Chapter LI

"The research paper is not in the office, so what now?"

"Let's have dinner. I'm starving."

"You're always starving, Danchou."

He chuckles and takes her by the waist. Both are still in their disguises, and he takes the opportunity to tease her about it. He backs her to the dresser and lifts her by the waist. He steps in between her legs and wraps them around his hips, keeping himself in place. Still wearing the horn-rimmed glasses, he glosses over her blushing cheeks and strokes her chin. He notices how she is averting her gaze from him, especially from his face.

Does he really look too strange in this getup?

He kisses her between the eyes, on the bridge of her nose, and lower still, smiles against her lips. It is unlike him to ask for permission, but he still does, imploring through his eyes.

She gives a short laugh and kisses him on the forehead instead.

Not enough. It's not enough.

His hands touch every inch of her upper body, big hands firmly cupping everything he could touch except her breasts. With the platinum blonde hair up in a bun, it gives him easier access to her neck and collarbone, leaving little nips and soft kisses here and there, inhaling the creamy scent from her skin. He feels a little moan reverberating from the back of her throat and bites there, softly.

She pushes at his shoulder, twists the other hand into the lapels of his doctor's lab coat. Chrollo takes the hand pushing at him and puts it around his neck, the other hand goes from twisting to cupping him by the cheek. She sighs against him, too drained from her previous infiltration to think too much on the matter at hand. She lets him guide her anywhere he wants.

Soon, his hands roaming her torso is not enough. He dares to venture lower, to her waist and her thighs wrapped around his hips. His clever fingers slip underneath the pencil skirt, blunt nails brushing over the scratchy surface of the stockings. Higher across her thighs, he feels something else, connected to the stockings through a clip.

Chrollo growls deep in his throat. Garters. She's wearing garters.

"Valtiel," he breathes, clutching the soft skin of her thighs. He kisses her deeper, slides his tongue over hers for a fleeting touch, and growls again. He squeezes her. "May I?"

Despite her haze and her swirling mind, she understands his meaning. She sits straighter, more alert, and looks into his eyes. She is blissfully aware of their compromising position, how her legs wrap around him almost possessively. She smiles and whispers in his ear, "Yes, please."

He bites her ear as his deft fingers start working on the garter belts. His fingers slip higher underneath the skirt and trace every inch of bare skin. His mouth finds hers, pressing light kisses, while his hands work on the first straps, unclipping them and hearing the quiet snap of the thin garters. His ears perk at the deliciously erotic sound of her sighing against his neck and the straps coming undone.

She runs her fingers through his dark hair, smoothing it back over his head as if she had not complained of his slicked back hair before. She cradles him by the nape and pulls him down for another kiss. She could feel herself getting used to this—this kind of intimacy—that she follows his every guidance and follows her own, whatever her instincts feel is best.

A kiss on the mouth and neck. Hands all over her body. Her skin and her insides are burning up, the same way they did back in the Solomon Islands. She had been with Hisoka then, and it was scary. Now she is with Chrollo, and everything feels so right.

Her legs tighten around his hips. An involuntary reaction to his fervent kisses on her chest. He comes closer, his hard crotch almost flushed against hers, and both of them pull away, panting harshly over each other's mouths. She takes the momentary break to observe his appearance.

His lab coat is already pushed over his shoulders, his shirt askew and rumpled. The black glasses also sit askew on the bridge of his nose, and she laughs and puts them away.

He blinks and chuckles with her. "You like them, don't you?" he muses, nodding to the glasses.

She might still be burning up for him, but she won't give him this pleasure. "You look rather…"

"Stunning? Gorgeous? Breath-taking? Heart-pounding?" he suggests, punctuating every word.

"I was about to aim for something simpler," she snorts. "Like handsome."

"You find me handsome?" He grins that roguish grin again. "I'm flattered."

"You should be," she says, ungracious, and earns a bark of laughter from him.

Then he starts kissing her again, from her mouth down to the curve of her neck, his fingers working to unbutton her pale pink blouse. He nips once more at her collarbone, and pushes the blouse lower. She pants in his ear, and it goads him on, making him bolder. He takes her nurse cap and removes the pin from the crown of her head, allowing her blonde hair to fall in loose waves over her shoulders. He buries his nose in her thick hair, loving how it smells of his shampoo, and kisses the hollow base of her throat.

She fists his coat, and at length, pries it off his shoulders. The lab coat glides over his body and falls into a discarded heap on the floor. His black shirt comes next, unbuttoned down to his sternum. She stops her probing of his skin, suddenly conscious where her hands are going.

