After Shalnark finished tuning the channel, the Spiders crowded in front of the TV, like a bunch of rowdy kids at the village entrance scrambling to watch a screen movie. If the boss didn't keep everything under control, they probably would've started "throwing hands" already.
"Feitan, move your umbrella a bit!"
"Franklin, step back some, you're blocking us!"
"How many people's worth of space are you taking by yourself, Uvogin?!"
—Luckily this was the top floor of a hotel and they'd booked the entire level, otherwise there'd definitely be all kinds of complaints.
...
Chrollo smiled and declined Shalnark's suggestion that he go over there.
Kisho sat where he was, not moving an inch.
Omokage also didn't move, nor did he watch the TV, focusing single-mindedly on Kisho.
Machi and Pakunoda rolled their eyes and silently kept moving farther and farther away from this group of men who were loud enough to flip the place over.
On the TV, a news prelude that was clearly only a few dozen seconds long yet felt unbearably long to Kisho finally ended.
The host appeared on the screen and began playing the news items one by one.
Just as several members of the Troupe started yawning, the host's voice suddenly turned solemn:
"At 12:13 p.m. on August 6, across the Republic of Pinsge, multiple terrorist attacks occurred simultaneously—"
Phinks clapped his hands, excited. "Here it comes, here it comes!"
"Could use some beer. If I'd known, I would've brought some." Uvogin looked around, sighing helplessly.
Shalnark laughed. "We can call room service and have beer sent up."
He stood up from the side of the bed, walked to the head of the bed, picked up the phone, and looked at the others.
"Anyone not want beer and want something else to drink?"
"I want beer."
Phinks whistled, glanced at Feitan.
"For Feitan—" then looked at Kisho, who was still sitting by the table with a blank expression. "And Kisho, let's get two bottles of milk."
Before Kisho could respond, he heard a sharp whoosh cutting through the air.
Feitan drew a rapier from his red umbrella and pointed it at Phinks' neck, the killing intent in his voice nearly freezing the air:
"You wanna die?!"
Phinks showed not the slightest fear, raised a finger and flicked the rapier, letting out a strange laugh. "Hehehe~"
Kisho had no mood to deal with these Spiders who treated terrorist attack news like a ball game. His gaze was locked firmly on the TV.
On the screen, one image after another appeared.
Ravaged streets, cars still burning, collapsed buildings…
And charred corpses so horrific that even with mosaic censoring, they were unbearable to look at.
Red was flesh blasted apart, splattered everywhere.
Black was human bodies carbonized instantly by extreme heat, falling to the ground and leaving pitch-black marks.
On the TV, staff near the crime scenes had faces white as paper, some even vomiting directly in front of the camera.
And outside the TV, Kisho, for reasons unknown, suddenly felt nauseous as well.
The host's low, solemn voice came along with the images:
"As of now, the simultaneous terrorist attacks in multiple locations have resulted in 62 deaths and at least 100 injuries…"
"According to statistics, the victims' identities span various social professions, including police officers, judges, prosecutors, jurors, lawyers, and others."
"The attackers' identities cannot be verified. The only confirmed detail is that all thirty-one attackers were wearing black suits when they carried out the attacks."
"According to eyewitness accounts, after the attackers approached the victims, they smiled and shook hands with them, and at that very moment, the explosion occurred. Thirty-one people in different locations were killed simultaneously."
Though the host was doing everything possible to suppress it, the anger hidden in his words was still audible:
"It is not hard to infer that this was a premeditated act of revenge by a certain organization, targeting a specific incident."
The scene shifted to the families of the victims killed in the attacks, crying in utter despair.
...
The TV showed a human purgatory, yet the people watching it seemed to be enjoying a farce, the air filled with a lively atmosphere.
"What the hell!" Uvogin said irritably, slamming the bed hard. "They forgot about that so fast, those pieces of trash!"
Shalnark smiled and patted Uvogin's shoulder. "Well, there's nothing to be done. Not to mention it's already been three years—back then, the one who died was just an insignificant nobody to outsiders."
"This 'switch-type bomb' should be Elder Mull's Nen ability, right?" Forced to sit at the very back, Franklin shifted his uninterested gaze away from the TV and looked at Chrollo, meaningfully. "That kind of Nen ability looks pretty handy, boss."
"Mm." Chrollo smiled. "The name of the Nen ability is 'Sun and Moon.'"
Franklin stared at him. "Looks like the boss has long been interested in this Nen ability and already studied it."
Chrollo nodded.
He slowly explained, "After the Nen ability is activated, a sun and a moon imprint appear on each hand. After the imprints touch an object, they can remain on it. When the two imprints on the object come into contact with each other, it detonates."
At this point, Chrollo raised a hand to his chin, his eyes thoughtful.
"It really is a good Nen ability, but if using it requires both hands, then… hmm…"
...
On the TV, the horrific scenes continued to appear one after another, while the people in the room had clearly lost all interest.
Kisho felt that the tiny space he occupied was sharply divided from the rest of the room.
Except for him, everyone else found it utterly ordinary—as if what had died weren't sixty-two living people, but a nest of ants.
His gaze swept over Shalnark and Uvogin with smiles on their faces; Pakunoda and Machi with their indifferent expressions; Feitan and Franklin looking bored; and Chrollo lost in thought.
At one moment, he even began to suspect that the one with abnormal mental state wasn't the Troupe, but himself.
"Knock, knock."
The sound of knocking, followed by a service worker's "Room service."
Shalnark went to the door. Moments later, he pushed in a dining cart piled with beer. The Spiders surged forward excitedly.
"These are the pieces of evidence retrieved from the attackers at the various explosion sites."
On the screen, incomplete scraps of paper appeared one after another.
The host, in a trembling voice, slowly read out the reconstructed sentence:
"We reject nothing, but don't even think about taking anything from our hands."
Kisho's gaze fell on those scraps of paper that were almost burned to ash, his eyes gradually going hollow.
Time was stretched extremely short, yet extremely long.
At that very moment, a hand reached out and gently patted his shoulder:
"This isn't the first time you've seen a scene like this, right?"
Kisho turned his head and looked at Chrollo, who had somehow come out of his thoughts and was now standing behind him.
He smiled faintly. "I told you before—even if your emotions are affected, I still won't let you take leave."
Kisho merely responded dully, "...Yeah."
"Heh." Chrollo chuckled, said nothing more, and turned away. "We depart in three minutes. Hurry up and adjust."
His figure left Kisho's field of vision.
A bottle of milk was placed on the long table.
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Pls Drop some Power Stones
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