"Luca, what do you think?"
"What do I think? Anyone who cos here to throw money away is either an idiot or a pervert with an ulterior motive."
"So what do we do?"
"What can we do? Report it! It's not worth risking our necks for a asly month's pay. Don't take chances, report it directly!"
The two black-suited guards at the entrance, after their initial surprise, exchanged glances. The more quick-witted one pulled out his phone and called his superior directly.
In front of the gate, Roy patted Kastro on the shoulder, signaling him not to worry. Using En, he caught a familiar na in their thoughts—Chrollo Lucilfer.
The cool, cross-tattooed face instantly appeared in his mind.
"Chrollo, what do you think?"
teor City, West Sector, 3rd Street, corner.
Unlike the trash-piled chaos of other sectors, this corner was surprisingly cleared, featuring a beautiful, detached villa. The area around the villa was planted with greenery and flowers, creating a yard that attempted to completely separate itself from the surrounding garbage heaps. Seen from above, it was strikingly conspicuous, highlighting the owner's status—
It was the mansion of the Tenth Elder of the teor City Elder Council... "The False Upright"... Belus Raymond.
Belus, already past fifty, with slicked-back hair and reading glasses, was sitting in his study. He was reviewing the production schedules of his scrap yards, paper mills, and other factories this month, and laboriously planning to open a plastics injection factory using plastic waste. Receiving the call, he didn't shoo away Chrollo, Shalnark, and Pakunoda, who were working in the mansion for a al. He asked with a smile.
Shalnark, sweeping the floor, and Pakunoda, wiping a vase, both stopped their work.
Chrollo, who was cleaning the coffee table, straightened up. After a mont of contemplation, he said, "The boss always taught us that money doesn't fall from the sky."
The boy's bright eyes reflected Belus's encouraging gaze. He voiced his opinion: "I don't believe anyone would co here to give charity for no reason."
"The Cleanup Brigade" wasn't watched for nothing. Belus pushed up his reading glasses, looking at Chrollo with appreciation. For a mont, he seed to see his younger self—
Still rational, good at analyzing and solving problems despite the extrely cruel environnt, instead of giving up and letting others slaughter him like a pig or dog. Belus chuckled. "I rember an episode of The Cleanup Brigade where a rapist pretended to be a 'missionary,' tricking girls into becoming 'believers,' and sexually assaulting them under the guise of 'God's Grace'..."
Belus closed his ledger. His gaze swept over Chrollo, Shalnark, and Pakunoda. Noticing Pakunoda frowning, he said calmly, "There is only 'scrap' and 'people' here... Since this person offers 'charity,' they certainly aren't lacking money. That only leaves... people!"
"Ah... I know! They're working with those human traffickers!" Shalnark, suffering from compulsive disorder, couldn't stand the dirt in the floor cracks. He squatted down, picking it out with his fingernail. Beside him, Pakunoda wrinkled her nose, crossing her arms over her chest. Her bust, substantial despite her teens, already gave her the air of a "professional older sister."
She suddenly understood. "Sister Renko from the church warned us yesterday to minimize going out, and if we do, to go in groups. She said... a few more groups of human traffickers have entered recently."
The girl looked at Chrollo, then at Belus, asking tentatively, "Is that what they're planning?"
Belus didn't answer. Instead, his gaze, tinged with scrutiny, returned to Chrollo.
Chrollo, whose black hair hadn't yet been slicked back like Belus's and was still in a bowl cut, said expressionlessly, "We'll find out by testing them."
The boy looked directly into Belus's eyes. "Aren't you planning on acquiring 4th Street and negotiating the land purchase with Elder Ilya soon?"
"He's jealous of your legitimate business and is asking for too much. There just happens to be an abandoned church on 4th Street. If he wants to preach and give charity, let him use it for free. Provided he can deal with Bolton."
"The Paired Destroyers"—Bolton!
Driving the tiger to swallow the wolf... Smart boy! Belus looked at Chrollo approvingly. He took out a cigarette and lit it. He spoke into the speakerphone: "You heard him. Do it."