Yet he smiles down on her, kind and reassuring, and gives her another soft kiss on the lips.

"Touch me, Val," he pleads.

"Where?" she hears herself say, still panting.

Chrollo completely opens his shirt, never leaving her heated gaze as the fabric slides off his arms and joins the coat on the floor. Then he takes both her hands and guides them to touch his shoulders, his biceps, over the broad chest, down to his toned stomach, and lower still—

His phone blasts a loud ringing noise.

He snarls and searches for his phone. It's on the bed, halfway across the room. There is no reaching to it without disentangling himself from her legs.

It keeps ringing… ringing… ringing.

She laughs at his disgruntled face and plants a rather teasing kiss on his cheek. "Go ahead and answer it, Danchou."

The title never fails to shatter the enchantment. He wrinkles his nose in disapproval and makes a face, like a sulking child. Without any other choice, he removes himself from her and strides to the other side of the room, while Valtiel leaps off the dresser and stretches her arms.

"Hello?"

"AH, Danchou!"

He winces at the extremely loud voice. He notices Valtiel perking up as well. "Yes, Uvogin?"

At once, his darling dear is at his side, flashing him excited puppy eyes.

Chrollo smiles and turns his back to her, focusing on his Spider. Uvogin keeps ranting and ranting, almost breathless. "Is that right?" the Troupe leader hums, indulgent. "That's great news. We can work things out, such as scheduling and travel itineraries. Are you alone now?"

They discuss everything out of Valtiel's earshot. The Danchou wants to keep her on the edge, teasing and making her wait until her puppy eyes transition into a pouty scowl. As the conversation ends, he laughs and tells Uvo, "Someone wants to speak with you."

Valtiel immediately snatches the offered phone. "UVO-SAN!"

Uvo's equally excited voice is unmistakable. "VAL!"

The Troupe leader can never understand how these dorks are so excited to hear from each other when they only saw each other literally two weeks ago.

He leaves them to talk about whatever they want to talk about. He sighs and gathers his discarded doctor's coat and shirt on the floor. He glances towards Valtiel—she is now lounging on the bed, feet swaying back and forth in the air, her hair a tumble of silver-gold over the white sheets. Her nurse's skirt is bunched up high above her thighs, giving him a teasing glance of her lacy underwear. He could frown at her carelessness.

Chrollo's skin still tingles from their previous heated session that he has to take a shower.

Get your head out of the gutter, Lucilfer.

Valtiel wakes to the masculine scent of Chrollo's cologne as he buttons his white shirt up to his throat. Still in her dream, half-sleep with her hair tangled over her shoulders, she watches him prepare to leave the room. He is standing in front of the mirror, adjusting his sleeves and cufflinks. Then his eyes find hers through the mirror, and he gives a little handsome smile before finishing with his cufflinks and joining her on the bed.

"Where are you going?" is her first concern.

"I am dealing with our esteemed doctor," he says, pushing her hair back from her eyes.

"What time is it?"

"It's past six. You overslept again."

"What?!" She starts up from the bed, scrambling to get the covers off her.

"Peace, sweetheart." Gently, he pushes her back to bed. "I shall deal with the doctor myself."

"What are you trying to do?"

"Stay indoors and get some more rest." He kisses her on the cheek, then on the lips, before rising from the bed again to reach for his black coat. "I put aside your food and desserts in the fridge. You can overheat them. If you want, order some more from the lobby. There are credit cards in the drawer."

"Wait—" She rubs her eyes, hopefully rubbing the sleepiness away as well. "Why do you suddenly want to deal with Wentworth? I worked hard to sneak into his office. Now you're telling me to sit back while you're out there stealing under his nose."

"Exactly. Plus, I am meeting someone. Better that I do everything at once, than you and I go our separate ways. It is worrisome, not to mention dangerous. I will deal with Wentworth."

"Who are you meeting?" Her golden eyes narrow at him, her sharp tongue quickly snatching at the most important detail.

He chuckles, delighted that she should feel jealous amidst her sleepiness. "Worried so much?" he teases, smirking at her over his shoulder. "Afraid of a little competition?"

She scrunches her nose. "As if," she scoffs. "I bet you Phink-san will murder her for me."

He barks out a laugh. It's true—his Spiders would not settle for anyone else than Valtiel.

"Will you be out for long?" She glances at the overcast skies over a reddish glint of sunset. Even the very winds are cold. "It's about to rain."

