Chapter XXXVII

That Monday, Chrollo's melancholia is masked by a cheerful smile with an excited energy to see the museum. In this good a mood, he has promised not to touch anything forbidden, and not to steal anything in general. Valtiel is not sure if he would stick to his words, for certainly she has suffered worse during her Heaven's Arena stay with Hisoka. The magician is a menace, with little regard for anything else except for his own amusement.

The morning is cold and somewhat damp, with a threat of an impending rain. Valtiel is buried in her creamy yellow sweater and black scarf, while the Danchou is comfortable in another of his long black coats, his raven hair loose once more. They walk the short distance from the apartment to the museum, Valtiel pinpointing a few spots of interests like a tour guide.

Upon reaching the museum, she forces him to a stop and glares up at him. "You promised, okay?"

He smiles, innocent. "I'll do my best."

She pounds at his chest. "That's not what I am asking. You promised not to steal anything."

"And I say I will do my best, darling."

Impatience becomes him, and so he takes her hand and leads her into the museum, as if he is the one working there in the first place.

The lobby has glass windows and alcoves, allowing the morning sun to spill across the polished floors. Few people are already coming and going, others seeking assistance from the counter nearby. Chrollo nods in appreciation of the place, noting every carved column and corbels, lancet windows, and even the gilded arcs that support the vaulted painted ceilings. They depict a religious scene, azure skies with small winged cherubim and their little bows and arrows. He cranes his neck, admires the artistry, and goes around in circles with his head up like an amazed little boy. Then he searches around the lobby again, spots the massive statue of an old warlord, and rushes towards it.

Valtiel smiles to see him so engaged. This is better than the dark-faced, angry Chrollo that barged in to her house two nights ago. She lets him drink his fill of the place for a while, and heads to the counter for a special visitor pass for him.

The woman at the counter is a middle-aged brunette. "Morning, Val. I see you brought someone for the first time, eh?" Mischievous, the woman points her chin to where Chrollo reads an inscription of the statue.

"Oh, yes, he's…" Valtiel pauses for a while, uncertain. "Um… He's a friend…"

"You should have brought him earlier." The woman winks and hands over the visitor pass.

"He's new in town, and quite a busy man, too."

"Would you introduce me?"

"Of course." Valtiel turns for him. Their eyes meet for a second, and Chrollo leaves the statue to join her at the counter. She puts a hand on his arm. "Liu-san, this is Danch−" She pauses yet again.

Chrollo catches her hesitation and chuckles. "Good morning," he tells the woman. "My name is Chrollo." He offers his hand and shakes the woman's wrinkled one.

Liu smiles back. "Welcome. I hope you two have a good time."

With that, Valtiel drags the Spider leader out of the lobby and plunges themselves into the elevator. She sighs in relief, the anxious dawning within her, that she has to endure introducing Chrollo to the many staff and volunteers in the place. She is not looking forward for the introductions, never a big enthusiast on starting idle conversations.

"So." He clears his throat as they emerge from the lift. "What name are you using here?"

"Just the usual one," she says. "Valtiel Eleison."

"Should I introduce myself as Chrollo Eleison then?" he asks.

"Don't do that." She frowns, not glowing at the idea of people bombarding her with personal questions. "We cannot play husband-and-wife here, if that's what you are thinking," she says with a defeated sigh. "And everyone knows I do not have a boyfriend."

"No?" He casts her a mischievous sidelong smile. "After all these months, not one?"

She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. It is an utter torture to talk about these matters with Chrollo. One could never know how sincere he is in his curiosity. That sidelong smile could mean that he is teasing. Worse, it could mean he is plotting murder already.

"No," she says firmly. "People like you always assume it's easy to get people, but that's seduction, not romance. And I am skilled in neither."

He has the grace to smile so innocently. "It's about romance for you, then?"

She has no idea why he is asking. Worse than that, she doesn't know what to say. She buries her face deeper in her scarf. "There's no one, that's all you have to know."

"Good." He pulls her flush against his hip. "I would hate to kill someone so early in the morning."

She flinches in his hold and attempts to glare, but then the door to the backroom opens and every one of her co-workers are shouting good morning greetings at her.