Smoke curled up in the study. Belus pushed back his chair and looked out the window. The street not far from the villa was 4th Street, also known as "Flesh Street," specializing in the "organ trade." Daring to steal business from Ilya and Bolton... Belus's gaze deepened. Be careful they don't enter whole and leave in pieces!
"Yes." The call ended.
Belus finished his cigarette, then turned to Chrollo and the others. "You get an extra al today."
Chrollo, Shalnark, and Pakunoda bowed and left happily to continue cleaning. Belus was left alone, looking at the "unseemly" view outside, sighing softly...
"Still too weak..."
Neither he nor his "backer" currently had a "Nen user" strong enough to confront Bolton. Over the years, Belus had tried to "hire" Nen users, even paying Hunters heavily to guard the place, but... compared to Bolton, the people he hired were useless. They just beca food for the enemy. In fact...
Over the years, Belus noticed that every ti Bolton killed soone, he seed to get stronger... a bizarre cruelty that drove people to despair!
It almost cooled his fervent desire to change teor City through "normal ans." Ultimately... he had to compromise, attempting to cooperate with Bolton through a "rental" agreent and promising heavy profits, hoping to push forward his decades-long plan to change teor City.
However, Belus knew in his heart that cooperating with Bolton and Ilya was like sleeping with the enemy. But... what choice did he have?
He was born in teor City, his foundation was weak, his backing was unstable, and he lacked a "true powerhouse" he could rely on to hold the line.
Strength is confidence... might makes right... the law of the jungle, plain and simple.
Swish~ Belus flicked the cigarette butt across the room. It landed precisely in the ashtray.
Creeak~ The door closed.
Shalnark's eyes darted. He leaned close to Chrollo. "Should we follow them and watch?"
Be they human traffickers or genuine missionaries... daring to preach in teor City under the guise of "charity" was sothing Shalnark had never heard of in his life. His curiosity flared; it was novel.
"Do you want to be kidnapped, killed, and carved up piece by piece?" Pakunoda, walking beside Chrollo, shot him a cold glance.
Shalnark smiled wryly, pulling a telescope from his pocket. He proudly waved it. "I've got this!"
"A telescope? Where did you get that?"
"Nonsense, I picked it up!"
Shalnark carefully wiped the lens, cherishing it. "Don't tell Uvogin. He'll throw a fit if he knows. It's a pity... one of the lenses is cracked, so it's a bit distorted."
Shalnark looked at Chrollo. "But it's clear enough to see. So... should we go?"
Pakunoda tugged at Chrollo's sleeve.
The boy stood silently between the two. After a mont, looking out towards 4th Street through the courtyard, he took a deep breath. "Sarasa is still looking for the videos. It will be hard to find them without expanding the search range."
The Cleanup Brigade was a serial animation, with recordings spanning 10 episodes, 20 episodes, 30 episodes... dozens of tapes.
Chrollo reached out, taking Shalnark's hand in one and Pakunoda's in the other. Just like when they perford in the church's prayer hall, he smiled. "I want to finish performing The Cleanup Brigade. I want to see everyone smile. If possible... like Elder Belus said, I want to take everyone out to see the world."
"Whether performing or sightseeing, I want to declare to the whole world that teor City also has an outstanding performing troupe!"
Shalnark and Pakunoda were startled, feeling the warmth of his hand. Shalnark grinned. "We have to go see Gaslan then! I heard it's the famous 'City of Entertainnt.' I've always wanted to see it."
"We will have the chance."
"It's guaranteed!"
Chrollo said resolutely. "Then let's watch from here. We absolutely cannot go to 4th Street." Pakunoda pointed west.
There was a high pile of garbage there, their secret base and scavenging spot. Using the "geographical advantage" there, along with Shalnark's newly acquired telescope, seeing the entrance and the next street shouldn't be difficult.
"Okay."
The trio left the villa and headed west.
At the entrance, having received Belus's order, the two black-suited n imdiately straightened up, parting to clear the way for Roy and pulling open the wire gate.
