Chapter XLVII

Day 8

It seems the entire prison has turned up for support.

Everyone is up, even the latest addition to the collection, at first thing in the morning. The prisoners spend the breakfast in silence, filling the room with nothing but their spoons clattering upon plastic plates. Valtiel passes her chocolate éclair to Cas, well knowing that this would be the last time she would see him.

The last days have been fun, but nothing in this world lasts forever—especially not two Phantom Troupe members staying in a prison.

Feitan's eyes flit back and forth, assessing everything that comes up: the passing guards, every little movement from the other prisoners, the strange gleam in the new addition's blue eyes.

He does not touch his food, but twitches his fingers under the table. He is ready, his claws are ready to snap at anyone near his reach. Across the table, the young woman smiles and beams at the guards, but deep down, he knows she is as impatient as him to get the hell out of here.

Captain Emery and his entourage arrive and wear a complete body armor that police officers usually don during riots and confrontations. The lead guard has a black helmet, gas mask, and various weaponries attached to his person.

"Prisoner 24601 and Prisoner 24602."

With a snap of his fingers, the guards step out of the line, force Valtiel and Feitan off the table, and stuff them into wheelchairs.

Handcuffs around the wrists, elbows, and ankles, embedded into the chairs. Another iron chain around their torso, forcing their bodies rigid and flat against the back. Valtiel is glad for the lack of a muzzle. Four armored guards on each side, another two dozen lined up from behind. Emery himself leads the regiment, a black knight in front of the group.

The group enters the antechamber, Valtiel looking over her shoulder to get one last glance at Castile. He smiles beneath his thick beard, his youthful face already committed to her memories. Another face she would not see again.

Suddenly, the guard on her left yanks at her hair, forcing her to face the front again. She complies, fighting the building urge to bite at his gloved hand.

The entourage goes past the first steel door in the long tunnel. Emery glances at his treasured prisoners before inputting the passwords. The door hisses, another tunnel, another glance, another password.

Feitan settles into his wheelchair and feels for every inch of cuff and chain around his body. Even the tunnels have the vents, but he has long since gotten used to them. When he glances at his companion, the guard on her side catches his eyes and tightens his fingers near the trigger.

The thief feels like snickering, as if a rifle could pose a threat.

Still, the sight of a gun reminds him of the painful sensation of being shot. His bullet wounds are already closed, but he fears that one wrong movement could open them again. He has to be careful. Moreover, he has to be quick. He glances at Valtiel and wonders if she could keep up.

Valtiel feels the constant attention—from Feitan to Emery. They have one more tunnel to pass. After that, they should be coming along the series of bridges that make up the entire submarine. She opens her palms and presses them flat against the chair's armrest. She hears the quiet click of the gun's safety lock behind her.

In her peripheral vision, Feitan almost smirks. The thief is certainly looking more forward to this than she does. She presses her lips into a thin line.

Emery inputs the last password for the final tunnel. Valtiel braces herself as the doors hiss open. She is ready when two dozen more armored guards stand on the other side, all of them pointing their guns at her and Feitan.

Surprised at the sudden increase of security, she glances at Feitan for confirmation. He nods, his jaw set and tight.

She sets her shoulders and lifts her chin.

Time to go wild.

Valtiel puts both feet flat on the ground and rams backwards to the long line of guards. The sudden movement surprises the entourage behind her, breaking their composure and through their ranks. The force of the wheelchair and mass of bodies bumping against each other pushes her chair to the side.

She grunts as her head slams to the white floor. In her sideways vision, Feitan takes the momentary distraction to break free of his bonds, cuffs and all, and shoves his two hands into the nearest guards.

The new line of guards starts firing at him. He dodges the first assault, and then grabs Emery by the fabric of his military uniform, using him as a human shield against the barrage of bullets.

He looks over his shoulder as she snaps the chains and attends to the guards behind their backs, making quick work of breaking their necks as she once watched from Phinks. She snatches a grenade from one of the fallen guards and Feitan actually smiles.

He throws Emery's bullet-ridden body to the crowd and Valtiel tosses the grenade after the captain's corpse. Feitan snatches her around the waist and forces themselves flat to the ground, the explosion searing around them. Then he grabs her back to her feet again and they dash amidst the thick black smoke and writhing burning bodies.

The entire prison comes alive with sirens. It deafens their already sensitive hearings. The two thieves dash toward the nearest bridge that spirals upwards to the second and third floors. Another wave of officers emerges from the third floor, opening fire at them.