Elbowing Chrollo away, she directs a warm smile to everyone and hears all the progress they have made throughout the weekend, with some members of the translation division passing her more newly illuminated manuscripts.

While she attends to her friends, Chrollo just stands there and observes, hands in his pockets, a smile always in place. One of the girls approaches him and blinks. He cocks his head to the side.

Valtiel notices their staredown and clears her throat. "Ah, Rinka, I'd like you to meet my friend."

Rinka, a dark-haired youth with a high ponytail, gasps aloud. "Friend?!"

"Yes." Valtiel sighs, tired and exasperated already. "Just friend. So go ahead and introduce yourself and keep him busy for me, would you? Knock yourselves out."

She turns around for a nearby desk and studies the illuminated manuscripts from a centuries-old dynasty. Oliver, Thomas's usual partner in these things, shows on his computer the ruins wherein the Ruins Hunters and their students unearthed the texts. She keeps her attention on the computer screen, but could not help glance up to where Chrollo and Rinka are.

It is not surprising that Chrollo has the youth's attention where he wants it to be. He is all smiles and light chuckles as he converses with her, while Rinka enthusiastically narrates the work done in this room. Then he feels eyes on him, tearing his gaze to glance at Valtiel's direction and smirk at her. His smirk widens when she blushes and turns back to Oliver's computer screen.

After receiving the manuscripts, she turns for the other desk and finds Thomas. "Working hard, are you?"

"Miss Eleison!" Thomas shouts and jumps from his seat, the suddenness of his reaction catching Chrollo's attention. The Spider leader's eyes narrow, before going back to Rinka. Thomas shakes his head at Valtiel and throws up his hands. "I am at a loss!"

"Loss? What do you mean?"

"I am going nowhere with…" He drops his voice to a whisper, so Oliver does not hear. "You know…"

"Oh. Right." She winks at him, laughing. "Have you talked to her?"

"I haven't seen her this morning. At all."

"Then go and see her. Make some excuses. Compliment her eyes."

Oliver's head peeps from his corner. "Are you trying to help Tom land a date?"

She catches Chrollo's dark eyes. She smothers her laugh with a glove.

"How long has this been going on anyway?" she asks Oliver, who shrugs and goes back to his work. She turns back to the brown-haired mess of a co-worker. "If you have been meaning to ask her out before the evening gala was even scheduled, how long are you still going to wait for her? You are wasting precious time, Tom."

Thomas buries his head on his arms. "You girls make it sound so easy."

"I never said it's easy." She frowns at her previous conversation with the Danchou.

"But if someone asks you out, you'd go straightaway, won't you?"

"Absolutely not. I am not entertaining strangers."

"Sure." Thomas grimaces, and then blinks when a tall, dark-haired stranger approaches them. He sits straight in his desk, a bit wary to have someone shooting him a quick glare, before smiling down at Valtiel.

The stranger whispers something in her ear. She nods.

"I am heading to the archives," Valtiel tells Thomas. "We can talk about your problem some other time."

"No worries…" Thomas shrugs and lets the two of them leave the room.

Oliver pops in again, snickering. "Was that her boyfriend? Damn, Tom, now you're the only one without a date for the gala."

Thomas slaps his friend's forehead with a newspaper. "Look who's talking! You don't have a date either!"

On their way to the archives room, Chrollo carries the stack of manuscripts for her and continues admiring the gilt-edged windows. Outside, the skies have turned into a bleak grey, the downpour imminent. Then he glances at her direction, notes her confident movements as she strides across the hallway, and decides to make a small talk, to pass the time.

"You seem to have attracted many new friends."

"Hm?" She raises an eyebrow, then shrugs. "So do you. Rinka was quite taken with you."

"She's no more than a child." He follows where she turns and grins at the wide hallway flanked by more statues and gilded armories.

There are more frescoes here, more religious scenarios with their saints and crosses. He recognizes one on the far western wall, an image of a poet in scarlet robes and a laurel crown upon his dark hair. He loves that poet's works.

