The night was beautiful.
But more beautiful still was the intoxicating aura that permeated it.
That aura—
Made up of the scent of blood, pure killing intent, heightened emotions.
And "death," it was simply breathtaking.
The owner of those eyes, holding a certain desire in check, was certain he could "see" this beautiful sight.
And those eyes belonged to Hisoka, who had run into Moyu at the formalwear shop yesterday.
He had come to this city on the simple assumption that the Antiquities Exchange might attract a band of outlaws.
With a chance to have an exchange with outlaws of presumably decent strength, how could Hisoka miss such a grand occasion?
As it turned out, Hisoka's assumption had been correct.
A band of notorious A-rank criminals really had set their sights on this Antiquities Exchange.
And they were none other than the Phantom Troupe, whom Hisoka had made a point of keeping an eye on.
What an unexpected delight.
But the one who truly made Hisoka unbearably excited, who left him utterly intoxicated...
It had to be you, after all!
Hisoka looked at Moyu in the midst of the battle.
Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful!
Having witnessed Moyu's spectacular performance while surrounded by powerful enemies, Hisoka's emotions instantly surged to their peak, almost spilling over.
I want to. I want to...
Fight you to the death again, right here.
But it's not time yet. Not yet...
Hisoka tilted his head back slightly, his golden pupils trembling rapidly back and forth, as though they were about to burst past his upper eyelids and escape their sockets.
Moyu had thoroughly awakened his pathological thirst for battle.
But he also understood that challenging Moyu with his current strength would only mean throwing his life away again.
So it wasn't time yet...
But how was he