Chapter XXXIV

"Is that−?" Warren perks up from the window.

"It is!" Julia bounces in her seat and dashes out of the room. "It is! She's back! She's back! Valtiel's back!"

The citizens of Meteor City come out of their houses and gather round in front of the church. Julia pushes her way through the crowd, her little doll tucked in the crook of her elbow. The elders are blocking her way, one of them sneering down on her, so she gets down on her knees and crawls between their legs. Warren's voice is faraway as he tries to catch up behind her.

When Julia comes up at the crowd's front, she gets a front-row view of Elder Ryence welcoming his granddaughter back.

"It's good to have you here again." Ryence is a small man, his body deteriorated by old age. He reaches his granddaughter's chest and pulls her down for a soft embrace. "We've missed you."

"I have missed everyone, too." Valtiel searches throughout the crowd and nods to the other elders. Other faces are smiling up at her, murmuring their greetings. When her eyes land on Julia, she smiles and kneels on the gravel. "How are you, Julia?"

"Very good!" she chirps, golden curls bouncing.

"And where's Warren?"

"Right here." The dark-haired boy steps from the crowd. His grey eyes are boring through her.

"Who are they?" Elder Koran demands, jutting his chin towards the group of fifteen people Valtiel has brought with her. He clutches his cane tighter, a blade hidden deep within the wood. His voice drips with unmasked venom. "More troubles, eh, Valtiel?"

"I'd like to speak with my grandfather in private," she announces, earning everyone's gaze.

"No," Koran barks at her. "Whatever you have to tell him, you can tell us Elders."

"I said I would speak to my grandfather," she fires back. "Are you my grandfather, Elder Koran?"

Before the older man could answer again, Ryence himself taps his cane. "Enough," he rumbles, shooting a glare at his fellow elder. With the two of them both glaring at Koran, they could really pass as family.

Koran clears his throat, and the tension around the group subsides. "Very well."

Ryence gestures for the young woman to follow him. He leads her inside the church, across the center aisle, and towards a narrow pathway behind the altar. The air here is stale, uncomfortable. It would do well enough for a grandfather-granddaughter conspiring secrets.

He nods for her to start.

"I came back here to fulfill my promise," Valtiel says without preamble. "We had this discussion many months ago−and whether you like it or not, whatever the council or the assembly of Elders decides, I am proceeding to the construction." She glances at the small window by the ceiling. "The group I brought with me are architects and engineers. They have the plans, the blueprints. We're ready."

"You took everything into account, didn't you?" Ryence smirks. "Made all the moves to counter every possible refusals we have. You know half of the Elders do not agree. The other half neutral about it."

"What about you? Are you with me, Grandpa?"

"Of course." His dreary brown eyes water at the nostalgia of remembering his own grandchildren, relatives by blood, not by Chrollo Lucilfer's decision. He reaches out for her hand and she squeezes his own in reassurance. If he would have more years in his already long life, he would gladly be her grandfather.

"I thought so much about this plan for months," she says with a tired sigh. Even her face looks tired, the usual brightness in her eyes and cheeks replaced by a pallor. But she smiles still, always, to everyone who catches her eyes. That is something no amount of exhaustion could take from her.

She smiles at him now, with all the tender affection of a granddaughter. "I met a child someplace, around Julia's age, already professional in fighting and killing. Often I find myself wondering if he had only been a normal boy, he could be enjoying playing outdoors by now."

He nods; Chrollo once mentioned such a thing. The children are the future, the Spider had said. Sure enough, Ryence's granddaughter believes so much in her ideals.

"I am sure everything will fall into place." Wrinkled finger brushes over a pale cheek. "You should get some rest, child. I'll have Meinerth find your friends places to rest. Okay?"

"Thank you, Grandpa."

He stands and wobbles with his cane. At the threshold, he turns and blinks at her. "Oh, that reminds me. Where has Chrollo Lucilfer gone? I expected he'd be with you when you return."

Her already pale cheeks go paler, as if drained by blood. "I have not heard of him for months," she confesses, finding no reason to lie. "We separated before the Christmas celebrations and have not seen each other since. He might be on the other side of the world right now." Knowing how much he travels, he might as well be out of her reach.