In the archives, a handful of people greet Valtiel as she wounds her way around the large tables, and settles to her usual spot at the farthest corner. Chrollo sets the illuminated manuscripts down and starts searching through the aisles for his entertainment.

While he is occupied, Valtiel arranges everything into order. As much as the urge to research more about the Kurta Clan is strong and prominent, she would have to delay her progress for now. Much to her dilemma, there is no telling when the Danchou would leave−if he would leave at all without dragging her back to the Phantom Troupe with him. Any day could be her last day in the museum, and that makes her conscious.

He returns with four books and sits at the head of the table. "Have you heard of the Commedia?"

She tears her eyes from studying the brittle pages and nods. "Parts of it," she mumbles, without much thought. "More like the early parts. It is a long poem, is it not? With three parts?"

"Why, yes." He chuckles, dark eyes gleaming. "And Paradise Lost?"

"Also the early parts. Barely through the first chapter."

"That's not even called reading," he complains with an annoyed sigh. "You are simply skimming through the pages and searching through the words, aren't you?" He clicks his tongue. "Disgraceful."

"I have no time to read thousands of pages worth of poems when I have these ancient texts to translate and rewrite," she says in her defense, indignant. "If you are so annoyed, then read everything by yourself and tell me the summaries later in the house. Really, Danchou!"

He chuckles at her scolding and puts a hand on his chin as he starts to read.

Valtiel rolls her eyes and busies herself with the new workload, tracing her fingertips on the colorful imageries on the brittle pages, on the faded black ink, on the words written in an olden language. She is not familiar with it−it could be Angeln or Cambric for all she knows. As far as her knowledge allows, those two languages have been intermingled throughout the centuries, evolving to what the world uses more commonly now.

Amidst her reviewing and Chrollo's reading, someone walks up to them.

Shizuku smiles as she waves a dark blue paper in one hand. "Hm?" She blinks at the sight of Chrollo, and then turns her puzzled expression to her pale blonde friend. "Ah, Valtiel, I just came to inform you that everything about the evening gala! Oh, and here's your invitation!"

Valtiel receives the invitation and smiles her thanks. "This is exciting. Thank you, Shizu-chan."

"Of course." Shizuku adjusts her glasses and looks at Chrollo.

"This is my friend," Valtiel says, gesturing, while he stands to shake Shizuku's hand.

"Hello. My name is Chrollo."

"I'm Shizuku Murasaki." She shakes their hands and bows at the waist. "Nice to meet you."

"It's a pleasure to meet any friend of Valtiel's." He smiles, very friendly and polite. He catches Valtiel's unamused glare and smirks wider, as if both of them are hiding a secret.

"So, Valtiel, have you a date already?" Shizuku asks.

Oh, no. Valtiel wishes her friend could have chosen a better timing. Not now, her mind screams. Not in front of Danchou. Already she could feel his curious eyes on her, trying to catch her attention. Stubborn, she turns in her seat and puts her back to him.

"Ah, no, not yet, Shizu-chan. You?"

"Nope." Shizuku sticks her tongue out cheerfully.

"Has Thomas not made any advances yet?"

"Who?"

"Thomas, from the Languages Department." She waits for the realization to dawn in her friend's face.

It does not.

Shizuku tips her head to the side. "Which one is he?"

Thus, Valtiel starts the process of describing the brown-haired young man, who is too nervous and fidgety whenever it comes to Shizuku. She makes sure she describes the best parts of him, all the while feeling Chrollo's intense presence focusing on her every word. It feels like how it had been with Kieran once more, their photographer neighbor, and how she dreaded that Chrollo might kill him for no more crime than talking to her without his permission.

In the end, Shizuku's face lights up. "Oh! Him. Thomas, is it?"

"Yes!" Valtiel feels a speck of triumph for her friend. "Will you consider him?"

"If he asks."

"Oh, don't worry! I'll make him talk."

"Okay, then." Shizuku grins and bows at Chrollo's direction before leaving the pair once more.

When Valtiel rounds towards the Danchou, he has a mischievous gleam in his eyes. She knows that look. When he is smiling and humming low in his throat like that, she knows what it means. For God's sake, she never likes that look on him−no matter how charming he seems.

