HxH: Ryomen... Satoru?

Nostrade's private mansion.

Neon Nostrade, female, sixteen years old, the eldest daughter of the Nostrade family, and at the same time, the true backbone of the family.

A mafia fortune teller, she used her Nen ability, Angelic Auto Writing, to grant her father, Light Nostrade, significant influence within the mafia. Her ability also helped elevate the Nosra family from an obscure organization to one with some standing.

"Ugh, Daddy broke his promise again. He's probably off with some woman right now," complained the girl with long violet-blue hair, pouting in dissatisfaction.

"Miss Neon, the boss said he'll return a bit later. In the meantime, here's the next fortune-telling request…" said Dalzollene, the head bodyguard. A man with bangs, black hair, and three black scars—or tear-like marks—under each eye. He spoke with deference.

"I don't want to! I'm not doing any more fortune-telling. I'm mad!" Neon huffed, flipping her hair dramatically, her tone dripping with petulance.

"…Miss Neon, the boss also said that if there's anything you want, he'll make sure to get it for you," Dalzollene relayed, having just heard this from Light Nostrade on the phone, then turning back to appease the irate young lady.

Though she was spoiled, Neon was surprisingly easy to please.

"Really? Then I want this!" she exclaimed, her mood instantly brightening as she held up her phone to show Dalzollene a picture.

"Scoka told me these are the only pair of eyes like this in the entire world. A lot of people are after them, but I want them too. Daddy can definitely get them for me, right?" Neon said excitedly.

Dalzollene immediately recognized the name Scoka—someone who shared Neon's peculiar hobby. A human collector.

Most human collectors had ways of contacting each other and would often showcase their latest acquisitions to one another.

Neon Nostrade was also a human collector.

Arms, hair, bones, skin…

However, she had never collected Scarlet Eyes, nor had she ever collected a pair of eyes, and certainly not a living specimen.

But this pair was the first she had ever expressed an interest in owning.

Azure-blue eyes, as radiant as gemstones, resembling the boundless sky.

Dalzollene recognized those eyes immediately. Over the past few days, they had been a hot topic on the mafia website, referred to as Sky Gems.

Many people claimed that owning those eyes was akin to possessing a piece of the sky itself, one that could rest in the palm of their hand.

The price for those eyes had been climbing steadily, with countless individuals entering private auctions and bounty hunts.

However, no one had managed to claim the eyes yet.

"You heard her, didn't you?" Dalzollene sighed into the phone, speaking to the boss on the other end of the line.

"Whatever Neon wants, make sure she gets it," Light Nostrade commanded.

"I understand," Dalzollene nodded.

"The boss said he'll make sure you get those eyes," he assured Neon as he turned to her.

"Awesome!" The girl was easily appeased. Picking up a blank sheet of paper and a pen, she began her fortune-telling.

A monstrous, shadow-like figure appeared beside her writing hand, guiding the pen to scrawl line after line of text.

During the process, her eyes lost focus, and after the fortune-telling ended, she would neither remember nor look at what she had written.

Dalzollene watched the young lady work, his expression somber.

It wasn't his first time witnessing Miss Neon in action, but every time he did, he still felt a strange mixture of awe and unease at her unique ability.

"All done! Remember to bring me the Sky Gem," Neon said cheerfully as she put down her pen, swinging her legs innocently like a carefree child.

"Yes, Miss," Dalzollene responded, picking up the sheet of paper from the floor.

---

The Perisha Estate

Maro stood silently, watching the bloodied figures sprawled on the ground before him, groaning in agony. Blood dripped from his fingers onto the floor.

"Maro, you bastard! How dare you—" Despite being beaten black and blue, the man on the ground still spat insults at him.

Without hesitation, an icy blade sliced cleanly across the man's throat.

"Father has many children. A few dead won't matter to him," Maro muttered quietly.

Just like ten years ago.

"Father has many children. Losing one illegitimate son doesn't mean anything."

Now, he was returning the words they had once thrown at him.

Some begged for forgiveness while others wailed apologies.

"...We're sorry… we were wrong…"

"Please spare us…"

"We're brothers, aren't we…"

Their arrogance had vanished entirely.

Because their pride never came from their own strength. It had always been rooted in having a powerful father and bearing his family name.

When faced with an overwhelming force they could not resist, their lofty attitudes crumbled to dust.

The sudden appearance of frosty blades claimed the lives of most, leaving only a few alive—though they were utterly terrified, their faces pale with fear.

Maro didn't continue. He had no intention of slaughtering all his siblings.

Given their performance today, their cold-hearted father would surely see them as nothing but worthless failures.

Living as discarded members of the family would be a fate far crueler than dying here and now.

"If he were here, Father would probably say I'm still a disappointment…" Maro muttered under his breath, his head lowered.

"Master Maro… the Boss is calling for you," a guard stationed outside knocked on the door, his voice audible through it.

"I understand." The blonde teenager opened the door from the inside, his expression calm and detached.

Ever since returning home, the softness and timidity that once appeared on his face had completely disappeared, replaced by an unyielding coldness.

In this way, he resembled his father even more.

Maro pushed open the office door—the same door he had feared approaching as a child.

Behind the desk sat his father, Casmir Perisha.

The two shared a noticeable resemblance, with their golden hair and piercing green eyes.

However, Casmir's slicked-back hair and rigid expression made him appear unapproachable and severe.

"The person you chose seems to have encountered some trouble," Casmir said, motioning toward the computer beside him.

Maro stepped forward to look at the screen. The sight instantly made his blood boil, his face turning red with anger.

Those people had put him—Cyr—on display as if he were an auction item? Even going so far as to openly bid for him?

"I'm going to kill them," he growled.

The room's temperature plummeted as mist filled the air, icy blades materializing and floating around him. His Nen surged uncontrollably.

"Do you think he can handle this situation?" Casmir asked coldly.

Hearing the question, Maro immediately regained his composure.

"They've misjudged completely. No matter how many they send, they'll only meet their deaths."

"He will kill every last one of them," the golden-haired youth stated with unwavering certainty and calm.

A bunch of fools walking to their doom.

"You have a lot of faith in him?" Casmir raised an eyebrow, surprised at the change in the son he once dismissed.

"You don't understand him, but I do," Maro replied with pride in his voice.

Cyr's strength, his arrogance—Maro understood them all too well.

And that's why he was absolutely certain that those fools would be eradicated, every single one of them.

°°°

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