Ryence seems delighted about it. "Ah, good riddance," he scoffs. "I have always been wary about that young man. He and his friends. Very troublesome. I am glad you are not in his company anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"He's a real charmer, isn't he, Chrollo?" He lets a little knowing chuckle. "Gets everything he wants, no matter through what means. If he gets tired, he leaves it and goes away. So fickle. I am glad you're away from him now, at least. I don't want him hovering near you and vice versa."

"Yes, Grandpa." She feels like a scolded child, hanging her head down in shame.

"Now, you go back to your room and get as much rest as you can. I'll have the Elders assemble for your convenience, get your school started." With a small smile, he leaves.

Valtiel waits for a few moments, before standing and proceeding to the lodgings she once shared with the Spider leader. Some of their belongings are still here, untouched, collecting dust. Some books and manuscripts, written in foreign languages, sit beside various dictionaries and phrase guides. She breezes through them all, trying to remember that it feels like to be here, in this room, where she watched sunset and slept beside Chrollo.

She puts down a book when she feels someone's presence. "Julia? Come inside."

The young girl beams and scrambles to the bed. Valtiel joins her there and smooths the blonde curls off the child's forehead. "What did I miss while I was gone, Julia?"

"A lot," Julia answers, little legs swinging back and forth. "We're getting better food and clothes."

"That sounds wonderful!" From the Mafia no doubt. Valtiel's jaw tightens at that. The Mafia needs their assassins and bodyguards in exchange for meager food and clothes, which the Phantom Troupe could provide in plenty. But they have their own agenda, she knows, and she has her own now.

"Valtiel?" The child blinks at her sudden silence.

"Ah! I remember now. I have a gift for you." She fumbles for the brown satchel she brought with her and holds out a doll−made of porcelain, with curly hair the color of beaten-gold and bright hazel eyes. The doll wears a lace dress, and Valtiel produces more small dresses that comes with the doll. "I got her from an auction in a small city. She has no name, so would you give her one?"

"Yes!" Julia's face brightens and her round cheeks blush a light pink. She takes the ragdoll with yarn for hair and sets it beside the porcelain doll. "This is little Julia." She moves the ragdoll. "And this is little Valtiel!" She makes the porcelain doll bow a little. She laughs and hugs both dolls to her chest. "I love them! Thank you very much, Valtiel!"

"And you're very welcome." Valtiel turns to the door. "What about you, Warren? Hoping for a gift?"

Glowering, the tall boy emerges from the shadows and folds his arms. He learns on the doorframe, grey eyes darting back and forth from Valtiel and Julia. "Where's the Phantom Troupe? Where's Chrollo?"

Julia gasps and bounces on the bed, enlightened at the question. "Oh, yes! Where is he?"

Valtiel grumbles under her breath before answering, "I don't know,"−and that is the truth. She doesn't know. She doesn't have any ideas where he or the Spider members could be. It has been another month since Hisoka and the Heaven's Arena; it had taken her weeks to find the architects and engineers and more weeks to persuade them into coming her. How could she have troubled herself with the Troupe's whereabouts? She has the school so much in her mind that she could come across Phinks and Feitan in a street and not even notice them.

To her chagrin, the children are fonder of the Troupe than anything else.

At least, Warren is. Julia is more concerned with her dolls.

"Would you like to have a gift?" she asks the boy instead.

"I don't think you even have one for me," he says.

"Oh, I do. I wouldn't forget you."

"But where's the Troupe?" he insists. There is no misdirecting him from his question. She would have been glad for his curiosity, but his demanding tone is entirely something else. "Did you know that more attacks followed even after you guys left Meteor City? We had to fight them ourselves. We had to resort to using bombs again. Where were you? And where were the Spiders? They promised to protect the city."

"I don't know." She frowns, her patience wearing thin. His ever-raising tone and constant questions about the Spiders are making her head swirl. But instead of giving in to annoyance, she sighs and waves him away. "I can answer your questions later, Warren. For now, let me rest."

Warren opens his mouth to speak, but then reconsiders. "Come on, Julia. Let's go." He takes her by her small hand and shuts the door loudly behind him.

