Zoldyck, Unforgiving Enemies

Emerging from the woods, Coleman arrived at the small town, weaving through turns until he entered an inconspicuous room.

"Hello, may I ask...?"

"What would you like to drink?"

The proprietor hadn't even finished his sentence before he caught sight of the small figure before him.

He looked to be about ten years old.

What was a child like this doing here?

Had another kid run away from home?

"Hey, hey, little one, this is a place for adults; you can't be here!"

The middle-aged man was kind, but his intent to shoo the boy away was clear.

Coleman was already used to this.

His age and height had always been his Achilles' heel. Otherwise, he wouldn't have spent an hour just dealing with that painting.

He looked up, expressionless, and spoke slowly: "Three hundred meters outside town, northeast of the woods. Go take care of it."

"Hm?"

The proprietor froze, then immediately realized what was happening.

It seemed this child was here to deliver a message.

He nodded quickly, agreeing, "Understood, I'll handle it immediately."

Only a few factions knew that his shop had a side business of disposing of corpses.

First was the Zoldyck Family, far away on the horizon.

Second was the Layton Family mafia.

Third...

It was hard to say; that was information for his superiors.

In any case, anyone who could make such a request with such confidence was someone not to be trifled with.

Coleman thought for a moment and chose to take out a token given to him by a 'friend,' rather than revealing the one belonging to his own Zoldyck Family.

After all, to be frank, that scene was not exactly aesthetically pleasing.

Coleman didn't want others saying that the Zoldyck Family had produced a pervert!

Their family was full of perfectly reliable gentlemen, wasn't it?

And he was just a rather unique gentleman among those gentlemen.

Besides, artists were always lonely.

Coleman could understand that mortals were incapable of appreciating this art.

Art, after all—if even ordinary people could understand it, how could it be called art?

Only those whose thoughts resonated could appreciate an artist's art!

And Coleman, who considered himself one of a kind, never expected others to understand him.

It didn't matter; as long as he was happy, that was all that counted.

Therefore, fearing he might scare the laborers who handled the bodies, Coleman decided to let the Layton Family take the blame!

Coleman had done this more than once.

It was no big deal; the Layton Family wouldn't have nothing better to do than go out of their way to trouble a child.

Besides, hadn't he helped build their 'reputation'?

The fact that he wasn't charging them for it was already generous enough!

His logic might have been twisted, but his confidence was unshakable; Coleman successfully convinced himself with this line of reasoning.

As for the Layton Family...

He would deal with them if they ever came looking for him.

If it really came down to it, he would just ask his grandfather for help.

With his carefree attitude, Coleman happily cast the matter to the back of his mind.

What he needed to do now was find the person his grandfather had said was very interesting.

While wandering through the alleys earlier, Coleman had actually run into an interesting fellow.

Judging by his physique and movements, that person looked very much like the child Ku'er Ya had introduced him to on the deserted island.

However, through observation, Coleman discovered that Ku'er Ya had actually guessed wrong.

This kid was definitely not sixteen; at most, he was around thirteen.

As for the height issue, he must have used some method to forcibly increase it.

But the consequence of doing so was that he would likely never grow very tall in the future.

It was a case of pulling up seedlings to help them grow; it was good enough that the seedlings didn't die!

Coleman was now looking for this person who was running around the streets just like him.

Judging by the person's skills, they were too perfect to be an information broker!

They could leap over eaves and run along walls.

Lying was as easy as breathing, and most importantly, they could do it with a face full of sincerity!

They possessed all the basic abilities of an information broker!

This made Coleman very eager to poach them, or to find a way to get them into the business of reselling information!

He was quite confident in his ability to succeed!

Worst case scenario, he'd just throw money at them!

Coleman didn't believe anyone could refuse money!

After all, he had plenty of it right now!

So, he could generously say to this person who was currently desperately in need of money.

What's a little money! I have plenty!

Of course, it would be even better if he could persuade them with words.

If possible, Coleman really didn't want to spend a single cent on this.

After all, how satisfying was it to get something for free!

"Ah!!"

Screams erupted one after another in the banquet hall.

By now, the party had long ended, leaving only scattered groups of people chatting and some idle security guards.

Yet, the eldest daughter of the family hosting the party was dead.

She died right in front of everyone.

Silently, her body slumped down limply.

At first, no one noticed that this beautiful lady had died.

They simply thought that the party had been too tiring, causing the young lady to be exhausted and faint.

But when they rushed to help the girl up, they discovered.

The girl had no strength in her body at all, completely limp.

Instinctively, they brought their hands close to her nose to check for breath, only to feel a chill.

The waiter's face turned pale with fear, his heart filled with unease, silently praying that the young lady had merely fainted.

But when he turned the young lady's body over, he discovered.

Blood was slowly seeping from her chest.

He swallowed hard, his fingers trembling as he reached for her pulse.

One second.

Two seconds.

Ten seconds.

Nothing!

Nothing at all!

Her breathing, her pulse, had stopped!

The young lady... the young lady was dead?!

Killed right under their noses?!

Trembling, they announced the news to the crowd.

Immediately after, the scene from before unfolded.

Screams erupted one after another, people with terrified expressions.

And the family head, rushing over in disbelief!

Stumbling, the family head ran over almost blindly, embracing his beloved daughter.

How could this be?

She had just smiled and greeted him earlier, complaining about how long the party was!

She had just called him an old geezer!

How, how in such a short time, she was... she was!

His gaze vacant, he slowly moved to the wound.

The entire corpse remained intact, save for the blood seeping from the chest.

Gazing at the wound, the old master seemed to recall something, glancing around in a panicked and frantic manner.

Sure enough, lying on the ground not far away was a blood-red "pouch."

The "pouch" was still pulsing faintly.

It was vivid, yet utterly hopeless.

The old master opened his mouth, wanting to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

That was the heart of his beloved daughter!

A living, beating heart!

It had been ripped out just like that!

"Zoldyck!"

He murmured the name.

His gaze grew unfocused.

Slowly, fury and hatred clouded his eyes.

"Zoldyck!!! I will never share the same sky as you!!!"