Old Will

Could they gain a foothold in Meteor City by selling water?

Carl and Chrollo discussed it at length, but ultimately rejected the idea.

The reason was simple: a child carrying gold could not cross a busy marketplace.

The Phantom Troupe was still relatively weak and could not hold on to the enormous profits involved!

The gangs of Meteor City would not allow anyone to interfere with their business, either.

"I just hope the old priest really does know some important people."

After leaving the estate, Carl followed Chrollo down the road to the chapel.

In the memories he had inherited from the original owner of his body, his impression of the church was extremely vague, to say nothing of its priest.

The one thing he remembered clearly was that the church's snacks were very hard.

The midday sun pierced the stained glass, searing colorful scars across the chapel floor.

Carl stared at the indigo patch of light cast on the tip of his shoe, his gaze slightly unfocused.

Knock, knock, knock!

When Chrollo rapped his knuckles against the oak door, he startled a crow perched atop the church. Its black tail feathers brushed past Carl's nose, bringing with them the stench of rotting flesh and sulfur.

Wind whistled through the crack in the door, and a musty smell lingered around Carl's nose. It was the strange odor given off by wood that had been eroded by acid rain for years.

"Grandpa Will?"

Chrollo's voice echoed beneath the dome like a stone dropping into a deep well.

It was noon, and as far as he knew, the old priest should not have been praying at this hour!

"Is that you, Chrollo? Come in. I'm not praying."

The rustle of leather came from behind the door. The old priest's hunched silhouette fell across it like a dead tree about to topple.

Chrollo nodded to Carl, then pushed open the chapel doors.

The hinges creaked, stirring up the musty smell that had accumulated over the years. Carl saw the old priest sorting communion wafers at the pulpit.

The wafers, which should have been pure white, had a faint grayish-green tint. The poor quality of the water used to make them had given them that color.

At the pulpit, Will slowly turned around. When his gaze swept over Carl's face, he suddenly froze. "You are..."

The wafer slipped from his hand, and his right hand trembled as he reached into his clothing-where he kept his glasses. As he had grown older, his eyesight had steadily worsened.

"Grandpa Will, he's Carl, Carl Tam."

"Do you still remember him?"

Chrollo stepped forward and spoke softly.

He had studied under the old priest for several years, but this was the first time he had seen him so nervous.

"A child of the Tam family..."

Will put on his glasses and carefully studied the boy before him.

Black hair, black eyes, a healthy complexion, and a well-proportioned build.

Everything about the boy suggested he had been doing well these past few years...

"After all these years, this is the first time you've come to see me."

Only after gazing at him for a long time did Will slowly sigh and speak softly.

After the kidnapping back then, he had placed the children who had lost their foster mother with other foster mothers.

He had even adopted Sheila, who was physically disabled, himself.

Only Carl had chosen to go alone to the southern district, never to return.

"Priest Will, my foster mother sends her regards." Carl gazed at the old priest before him, his tone inscrutable.

The priest who had been tall and imposing in the original owner's memories now had a full head of silver hair and a slightly hunched figure.

"Don't blame Sheila."

Seeing the boy's hand clench unconsciously, Will spoke with a bitter smile. "You were all still young back then. Because of her right leg, Sheila tried to kill herself several times."

"I had no other choice, so I deceived her with a lie."

"Only hatred could have kept her alive until now!"

Carl's eyelid twitched. He had been wondering where Sheila got that twisted logic!

So it had been this bastard's doing all along!

"It's all right. I don't mind!"

Forcibly suppressing the anger in his heart, Carl managed to squeeze out a smile.

Although this man's slander of the dead disgusted him, there were priorities. He had come here to cooperate with Chrollo, not to take revenge!

Seeing the distorted smile on Carl's face, Chrollo's heart sank. He quickly and discreetly stepped half a pace across to block his view. "We'd like to ask you for information about Nen users."

A piercing scraping sound suddenly came from the pulpit.

Will's withered fingers gripped the Gospel tightly, and yellowed pages fluttered loose. "Who taught you that term? Was it those gang lackeys, or someone from the Mist Forest..."

His gaze suddenly settled on Chrollo's deep eyes, only to see that, at some point, the boy's eyes had filled with understanding.

"So Ms. Lianke, who lives in the Mist Forest, is a Nen user too?"

Chrollo blinked, his tone certain.

"That's right, she's a Nen user!"

Will's face darkened.

He knew Chrollo loved reading. Presumably, he had learned about Nen users from some book and come here to sound him out!

Why did this little brat have to be so crafty?!

No wonder Carl, whom he had not seen in years, had come all this way. He was here to distract him!

"That's assuming you can afford the fare for the last bus."

Will sighed and added:

"Even if you scrape together the fare, you still won't be able to become Nen users if you don't have enough aptitude."

"So we can take the last bus to the Mist Forest, right?"

Chrollo smiled, tightly clenching the hand he had kept behind his back the whole time!

From the very beginning, he had never intended to question the priest straightforwardly-after all, why would an old man who had presided over a church for decades readily tell children like them important information about Nen users?

"..."

The corners of Carl's mouth curved upward. Seeing the old man's face grow darker and darker at the pulpit, he suddenly felt a measure of satisfaction.

"Thank you, Grandpa Will!"

Seeing the old man press his lips together and say nothing more, Chrollo bowed respectfully. Then he grabbed Carl's hand and ran for the door.

Bang!

The chapel's heavy wooden door was gently shut.

"..."

"You little brats. I hope at least one of you has the aptitude!"

Old Will sighed as a glimmer of hope welled up in his heart.

Had he not deliberately mentioned the last bus to give these children a chance?

Even if their chances were slim, how would they know the outcome without trying?

After leaving the chapel, Chrollo and Carl kept moving and soon returned to the screening room.

"Well? Did your plan work?"

When the two returned, Uvogin asked them bluntly.

"Of course!"

Chrollo nodded. He already had a rough plan in mind.

"First, we need to get a ticket for the last bus!"

"A bus? A ticket?" Nobunaga frowned.

Meteor City did have buses, but not just anyone could ride them!

Those who could afford a bus ride were generally members of the gangs or the Elders' Guard.

Ordinary residents of Meteor City like them were lucky just to have enough food and clothing each day. How could they have Jenny to spare for a bus ride?

Most importantly, even if they got on the bus, how could they guarantee their safety?

"Here's my plan..."