Valtiel groans into her hands. I cannot lose my patience, especially when it comes to the Phantom Troupe. They will have questions. I must answer. Patience, Val. And tomorrow, the school can start.

She rises from the bed and looks outside the window, towards the horizon where the construction site for the homes is almost finished. Despite the exhaustion, she has to smile.

In another few months, Meteor City will have a school.

Come morning, the real work begins.

Valtiel's assembled team of engineers and architects is led by Marsten, a middle-aged man with tawny skin, black hair, and a well-manicured beard. The rest of the group consists middle-aged veterans in their field, though one of the architects is still a student, a college scholar, whom Valtiel happened upon a café while she was on the verge of tears. Ella had approached her, they had talked, and now they are here.

Without formal knowledge of anything about building, Valtiel stands behind the group and listens, one finger on her chin, as Marsten and Ella lay out the blueprints for the school. With Meteor City as big as any country's capital, they decide that the school should stand at the very heart of the city, behind the church, where everyone could have access of the building; young or old, everyone is allowed.

There goes the long process of contacting builders, plumbers, and more subcontractors. Valtiel is at her wit's end from the process, spending long sleepless nights brainstorming with the group, the sixteen of them huddled together inside the church and surrounded by candles. When one of the elder engineers manages to coax a friend, that's another worry gone from Valtiel's mind.

During the days of designing and breaking down the hard, barren earth, Warren hounds Valtiel with questions about the Phantom Troupe: do they have a new member, which one did she last see, where has Chrollo gone, when is he coming back, are any of the Spiders catching up with you? The questions are as ear-piercing as the excavation behind the church, and it takes Valtiel another strained smile as she answers the questions as best as she can−and to his satisfaction.

She endures hours of suffering the elders' glares, Koran mostly. Meinerth's face drops every once in a while, the scar in his face tugging downwards with each frown. Her grandfather spends most of his time chiding his fellow elders. If he is not chiding, then he is locked up in the council chambers, worrying about the increase of Mafia surveillance through the air, through the several helicopters passing by.

Valtiel eyes the helicopters with caution. The Mafia is quick to move, and for sure they are ready to intervene at the first signs of troubles. Yet as the weeks wear on and the excavation turns into pouring the foundation of the building, the Mafia does no more than hover above the city. For that, Valtiel is grateful, unable to imagine a full onslaught of the Mafia with only her and some strange individuals knowing Nen. Besides, she could not afford another confrontation, still slowly recovering from injuries sustained last winter.

She also notices the rise in hostility of the citizens. Whenever she passes a street or comes across a group, she could see the malice in their eyes. She brought outsiders into Meteor City−dozens of them from the engineers to the lowest plumber. Their glares make her feel weak, alone, despite having memories of spending her childhood here. She knows the streets where she played hide-and-seek with the Spiders, where Shalnark scraped his knee, or where Uvogin and Nobunaga used to hoard treasures by themselves. Apart from those memories, she remembers no one else−no other family and friends.

After weeks and weeks of hostility and extreme caution, they die down when someone comes into view.

Valtiel is seated on the church's marble steps with Julia when the citizens gather in a tight circle. She blinks and joins the growing crowd, shouldering past some men. She spots a black car approaching and freezes. It could be the Mafia. Worse, it could be the Kakin prince's forces come again to take her.

She braces herself for a sudden attack, ignoring the nagging pain still in her lower body.

Instead of tattooed Nen users, Franklin emerges from the driver's seat. Shalnark bursts from the other door.

The sudden appearance of the two Spiders comes as a surprise to the citizens and even the elders, but not Elder Koran. He sniffs and waves Shalnark over.

"Looks like you guys are doing well," Shalnark chirps, one hand over his eyes. Beyond the church, the cranes and other heavy equipment are framed against the bright horizon. He lets green eyes roam around the expanse of their city, and then lands to a certain familiar face.

At once, he engulfs her in an embrace and spins her around. "Val! I missed you so much!"

She laughs as he puts her back to the ground. "It's good to see you, Shal-san." She peers over his shoulder to address the gigantic Spider slowly making his approach. "You, too, Franklin-san."

A large, heavy hand drops on her head. Franklin's brown eyes are on her face. "Been a while, Val. Where were you? What kept you so occupied you can't even show up for the holidays?"