Chrollo puts his book down. "An evening gala, Val?"

She wants the floor to open and swallow her. "Yes, Danchou."

"When?"

"Next Friday." She gulps. After a time, spent together or otherwise, she already knows what is in his mind. She could not be mistaken. That smile on his face tells everything.

"And you say you have no date?" Coquettish, he pretends flipping through the books again.

"No, Danchou," comes the reluctant whisper.

"That settles it, then." He closes the book and smirks, devious now. All pretenses of charm are gone. "I shall be your date. I would hope you would find me enough, Val."

The night for the gala could not have come fast enough.

No matter how many times she had dressed up and attended social gatherings with Chrollo before, she could never get used to the tedious process of choosing a gown, styling her hair, and deciding from myriads of stolen jewelries would be best suited to complete her look for the evening. As it had always been, the Danchou is eager to dress her, once again matching this and that, comparing fabrics and textures like a professional. She supposes that he is a professional in almost everything. He is perfect, the smug bastard.

She wears a pitch-black off shoulder gown with a high slit on her left thigh, barely inches from her hip. Her platinum blonde hair is curled up into a tight bun, held back from her face by an onyx hairpin, with matching onyx earrings and bracelets. To her chagrin, the woman at the dress shop fitted the gown's top so tight over her chest, making damned sure her breasts are pressed at the top. She could already barely breathe as it is, and when she paws at the top, tugging it up, she receives a swat from the Danchou.

If he is so meticulous about her clothing, why won't he wear the damned gown?

Chrollo matches her with a black blazer and tie, and wears black leather gloves. His raven hair was trimmed for this very occasion, giving him a neater, younger look. When Valtiel steps out of the bedroom in her attire, he looks at her up and down, and grins.

"This is embarrassing, Danchou." She clings to his arm as he leads her out of the apartment.

"Why?" He blinks, so innocent. "It suits you. Black does well on your skin. You're so pale."

"And you're not?" She snorts.

"Either way, let us enjoy ourselves tonight."

As what the event organizers determined, the museum's rooftop would be the venue for the evening gala. The glass roofs are opened up to the midnight skies, dappled with few stars. Most of the visitors are the Ruins Hunters and their colleagues, the amateur Hunters, and the volunteers, who take most space around the buffet and wine tables. From what the invitation listed, the museum's owner and benefactor himself would be making an appearance, but Valtiel could not see him even in this crowd.

The Spider head escorts her to a quiet corner, hoping to lose her rambunctious colleagues and spend the gathering in silence. He spots a table for two by the balcony that overlooks the streets below.

He has studied the invitation and made inquiries to the staff in the past few days. According to his questioning, the museum's curators and standing assistant for the director would present the new line of discovered ancient societies from different parts of the world. The presentation would include unearthed relics and clothes, daily items used centuries ago, and some texts found in an underground library. He takes pride in the last part, knowing that his lady has made contributions. He couldn't be prouder.

Valtiel fidgets in her seat, partly worried about the presentation and partly anxious about her gown. She keeps squirming, until Chrollo sighs and stares at her. She glares back, and then deflates. "Fine."

"Oh, there goes your friend." He points his brandy glass to where Shizuku is entering.

"I will go to her." Without waiting for his approval, she gathers her skirts around her and runs to Shizuku with a swish of black skirts and tapping of her new stolen high heels. She throws her arms around Shizuku's shoulders to pull her into an embrace, while Chrollo sips at his brandy and says nothing more.

"You look beautiful!" Valtiel gushes to her friend, makes her twirl around.

Shizuku wears a plum gown with a plunging V-neck collar, showing off her ample chest and curves. Her black hair is up into a bun, with a purple butterfly hairclip that brings out the color of her eyes. Her skirt shimmers under the soft lights, and she moves with utmost grace.

"You, too, Valtiel. Did you come with your date?"

"Oh, yes." She fights the urge to make a face, and instead looks over her shoulder. Chrollo smiles back.

"I came with one, too," says Shizuku.

Behind her, Thomas is struggling to wear his dark blue dinner jacket while adjusting his necktie around his collar. With a little laugh, Shizuku fusses over her date's coat and sleeves, and then helps him with the necktie. Over Shizuku's head, Thomas winks.

