HxH: Ryomen... Satoru?

"Who sent you?" The blond young man pressed an ice blade to the throat of the last surviving enemy, his tone cold and hard.

His back was turned toward Cyr and the others, his expression dark and brooding.

Watching Cyr ride the Ferris wheel with that Nostrade girl had already infuriated him, and now these fools had the audacity to interrupt. They all deserved to die!

"Leave it to us." Dalzollene stepped forward, looking as if he had dealt with such situations countless times before.

Maro stared at the enemy for a long moment, but the ice blade in his hand remained steady.

Until—

"That's enough. Hand them over," the white-haired boy spoke lazily.

Only then did Maro tear his intense gaze away from Dalzollene and lower his weapon.

"It feels like we've been killing a lot of gang members recently..." Cyr sighed, though his tone was casual and unconcerned.

Which gangs were collaborating with Meteor City again? Among the people he had killed, were there any from those groups? If so...

Pampas would have a massive headache. What a pity Cyr couldn't see the man's expression.

Dalzollene dragged the last remaining captive to stand behind Neon.

"Miss, the Boss has ordered you to return home," he said, looking at her.

Having narrowly escaped danger, Neon understood she needed to leave.

This wasn't the first time she'd been attacked, but it was undoubtedly the most violent one yet—both in numbers and firepower.

"Alright, I understand," she replied, surprisingly obedient for once.

"Come home with me, Cyr," she said, her large, round eyes full of hope as she gazed at the white-haired boy.

Her turquoise-blue eyes, caught somewhere between blue and green, stared at him unblinkingly.

Cyr stood there quietly, raising an eyebrow at her request but offering no response.

Seeing that he didn't immediately agree, Neon tried again: "I don't have paper or a pen on me, but there's plenty at home. Once we're back, I can do your fortune-telling."

She instinctively placed her hand over her chest, feeling her heart gradually returning to a normal rhythm. But the memory of its earlier violent pounding was still vivid in her mind.

"Let's go," Cyr said with a nod.

Dalzollene dragged the captive onto the airship. Maro glared at the sight, his jaw tightening so hard it seemed he might crack his teeth.

How could they bring filth onto the airship he had prepared for Cyr? Damn Nostrade family! None of them should even be allowed aboard!

"Let's go, Maro," Cyr called out, snapping the frozen figure out of his twisted thoughts.

Honestly, the Nostrade family should probably avoid eating anything on this airship. At this point, Maro looked like he was genuinely considering poisoning the food.

You hardcore loyalists are something else…

"Coming!" Maro quickly jogged after them and boarded the airship.

The amusement park was left in shambles. Shell casings, blood, and severed limbs littered the ground, creating a scene straight out of hell.

But amidst the carnage, the lingering frost added a surreal, fairytale-like quality.

What had once been an ordinary amusement park now looked like a haunted theme park straight out of a horror story.

As the airship lifted off, cracks began to spread across the ice encasing the Ferris wheel.

One after another, shards of ice fell to the ground with a sharp *crack*.

Finally, the already tilting Ferris wheel collapsed entirely, crashing to the ground with a deafening thud and sending up a cloud of dust.

…

Nostrade Mansion.

Light Nostrade still hadn't shown up, as he was rushing back to the mansion.

All further instructions were relayed to Dalzollene via phone.

The man took the captive to the basement, likely to extract some information.

Meanwhile, Neon led Cyr and Maro to her room. She pulled out a blank sheet of paper and handed it to Cyr.

"Just write your name, blood type, and birthdate on it," she said, sitting on her bed.

Can I use a fake name? Cyr wondered, considering his options before scribbling down the alias he used, along with the rest of the requested information. He handed the paper back to Neon.

The moment Neon took the paper and picked up a pen, her eyes lost their light. Though she faced the paper, she couldn't see the words she was writing.

Near her hand appeared a strange, otherworldly figure.

Less than a minute later, Neon returned to her normal state and handed the paper to the white-haired boy sitting across from her.

"Here, it's done," she said naturally, her tone carrying a hint of pride, like a child showing off a talent.

Everyone said her fortune-telling was 100% accurate.

She was a born diviner.

"Wow, that was fast," Cyr said as he took the paper and glanced at it. What he saw was a dense, shadowy gray, like a deep fog.

"…"

The result wasn't all that surprising.

For someone who had transmigrated into this world and carried a system, most prophecy-related abilities didn't work on them.

After all, travelers were often considered entities outside the world's framework, capable of altering the destinies of others.

"Alright, why don't you do a reading for Maro too?" Cyr folded the paper and looked at Neon.

Neon's expression faltered. She glanced at Maro, clearly reluctant. She didn't seem fond of him and wasn't eager to perform a reading for him. But since Cyr had asked, she begrudgingly agreed.

"Fine, if you say so," she muttered, handing a blank sheet of paper to Maro.

Maro wasn't keen on being read by her either. But because it was Cyr's request, he had no choice but to comply.

Gripping the pen tightly, he scribbled his information onto the paper, pressing so hard that he nearly tore through it.

Neon Nostrade's ability was well-known among the mafia, and Light Nostrade's rise to power was largely attributed to it. Many mocked him for relying on his daughter's talent.

Maro had heard plenty of rumors about the Nostrade family. Even his father had been one of Neon's clients.

But Maro had never once considered seeking her out for a reading.

He didn't believe in fate.

"Alright, here you go," Neon said, quickly finishing her work and handing the paper back to Maro.

"You walk amidst the fog. Remember to follow the lighthouse ahead. If you stand still for too long, you'll lose the path beneath your feet forever."

Cyr glanced at the message but found nothing particularly useful in it.

Prophecies. They're always cryptic riddles. I hate riddles.

"The lighthouse... I see! I understand now!" Maro exclaimed, his tone suddenly filled with excitement and resolve. His attitude toward Neon's fortune-telling shifted instantly from disdain to complete trust.

What exactly did you understand?

Never mind.

With the payment received and the fortune-telling done, it was time to leave.

"Alright, we're heading out," Cyr said, standing up to go.

"Leaving already?" Neon looked a little disappointed.

"Come play with me next time!" she said eagerly.

Dalzollene, who had just arrived, almost stumbled at those words, nearly doing a full split on the spot.

No, no, no. Don't come back.

The young lady has no idea how terrifying his presence is. Even the boss was on edge the whole time.

"Sure," Cyr replied with a small nod.

As long as your dad remembers to prepare my 20 billion appearance fee, that is.

As they walked down the corridors of the Nostrade estate, a new painting had been hung on the wall.

It depicted a distorted, three-dimensional humanoid figure, encased in a frame.

It wasn't an industrially manufactured model but a real human.

There was no way this was something Dalzollene had done on his own—it must have been approved by someone else.

Hanging such a painting in the hallway... Light Nostrade had quite the eccentric taste.

Perhaps Neon's peculiar hobby of collecting human organs was, to some extent, a family trait.

°°°

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