"Oh, you wouldn't believe even if I tell you," she says, teasing.

"Try me. I have lots of time to spare."

"We sure do!" Shalnark agrees and laughs. "We dropped by because Elder Koran asked us to intervene, but I quite remember that Danchou supported the idea, right?" From Valtiel, he directs his attention to the sneering old man. "Sorry to disappoint you, but we're not here to intervene."

"Danchou strictly ordered us not to do anything to impede the construction," Franklin says.

"Then what are you here for?" Koran's face darkens. "I thought the Phantom Troupe would think twice about risking the relationship between Meteor City and the Mafia. Turns out, your leader likes pouring oil into the fire. Where is your leader?" he spits, filled with contempt. "Where is Chrollo Lucilfer?"

"Hmm? Oh! He's out there travelling with Yuan," Shalnark says. "He won't be around for a while."

Valtiel nods. Somehow, Shal's piece of information feels also directed to her.

Koran is not yet finished. "I asked you to come here and talk some sense into this girl, not support her!"

"Can't do anything about it now," Franklin warns. "Danchou's orders."

"So! Now that's over!" Shalnark wraps an arm around Valtiel's shoulders and leads her back into the church, past the curious eyes, and towards the lodgings. "Tell me everything we missed! Everyone's in a great fever to know anything. You never call, you never answer messages. Really, Val! Are you avoiding us?"

"Of course not, Shal-san." She shakes her head and sits on the bed. "I was busy."

"With the newest member," Franklin finishes, cross-legged on the floor. "Hisoka, right?" She nods and he sneers, a strange contrast to his soft features. "I don't like him."

"No one ever does," Shalnark pipes.

"He's not that bad," she retorts, finding herself defending the magician from their unkindness towards him. She has been in the magician's company for only a short while, and bizarre and troublesome as he might be, there is no reason to be harsh against him.

She takes in the measure of the two Spiders, sensing their critical gaze on her. There it is again, she reminds herself. Their eyes studying me, ready to report to Danchou. It should have been expected−their over-reacting attention−and she takes it in stride, acting nonchalant. She finds another smile to ease their misgivings towards the magician.

While Franklin narrows his eyes, Shalnark just shrugs and laughs it off. "Tell me about the plans for the school," the younger Spider says. "Maybe Franklin and I can be of some help while we're here."

Finally, something she could discuss without the weight of their judgement hanging like an axe behind her neck. She lays out the information for the both of them, repeating Marsten's words and Ella's advices for the school's outlook and design. She talks of the cost and other finances, both of which were promised to her once by Chrollo himself, but no matter: he is faraway and she is here.

Shalnark pores over the many details again. "I am surprised you have enough money for this," he murmurs.

For a moment, she allows herself a little swell of pride. "But of course," she says. "I fought in Heaven's Arena for some months, remember. I managed to get past and stay on the 200th floor, before withdrawing. There is no more prize money offered on the 200s, only fame and glory. Not of help for building a school."

"If you had wanted the money, you could have asked us," Franklin says. "We could have robbed a bank, stole some precious metals and auctioned them off, treasures to trade."

"The usual Phantom Troupe way?"

"The usual Phantom Troupe way." He grins.

"Well, you have more than 400 million Jenny for the construction, but that's not enough for its maintenance." Shalnark purses his lips as he studies the prints and layouts presented to him. Seated on the floor and surrounded by papers, he looks no more than a student studying for an exam.

Valtiel curls up beside him, embracing her knees. "I know it's not enough," she sighs. "That's why I am planning to leave Meteor City again, so I could gather more funds that I need. I cannot go back to Heaven's Arena, but I am sure I can find another means to provide."

Shalnark barely glances at her, not at all invested in her idea. "Well, I still think we should do it the Phantom Troupe style. It's faster, easier, and tons more fun than finding a real job."

"But−"

"It's decided, then!" Shal jumps amidst the clutter of papers. "We'll find someplace to steal and get some more money. As Franklin said, a bank is more preferred. I will have to do some research before we get started." He takes out his phone and laptop, and sets to work on the bed.

Defeated by his enthusiasm, Valtiel turns to the other for help.