"Hopefully, it doesn't." He takes his jacket and smooths it down over his chest. He notices her staring at his combed-back hair.

"Motor oil," she murmurs and he chuckles.

"I'll be back before you know it."

"Would you eat dinner here?" she asks.

"I'm not sure," he answers. "It depends how long I can deal with these two. There's no need to wait for me. I will come back as soon as I'm finished." He rounds the bed and kisses her firmly on the lips. He smirks and brushes his thumb over the apex of her cheek. "See you later, dear."

"Take your time," she calls out.

"Maybe I will."

She nods, collapsing lazily on the bed again. "Be careful."

With Chrollo gone, the entire suite belongs to her.

It is so quiet and strange without the Danchou's constant presence. It feels… wrong… that she is completely and utterly alone.

She stares at the wall and tries gathering her wits about her. At a distance, the thumper continues rumbling. Her mental clock ticks—five, six, seven seconds—and now the rain starts.

Danchou will handle the doctor, she reminds herself, uncomfortably wary of her quiet surroundings. She needs to do something instead of counting the minutes, or else she will go insane. I might as well go insane right now.

Throwing the blankets off her, she slides off the bed and retrieves her phone from her skirt's pocket. She goes through the photos and finds the blurry photo she took earlier:

5571 Bayshore Street Apt 118, Savernake City

Valtiel pulls up the address and calculates the distance from their hotel to the house. Sighing, she grabs her coat and the cards Chrollo left in the drawer.

Better do this now while Danchou's gone.

Outside, the light drizzle makes her shiver. Umbrella and her coat's hoodie both over her head to further hide her face, she crosses her arms and walks down the streets. It is darker and more ominous with the rain pattering over the coastal city, now devoid of its cheerful tourists and merchants.

She makes a quick stop at the nearest ATM, checking left and right for any stalkers. Her senses are dulled with the rain, and her anxiety and paranoia do nothing to help her. She withdraws as much as she can from Chrollo's cards and slips the cash in a large brown envelope. With that first step accomplished, she tiptoes away from the ATM and walks in the dark streets.

I'm acting like a very suspicious person right now, Valtiel chides herself, still sensing for any stalkers. So far, nothing is out of place. Please, just let me do this for once.

Bayshore Street comes into view, a long street comprising decades-old bungalow houses. Some yards are manicured well enough, though some are flooded and muddy from the rain. She hugs herself against the growing chill, heels clacking on the slippery pavement, her eyes checking each faded bronze plate that indicates the apartment numbers.

115… 116… 117… 118…

Valtiel slows to the stop in front of a large window. A warm orange glow drowns the entire room, as an older woman's silhouette moves from one room to another. Mrs. Audley returns to the living room, a bowl and washcloth in both hands, and sits beside her husband's bed. The old man's dark eyes do not show any recognition of his wife, no flicker of interest or life at all. From where she stands under the rain, Valtiel could see his bony fingers twitching over the mattress.

Please. Tears prick at the corner of her eyes. I want to do good for them.

She steps into the shadows and tiptoes, hiding herself behind Mrs. Audley's potted plants. She leaves the envelope by their doorstep, safe from the downpour, and knocks thrice on their door.

Then, like some naughty child, she cringes and runs across the other street, hiding behind a post. She watches from the side, shuddering from both nerves and chill.

Mrs. Audley opens the door and accidentally steps on the envelope. Grumbling to herself, she picks it up and turns it over and over, finding no names about the sender. She takes a peek into the contents, gasps, and embraces the envelope to her chest, taking a few more moments to stop herself from sobbing. She wipes her tears and goes back inside.

Valtiel sighs in relief and walks back towards their hotel.

Back in the bedroom, she settles back into bed and leans against the army of pillows belonging to herself and the Danchou's. His musky scent always lingers in everything he touches, and the scent of him never fails to soothe her.

She needs to pretend that nothing is amiss. That Chrollo's cards are still in the drawer filled with some rich banker's money or whatever. She sets her shoulders and takes a deep breath—and pretends to be working on the Toryuhun manuscript for Feitan.

A pen and large notepad on the mattress, she starts her research about the Toryuhun's ancient culture, correlating the people's immense pride to Feitan's pride and stubbornness. Words are easier to pinpoint: Giraud's book has some translations to the modern language. She lists the words in one column and their meaning in another, like a dictionary.

