Tonpa plunged headfirst into the restroom. Before this journey ends, he's probably not coming out.
Because the prank succeeded, Kisho smoothly broke free from his withdrawn state. His eyes darted around again, already searching for a new way to pass the time.
But he failed to find one.
So he turned to Amos and began tormenting his own teammate instead.
"Hey, Amos."
"Huh?"
Kisho propped his chin on his hand. "You've been drawing this whole time. Draw one for me?"
Amos glanced up at him. "Sure. As long as you can stay still for ten minutes—if you can manage that, I'll draw you."
"Don't underestimate me!" Kisho straightened his posture. "Go on, draw—make me look handsome, okay~"
Amos said nothing. He sighed, helplessly flipping the page he had been working on to the back.
After giving Kisho a brief look, he began sketching on a fresh sheet.
At the same time, from the table next to theirs, the conversation grew increasingly animated.
"What's the Karo Thieves Gang supposed to be? Just a B-rank, that's all."
The speaker wasn't tall and had a wild afro. Slamming a hand onto the table, he shouted:
"If we're talking about the real deal, it has to be the Cook Thieves Gang from over a decade ago—the ones who committed countless major crimes!"
The young man beside him, wearing a red baseball cap backward, let out a scoff.
"That's ancient history. No matter how strong they were, weren't they wiped out single-handedly by a Hunter? Even their leader was captured alive."
Sitting across from them was a fat man of considerable height and weight. He had a short black crew cut, and his face still held a trace of youthful innocence—but his excessive size made it impossible to guess his real age.
He toyed with a round object in his palm. After the other two finished speaking, he slowly asked:
"I wonder if you two have heard of the 'Phantom Troupe.'"
At those four words, Kisho suddenly stiffened and turned his head toward them.
Amos's pen paused. He snorted.
"And who was it just now that confidently said, 'Don't underestimate me'?"
Kisho looked aggrieved. "I didn't want to react, but he just said 'Phantom Troupe'!"
Amos glanced sideways at Chrollo, whose expression hadn't changed in the slightest and who remained perfectly calm. He sighed and said to Kisho:
"Calm down…"
What he really wanted to say was:
"You really need to learn from someone here."
At the neighboring table, the conversation continued.
"I know the one you're talking about." The red-capped youth looked as though he had recalled something terrifying, his face tense.
"An A-rank criminal group—the Phantom Troupe. Their methods are brutally ruthless. Wherever they pass, nothing survives. Every member has countless lives on their hands."
The afro-haired man lowered his voice as well.
"Countless bounty hunters have taken missions to hunt them down, but no one knows where their base is. Just a single clue about their location is worth over a hundred million Jenny."
Kisho's breath hitched. A golden gleam flashed through his eyes.
Amos saw that look and immediately knew what he was thinking. Before he could speak, Kisho had already left his seat and walked over to their table, looking at the afro-haired man.
"Hey, about what you just said—since even clues about their base are that valuable, the members themselves must be worth even more, right?"
He asked nervously and excitedly:
"Can you tell me how much?"
The afro-haired man sized Kisho up before answering.
"An ordinary member is worth about one billion. But if you catch the leader of the Troupe, add up all the bounties and you could easily walk away with ten billion."
"One billion—?!"
Kisho exclaimed, his eagerness nearly overflowing from his voice.
"—Hey!"
Amos felt that tone sounded dangerously like Kisho was considering turning someone in for the reward.
If not for Chrollo sitting on the outer side, smiling faintly and watching the spectacle while blocking him, Amos might have rushed over and dragged Kisho back himself.
The fat young man flipped his hand, pressing the object in his palm onto the table. Then he looked at Kisho, who had come over to their table.
"Judging by your expression, you're interested in the Troupe's bounty too. Are you planning to become a bounty hunter?"
Before Kisho could answer, he continued in a serious tone:
"Even professional bounty hunters who managed to locate their base—none of them ever came back alive. Let alone collecting the reward."
Staring at Kisho, he added in a warning voice:
"And every single one of them died horribly."
He shook his head.
"So kid, don't let the sight of money make you lose your head and rush in foolishly."
With firm conviction, he said:
"Those people are not someone a brat like you can afford to provoke."
Kisho muttered, "You've got a point… but when it comes to provoking them, I didn't really want to…"
Where Kisho couldn't see, Chrollo smiled faintly.
The fat young man didn't catch it. "What?"
"Cough, nothing. By the way, what's your name?"
Kisho asked while staring at him.
"And why do you know so much?"
"Tasber," the fat young man replied.
"As for why I know so much…"
He seemed reluctant to answer. A trace of bitterness appeared on his plump face.
After a pause, he said slowly:
"I heard about it from a teacher back at school."
"What kind of school talks to students about stuff like that?" Kisho asked in surprise, studying Tasber carefully.
This young man named Tasber wore a snow-white collared shirt, the buttons of his black coat fastened neatly all the way to the top.
Even though his size took up two seats, his posture was straight and proper.
Kisho seemed to realize something. Frowning slightly, he asked in a verifying tone:
"A police academy… right?"
At those words, Tasber's pupils suddenly contracted, as if he had been struck at the core.
But before he could respond, the afro-haired man and the red-capped youth burst into laughter.
"Hahahahaha! How could this fat guy possibly be from a police academy?"
"Even if he once was a police cadet, getting this fat—he must've skipped every training session!"
The afro-haired man looked at Tasber provocatively.
"Hey, fatty, am I right?"
Without restraint, he mocked:
"If I'm guessing correctly, you got expelled from the academy, didn't you? Hahahaha~~"
"…"
Tasber's fists tightened silently at his sides, but in the end, he did nothing.
The red-capped youth continued his scornful taunts:
"Did we actually hit the mark? Someone expelled from the police academy still dares to act like he knows everything and spread alarmist nonsense here—tsk tsk!"
"Forget the Phantom Troupe. If some random terrorists showed up, you'd probably run faster than anyone else, hahaha!"
Tasber let out a heavy sigh. Ignoring their sarcasm, he simply stared at Kisho and repeated:
"Those people are extremely dangerous. Do not provoke them lightly."
Under his slightly narrowed yet utterly serious gaze, Kisho shrugged, said, "Oh," and returned to his seat.
At that moment, the train began to slow down. Amid the stunned expressions of the examinees, it came to a complete stop and ceased moving.
Chrollo closed his book and asked in a puzzled tone:
"What's wrong? Have we arrived?"
Hearing that blatant nonsense, Amos's face darkened.
But Kisho answered him seriously:
"No. The train just suddenly stopped."
"Is that so?"
Chrollo smiled faintly at Kisho.
Amos rolled his eyes subtly and met Kisho's gaze.
Kisho looked back, his expression turning slightly solemn. He gave a small nod, indicating he was ready to fight at any moment.
Elsewhere, the other examinees began murmuring.
"What's going on—"
"Why did we stop? Is this the station—? No, it's not!"
The examinees inside the carriage all turned to look out the windows.
Outside was still a vast, empty wilderness, bleak and desolate under the night sky.
A storm was about to break.
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Pls Drop some Power Stones
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