complete obedience throughout the course. If you disobey me once, you can find yourself another teacher."

She nips at her lower lip, but says nothing.

"Second, I plan to stay here until you have finished training, so you can forget about your thoughts of returning to Meteor City in pursuance of the school's construction. That can wait, but Nen cannot."

He pauses, building the anticipation, and smiles behind his cup. "Last, since we would stay here for about a year, we are to pose as Mister and Missus Eleison, husband and wife."

"What?" Valtiel chokes in her chocolate drink, spilling droplets on her scarf. "Say that again?"

"We are posing as husband and wife again," he emphasizes the last word, wondering why she acts so surprised when it happened so many times before during their Scarlet Eyes transactions. "I thought it is only fitting since we would be sharing a house for a year. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Why not brother and sister?" she asks and cocks her head to the side.

"I'm sorry?" Chrollo gives her a rather bewildered look.

"If we are sharing a house, then why not pose as brother and sister?" she explains. "It goes the same way, no? Brothers and sisters do share a house, too."

"Val, we cannot pass as siblings. We don't even look alike."

The truth in his words is as clear as daylight.

Chrollo's charcoal grey eyes are on her golden ones; his raven hair hangs over his forehead, the back already grown too long, almost to his shoulders. Her hair, platinum blonde and under the warm orange light in the café, glows like a halo. Apart from the blatant difference in appearance, Chrollo is tall and lean but muscular, while Valtiel stands short and petite beside him, almost like a weak doll.

The Kurta seems unfazed, however. "So? Not all siblings have to look exactly alike."

Chrollo bites back a growing smile. "Ah, then you are implying that you see me as a brother?" He leans toward the table, his forearms flat on the polished surface. His intense dark eyes are boring through her, challenging her. "Tell me, Valtiel. After all these months, am I a brother to you?"

The staredown works. She shies away from his staring and covers half of her face with her steaming mug.

"Well?" he persists, the bastard. "Am I?"

"No more than I am like a sister to you," she retorts, finding fire for herself.

"You? No." He leans back on his seat again as if he is pleased, as if he has found some piece of an important puzzle. He sits back and takes in the view of her. "My brothers and sisters are the Troupe members. They are my only family. And as you always say, you are not one of the Spiders."

Something about he said makes her bright gaze fall. She grows quiet, mulling over his words. Of course, she is not part of the family; Feitan, Nobunaga, and some of the Spiders always make sure she is left behind from their games and bickering. She has accepted that fact, but to hear it from Danchou, who has been by her side for as long as she could remember, also acknowledges that−it is somehow thrice as heartbreaking and lonesome.

Valtiel turns away from his playful mood, and Chrollo knows at once that he has offended her.

"You are family, too," he murmurs, though the words do not hold as much meaning as he makes them sound. He only wants peace between them, not another rift for some silly misunderstanding. "You can be our family, too, Val. You know that, but you're the one pushing us away. You act as if you are too good for stealing and murdering, but you don't have to do them yourself. All you have to do is accept us−accept me."

"What happens then?" She sighs, already emotionally spent.

"Then you become one of us." He reaches out for her hand and kisses her knuckles. "Not a member of the Phantom Troupe, with a tattoo and a role to fulfill. Just part of the Spiders, of the family."

"And this is fine with, who, Nobu-san and the others?"

"Of course," he promises, and even then, he is not sure if his words hold meaning. He could not speak for the complexities of his Troupe members. "Just try, Val. You will see, I promise."

She smiles at him, though he could see that there is no happiness in her eyes.

They leave the café soon after, holding hands like the couple they are supposed to be. The town is cold and dim, like a grey haze in the peak of the winter season. Only few people walk around in these streets, but as the pair comes closer to the town square with its bigger shops and wider roads. At a distance, a white tower looms behind red roofs and smoking chimneys.

Valtiel, curious of the tower, pulls Chrollo faster until they reach the town square. Her eyes widen in both silence and awe, focused on the magnificent tower before her.

