Night had fully engulfed Yorknew City.
The wind carried a strange mix of car exhaust and expensive perfume.
In the city center.
The luxurious building hosting the Underground Auction.
Had now become an impenetrable fortress.
Outside the building.
Hundreds of burly men in black suits stood packed together.
A fixed guard post stood every five meters.
A sentry every few steps.
Armed Mafia members were everywhere.
Kurapika wore an impeccably tailored black suit.
He stood in a shadowy corner beside the building.
This was the perimeter security post Dalzollene had assigned him.
He kept his hands in his trouser pockets.
His fingertips were cold.
The metal chains on his right hand inadvertently knocked together.
Giving off a faint metallic scraping sound.
An inexplicable irritation welled up inside him.
The air was stifling.
This feeling.
It was like being pinned under the gaze of some dangerous, cold-blooded animal.
Kurapika closed his eyes.
He forced down the unease stirring in his chest.
At the underground passage entrance by the building's front doors.
Security checks were extremely strict.
Infrared scans.
Metal detector gates.
Along with pat-downs conducted by professional Nen users.
Not even a fly could get through.
A small truck bearing the venue's logistics plates stopped at the entrance.
The doors opened.
Three people in blue work uniforms climbed out.
They pushed a small cart loaded with expensive drinks.
Leading them was a powerfully built man.
His face was covered in stitched scars.
A short, masked man followed behind him.
Along with a short-haired girl wearing black-framed glasses.
The Mafia's security supervisor approached.
He looked the three of them up and down.
"Passes."
The supervisor's tone was curt.
The scar-faced man, Franklin.
Dully pulled three work badges from his pocket.
And handed them over.
The supervisor checked them.
He found nothing wrong.