Darkness Takes Root
In a secluded grove in southern Meteor City.
Swish!
The van door slid open with a faint scrape of bearings.
Ptooey!
The burly man in black who stepped out of the van removed his mask and spat on the barren ground.
"Boss, we only need to catch ten more, right?"
Raising his right hand, which was missing a finger, the burly man lit a cigarette, then leaned casually against the dead tree trunk beside him.
"Xini! I know you hate it here, but please bear with it a little longer."
In the driver's seat, a young man in a well-tailored suit smiled faintly, a strange light flashing in his fiery red eyes.
"Once we finish this job, it'll be about time for us to stop."
"Let's hope so!" The burly man blew a smoke ring, his fiery red eyes full of weariness.
He hated his work, because it filled him with an inexplicable fear whenever he faced his own children...
But for the sake of the hungry children in his clan, what choice did he have?
As for what he feared?
Perhaps only Xini himself knew the answer...
The animation ended quickly. A few incidents aside, Chrollo had succeeded in giving the children a wonderful show.
They left the church and stepped onto the dirt road home.
"I really admire you. I want to be just like you someday!"
The girl with twin ponytails stood between Uvogin and Chrollo and laughed loudly.
"That's what you want to say, right, Uvogin?"
Sarasa raised her right hand high and made the Cleanup Squad's signature gesture-her index finger straight and thumb extended naturally, forming a pistol pointed diagonally at the sky!
The tense atmosphere vanished in an instant.
"Hey, hey, I just wanted to join you and voice those villains!"
"Is there any need to be so tense?!!"
Uvogin patted his chest, laughing as he held out his right hand to Chrollo.
"Welcome, my friend!"
Chrollo smiled sincerely and reached out to clasp Uvogin's hand tightly.
He could hear the sincerity in Uvogin's words; it was a talent that came from his soul.
Walking on the muddy ground, Carl watched events unfold and conclude from within the group, her expression remaining indifferent.
The beginnings of the Phantom Troupe...
"Well, this is rare. A rat from the gutter like you actually came out."
A quiet voice spoke up beside Carl, interrupting his thoughts.
He looked up to see Sheila standing beside him in a pristine white princess dress. She said scornfully:
"What? Still messing around with those useless seeds of yours?"
"Heh."
"..."
Staring at the well-dressed girl with a head of blond hair, Carl rapidly searched through his memories.
After a while, Carl found the memories concerning the girl and him.
"Does mocking me make you happy?"
Staring at the girl the priest had adopted, Carl spoke a few words without any change in his expression.
"Little sister Sheila, who has trouble walking and can only depend on others."
Both were orphans raised by the church, but the original Carl had become independent early on, struggling to survive alone in Meteor City.
Sheila, on the other hand, had trouble walking, so the church's old priest had adopted her, and she had become a little nun at the church.
The conflict between the two stemmed from an incident the original Carl was unwilling to recall.
"A stray dog who digs around for seeds everywhere dares to say anything!"
Sheila staggered a step back, unable to keep a vicious look from appearing on her face.
"At least a stray dog runs fast enough and never stops moving!" Carl deliberately glanced at Sheila's legs, hidden beneath her long skirt, and raised an eyebrow with a smile.
"What good is being fast? You still couldn't protect your own foster mother, could you?!!" Sheila gritted her teeth, then laughed in her fury.
She remembered clearly: this guy was the one who had gotten his foster mother killed!!!
Carl froze at her words, and uncontrollable rage surged into his heart.
"What did you say?!!"
In an instant, a sharpened dagger slid from his sleeve and came to rest against Sheila's neck.
"How dare you mention my foster mother?"
"If she hadn't been trying to save you, how could she have died?!" Carl's eyes widened as he roared at Sheila.
The original Carl remembered it clearly. When Sheila had been kidnapped by thugs, his foster mother had risked her life to snatch her back from them.
The original Carl had still been young then. All he knew was that his foster mother's body had been like a tattered rag, bleeding without end.
The original Carl had raced to the church, but by the time the priest arrived with the Elders' Guard, it was already too late.
But Carl had grown up now. He could see it clearly: his foster mother had died covered in knife wounds deep enough to expose bone, yet she had held Sheila tightly in her arms.
"Why wouldn't I dare?"
"Was I born with a crippled leg?"
Ignoring the sharp blade at her neck, Sheila glared at Carl and shouted back without backing down.
"What's going on?" Hearing the commotion behind him, Franklin hurriedly turned to intervene.
Chrollo, who had been talking with Uvogin, also turned around and looked at Carl.
"Without my foster mother, do you think you'd still be alive?"
Looking at Sheila, who showed not a trace of guilt, Carl gradually lowered his heated voice.
He might not have been the original Carl, but having inherited the corresponding memories, he probably understood what had happened better than the original Carl, who had been young at the time.
For that very reason, with his adult mind, he found Sheila's untroubled demeanor even harder to bear!
"Who needed her to save me!!!"
Patting her unresponsive left leg, Sheila spoke agitatedly.
In her memory, if Carl's foster mother hadn't invited her out, she would never have suffered such a thing!
"..."
Hearing that, Carl said nothing and silently pushed the knife tip forward.
I can't be bothered to speak, you're not worthy of hearing it, so die!!!
Smack!
A large hand gripped Carl's wrist tightly.
"Carl, you're going too far!"
"We're all companions. Can't you talk this out? How can you try to kill her?!!!"
After pushing Sheila aside slightly, Franklin spoke with a serious expression.
"Heh."
Carl slapped Franklin's hand away with the back of his hand and slipped the sharp knife back into his sleeve.
"Don't watch one animation and start thinking you're really an ally of justice!"
"You don't know anything, so why are you pretending to be a good guy here?!!"
Glancing at the others who had gathered around, Carl threw those words at Franklin, then turned and walked away.
"That's not what I meant."
Franklin's expression froze at those words. He hesitantly reached toward Carl's retreating figure, but in the end, his hand fell back to his side.
I'd better let Carl calm down alone first.
Franklin thought to himself.
"Carl!"
Chrollo's voice came from behind, accompanied by the sound of something cutting through the air.
Smack!
Carl instinctively raised a hand to block, and a bulging package fell into his hand.
"These are the seeds I promised you."
Chrollo's sincere voice sounded behind him.
After hesitating for a moment, Carl turned around and strode toward Chrollo.
"If you run into danger, twist the twig twice, pull it out, throw it, and then run immediately!!!"
Hiding the Bomb Pomegranate she had taken from the manor in her hand, Carl moved close to Chrollo and whispered the instructions.
"What..."
Chrollo had just begun to speak when Carl pressed a hard, round object into his arms.
"That's what I'm trading for your seeds."
After walking a few steps away, Carl waved and spoke.
He admitted that, after dealing with a morally corrupt bitch like Sheila, Chrollo's good quality of keeping his promise had indeed touched him.
That was why he was willing to give Chrollo a "grenade" as a gift for his first meeting with the future leader!
"The stray dog who picks through garbage sure runs fast!"
Sheila's quiet curse reached everyone's ears, making quite a few of them frown.
"Sheila! Stop it!" Noticing the others' gazes, Sarasa hurriedly tugged at the girl's skirt to stop her.
"Hmph!" Sheila looked around at the others and only fell silent when she realized her words had encompassed too many of her companions.