Valtiel yanks Feitan out of the way, and together they dive across the nearest corridor, using the wall as a shield. One of the officers tosses a few grenades after them, more explosions ringing in their ears, smoke stinging their eyes.

He takes her hand and drags her further into the corridor. It is intended for maintenance, equipment, and such. They run towards the end, hoping for another exit, when Valtiel catches a glimpse of a bronze plate on one door. She tugs at his sleeve.

Smirking deviously, Feitan kicks the door open and they plunge into the dim room.

The armory is heaven-sent. There are racks of machine guns, assault rifles, and shotguns in one corner. Grenades and flamethrowers on one table, with electroshock guns and stun belts next to it. On the other side of the room are the more traditional weapons: swords, spears, daggers, and small knives.

Feitan approaches the blades, eyes practically gleaming with pleasure. He studies one sword from the next, pressing the pad of his thumb across a katana's silver blade.

"How your weapon skills?" he asks.

"Uh." She gulps, not wanting to disappoint. "I'm not terrible at handling knives."

"You use blades before?"

"I did, actually," she says with more confidence. "Danchou gifted me with hidden blades once."

"Good. Then here."

He tosses her a pair of daggers with black steel blade and an ornate golden hilt. She catches it, surprised at the light weight despite the intricacies. He himself settles for a simple katana with a green handle and sheath. He removes the sheath and twirls it between his fingers. He grins at the weight of it in his hands.

There is a quick pattering of feet towards the room. "They here," Feitan says, taking his stance. He juts his chin to her. "Ladies first."

"I'm not a lady."

"Oh? Wait 'til I tell Danchou."

She flushes and says, "Fine." She grips her daggers, uncomfortable with their weight, and braces herself as the first line of officers appears into her line of sight.

Upending the table of weapons is not part of her initial plan, but she does anyway, throwing the table to distract them, and then sidestepping towards the entrance doors to cut down the team.

The blades slice through the flesh and warm blood spurts to her face and her jumpsuit. The feeling is disgusting, slick and warm and so very damp. She almost slips from her balance when the blood pools on the floor.

Feitan leads the way out of the corridor, running back from where they came, aiming for the bridges again. Guards appear to gun them down, and he—thankful for a new sword—deflects the bullets and slices through the guards in a semicircle. The blade cuts them from the middle, half their bodies falling in uneven portions. Valtiel cringes at the lingering scent of blood, but Feitan just cackles.

They run upwards where more officers are pouring in. She overtakes Feitan and slides across the floor, kicking their legs, while he rushes overhead for the long-awaited kills. More blood showers on them both, but they are far from finished.

"We need to find the control chamber," she pants. "We need to resurface the submarine first."

"You know where?" Feitan picks up a grenade from the floor and rolls it towards the next bridge. It explodes, destroying the bridge and forcing the responding officers to take another route.

"Could only be that." She points the hilt towards the large beehive-shaped chamber at the very top and middle of the complex.

Most of the crisscrossing bridges are connected to the beehive. The very appearance of it screams that it is an important room.

She grins at him. "Race you there?"

"Done." He smirks and quickens his pace.

"Right." She rolls her eyes at her wrong choice of words. She could not be a match to his speed, and already she could feel her short legs getting tired from all the running. There is not enough adrenaline for her to work with. And Feitan knows that.

"Keep up, little girl," he goads, almost teasing.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." She runs faster, hoping to catch up. "Right behind you."

A sudden release of ear-piercing sonic waves stops them from their tracks. The sound assaults their hearing all the more, almost shattering their eardrums. Both grit their teeth and fall to their knees, momentarily dropping their guards to fight off the sonic waves. Feitan snarls deep in his throat—the sound is about ten times more maddening than Uvogin's shout.

With the two prisoners occupied with the sonic waves, the latest responding team throws in magnetic bombs that stick to the bridge's iron beams underneath.

Valtiel and Feitan flinch and scramble back to their feet, but the bombs explode underneath them, plunging them into a combination of searing flames, thick black smoke, and falling iron beams and debris. They plummet back to the first floor, slamming their heads and back to the ground.

She moans from the pain, her vision blurry and her lungs burning from the smoke. She could barely make out the images of the debris until Feitan snatches her out of the way, using his smaller frame as a shield, on his hands and knees above her. In the fiery chaos, she manages to look up, meeting his dark eyes framed by his dark hair.