"Go west, take a turn, and you'll see the number 4. That's 4th Street."
"There's an abandoned church there. If you're capable, you can use it."
"That simple?"
"That simple!"
"Young Master." Kastro leaned close to Roy's ear. "They were whispering on the phone and waiting for instructions. It might be a trap!"
Having just entered society, his master had repeatedly warned him... "Society is dangerous. Always be cautious." Since then, whether at the Heavens Arena or the Zoldyck estate, Kastro had lived by that rule.
Moreover, this was teor City. He'd heard Gotoh describe exactly what kind of place this was. He kept his nerves taut and warned Roy.
It must be said, since Roy took him under his wing at the Heavens Arena, Kastro had changed his mindset, gradually adopting a semblance of Gotoh's seriousness.
"I have you, don't I?" Roy smiled, gently smoothing the wrinkles on Kastro's suit. He said softly.
Kastro's heart ward. He punched his chest. "Please rest assured, Young Master. Unless I die, no one will touch a hair on the Young Master's head!"
[Notification: "Believer" Kastro... Loyalty 1...]
Roy smiled in satisfaction and patted his shoulder. "Let's go."
"Yes."
The boy followed closely behind Roy. Stepping into teor City, he instantly witnessed what it ant to be a "World's Junkyard"!
Mountainous piles of garbage, one after another, stretching endlessly to the horizon... A pungent stench mingled with the buzz of flies and mosquitoes... Compared to the Zoldyck estate on Kukuroo Mountain, this was hell!
"Young Master, a mask."
Kastro imdiately pulled out a mask and handed it to Roy. Gotoh had prepared plenty for him before they left, enough to last for a while.
Roy accepted it. His gaze wandered, noticing many pale and skinny people. Adults looked like minors, and minors were just skin and bones... His gaze shifted to a high "peak" in the west—a massive garbage mountain tens of ters high. He spotted three figures peering over the top.
He put on the mask, drew back his gaze, and walked unhurriedly with Kastro towards the 4th Street the guard ntioned...
On the garbage mountain, Chrollo muttered, "What a keen sense of sll!"
He could see them clearly even from hundreds of ters away... The boy froze, slowly lowering the telescope.
"What is it?" Pakunoda noticed Chrollo's unusual behavior and asked softly, always observant.
Chrollo handed the telescope to Shalnark, silent for a mont. "I think... he noticed us."
"Not think, definitely." Shalnark took the telescope. He noticed the sharp glance Kastro cast their way. He gasped. "Those two feel just like Bolton!"
Shalnark rembered once sneaking to the edge of 4th Street, hundreds of ters away, to search for a ga console. Bolton had spotted him instantly. He was lucky he ran fast enough to save his skin... He lowered the telescope, excitedly telling Chrollo and Pakunoda, "Paku, Chrollo, we're in for a show!"
Chrollo remained silent. Pakunoda was stunned. The trio took turns with the telescope, observing Roy and Kastro.
The boy and his servant arrived in front of a ruined gray spire church. The mont they stopped, they were surrounded by nurous black-suited n.
Then... the massive, mottled church door creeaked open!
Revealing a corner of the prayer hall. Deep inside, at the center, a sinister young man was cutting a rare steak with a knife and fork.
"What's the aning of this?"
"Renting, charity."
"I don't understand."
"Renting, preaching, aid."
"You have money?"
"Praise the sun... I have so assets." Roy smiled.
The sinister youth crunch, crunch chewed his steak. He had two marks branded on the backs of his hands—a "Sun" and a "Moon." He grinned slyly, his eyes narrowing into a slit. "Aid, huh? Aid ans money. Tell ..."
Bolton leaned forward, looking at Roy with interest. "Pastor, are you willing to aid ?"
Click— A gun was cocked. Blades and steel rods reflected the light.
Bolton's expression turned fierce. "Take them. Pry out the money. Slice up the people. Sell them..."
...Especially the "brains."
Damn it. Anyone coming to teor City to give charity must be an idiot...
"Blow them away!"
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