At times like these—researching—she misses the comfort and warmth of the museum, her usual place in the archives and the people who always come-and-go to ask her help, or others who would sit beside her because the other departments are loud and crazy and the archives is the only quiet place they know.

She notices a pattern in the language, and scribbles her observations in the notepad. When her mind starts wandering, from Mrs. Audley's relieved face to imagining how these so-called kings of sun and sand lived their lives, she would sketch faces in the pad's corner, anything to manifest her imaginations.

So deep in her thoughts, occupied by her drink and the books in her lap, she is a second late to notice the shift in the air.

Chrollo is coming back too soon, accompanied by another familiar aura. Together they feel like a storm brewing, threatening to break over her head. She sits back against the headboard, swarmed by pillows, and waits.

The door opens. Danchou steps in with a polite smile. His dark hair gleams from the rain.

"Back so soon?" she asks. "How did the Wentworth business go?"

"I have it," he says, proudly showing off the book tucked inside his jacket.

"You killed him." It's not a question. The book has a smudge of red in the corner.

"Easier to kill him than put suspicions on us." He steps away from the door, sighing as he removes his jacket drenched from the light rain. He looks into the shadows outside. "You can come in. Make yourself comfortable."

White, sharp canines flash from the darkness. Their guest bends to duck under the doorframe, and comes up with his back straight, shoulders set, hands on his hips. His hazel eyes observe the hotel room, as he whistles under his breath at the grandeur of heavy velvet curtains with golden ropes, a lush carpet, and the magnificent king-sized bed in the middle.

Uvogin grins wider at Valtiel, ready to pounce at her in his excitement, but then he checks at himself and the room's ambiance.

At first, when the couple told everyone about their relationship, Uvogin thought it was nothing but child's play, something that teenagers break their hearts for. He is nearly thirty, one of the eldest in the Troupe, so the concept of romantic relationships is beyond him.

But now?

It's so… domestic yet intimate. The books all around them. The flowers in the vase. Dinner and dessert piled neatly on the sink. The way Danchou sighs softly and arranges his coat in the closet. How Valtiel smiles up at him and how he leans down for a kiss on the forehead.

He really does love her, Uvogin realizes with a tender smile.

Valtiel standing up from the bed and approaching him snaps him from his musings. She smiles and has to tiptoe for him, and even on her tiptoes, she is far too short to reach him. Uvogin feels obligated to crouch so she could kiss his cheek.

"How are you, Uvo-san? How are the others?"

"I'm fine," he says, grinning. "The others are great, too." Expect Val to always ask about the other morons in the group. It's a good thing someone genuinely cares at the very least.

"Where did you go?" is Chrollo's immediate concern. "Your coat is wet."

"I was bored," she lies, knowing the Danchou could sense it from her anyway. "I thought to wander around and collect my thoughts before starting the manuscript. Spent a good deal of money from your cards, too. Writing materials."

"Indeed," Chrollo murmurs, eyes narrowed. Uvogin winces at the tension.

"Are you hungry?" She fusses over Uvo and his drenched bearskin clothes, and then checks the refrigerator in the corner. She frowns upon finding nothing and turns to Chrollo. "You should have told me you're bringing someone home!"

Chrollo and Uvogin share amused glances at one another. "Apologies, dearest," says the leader, opening his arms in a submissive gesture. "It all happened very quickly."

Even the Spider feels a bit embarrassed from her attention. He holds two hands up and shakes his head to convince her. "It's alright, Val. I'm not even hungry."

Cue the loud growling noises from his stomach. Uvogin's face drops.

"We have to get food somewhere," Valtiel reiterates.

"Right. Of course." Like a husband soothing a distressed wife, Chrollo Lucilfer sets to work on arranging dinner for them.

They are seated inside a diner in the city outskirts. The rain continues pelting outside, making it even colder. They have a modest meal of waffles, omelettes, greasy burger and fries, and coffee to wash it all down. Valtiel looks around the small space and senses the tension, so she does nothing but sip her hot chocolate drink.

Chrollo clears his throat, not touching his food. "Tell us again," he urges his Spider, who sits across from them with a frown forever plastered in his face.

Damn it all to hell and back.

Out of all the twelve Spiders, Uvogin had to be the bearer of the worst news to the Danchou. Even with his gigantic build and impressive Nen, there is always something that unsettles Uvo whenever Chrollo speaks in that soft tone, his face stoic and unreadable. He looks at their meal and wishes there is something to drink himself into a stupor.