Amidst the explosion and the metallic clangs, she hears the angry rumble in his throat—a sign that brings her back to her senses and makes her compose herself.

The smoke clears and the explosion settles. Feitan removes himself on top of her and sits on the floor, groaning. They are back where they came from, surrounded not only by Emery and his team's corpses, but also by the decimated bridge.

Feitan cranes his neck to assess their pathway: without that one bridge, there is no other way of reaching the beehive chamber without jumping the distance, which is much, considering how most of the bridge was destroyed from that damned explosion.

He hisses and caresses the blooming bruise in his left jaw. Somewhere to their left, he senses more officers streaming in, with more weapons, more grenades. Damn them.

He coughs and turns for his companion. She is on her hands and knees, coughing and pawing dust from her eyes. He retrieves his sword and her daggers, shoving them to her hands.

"We need a distraction," he says rapidly.

"Yeah, no kidding."

"Brat," he growls, narrowing his eyes at the rumbling footsteps coming towards them.

"Ah, damn it, I hurt all over." She suffers from a new bleeding gash on her forehead, a burned left wrist, and a purple bruise peeking at her collarbone. She coughs again and spits blood to the already bloodstained floor.

"Me, too." He forces himself back to the task at hand. "Quick. We have guests."

"You sound angry," she says with a laugh, rising back to unsteady feet.

"Because I am angry!"

His aura spells murder as it radiates around his body. His black hair spikes upwards from the sheer strength, his pale skin glowing. He growls like a cornered prey when the officers arrive once more, numbering about half a hundred and ready for more barrage of gunfire.

She stands in front of him. Her Nen pulses with his own aura. Feitan pauses and blinks—she is a slight thing, Danchou's beloved doll, but her Nen capacity matches Feitan's own, or even more.

Her vision swims, everything in her line of sight a bright shade of red. Every inch of her body thumps with pain, and her forehead keeps bleeding. She grits her teeth and propels herself to the officers before Feitan could say otherwise.

A crimson sphere surges from her body as she closes in on the group. It engulfs the team—slowly, carefully—while she collapses back to the ground and moans in pain. Her ability holds fast as it completely stops the enemies from moving, breathing, and even their beating hearts.

She grunts as she puts her hand over her chest, feeling for a heartbeat that is not there. It is both frightening and somewhat thrilling to use her strange Nen ability once more, but not in these circumstances, not with this kind of heart-stopping restriction.

But her Scarlet Eyes do what they are meant to be: to strengthen. Whereas the others suffer the brunt of her ability, she manages to endure the pain. She keeps her eyes shut, aware that Feitan is nearby. He couldn't see me in my Scarlet Eyes.

It's our way of life. The old man's voice rings in her ears. Her fingers claw at the soft skin over her heart. Our Scarlet Eyes grant immense strength.

The sphere dissolves after what feels like forever. The officers fall limp next to her, their systems shut down like technology.

Feitan rushes over to them first, checking for pulses. None that he could feel. Their noses are bleeding and the whites in their eyes are already grey. It sets him more on the edge. Her aura wafts around her in great waves, beating in time with her heart, before gradually dissolving like mist. He is still stunned at her immense aura reserve.

He tiptoes and crouches beside her. "You all right?"

She clutches at her chest again, and Feitan sees her gleaming claws making long scratches over the skin. Earnestly horrified, he yanks her hand away.

She hisses like a wildcat, eyes shut tightly. She shakes her head when he tries standing her up, barely feeling the muscles in her legs. Hot tears rush beneath her closed lids, making a long line over her dusty cheeks.

"Please." Her voice trembles. "Please…"

She really couldn't afford letting Feitan know.

"…Please…"

Tired, battered and confused, Feitan closes his eyes and presses his forehead against hers.

His voice remains guttural yet somehow soft. "Come. Stand up."

She scrambles for his sleeves, desperate. "Fei-san!"

He groans and studies her face. Almost her entire face is stained with blood from the earlier kills. Her tears are pooling along with the blood droplets. It's pathetic.

"Let's go." He offers his hand and she accepts, nodding in relief. "So stop whining, really. You cry and cry all the time, I hate it."

Carefully, she opens her eyes—seeing nothing but smoke and dead bodies littering the ground. Her vision swims from the tears, but she does not see red. Her heart is back to beating normally again. She looks to her right where Feitan is, just staring at her hair and her face and observing the blood on her cheeks.

"I take next wave," he volunteers.