But Franklin just grins, enjoying the triumph. "Looks like you're stealing with us, Val."

The last time she helped them steal something was the diamonds in an underground vault.

It takes Shalnark many tries to persuade her to come, promising with a hand over his chest and a pinky swear that no one gets killed. How could it be so? The plan is simple.

Infiltrate a war criminal's home, find out the codes of his well-guarded fortune that no other hacking software could get, transfer the money to Shal's account, and be on their merry way with 1.6 billion to withdraw later.

See? No blood to spill.

That is how he convinces her, throwing a hooded coat over her head to ward off the chill. It is still late in March, and the weather can be unpredictable as always. Franklin drives to the billionaire's manor in a distant countryside while Shalnark repeats the plan to his teammates.

Valtiel presses her forehead against the cold window. It has just rained; the pavement still dark from the water. Droplets gleam over the trees and leaves. Their black car blends well in the shadows, rounding towards the back of the great dark mansion, almost like a horror house. If everything goes well tonight, she does not have to lift a finger. Shalnark would do all the stealing, while she and Franklin stand as guards.

With his bulk, even Franklin can do the guarding alone.

The mansion is massive, with two layers of thick walls and battlements, befitting a war criminal who survived two wars in a row. Turrets are everywhere, with sleek cannons protruding from small holes. Iron wires laced with electricity sizzle over the battlements, security cameras jut in every direction, and the gates are made of the finest steel doors.

Nothing the Phantom Troupe cannot handle.

They vault over the battlements, as easily as skipping ropes. Valtiel has to be careful in her landing, taking immense care in landing on her toes and absorbing the impact with her muscles, not bone. She tugs her hood lower as she darts with the other Spiders, heading for the nearest window.

Franklin smashes an elbow to glass and steel, shrugging at the clattering noise.

Shalnark grins and gestures for Valtiel. After you.

Inside, the place is darker, every inch of a rich man's house. Velvet draperies. Gilded paintings. Armors and ancient weapons in glass casings. Crystallized chandeliers. The faint scent of money lingering in the air. Valtiel takes a sniff. She doesn't smell money. When she tells Franklin, the big Spider laughs good-naturedly and pats her head. "It's just a metaphor, Val," he says.

Oh.

"His name is Romain Carver, war veteran-slash-criminal, wanted in three countries but somehow he gets away with it," Shalnark explains, like a tour guide in a preserved tourist spot. He wounds around the place as if he owns it, as if he has a map in his hands when all he has are his phone and antennae. "Some thirty years ago, he received this piece of land from the people he worked for. Then the investments came." He points to a grand oil painting at the staircase and smiles over his shoulder. "Pretty neat, huh?"

"Not really." Valtiel wrinkles her nose at Romain's painting. He looks more like a king with his velvet-padded shoulders than any sort of criminal.

"Aha." Franklin sniggers. "Quite a rebel, Val."

"We should go here." Shal leads the way again, towards the highest floor.

According to his research, Romain had lived alone for the past thirty years, sustaining himself with heaps of deliveries. It shows in his house, poorly maintained, with thick cobwebs and dust everywhere. No wife. No children. No bodyguards. Yet as they keep ascending the steep stairs, Valtiel and Franklin notice the dried brown stains on the carpet. Valtiel tugs at her cloak again, having suffered enough injuries to know what those stains might be.

The three of them stop in front of Romain's bedchamber. With a quick chop on the latch, they proceed to the presence chamber, furnished with heavy curtains and more paintings. On the other side of the door lies the bedroom and their target.

Quietly, Shalnark finds Romain's personal laptop and starts tinkering with it, setting to hacking the bank account, while he directs his two accomplices to stand guard: Franklin by the bedroom, Valtiel by the entrance doors.

Valtiel looks out the window and watches the play of the tree branches swaying with the wind. The shadows are sharp and distorted over the dusty carpet. She watches, fascinated−until her ears perk up.

Her head whips towards the staircase from where they came. It is a few good yards away, dark as the night, with only a thin sliver of moonlight illuminating the other side of the wall. The presence is still faraway, but she can feel it deep within her bones, a threat waiting to be unmasked.

Something is coming.