Uvogin snatches a handful of fries and gobbles them all. "The Elders received word from the Mafia Dons," he says through a mouthful. "Basically, they want to meet whoever is in-charge of the school's operations."

Danchou's aura shifts. Uvogin shudders involuntarily.

"Why?" Valtiel asks in a small voice. Seated beside Chrollo, she could feel the shift in his mood, the way he stares at his steaming coffee, lips pressed.

"Because the school is almost finished," Uvogin says, still calculating Chrollo's mood. "I think before everything starts, they want a final assurance that we have no ulterior motives for creating a school." His hazel eyes slide towards to the Danchou, who remains blissfully quiet, mulling over the information. It sets Uvo more on the edge than any Hunter in the world.

"It's almost finished?" She catches on to the word. Her heart flutters at the thought of it—she has not been in Meteor City for half a year now. She would like to go back and see it for herself.

"Uh-huh," Uvogin confirms as he wipes the grease off his fingers. "According to Elder Meinerth, the main building is finished, and now they're just installing lights and water and all that jazz."

Again, his eyes stray towards Chrollo. The Troupe leader is still impassive, nursing the hot coffee mug with two hands, his attention seemingly faraway. Uvogin knows that look: the Danchou is scheming. He wouldn't hold it against his friend if the Troupe straight up murders the Ten Dons, but really, that's at Danchou's discretion.

Valtiel turns to look at Chrollo as well. "Should we go?" she murmurs.

He doesn't acknowledge her question. Instead, he lifts his chin to Uvogin, who flinches under the Danchou's dark gaze. It makes him feel like a child about to be scolded by his father. Even Chrollo seems to understand, so he mellows his expression and tilts his head to the side.

"This invitation," Chrollo drawls, the steam swirling before his face, "does it only include Valtiel? Are there any indications that she could bring someone? A chaperone, perhaps?"

"Elder Meinerth says she needs to go alone," Uvogin reports.

"Alone," Chrollo murmurs, as if the word is foreign to him. He looks down on their meager food and takes another sip of his coffee. "It would be unwise to leave Valtiel alone at the hands of the Mafia, especially the Dons."

Silence wears on, uncomfortable, almost suffocating. Uvo and Val glance at each other.

Finally, the Danchou stirs again. "Which Mafia Don invited her?"

This is it. Once he speaks the name, Uvogin knows it would be the end of his life—possibly including the entire population of this coastal city. He looks at Valtiel, as if to draw courage from her reluctant smile. When Chrollo senses his hesitation, the Spider clears his throat.

"Lord Mauro Viper."

"Viper," Chrollo hisses under his breath.

Suddenly, he turns back into a twelve-year-old boy, too hungry and too cold, and too fearless for his own good. He had shrugged when Elder Ryence warned him about the Mafia Don visiting for the night—and it cost him one of his dearest friends. Ten years later, he could still see how the bullet burst into her head, spattering blood and brain to his cheek and on the floor.

His aura radiates all around them. It seems only yesterday when he unleashed his angry aura in her apartment, turning the coffee into filthy sewer waters. Tonight, it only comes as close—like an angry, sad void sucking all light into it.

Valtiel winces and inches away from him. Despite his stoic face, his Nen spells murder. She would not be surprised if he goes on a killing spree to calm his nerves. She shudders at the blatant power and bloodthirst, and turns to Uvogin for help.

He cringes, knowing the responsibility is all on him. "She's invited to attend the birthday party of Lord Viper's daughter," he offers, hoping this new information would distract Danchou. "It will be in Todi City, up on the mountain-border of Saherta, Viper's own district."

Chrollo nods in understanding. So the bastard wants to play under his own turf. His mood darkens all the more, and his companions flinch together.

"So it's not exactly a formal invitation," Chrollo observes. "They make it seem friendly and not at all professional." He nods, mostly to himself. "We can exploit that. Valtiel can attend the party as one of the Don's acquaintances, and from there the interrogation would begin."

"If he wants to speak with me—" she starts.

"He'll threaten you," Chrollo cuts her off.

"And make sure you'll agree to never continue with the school," Uvogin adds rather unhelpfully.

She frowns at the two young men. "Well, we can't just turn down an invitation from the Mafia," she points out. "It would be considered an offense, and that would jeopardize the school further. I'm not risking that chance just because you two ninnies can't decide."

Uvogin shoots a concerned look at the Danchou. Is it normal for her to call him names? Because in the Phantom Troupe's book, calling Chrollo names is a no-no.