White Tower earns its name from the white stones in which the entire clock tower is made from. Along the base and sloping upwards to the clock, there is an intricate carved image depicting a sea goddess rising from the ocean with a conch in one hand. The conch is turned toward the massive clock, magnificent with its clear glass and brass clock hands.

It feels like she is in a distant dream, somewhere very far from here. A white clock tower swims in the deepest, darkest part of her mind. Her heart pounds wilder, as if she could not believe to see a clock tower so close. As if her dreams have finally come true.

Chrollo peers down at her face and sees the first tears slip from her eyes. He turns his entire body towards her and cups her cheeks in both gloved hands. "What is it?" he murmurs. "Why do you cry?"

She shakes her head, closing her eyes. "I don't know," comes her shaky voice. She sobs and buries her face in his clothes, soaking them with tears. "But I am happy, so happy…"

"Happy?" He is lost at her words. "You are happy to see a clock tower?"

"Yes." She laughs at how absurd it sounds coming from him. "Yes, for a clock tower, I am happy."

"Then staying here for a year should not be a problem," he predicts and raises her face to his.

Brilliant Scarlet Eyes look back at him. Chrollo could not have been more off-guard than he is now. He stands there, frozen like the rest of the town, as he drinks in the enchanting scarlet irises. He swipes his thumb under one eye. When her eyelashes flutter at him, his breath hitches in his throat. His most treasured possession, his best stolen artifact−right here in his arms, and they are extremely beautiful.

Snow starts falling.

Thick, white flakes swirling about them with the cold breeze.

It rustles his raven hair, and even then, he does not dare to look away.

Not when the Scarlet Eyes are active and they are all for him for the taking. Even as fresh snow lands on their heads, he only smiles and admires the bright hue.

He remembers quite well that Scarlet Eyes react to a Kurta's emotions. Chrollo has always assumed it means anger or hatred. He never once thought Scarlet Eyes could also react to happiness. He has seen Scarlet Eyes in deep red, from anger and violence of the dead. He has never seen Scarlet Eyes in the brightness of a Kurta's happiness−until Valtiel.

He laughs at himself. Was she never so happy with him until now? If so, then he must put more efforts into pleasing her.

"I am happy to know you are happy," he tells her tenderly. Feeling bold, he dips down to kiss her eyes, his lips lingering above the Scarlet Eyes. Then he trails downwards, to her nose, planting a soft press there. When he aims even lower, he feels her stiffen against him. He chuckles and draws away.

"I want to learn Nen here," she says, looking up at him. "No matter how long."

"No matter how long," he agrees.

"And after that, the school?"

"Yes, the school," he agrees again.

"But after that?" she wonders, eyes red as blood yet innocent beneath him.

"We can plan about the future next time," he says. His fingers trace the outline of her face, and she shivers. Another smile spreads across his lips. "For now, let us enjoy the moment."

Slipping into a routine is as easy as pretending to be husband and wife.

Chrollo, for the first time in his twenty-one years, finds himself in the most domesticated situation in his life. He has a decent house, regular food on the table, and even neighbors to come around and greet him in the rare times he is outside the house. Sometimes they are kind enough to share their food with the newly arrived "couple". Other times they linger by the gates, locked in a friendly chatter with his "wife", while he watches from behind his books to note which one she is talking to.

For all her wonder and curiosity, Valtiel welcomes the routine. She takes care of everything and little else, especially lunches and dinners, when her "husband" always insists that they dine outside. Yet the town is small and there are only few good places to eat, and not all of them as high-end as they always visited before. Besides, dining outside has become so tedious and repetitive that even Chrollo could see why she would try her best to make dinners for them, simple yet meaningful to him.

They act like any other couples would do on the outside, but inside−the Nen training begins.

Not one of their neighbors knows what happens behind closed doors. No one knows the rigorous training routine Chrollo forces upon her to master Nen.

Her Ten has grown steady and natural for the first three weeks. When Chrollo deems the flow graceful and all but perfect, he proceeds to teaching her Ren, projecting her aura more strongly. She manages doing so, after many difficult attempts, though he reassures her that she needs not worry about her learning timeframe. They have, after all, a year to spare.