He twirls his sword and leads the way once more, up across the bridges, sidestepping the corpse-strewn hallways. After the last stunt with Valtiel's ability, the number of officers has dwindled. No one seems enthusiastic enough to throw themselves to their deaths. Feitan glares at the next bridge, the destroyed one from earlier.

Thinking fast, he twists his fist into Valtiel's jumpsuit and throws her across the distance. She gasps, caught off-guard with his impatience, and almost comes short on the other side. The thief nods as she digs her claws into the concrete, hanging by the arms off the ledge. He follows suit, launching himself off the other side and lands on his feet just as Valtiel heaves herself off.

Their movements are synchronized, dashing across the bridge and aiming for the highest chamber. Valtiel sighs—they have about three more floors to suffer and it feels as if there is a new wave of guards coming to meet them.

She wiggles her fingers and blinks her eyes. Unfamiliar strength pulses in her veins. Unfamiliar yet comforting. She checks the blade of her dagger and a hint of scarlet in her eyes greets her. She scowls and shakes her head. When she checks again, the scarlet is gone.

Feitan outruns her as the newest group turns into a corner. His aura radiates, surrounding himself and the sword. With one powerful kick, he surges through the company and decimates the dozen or so officers. He comes away from them with his blade slick with blood.

"Next wave, you," he says.

Valtiel curses under her breath and leads the way this time. They find a spiraling staircase that leads to another bridge. Three officers appear at the top and start opening fire at them.

Feitan jumps over the railing to dodge the bullets. Valtiel pounces over their heads and throws the daggers at the officers, embedding them into their chests and stomachs. She bears down on the third officer, claws outstretched to dig into the flabby flesh of his neck and throat. Wrist deep into the warm flesh, she cringes as she withdraws.

The dark-haired Spider lands on his tiptoes on the railing. His lips curl at the dripping blood on her arms and fingers.

She catches him staring and smiles. "Your turn."

He tucks the sword under his arm while he reaches out for her waist. She follows his lead and wraps an arm around his shoulders. Pressed flushed together, they kick themselves off the bridge and jump towards the next one, and then the next. He lets go of her and looks around the complex.

They are standing at the very top of the crisscrossing corridors, leaving corpses and burned stones in their wake. It is as if standing on a precipice of a cliff, having a full view of the submarine and its numerous corridors with prisons.

The prisoners themselves are cheering, their shouts echoing and bouncing off the metal ceilings. They couldn't see what is happening, but the gunshots and explosions send their imaginations raging. Feitan rolls his eyes at these common people's shallow entertainment.

"Are you going to stare at the blood all day?" She picks at her bloodstained shirt.

"Stop it," he snaps. "We working together not means we already friends."

"I know." She opens her arms in a dismissive gesture. "But we should get going."

"Race you there."

"I thought you said we're not friends!"

"We not friends."

As they race each other towards the chamber, the sonic waves return, coming straight from the chamber itself and forcing the two Spiders backwards.

Feitan stabs his sword into the ground for leverage, with Valtiel crouching behind him and wincing at the terrible sound. It could only be a work of an Emitter, who could use such waves as echolocation like dolphins do.

She swallows back a pained scream, but Feitan has had enough. Once the metal doors open and the old warden himself comes into view, the Spider takes his sword and jumps off the bridge's railing. Valtiel's jaw drops when Feitan leaves her alone to take the brunt of the waves.

Then he returns from the other side of the bridge, jumping off the wall with the blade high above his head. With the warden's echolocation, he senses Feitan's approach from behind, but even he is not quick enough to dodge when Feitan rams the blade through the warden's temple. He lands on the floor and yanks at the blade, giving it a savage twist that has the warden's brown eyes rolling back into his skull.

He mutters something in his native tongue, and then pries the warden's skull off his sword with an unceremonious kick. The body falls limp, and Feitan kicks it further off the bridge. He watches in glee as the body plummets, hurtling over and over on the bridges the warden seemed to be so proud of. The body breaks, the bones shatter, and the warden's face is crumpled and his skull split open like a melon.

Valtiel leaves him enjoying the show to enter the chamber. Flashing lights assault her eyes. Her vision aches from the blinking red lights.

The control room is massive, littered with hundreds of screens, buttons, and levers. One particular screen catches her attention: the semi-circular prison with Cas is quiet and almost untouched. To her left, there is a long line of screens for each hallway. Then she looks down at the steering wheel.

"You know how to do this?" Feitan asks as he strides into the room.

"No, I am at a loss here."

"Could use Shal."