Again, she turns for Franklin's help. She pleads with her eyes, trying to get her message across the wide expanse of the presence chamber, but Franklin merely smiles and shakes his head. Somehow, she knows what that means. You're guarding the front. You handle it.

She curses under her breath and takes her stance. Her claws are ready for use if need be. When the presence stalks closer and closer, its shadow framed near the staircase, her blood drains from her face. She has fought mercenaries and Nen users before, but not quite this. What is exactly is this?

Five. Twelve. More than a dozen black hounds line up over the staircase. They are weaving to and fro in the shadows, like wisps of black smoke. Noiseless. Observant. They have green eyes, bright and menacing in the darkness. They stare at the young woman across the hallway in a heated, nervous showdown. On their haunches, snouts curled, they are ready to pounce.

Valtiel curses her bad luck tonight. When Shalnark said Romain lived alone, he meant to say humans. If only she had asked more questions, perhaps she won't worry about hounds now.

Still on his laptop, Shalnark grins, hits the Send button, and jumps to the air. "We got it!"

And the hounds start pounding towards the room.

Oh, great. Valtiel braces herself for the impact. More than a dozen hounds means more than a thousand pounds of muscles, bones, and sharp claws and canines. Without the physical strength, she would surely topple. No other choice but to use Nen, her golden aura surrounding her in waves.

Ten seconds. I need only ten seconds to dispatch them.

Her aura is ready to release when Franklin materializes beside her, holds out both hands, and starts gunning down the animals in a slaughter of gunshots, blood, and animalistic whines.

"There." Franklin flexes his hands. He really couldn't get the Danchou's treasure so much as scratched. Let alone hurt. "Done."

"I had it," she says, straightening herself. "And we were supposed to be quiet."

"No need for that. Shal has the money wired now. We can go."

"That's right!" Shalnark cradles his laptop and shows his phone screen to both of them.

All 1.6 billion Jenny for them to take. More than enough to finance the entire construction and maintenance of the school. There will still be more for the homes and food. The Phantom Troupe way is indeed easier, faster−but certainly not fun.

The bedroom door opens, where Romain Carver limps on his bejeweled cane and points out a golden gun at them three. Instead of the kingly appearance from the painting, Romain is nothing but an old man, seventy years old, way past his criminal prime. And not enough threat for the Spiders.

Shalnark snatches a letter opener from one of the drawers and flings it to Romain, embedding it deep into his neck.

Valtiel has not seen him kill anyone before, so this comes as a wild surprise.

"Let's go!" Shalnark beams at her. "No use staying in this place. It's too depressing and old."

"You said we're not spilling any blood," she mumbles under her breath. She sidesteps Franklin's mess, the black mangled bodies of the hounds and the dark blood seeping into the carpet.

"The dogs were an exception," says Franklin in his defense.

"And Romain pointed a gun at us," adds Shalnark. "Safety first, you know."

"Let me guess? It's the Phantom Troupe way?"

"Yup!" Shalnark wraps an arm around her shoulder and grins. "You're one step closer to becoming a Troupe member, Val! Keep it up!"

The cycle starts again.

Planning. Building. Financing. At least this time, instead of her group of engineers and architects, Valtiel has Shalnark and Franklin to share the burden. Once the citizens realize that no more harm could come to them from these outsiders, now that two Spiders have come to supervise the project, they stop leering at Valtiel and start gathering near the construction site to admire the school's steady rising.

With Shal and Franklin around, Warren has found new ones to pester, asking difficult questions that demand more difficult answers.

Valtiel is glad that he is out there, leaving her in peace with Julia and some of the other young children. She regales them of stories, much as she did to Hisoka, and shows them as many books as she could. She bought them from small bookstores, acquired them from an online auction, and so forth. Fairytales. Children's poems. Legends and myths. Only few are enthusiastic, but in good time, she knows they would learn.

She plans games for them, something to keep their interest and keep their attention away from the growing amount of weapons with each passing week. She sets them out to play treasure hunts, sack races, and even ends up playing tag with them while the Elders keep accepting the weapon offers in the background. Sometimes Shalnark joins the games, adding a more modern approach with his gadgets. Franklin sits back on the church's steps and watches, noting anyone who looks displeased. Mostly, he only spots Koran and his perpetual sneer.