He always urges her to use Ren for an entire night. While he sits beside a fire and reads his books, she stands on the other side of the living room and releases as much aura as strongly as she can. Most of the times she collapses in exhaustion, long before Chrollo's given time limit−and he would punish her by adding another hour. If the hours stack up to the point when she could no longer bear it, Chrollo resets the time limit of three hours and lets her work from there.

The training takes most of their time at night. Chrollo is not at all new to sleepless nights, and so the new schedule taxes Valtiel more than she could endure. She almost always falls asleep in the slightest exhaustion; sometimes right there on the floor, others on the couch. If he senses that he has been too strict, he sighs and picks her up, tucks her in their bed. He would only be tender at a time like this, when she is sleeping and tired; otherwise, he has to be strict and unrelenting, if he wants her to master Nen in time.

After two months, Valtiel graduates from practicing Ten and Ren, and proceeds to learn Zetsu, nullifying her aura to conceal her presence and recovering from fatigues. Having suffered collapsing from Ren more than a hundred times, she is grateful that something like Zetsu exists, letting her relax and recover. She finds Zetsu easier and graduates from that after a week, though Chrollo tells her that she needs more practice if she wants to be in the same level as the Phantom Troupe.

"I don't want to be on the same level as the Troupe," she tells him one night, her aura suppressed within her. She is told that this technique would be useful in hiding from enemies, and she wonders if she would ever have real enemies like the Spiders do.

"No?" Chrollo muses, flipping to another page. He is reading the collection of ancient religious poems that Valtiel has helpfully translated for him last week. Now he is more occupied in his reading than her practicing Zetsu. Still, he glances at her direction. "Why not?"

"I only need enough power to hold my own," she answers. "Too much of anything can destroy."

"Then you are fine as you are now? Not too weak yet not too strong."

"No shame in that. I am not going to steal and fight other Nen users like you do, Danchou."

"Oh, but confronting other Nen users is a part of being a Nen user yourself."

"But still−"

"Focus on your Zetsu, Val. I want no traces of your presence reaching where I sit."

After Zetsu, instead of moving to the next major principle, Chrollo decides that having her learn some advanced techniques should be fine. Three months into training, he has continued what Uvogin's training began in Meteor City: the use of Gyo. According to Chrollo, that should help Valtiel guard herself against sneak attacks or hidden aura. Though Gyo could be used with hands, he focuses on her employing her aura in the eyes. Secretly, he wants to see her Scarlet Eyes activated while using Gyo, only to see whether her aura might influence the livid scarlet of her irises or not. To his disappointment, the Scarlet Eyes do not activate, a faraway hidden pleasure.

For her Gyo training, Chrollo forms his concealed aura into the Norden language and Valtiel has to use Gyo and translate the language into the common one, reading the poems to him while maintaining Gyo at the same time. The mental and physical exercise drains her as much as Ren does, but by the end of the third night, they finish the collection of five hundred pages with twenty-four poems.

As Chrollo picks up another book written in another foreign language, Valtiel collapses on the carpet.

"Oh, goodness." He sighs and brushes her hair out of her face. She is asleep at once, lips parted for heavy breathing. He must have pushed her over the edge with that translation and Gyo combination.

He carries her to the bed and checks for the time−1:06 A.M. The night is still young and there is so much that can be done. He sits on the edge, brushing his thumb across her cheek, usually pale but now flushed with color in her exhaustion. He thinks back on their three months together, the progress in her training, how much she is eager to learn, despite the harsh training.

Valtiel has completed the first three major principles, and Gyo. For that, Chrollo believes another achievement must be made. His Kurta might have good enough control with her aura, but she is still physically fragile. One Nen-enhanced punch would still shatter her, and he is not fond of that idea. Another kind of training must come soon and he has to make the preparations.