Valtiel warms at the sight of them both. She searches around the space, spotting Oliver with Rinka as his date, and to the far side, there is Liu and her husband, clinking wine glasses to each other. Most of the guests are settling in to their seats, just as one of the senior museum assistants takes up the stage and clears his throat at the microphone. Valtiel leads Shizuku and Thomas to where she and Chrollo are seated, and then returns to her seat as well, feeling a warm hand snake across her waist.

She raises her eyebrow slightly at him, and Chrollo scoots closer as the introductions begin.

The presenter starts the evening with an array of slideshows and music videos. Valtiel and Chrollo are immersed in the images and paintings, scooting to each other every minute as the cold evening wind breezes and she shivers, goosebumps appearing on her bare shoulders and even the swell of her breasts. She feels his soothing warm presence pressed at her back, his equally warm hand on her shoulder. Out of strange habit, he presses a soft kiss behind her ear and listens again to the show.

After one presentation, there is another performance of water shows from the grand fountain at the center of the rooftop. Purple, blue, and green lights accompany the performance. It is followed by a Beast Hunter with a two-headed wolf that performs tricks across a line, and another performance of Music Hunters and their rendition of a traditional courting dance.

"Are you hungry?" he whispers in her ear after the fifth consecutive slideshow.

"Not really." She is fiddling with her fingers, nervous, and he puts his hand over hers to stop her.

"I'll get you something to eat." He rises from their table and rounds the crowd, towards the back, where he could walk in the shadows and thereby unseen.

Valtiel sighs. She is anxious to have the Languages Department presentation to be over with. Most of them are works from the professional Paleograph Hunters, close friends of the museum's benefactor, while the minor ones are those that Valtiel herself and few volunteers worked on.

The Danchou returns with a modest plate of chocolate mousse and chocolate-dipped strawberries. He has a caramel pudding of his own, and snaps his finger for a waiter, who later brings them more wine.

"Eat," he whispers yet again, pushing the platter to her. "Eat and stop being nervous. You're fine, Val."

"I just want it to be over." She sighs, picking at the strawberries.

The next intermission follows shortly: a masque where the dancers are dressed in fiery red robes and are wearing glittering golden bird masks. It is said that it is another traditional dance, designed for a reclusive tribe. Glancing at Valtiel, Chrollo wonders if the Kurta Clan ever had one.

Finally, another round of presentations starts, this time about the texts and manuscripts. Chrollo feels Val sit up a little straighter, her eyes forever glued to the grey-haired man presenting the works she and many of her friends worked for over the months. He smiles from behind, half-listening to the explanation. Even if he shifts and presses closer, there is no taking her attention from the large screen. With a laugh, he lets her do as she wishes and keeps listening.

Once the presentation ends, she heaves a deep sigh of relief. Chrollo laughs in her ear. "Must you be so nervous, dearest?"

She elbows his chest, to show a little decorum. He sits so close his chest is almost pressed against her back. He moves away, easily. "I wasn't that nervous," she says.

The last slideshow also finishes, followed by another intermission of dances. By the end of it all, the energetic host encourages all the guests for a dance and prompts the group of Music Hunters to play a slow, romantic tune. The guests stand, take their partners, and start swaying in time with the melody.

Chrollo glances at his partner, white-faced despite the elegance of her black gown.

"I suppose I shall ask if you could honor me with a dance, Val," he says and meets her bewildered look. "Dance with me," he says more firmly and offers a hand.

They glide together to the dancefloor. Valtiel checks at the other pairs for their positions, but then Chrollo is already leading where her hands should go−on his shoulder, the other clasped firmly with his left hand−while his hand reaches for her waist and pulls her flush against him. As always, like the cultured man that he is, he guides her throughout the dance, matching their steps together.

"I was not aware you have two left feet, Valtiel," he comments.

"So funny." She rolls her eyes at him. "I cannot contain my laughter."

"You're so stiff," he scolds, the hand on her waist tightening. "Relax. Let me do the guiding."

"You've done that very well for a few good months," she snaps.