One rainy night in April, everyone is tucked into their beds. Valtiel organizes the books she intends to leave behind for the children. Some are her own books, bought from various stores. Others belong to Chrollo, from his extensive stack of untouched books in the room's corner. He has a wide taste, and so she picks the simplest ones−some fairytale stories−and leaves them in the church's meager library.

She heads back to the candle-lighted room to find Shalnark inspecting a manuscript. "Can I help you?"

He waves to the books and the bag on the floor. "Leaving again?"

"I cannot stay in one place for too long," she says, passing by him and busying herself with her books and clothes. She senses his confusion, and sighs and faces him again. "Really, Shal-san, I am weary."

"Why?" He pats the space on the bed. "What's wrong, Val?"

"It's the prince," she confesses in a tired voice. She sits beside him and feels the comforting weight on her left. "His forces tracked me down to Heaven's Arena and tried attacking for a few nights." She realizes then that she has to choose her words carefully, knowing that Shalnark and Franklin, who is hiding in the shadows outside the room, are noting every words and would report back to Danchou. "It's not as troublesome as the attacks before. Hisoka-san dispatched most of them."

She supposes complimenting the magician before the Spiders would lessen the suspicions. Judging from Shal's blank green stare, he is not convinced at the least.

Shalnark weighs the situation and says, "So why leave on your own? If you're in such a trouble with the prince's forces, shouldn't you be thinking of staying with the Troupe? For your protection? Hisoka is one man, but if you're with us, you will be safer."

Of course, he wouldn't understand. The Phantom Troupe means the world to him. Valtiel takes his hands and gives him a soft, reassuring squeeze. "Yes, I am safer with the Troupe around, but there's something I really want to do on my own."

And I can't do it with everyone watching my every step.

He seems to be lost, trying to see the advantage in that, but comes short and shakes his head. "You don't have to be with the entire Troupe," he says. "Just one or two of us. You can even take your pick. I am sure Danchou wouldn't mind if someone tags along with you."

At that name, her body deflates and she takes her hands from his.

"I know it's not my place," he starts, glancing at her bland face, "but I noticed how you and Danchou have grown apart since the last mission. I'm not trying to pry, but maybe you two should talk about it. Work it out. I'm not used to have you two apart since your accident."

He tries to laugh his cheerful laugh, but it sounds forced and weak. It doesn't work, and even he sighs in defeat. The candles throw shadows across his youthful face. "Danchou's been in a melancholy lately. He doesn't really talk to anyone but Paku. So try and talk to him, even if he's stubborn."

She could roll her eyes at the amount of Chrollo's stubbornness. She softens her voice, to make him understand better. "Shal-san, sometimes these things take time. No need to force things when it is not their time. For sure, Danchou and I can talk perhaps… after a while… When we're both ready…"

The little frown denotes he is still unconvinced, but he tries not to argue with her. He sighs and nods. "Alright, I think I get it. You and Danchou do it your own way." Then he breaks into another big grin. "But promise me you'll start talking again, okay? I can't stand it when you two are ignoring each other−like high school sweethearts with problems!"

"It's not like that!" She flushes at his terrible analogy.

"Just kidding!" He beams and pats her hand. "But hold on to your promise, okay?"

"Alright." She hides a smile and pretends rolling her eyes. He laughs again. "I promise."

"Swear it!" He holds out his pinky. "Pinky swear it!"

"Shal-san, we're almost in our twenties. Pinky swears are not−"

"Swear it, Val!"

"Okay, alright."

After that, the bubbly Spider leaves her alone so she could pack her things. He meets Franklin out in the dark hallway, shares a knowing grin at him, and whisks him back to the church's aisle where they could give the her the respite she deserves, having suffered their critical gazes for days.

Valtiel sighs, stressed at Shalnark's questioning, and continues packing what little is left of her things. She has but a few clothes, fewer food, but has a great abundance of books. She stuffs unfinished manuscripts in her bag and leaves the finished ones, joining the ever-growing stack of Chrollo's unread books at the room's corner. Her mind wonders if he would read them, perhaps when he comes back and finds new texts to read. She almost smiles at the idea, to leave something for him even if they are countries apart.