That same night, Valtiel stirs in her sleep. Still in her dream, she opens her eyes and finds Chrollo adjusting his black coat over his grey inner shirt.

"Going somewhere, dear?" she mumbles, using the endearment he uses for her, to the benefit of the neighbors. It leaves a strange taste in her tongue, to call him with such sweetness.

"I have business somewhere." He leaves the mirror and bends down to kiss her temple. He smells of wine and chocolate combined, or perhaps that is just Valtiel hungry for missing dinner. He kisses her hair again.

"At this time of the night?" Scratch that, she thinks, glancing at the clock. 3:51 A.M.

"I would be back shortly," he murmurs against her ear. "If something bad happens, I am sure you can defend yourself with Nen, yes? Can I count on you to defend yourself?"

"Yes," she mumbles, still very sleepy. Her eyes shut close as another kiss presses on her cheek. "Where are you going anyway? Who are you meeting?"

Chrollo draws back to study her face. "Jealous, my love?"

She rolls her eyes, and then rolls on her side, her back against him. "Give me a break, Danchou."

Now that quite breaks the enchantment and Chrollo sighs. He reaches out again, his arm around her waist, his lips on her shoulder. She is falling asleep on him again.

"I promise to be back early," he whispers against her pale skin. Then a mischievous idea strikes him. He smirks, devious. "You know, a good wife would send her husband off with a proper farewell."

Sleepy golden eyes open and glare at him. "I am sure you can leave without me seeing you off."

"You are a terrible wife." He laughs.

"And you are a needy husband," she retorts, shoving him away from her. She pulls the blanket over her head and grumbles under her breath.

"Okay. I will still be back early." He is amused that she could be grumpy when exhausted. Despite the blanket, he finds her face and kisses her on the nose. "See you later, wife."

She grumbles again. "Get going, husband."

Author's Notes: Oh, wow! It's been extremely exhausting and stressful at my work that I didn't even notice that more than two weeks have already passed by! I usually just eat and go straight to sleep after work hours. I really need to take a break, a vacation... forever...

Now, for this chapter, we get to see a glimpse of Tserriednich's POV even for a second. Creepy prince is as persistent and as obsessive as Chrollo is. And we also have Chrollo and Val with a house of their own, role playing as "husband and wife" while learning Nen. I honestly didn't want to go through explicit details of how he teaches her. Otherwise, that would be somewhat like Heavens Arena arc or Greed Island arc where it would take chapters of details and such. Breezing through her learning with enough details... I hope that suffices and shows how Valtiel has a hard time learning Nen as well. Not as fast and genius as Gon and Killua (even Kurapika) are. Still, I'll leave the judgement to you guys and let you decide how the flow worked for you.

*xenocanaan - Danchou will definitely make her life more miserable from now on. Thank you for the support as always!

*HuangShaotian0005 - If only I could do art well enough as I could write, I'd definitely draw them snuggling. Alas! I could only write. The image of them snuggling will remain forever in our imaginations. Haha!

*Amy - Oh! You like Uvo and Val together? Just wait until I throw Val and Feitan together, and there will be chaos. Val as a Conjurer or Enhancer with a possibility of becoming a Specialist? That sounds nice! And yes, if Chrollo only had a kinder childhood, he would be a better man. Thanks for reviewing and sorry it took so long!

*Mia Mena - That's a very good analyzation! It is indeed ironic how Chrollo is traumatized still, but finds pleasure to someone else's plight. Such a sick, sick bastard. He'd definitely face karma when the time is right, and who knows? Maybe Valtiel herself would really be his bane, his downfall. There's also Kurapika in the future. And then he would realize that he never should have messed with the Kurta.

*Updates - Thank you for waiting for the update! I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

*ChroVal - I understand how busy real life can get... Thanks for taking the time to review!

P.S. Do you guys remember that Valentine's Day special that I was supposed to post last month? I am halfway ready to publish it in a separate story/fic. When this story reaches over 100 reviews, I would definitely publish it! Please let me know what you guys think. Hopefully, you'll enjoy that Valentines Special! 💖