"That was before," he answers, matching her uncourteous tone. He narrows his eyes when she clamps her mouth shut, as if she would stop herself from saying more.

From their few short days together, he has noticed a change in her. She is not at all the easy young woman he had found and reared. She is no longer the obedient little doll. She does everything now that would suit her interests, and would clash with his opinions more often than not. Whenever he pulls her for an embrace−something that she should be used to by now−she hisses at him like a cat scalded with boiling water. She is distant now, in more ways than he could have anticipated, and it may be partly because he let her leave for half a year. The Spiders were right: he never should have allowed her gone.

He wants to believe he doesn't know why, but a part of his mind knows exactly why. He thought that incident was past them, way behind them now, but no−he realizes that a mistake is still not forgotten, its wounds still open and probably still bleeding.

He looks down on her and sees the blandness of her face. "We have to talk about it," he murmurs, so low she could not have heard it.

But she heard and she furrows her brows. "About what?"

"You are not very keen on playing the stupid tonight, are you?" He keeps his voice soft, neutral, to avoid the great chances of creating another, bigger rift between them. He never should have let her leave; he should have tied her down with a leash and continued priming her to be his little doll.

"I don't, but I have no idea what you're talking about," she answers coolly.

"Well, then." He throws her a careful, devious smirk. "I will start if you would not. I would say it if you would not, and I do believe it would spare you the humiliation."

Before she could give another one of her snide comments, he leans down to her ear and whispers, "The kiss, Valtiel. You know which one."

"I−" She starts to say, but the words are caught up in her throat and she feels the familiar rush of embarrassment surging through her. She tries to snatch her hand from his grasp, but he tightens his grip and pulls her closer to himself.

"No," she whispers, desperate, tears at the corners of her eyes. "No, let's not−I understand. It was a mistake. So please−"

"Do you want to get away?" he murmurs, eyes softening.

"Let's not talk about it," she pleads, growing more desperate by the second. "It was a mistake, I know. There is nothing else to say. I am sorry about it and it won't happen again," she says rapidly.

"That's not what I want to hear."

"No. Danchou, please."

She squirms and looks around for familiar faces in the crowd. She could see Oliver dancing with Liu, while Rinka is twirling with Liu's husband. Thomas has the widest grin as he dances with Shizuku, both of them no doubt having a good time in each other's companies. She wants−needs−to get away from here, from him. She cannot look into his eyes and pretend to be brave.

Surprisingly, Chrollo lets her hand go. She takes that moment to scramble away, skirts billowing outwards as she runs for the nearest exit. She heads for the elevator, stops to the floor of the archives room, and locks herself inside. She paws at her eyes with her gloves as she finds a chaise lounge by the gilded window. She sits there, hands on her lap, trying to compose herself.

Despite her efforts, he finds her without difficulties. His reflection is on the glass, standing tall with one hand in his pocket. His eyes, usually dark and foreboding, are soft and gentle.

She braces herself. No amount of running would allow her to escape the Spider.

He sits on the other side of the chaise, back leaning on the glass so he could look at her face.

In this time of the night, the archives room is silent. It is dim, with only the slivers of moonlight spilling through the thin curtains. Valtiel sniffs and presses closer to the window, ignoring him.

"Why did you do it?" he whispers, and there is no question about what he's talking about.

She gulps. This is the moment she has been dreading, a confrontation. She thought, all those months ago, that she could just come up straight to him, apologize for the deed, and all would be well−that she would be forgiven. She had never thought of him coming to her and straight up asking her himself. Shame colors her cheeks in bright scarlet, and sends beads of tears back to her eyes.

"At the moment, it felt right," Valtiel answers, eyes still out on the window. Her knees are trembling under her thick skirts, her fingers frozen and she has to keep fiddling them on her lap. "It was so peaceful back then, the beach and the sunset, so very peaceful and wonderful. I thought… I felt…"

Her breath hitches in her throat, choking back a sob. This is embarrassing in the strictest sense of the word. It feels like a bile is rising in her throat and she would either swallow it back again or choke on it.

He holds his tongue, letting her to continue.