She chuckles. "I wish he was here."

He shrugs and rests his hips on one chair, folding his arms over his chest. "Take us back to surface," he says, watching her mess with the many buttons and steering wheel. He tears his eyes from her task and glowers at the open door. "Your turn next."

Her shoulders drop. "My turn again?" she asks with a whine.

Feitan nudges her off the steering wheel. "Your turn," he confirms. "Get going, little girl."

She snatches the ornate daggers from the table and attends to the last—sweet Lord, have mercy—wave of officers on their way to stop the Spiders.

She stands before the door, the only one between them and Feitan. If she had not suffered once going against a group of Nen-using mercenaries, she would have toppled by now. She pants, beads of sweat on her bloody cheeks.

The guards fire machine guns at her. Valtiel pounces out of the way. She closes her eyes, breathes in and out. When she opens them again, she feels the veins in her temple throb with pain as her vision gradually darkens. Her aura is pulsing like a heated blanket.

She puts one hand over her heart as she descends in the middle of the group. Once she makes contact to the floor, her crimson sphere extends from her body once more, swallowing the guards and disabling their systems.

She struggles back to her feet, then observes one guard. The whites of his eyes are darkening, and his pupils dilate. She puts a hand over his chest and feels no heartbeat, like hers. Blood starts gurgling from her mouth after a long while, passing the ten-second restriction of her usual ability.

She lets go of the sphere when she coughs more blood. The officers splay across the bridge, spasming from the side effects.

"We near shore," the thief says from inside the control room.

"Which shore?" She joins him, still clutching at her chest, feeling for her own heartbeat. She wipes the blood off her mouth with her sleeves.

"Zaban?" Feitan reads the indication on the monitor.

"Don't they have phones in here?"

"We can call when we reach shore." He revs the submarine's engines, the gears whirring and the sub itself tipping upwards in a sharp ascent. The dot on the monitor indicates a few more minutes.

Valtiel sighs and slumps back to a chair. She catches him staring and winks, trying to be playful. Feitan sneers back, not at all amused. She laughs it off.

When the minutes finally pass, he straightens himself. "We go now. Shore in one minute."

She ambles beside him and caresses the aching muscles in her shoulder. "What should we do to the submarine when we reach land? No one else would operate it and we can't just leave the prisoners."

"Why you care so much about others?" he growls. "World not care for you, so why do you?"

"Have you ever felt what it's like having no one to care for you?"

"Of course. I an orphan. I from Meteor City."

"See? Not a very good feeling, right?"

He sidesteps her and checks the lid that opens to the surface. Hands flat on the steel door, he gives an effortless punch and the hinges give way. He tosses the lid over their heads and Valtiel rushes first to get the first inhale of fresh air.

She could almost weep for joy. "Land! Air! Finally!"

The submarine has crashed onto the docks of Zaban City. The townspeople are craning their necks, confused and intrigued at the massive black vehicle and its two emerging passengers.

Valtiel and Feitan slide off the smooth surface and land on the wooden planks. More and more people stream, gathering into a thick crowd. Some are gasping at the bloodstained faces and jumpsuits.

Feitan ignores them all, intent on finding the nearest place with a working telephone. They need to regroup with the Troupe—and fast, unless they want another wave of Blacklist Hunters snapping at their heels.

She peers back to the submarine, now attended by the local fishermen. If they would prod only a little further, they would discover the massive group of prisoners. She could warn them at least, but her companion is already faraway that she has to catch up to him.

He crashes into the nearest inn he could find. It takes him one quick glare at the receptionist to have her scrambling out of the building. He snatches the phone on the desk. "You know Danchou's number?"

She shakes her head, embarrassed. "No, I never memorized his number."

"What kind of—" He pauses from saying the embarrassing term girlfriend, and snorts. "Never mind. I calling Phinks."

"I know Hisoka-san's number," she offers. She and the magician have a long history of prank texts and paying phone bills back in Heavens Arena. "If you want him."

"I calling Phinks," the thief reiterates and dials the number.

Valtiel hears the phone ring once and Feitan says into the phone, "Guess who, dipshit."

"FEITAN!"

The thief hisses and puts the phone a few inches away from his ear.

Phinks continues his ranting. "Fei, where the hell are you?! Are you alright? Are you hurt? Where's Val?! Holy shit, Danchou's worried and pissed, are you guys all right—"

"We fine, idiot. Stop whining," Feitan snaps and Valtiel giggles behind him. "Pick us up. We in Zaban City, Rose and Clown—shit, Crown—Club. We wait for you here."

