Gelman placed his hands on the steering wheel, like an experienced driver teaching a novice. "Straighten the wheel, ease on the brakes, and stop... You don't need me to teach you that, do you?"
The driver trembled as he did as instructed. The barrel of a blunderbuss was already resting on his shoulder, aimed at his temple.
When Wing came over, Gelman and the driver had already gotten out.
The driver crouched on the ground with his hands clasped over his head.
"I asked him. He's an ordinary killer who doesn't even know Nen. The exam is coming up, and I don't want any trouble. What should we do with this guy?" Gelman asked.
He hadn't just killed him outright...
Wing glanced at Gelman, then replied:
"Just leave him here. The area is full of Hunters from the Hunter Association, who are here to ensure the exam proceeds in an orderly fashion. They'll come and arrest him."
Gelman looked at the crowd of onlookers. "True. Leave him to your people, then."
With that, Gelman and Wing left without another word, continuing toward the church.
"You don't seem surprised by this assassination attempt," Wing finally said after they'd walked for a while.
"I'm used to it," Gelman said. "If no one tries to assassinate me for two or three days, it actually feels strange."
"I... I see."
Is this what life in the Dark World is like?
Wing fell silent, unable to help wondering why Master Biscuit had asked him to get to know Gelman.
He respected Master Biscuit so much that he was sure she wouldn't make a pointless arrangement.
Master Biscuit has always thought I'm too rigid. Could she be trying to help me learn something from Gelman?
It never crossed his mind that Biscuit really hadn't had time to come herself, and had simply sent him, her student who lived near the exam site, to take her place.
Inside the quiet, old-fashioned church, Wing slipped into a dark confessional, exchanged a few coded phrases, then came back out.
"All right, Mr. Gelman. Follow this road, and someone will take you to the exam site. This is as far as I can go."
"Okay. Thank you."
Wing paused, then smiled. "You're welcome."
Gelman walked around the confessional and took a few steps, then suddenly remembered something and turned back.
Wing stood with his hands behind his back and asked, puzzled, "Did you forget something?"
Gelman shook his head, then took a head-sized stone from his backpack and held it out to Wing.
"Biscuit specifically asked for this."
Remembering his teacher's instructions, Wing immediately accepted it with both hands.
The moment the stone rested in his palms, it turned the same color as his skin within seconds.
So there really is a "magical gem." I thought Master Biscuit had just used that as an excuse to get me to meet Gelman...
Could it really be that Master Biscuit simply didn't have time to come, and that's why she sent me...?
At the thought, Wing couldn't help twitching the corners of his mouth.
After a long while, he looked up, ready to thank him, only to see that Gelman had already walked away, leaving him with nothing but his back.
Gelman, huh?
At first, Wing hadn't understood why his teacher had helped Gelman. After meeting him in person, he understood a little.
Gelman wasn't a completely wicked man, but neither was he a good man. He was more like someone in the gray area.
A person like that wouldn't cling entirely to order, embrace chaos completely, or waver indecisively in the middle.
He already had a target he needed to hunt, and he had all the makings of a first-rate Hunter.
Meanwhile, a priest in an Ink Black Long Gown opened the church's back door for Gelman, then made the sign of the cross over his chest and silently recited something.
Gelman studied the priest's deeply wrinkled, aged face. Even in a different world, people still believed in a god much like God.
A hazy fog blanketed the area behind the church, obscuring the distance.
Only a red-brick path stretched from beneath his feet into the depths of the mist.
He followed the plain brick path forward.
As he entered the fog, gray-white slabs began to appear on either side of him, carved with strange patterns and distinctive writing.
Tombstones...
So this was a quiet cemetery.
Gelman continued forward at an unhurried pace.
Before long, one moving shadow after another appeared ahead. As he drew closer, he saw a group of men and women dressed in all sorts of clothes.
They stood some distance away. When they noticed Gelman, they eyed him warily from head to toe, then turned away again, barely speaking to one another.
They were probably all candidates taking the Hunter Exam.
As Gelman surveyed his surroundings, a short figure approached him.
The person wore a black suit and white gloves.
But his face wasn't human. It was blue-green and looked more like a bean.
Beanpaste Man, a Hunter Association secretary, was one of the people the eccentric Chairman Netero trusted most.
Then again, it might not have been "trust." He could just as easily have been one of Netero's favorite targets for teasing and pranks.
His personality was the exact opposite of Chairman Netero's: steady and mild-mannered, which made him well suited to secretarial work.
"Hello."
Beanpaste Man politely reached into the little basket slung at his side, took out a round white number badge, and handed it to Gelman.
"Please keep your number badge safe. You're Candidate 233. It's best to wear it on your chest during the exam."
Gelman took it and deftly spun the badge around his fingers like a pen. Seeing nothing unusual, he pinned it to his chest.
Just then, another candidate emerged from the fog.
Beanpaste Man immediately trotted over on his short legs to greet him, following the exact same procedure.
But as soon as Beanpaste Man left, someone else came over.
"Hello, hello."
A kind smile spread across his chubby face.
"My name's Dopa. I'm a Hunter Exam candidate, just like you. You look like a new face. Is this your first time taking the exam?"
Dopa hadn't recognized Gelman, whose name was currently making waves in the Dark World. That was perfectly normal.
Among the Phantom Troupe's current members, everyone except Gelman, their rookie, was a Class A Wanted Criminal—including Hisoka. They were called "thieves," but most of the time they simply robbed people after killing them.
Similarly, the Zoldyck Family advertised itself as a family of "assassins," but they did more "open killings" than assassinations, and rarely bothered to conceal their identities.
Both groups needed to make names for themselves in the Dark World to achieve their respective goals.
But neither the Phantom Troupe nor the Zoldyck Family was so famous that people would recognize them just by seeing them on the street.
Dopa didn't recognize Gelman. But after hearing his name, Gelman gave him another look and quickly realized who he was.
It wasn't that Dopa was particularly famous. It was that his twisted personality had made a lasting impression on Gelman.
Dopa had failed to pass the Hunter Exam more than thirty times. In a fit of frustration, he'd become someone who targeted newcomers, making sure they failed too.
In other words, he was known as the "Rookie Killer."
His reason for approaching Gelman was obvious.
Before you continue