Through the reflection, she glances at his face. He is not as angry as he had looked that day. He is not scowling and gazing so murderously at her. Is that a good sign? She doesn't know. She doesn't want to know. By this time, she wishes she believes in divine interventions; she could really use one now.

Deep in her thoughts, Chrollo shifts, catching her attention.

"It felt right?" he prompts, uncertain.

"Yes," she confesses, feeling like a sinner in a church. "We were so close," she adds, lowering her head so she could not even see his reflection. "Everything about us was close and perfect, and I felt…" She saves herself from more shame. "Well, it doesn't matter what I felt. I know it had been a mistake. I hope you can forgive me about it, Danchou. I was only curious, it won't happen again."

Another silence falls between them. Why does he have to make it more awkward by not saying anything? She dares not look up and try to steal a glance; he might be holding back a laugh for all she knows.

Instead of laughing, he sighs and peers out of the window. "It was my first," he admits.

Her head comes up so fast. She stares at him, wide-eyed. "What?"

Chrollo chuckles and gives her a sidelong glance. "It was my first kiss."

Her lips are sputtering with utmost surprise. "You?" The derision drips from her voice. It makes him smile even wider, as if this is amusing for him. She shakes her head stubbornly. "I don't believe you."

"I am not asking you to believe me," he says. "But I think you do not believe me because you know I have seduced before." He checks at her face, the little glare confirming his suspicions. He leans forward and rests his chin on the heel of his palm. "Which is true: I seduced so many women before that I have lost count. Still, it does not equate to me having any connections or relationships with them whatsoever. Words and fleeting touches are enough to trap them."

"And you acted thus when I did it because what−you're a prude?" she snaps again.

"Of course not." He snorts and rolls his eyes. "I acted thus when you did it because I was confused."

"The leader of the Phantom Troupe?" More derision to mask her increasing anxiety.

"It was the most extraordinary sensation," he whispers. "And I didn't know what to do."

He thought he was prepared for this conversation, but when her spine returns and she is the one glowering now, the tables have turned: it is he feeling anxious, and to be closer to the truth−embarrassed. Never in his life did he ever feel the need to speak his emotions so vocally. In the Troupe, Pakunoda is the easiest one to approach. With her rare ability, there is no need for him to say the words to her.

Words are cheap and more difficult when it comes to emotions; he would rather show her to get his meaning across. But she would not let him near her, and he dares not incense her further.

Chrollo runs his fingers through his hair to calm himself. "I am sorry," he says at length. "When I acted the way I did and you suffered because of it. I was too less of a man to comfort you."

With all the boldness in him, he reaches for her hand and kisses her knuckles, their eyes locked upon each other. She is near tears, the golden irises glassy with bright red.

"I am so sorry," he breathes against her gloves. "I ran away when you needed me the most."

She shakes her head and wipes the tears with her free hand. "Oh, it's all in the past," she says. "Half a year ago. Feels more like a lifetime ago. And we were younger. It won't happen again."

"No?" He blinks, with a voice so mischievously innocent. He slides across the chaise and puts a hand on her chin, lifting it so he could admire the near-scarlet hue in her eyes. He leans their faces close as if none of these shameful confessions ever happened between them. "Not once again, Val?"

"I dare not," she answers, matching his provocative mood.

"For shame." He clicks his tongue and rubs his thumb over her flushed cheek. "You said you were curious back then. Would you be curious again for me?"

"Danchou−" She swallows, growing nervous.

Chrollo smiles tenderly and kisses her ear, whispering, "I missed you so much, my dearest."

Author's Notes: Welcome back, everyone! Sorry it took so long! Life is crazy these times and my laptop took forever to work again. Thank you to those who messaged/commented and asked about my well-being. I've been great, and I hope you and your family are staying safe!

We FINALLY have ChroVal together after so long! And here they talked about the infamous kiss (not the Hisoka one!-I suppose that's another conversation for another chapter, LOL) and we have Danchou here feeling all sorts of feelings. I feel for Val, but I honestly feel bad for Danchou, too. This handsome boi has never experienced real romance, smh.

Once again, thank you all for the support! Hopefully, I can update the next chapter very soon. Stay safe everyone! ❤️