HxH: Ryomen... Satoru?

Chad was just about to close the door when two figures suddenly appeared in the distance.

"I knew it. A gambling addict like you suddenly laying low? Couldn't find you at any of the usual spots…"

"Turns out you've got someone tipping you off."

A young voice rang out as the two figures steadily approached.

Chad watched them warily. The descriptions matched exactly what his informant had told him: a young boy with tattoos and a blond-haired companion.

The moment he saw them, Chad realized these were the two who had been after him.

"Bounty hunters?" Chad asked in a questioning tone, as if intending to strike up a conversation. But before he even finished speaking, he launched himself like an arrow from a drawn bow.

He didn't head toward them, though—instead, he bolted in the opposite direction, where no one else was around.

It was obvious he wasn't looking for a fight; he wanted to escape.

As he ran, he glanced back over his shoulder.

The two figures didn't seem interested in chasing him. They just stood there.

"A mere B-rank…" Cyr muttered, watching the figure rapidly disappearing down the narrow path ahead.

"I'll leave it to you, Maro," he said lazily.

"Understood, my lord." Maro raised his hands.

Without much visible movement, an enormous frost-colored ice blade, emitting a chilling mist, appeared out of nowhere and struck Chad from behind with tremendous force.

Chad, who had been mid-air in his escape, was struck down and slammed heavily into the ground.

The sound the ice blade made as it struck Chad wasn't the sound of piercing bone—it was more like it hit metal.

What's more, the exposed bones weren't white but had a faint silvery sheen.

Metal bones? Must be some kind of Nen ability. It couldn't possibly be the result of technology, right?

After all, the technology in this world hasn't advanced to the point of interstellar-level cybernetics where metal skeletons can replace real ones...

"I was aiming to impale him completely with the ice blade…" Maro said, looking down at his hands, his tone tinged with disappointment.

He hadn't managed it.

Was it his attack power? Or maybe the sharpness or hardness of the ice blade wasn't enough?

Still, were Chad's silver-glinting bones simply too hard?

"If I were to turn your bones into weapons, they'd probably be pretty useful…" Cyr muttered thoughtfully as he stood before Chad, observing him for a moment.

"But after you die, your ability will probably disappear, right? In that case, it seems kind of pointless." He shook his head at his own idea.

He reached out, casually pressing Chad—who was trying to rise and resist—back down to the ground.

Somehow, Cyr's pale hand possessed an unrelenting strength that made it impossible for Chad to fight back.

"You seem to have quite a bit of money. I'll give you a chance—buy your life with it," the young man squatted beside Chad, smiling as he made the "helpful" suggestion.

Chad raised his head and finally got a clear look at the face hidden beneath Cyr's hood.

It was indeed a very young face—almost boyish.

Exquisitely beautiful yet disturbingly eerie.

Even in the pitch-dark environment, those blue eyes glimmered with a radiance brighter than any gemstone.

Was this the person chasing him?

Or rather... how could such a person possibly be a hunter?

It was utterly terrifying.

As for paying for his life?

Precisely because he recognized how dangerous Cyr was, Chad didn't believe for a second that handing over money would let him live.

If that was the case... why bother giving him any money?

"You think you can swindle me? Think again, kid," Chad sneered, spitting to the side in defiance.

He assumed Cyr would interrogate and torture him to extract the location of his hidden wealth.

No matter. Chad had already prepared himself to endure such torment.

But instead, he heard a single, flat-toned reply:

"Is that so? Then go ahead and die."

And with that, Chad lost all sense of feeling.

"You wasted so many days of my time. Letting you die this easily almost feels too lenient…" Cyr sighed as he stood, gazing down at the corpse.

Still, if the body were too damaged to be recognizable, it wouldn't fetch the bounty.

And Cyr wasn't particularly fond of torture—it wasn't like he was some kind of sadist, after all.

"Oh well," he muttered.

After all, he thought to himself, I'm just too kind to enjoy torturing people.

The process from here was routine: submitting the mission, contacting the nearest police department, waiting for them to arrive, and then leaving the scene.

He had become highly efficient at it.

Naturally, the bounty money arrived quickly, as usual.

"Good. Now for the next one…" Cyr glanced at his account balance, unenthused, and began searching for his next target.

He had never been particularly motivated by money, nor was he the type to save. He spent freely and rarely managed to hold onto much of it.

Thankfully, being born to parents who were ridiculously skilled at "spawning gold coins" had meant he never had to worry about finances.

The only time he ever felt short on cash was when he wanted to build an airship.

When amounts started reaching tens or hundreds of millions, it simply wasn't worth the effort.

For sums in the tens or hundreds of thousands, however, he could still indulge in the occasional whim.

Even now, in this strange world, without his gold-spawning parents, Cyr thrived comfortably. In a place where strength dictated wealth, he was as carefree as ever.

"Mad Bomber Bardler, appearance unknown, real name unknown. Often uses the alias Bardler at the scenes of bombing incidents. This one feels like it'll be tough to track… Let's move on to the next one," Cyr muttered as he read the details on a new criminal. Suddenly, another thought crossed his mind.

"Speaking of which… it's been a few days now. The mafia should've already hired someone to come after me, right? Why hasn't anyone shown up yet?" His tone was a mix of confusion, curiosity, and barely concealed anticipation.

Based on his own deductions, if the job had really been taken by the Zoldyck family, the one who would likely show up was that dead-eyed, eerily logical, long-haired ghost-like eldest brother, Illumi.

After all, the second brother was a shut-in who rarely left the house.

As for the third brother, Killua… well, he couldn't use Nen yet, so it was unlikely the Zoldycks would send him.

As for the other siblings… Cyr couldn't recall much about them.

After all, he hadn't even finished watching the anime.

"Does it really take this long to get here? The Zoldyck family lives right in the Republic of Padokea, on the same continent as us. It's not even that far away. Shouldn't they have arrived by now? Or maybe the mafia decided to give up?" Cyr speculated.

The mafia wasn't without resources—they had fortune-tellers, didn't they? Maybe they'd gone to consult one.

Then perhaps the reading had warned them: 'Do not provoke the one with white hair, or you will die.' Spooked by such a prophecy, they might have abandoned the idea of hiring an assassin altogether.

It wasn't impossible.

In the original story, Neon did foresee the deaths of several mafia bosses. Those who received the warning didn't attend the auction, and as a result, they avoided the massacre when the Phantom Troupe went on a killing spree. Those who did attend were all slaughtered.

"With Dorinck's personality, he's not the type to give up easily. I think he's definitely scheming something," Maro said respectfully, as if offering a gentle reminder.

°°°

If you want to read ahead and access 20 advanced chapters, check the patreon

Link: Patreon/Moziel