Halfway through finishing, another presence makes itself known at the door.

"Yes, Warren?" She turns to him, half expecting another barrage of Troupe-related questions.

"You're leaving?" There goes his demanding tone again, as if a fifteen-year-old boy could command her to stay or do anything he wants her to. "But you've only been here for weeks!"

"And I have to leave again, lest I want those mercenaries to attack the city again."

"Why can't you just stay here?" he demands. "Shalnark and Franklin can take them."

"That would be asking for too much," she says. "I cannot ask the Spiders to keep fighting my fights. And for sure, I am not strong enough to handle those mercenaries on my own. I can confront them once I am strong enough, and even that takes another long time." She pipes down at his sudden quietness, and cocks her head to the side. "So, tell me, Warren. Why do you want me to stay?"

The boy clamps his mouth shut and lowers his head. Still a boy, but already taller than her. "I just thought, for once, we're doing something good here," he whispers under his breath.

She blinks. "Meaning?"

"The school!" Warren's grey eyes flash at her. "It's the first time in my life that we're actually doing something good for the city. I mean, the other children are already looking forward to it. So why d'you have to leave? Can't you stay longer and wait until the school is done?"

"Oh, Warren." She crosses the room and puts a hand on his shoulder. "I told you, I can't stay. Troubles are always brewing for me and I can't seem to think of any others means but to escape. I don't want to rely on the Troupe on everything. You understand that, right?"

"Yes," he mumbles, nodding.

"That's why I have to leave," she reiterates. "To avoid more troubles for Meteor City."

"You're such a troublemaker, aren't you?" he grumbles. "And we always have to clean up your mess."

"I am sorry for that," she says, and she means it. She studies his thin face and the gauntness of his cheeks, his cheekbones hollowed out. She brushes her thumb over his skin and thinks of something to cheer him up again. "I have a gift for you."

Warren raises an eyebrow. "For me?"

Laughing, she pats the bed as she fusses with her bag. Then she joins him and holds out two familiar things for him to inspect. "These are special-made gauntlets with a hidden blade inside," she explains and tugs at the metal lock, the sharp blade flashing. "It's poisonous, so you have to be very careful when handling it."

The boy looks mesmerized. "Where'd you get this?"

Her smile tugs downwards, and she says, "Danchou gave it to me, but it's yours now." She fastens one gauntlet on his wrist and proceeds guiding him how to use it properly. "Keep the metal ring on your finger and be careful whenever you move. The blade retracts at the slightest movement. You try."

"Like this?" Warren flicks his finger and the blade follows, slicing through the air. "Awesome."

"So when troubles come, I can count on you to protect everyone," Valtiel says, smoothing down the coarse black hair over his ears. "You now have the means to protect yourself and your friends. So can you promise me you'll do your best, and make no real harm to anyone innocent?"

"I promise," the boy says. "It's mine now?"

"Of course."

"Won't Chrollo get mad?"

"Oh! He's not here to complain, is he?" She smiles, but not enough. Never enough when Chrollo is the subject.

At least Warren does not notice, immensely occupied in his gift. "Thank you," he says. For once, the usual dark look in his face is replaced by the sunny disposition that a young boy should have. "I'll keep it in good shape. Promise! And when you get back, you'll see how much I've improved."

Again, she smooths his hair down. "I look forward to that, Warren."

"When are you leaving anyway?"

"Tomorrow morning."

Author's Notes: Happy Mother's Day to all the awesome moms out there! 💛 I tried to break away from too much gaming so I could upload just in time for today. Haha! But of course, I want to greet Chrollo a Happy Mother's Day for being such a good mom to his Spider kids (though it reminds me that Shal is actually dead already, T_T).

*Ryoma97 - Aww, thank you! Yeah I bet Hisoka really enjoyed that kiss and is still giggling in the shower like a little boy when he remembers it. LOL. Hope you enjoyed this update!

*xenocanaan - Thank you very much! Keep safe, too!

*Guest - Yay! Thank you! uwu

*klazvia - Thank you for the support! Hope you're also doing well, my friend!

Stay safe, guys! I'm hoping everyone's well and healthy, and that this little story could lift your spirits up amidst this worldwide pandemic. Cheers, friends!