HxH: Ryomen... Satoru?

The night was dim, and the light from the streetlamp only illuminated a small patch of ground. The glow was weak, flickering on and off.

"Logically speaking, the Zoldyck family wouldn't abandon a mission," Maro murmured, lowering his head in confusion.

Unless the mission was nullified, the client withdrew, or… the client was dead.

If that were the case, how did Dorink die?

"It probably had something to do with that phone call," Cyr remarked casually.

They weren't mind readers and couldn't hear what was said on the other end of the line from over a hundred meters away. But it was clear that Illumi had been ready to attack—his nen needles were already in hand. Only after taking that call did his killing intent dissipate.

"...Who was it that called him?" Marlow wondered aloud.

"If Dorink's still alive, we can just ask him," Cyr said nonchalantly. "If he's dead, it doesn't matter. If we're really curious, we can just ask the Zoldycks directly."

After all, as long as you paid, Illumi would gladly share the reason.

"But, sir, you need money…" Maro whispered.

All of Maro's future earnings were already set aside for Cyr. It was better to skip unnecessary expenses. Knowing the reason wasn't essential.

Cyr was so good to him.

"Forget it, then. It's not important anyway," Cyr said dismissively, waving a hand in an offhand manner.

At that moment, a ringtone broke the silence.

Maro instinctively pressed his hand against the source of the sound—his pocket. His face turned pale.

"…Sorry… it's mine."

It was just a phone call; why was he so scared?

"Ah, go ahead and answer it," Cyr said indifferently, turning away and taking a few steps. Clearly, he had no interest in eavesdropping.

Maro stood in place, fumbling nervously as he pulled out his phone. When he saw the name on the screen, his heartbeat quickened unnaturally.

"Father," he addressed the person on the other end in a low voice.

The man who had given him half his bloodline, the surname Perisha, and recognized him as a legitimate heir—yet also allowed him to be bullied by his other siblings.

"Dorink is dead. Does it have anything to do with you?" The voice on the other end skipped all pleasantries, cutting straight to the point.

Dorink was really dead?

"…No, it doesn't," Maro replied after a pause, then asked, "How did he die?"

The tone between the two was extremely distant, not like father and son, but more like two ordinary people with a bad relationship. Even the relationships between clients in business were closer than theirs.

"I'm not sure. I heard someone killed Dorink's bodyguards and everyone in his private residence."

"I heard you had some disputes with him, and the Mafia Association asked me some questions," Casmu Perisha's voice was cold, as if he were speaking to a subordinate.

"I know you took something when you left, but I didn't expect you to become someone else's follower out there," the man's voice revealed no emotion.

"Don't do anything that tarnishes your surname," he said coldly, as if issuing a final ultimatum.

"Master is very good. Being his subordinate won't tarnish my surname," Maros' face gradually regained its color, no longer pale, but his expression turned dark.

Even though it was his biological father speaking this way, he couldn't help but feel angered.

On the other end of the phone, the man stopped speaking and directly hung up.

Maro clenched his phone, his veins bulging, his eyes filled with a cryptic expression.

"Done talking?" Cyr glanced at Maro, who seemed to be exuding dark energy, and asked.

"…Mm." Maro looked up at him, offering a smile as gentle and obedient as always, with an air of acquiescence.

"I just got some news. Dorink, the leader, was killed by someone who forcibly broke into his home."

"That person's identity is unclear." Maro couldn't wait to share the information he knew.

"The identity doesn't really matter. He must've offended plenty of people in the Mafia. It's not surprising if someone eventually seeks revenge and wipes out his whole family," Cyr shrugged casually, speaking lightly.

Once you're in the underworld, who hasn't killed someone? Who doesn't have enemies?

Maybe someone was harboring deep hatred, working hard to get stronger, and finally got their revenge.

Thinking about it, it makes for a good novel plot.

"Given that, it makes sense that the client's death led the Zoldycks to abandon the mission," Cyr nodded slightly, his tone light.

Although the death was a bit too coincidental, so what?

It wasn't his concern. After all, he was the one who benefited and didn't need to worry too much about the specifics.

"Mm! Indeed, those who oppose the Master never end well," Maro said with a look of conviction, believing this was Dorink's fate for going against Cyr.

Cyr, who did nothing at all:…

Is this what a toxic fan's thinking is like? He was starting to understand the mentality of entertainment industry fandoms.

Only one person was already so eloquent. If there were millions of such fans, just imagine how he'd be lifted up.

Now that he thought about it, it was a sweet kind of trouble.

"…Master… I want to visit York New," Maro hesitantly requested.

There were things he had to do, and it was time to do them.

"Sure, there's also a target over at Yorbian…" Cyr replied casually.

"There aren't many valuable individuals left here," he said as he lazily flipped through the bounty photos.

The higher the bounty, the richer the criminal. For those with a low bounty... they aren't evil enough, and thus aren't rich enough.

If they're not rich enough, there's no need to waste time looking for them.

Some criminals don't even have any distinguishing features, and nothing else going for them—those are particularly troublesome to find.

It's just a waste of time, so no need to bother.

Relying solely on bounties doesn't seem like enough...

Poaching beasts, for example, seems illegal... hmm...

Maybe treasure hunting could work. Looking for ruins, the antiques in them must be worth a lot. If he happens to find an undiscovered ruin with lots of treasures, after cleaning it out, not only could he make a hundred million, but maybe even a couple billion.

Or he could become a middleman, reselling goods...

In this world, valuable items all have a presence. As long as he stands at the antique market and uses his six eyes to look, he'll immediately know which items are worth something.

Becoming wealthy would be easy.

"Turns out, I was too narrow-minded before. Those who haven't tried to earn money like this are like this..." Cyr rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Those who lack experience and common sense."

"As long as you open your mind, there are countless ways to make money."

He had lived a life too smooth to understand, born into wealth. After casually posting a cosplay video, he became popular just based on his looks, and from there, his fame just kept growing.

He accepted advertisements based on his mood, sometimes not even taking one in a month.

To put it bluntly, he wasn't grounded enough, and on top of that, he spent so much time in the two-dimensional world, with a slightly delusional personality, making him even less grounded.

It's fine though, after Maro's matter is settled, he'll go look for ruins.

The more money, the better, after all, there should be a lot of good things in the system shop.

Let's see if he can buy everything out.

°°°

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