"Okay, don't worry. Shal's got your location on the map already," Phinks answers, voice still loud enough to hear. There is a static shuffling in his end, then he says, "Danchou wants to speak with Val."

"Sure." Feitan throws the phone to her and leans against the counter. "It someone."

She holds the phone to her heart and walks away, as if that would stop the thief from eavesdropping. She walks as far as the line could allow, and presses the phone to her ear. She could almost see him on the other line, his serene face contorted into worry and anxiety. She is almost afraid to speak to him.

And so he goes first. And his voice is heavenly.

"Valtiel?" He breathes into the receiver, and the hairs on her nape rise at the low, husky voice.

"Danchou," she returns, her tone soft.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"A little. Fei-san and I are fine."

"That's good to know." He sighs in relief, so unlike the leader of the Phantom Troupe to worry. "I would need you two to sit back and keep each other safe for a few more hours. We are nine hours away from where you are. If you are planning to switch locations, call this number. We'll be there as soon as we can. Can you keep each other safe until then?"

She searches for Feitan and smiles. He raises his eyebrow at her. "We've been doing that for an entire week, Danchou," she says with a laugh.

He chuckles. "Then I will see you soon, darling."

After the phone call, Valtiel and Feitan find a couch in the lobby to slump themselves onto. Both moan and sigh in complete exhaustion, leaning against each other's shoulders with their legs stretched before them. Valtiel closes her eyes and feels for the thief's faint breathing beside her. He nudges her with an elbow. She sleepily opens one eye and peeks at him.

"Good fight, Valtiel."

They share a knowing smirk.

"Good fight, Feitan."

Hours after the escape, the Rose and Crown Club has new guests. Twelve in all—sullen and dark-faced, as if annoyed by the long travel time and little preparation.

But of course Danchou stands at the head of the group, two hands in his pockets, as his dark eyes dance at the tableau before him. He wants to smile, but the sight of so much dried blood and purple bruises over pale skins stops him.

Uvogin crouches and grins down on the sleeping pair. "I never thought I'd say this, but they actually look cute together."

Phinks pushes at Shalnark's shoulder and whispers hurriedly in his ear, "Quick! Take a picture!"

"Alright, already!" Shal snickers, Phinks and Nobunaga watching on either side of his shoulders. He puts up his phone and whispers, "In three… two… one…"

FLASH!

Feitan's black eyes snap open and he hurls himself face first onto Shalnark's torso. The green-eyed Spider yelps at the sudden attack, and desperately gets his phone away from Feitan's iron grip. They wrestle on the floor like cats squabbling for a mouse—until Phinks takes Shal's phone and escapes to safety. Feitan snarls and chases after Phinks next, sending the otherwise quiet lobby into a frenzy.

Valtiel wakes from the commotion, from the snickers and laughter and curses spoken in a foreign language. Still sleepy, she makes an image of someone kneeling before her, with his big, warm hand cupping her cheek. She sighs and rubs at her eyes.

"What time is it?"

"It's almost midnight, Val."

Groggily, she stands and lets the continuous raucous wake her even more. An arm wraps loosely around her waist, the warmth of his body soothing. She blinks at the numerous familiar faces—Hisoka's cheerful smile at the very back of the group—and at the sight of Feitan still trying to wrestle the phone from Shalnark and Phinks.

Amidst the chaotic reunion, Feitan finds her eyes and she finds his own. His black on her gold.

She holds his stare for a few silent moments, until Chrollo Lucilfer tugs at her waist and guides her to a soft embrace. She lets out a little sigh and nestles in his arms, ear pressed over his beating heart. His arms come around her so easily, so naturally, and his lips find her own to kiss.

Feitan looks away.

Author's Notes: Ouch! My FeiVal heart! Just kidding—or am I? 👀

Happy Thanksgiving, folks! I hope you and your family are well and safe for the holidays! Thank you all for taking the time to read. For those who take the extra time to leave a comment/review, bless you guys because you always make my day! I hope you enjoyed this action-packed chapter featuring Fei and Val, and I hope it lives up to your expectations on how these two would interact with each other! It got me all soft because Fei needs a real friend (they all need friends, honestly! LOL)

Danchou with the moves tho 😩 His reaction to their abduction will probably in the next chapter! But Val with the Scarlet Eyes tho...

Thanks again and see you all in the next update! Love you all a lot!