"You must truly be special if you're attracting the Mafia's attention this much, sweetheart."

"It's not about that and you know it," she snaps, much to Uvo's increasing terror.

"First, we would have to determine if you really must go alone," Chrollo answers, not rising to her temper. "The Mafia is a dangerous affair. The Ten Dons would be more so. You cannot expect that you can simply waltz in there without some sort of plan. The Dons are not inviting you for your pretty face. Mauro Viper is especially very dangerous."

Chrollo's voice is soft, yet both of them could pick up the threat beneath it. He considers it even more, tapping an index finger against the mug.

Like two nervous children, Uvogin and Valtiel glance at each other again. The former leans back against his cushioned seat and spreads his muscled arms across the backrest. Valtiel scrunches her nose and waits until Chrollo is done with his brainstorming.

He studies them under his lashes—Valtiel too nervous for her own good, Uvogin perpetually annoyed by the turn of events. He frowns at the thought of leaving her at the hands of the Mafia, after the Kakin Prince and the Leviathan episodes. There would be more after her, collecting rewards from all over, as though she is already a Troupe member herself.

Besides, this is Mauro Viper they are talking about. Chrollo would have no qualms if it is any other Mafia Don, but it has to be him. He could tear that bastard's throat at the snap of Valtiel's finger, but he knows he cannot. The Ten Dons are untouchable—for now.

She could protect herself, surely, but Chrollo couldn't bear the idea of her getting hurt.

He frowns. But the school.

If they do not answer the invitation, the Dons might breach whatever relationship the Mafia has with Meteor City to prove their point: no one disobeys the Ten Dons. They would tear it down from the ground and up, and who's to say Valtiel would not snap? Moreover, the Dons might take offense and that would make a rift between the Dons and Elders.

Either way, there is no escaping this inevitable invitation.

"Valtiel can go," Chrollo finally says, catching their surprised expressions, especially her. "We would have to be discreet about it, however. The Dons only invited Val, but we can always have someone follow her inside."

"One of us can sneak in with her," Uvogin says absent-mindedly.

"I can hear you, you know." Valtiel frowns and it earns her a toothy grin from the large Spider. "If it's only an interrogation with maybe some threats. If I'm not killing anyone—I'm sure I can handle it. I'm not at all green when it comes to distraction."

"Indeed." Chrollo nods. "But you are not going alone, and that is final."

Her shoulders drop in defeat as Uvogin flashes her another shit-eating grin.

She shakes her head, exasperated. "Obviously, none of you can accompany me." They both give her strange looks. She scowls at them both. "They'll know what any of the Meteor City residents look like. Danchou and none of the Spiders can be seen during the party."

"True." Chrollo is loathe to admit such logic. Mafia spies would have registered the faces of Meteor City residents. "But other than the Spiders and myself, who else could accompany you?"

"I may have a suggestion," she mumbles, feeling herself flush with embarrassment.

Once more, the two men just stare, before it finally clicks. Chrollo grunts and rubs the bridge of his nose. Uvogin takes three more seconds to understand, before he flinches on his seat, rattling the small diner with his roar of realization.

"No! Anyone but the pervert!" Uvogin shrieks.

Author's Notes: Guess who's on babysitting duty next chapter? ⭐ -_- 💧

More lovey dovey, courtesy of our beloved Danchou. We've got Uvogin (who is probably more than happy to punch people left and right) in the mix now too, as the school finishes and the Ten Dons are being stuck up old men. It makes me think that Chrollo hiring Illumi to kill them in Yorknew City arc is justifiable at this point. LOL.

*Kojima Miharu - Aw, thank you so much! Glad you're enjoying it a lot. Much love from me!

*xenocanaan - Thoughts and prayers for Chrollo and the Troupe, indeed.

*Amy - Val be like: "dAnChoU" lmao

*UrPrettyOne - Hey, girl, how are you?! Thank you for leaving such a long, heartwarming review! You're right, I do think Danchou has this instinct to make sure everyone is safe. He is, after all, the boss. We know he still holds a grudge against Silva for killing previous #8. We saw him go all out after Uvo died. I can only imagine the grief he had after losing Paku. It's gonna get even worse once Val finds out what she needs to find out. *wink wink* Also, about Hisoka, I myself can't wait for his return next chapter. Thank you again, cheers!

Anyhoo! I'm excited to bring this new arc in this story! Thank you all for reading, especially those who leave comments! All comments are appreciated and treasured! Take care, friends! ️❤️