The wager X and X departure

When Qi Zhou opened his eyes, he was still in the box.

It was pitch-dark and silent. All he could hear was his own heartbeat, which had grown unexpectedly calm after his terror reached its peak.

His body and soul seemed to have separated, and time stretched both incredibly short and incredibly long.

Thump-thump... thump-thump...

In the darkness, Qi Zhou opened his eyes wide, then closed them again, as though giving up.

He didn't know how much time had passed, or how much longer it would be.

Only the blood in his memory remained in his mind, staining the entire hall a red as vivid as a carpet. As he traced the image over and over, the blood grew so red it seemed ready to seep from his mind through his eyes.

The structures in the hall, the people running...

They had all become part of that sea of blood.

Qi Zhou let out a whimper. He felt sick, but he had long since thrown up everything he could.

They... the Phantom Troupe...

How could they kill so easily, so casually?!

There was no hatred, no old grudge. All for some meaningless so-called treasure, they had-

"We're thieves. Of course thieves steal what they want."

"So what if we killed some people who had nothing to do with us? What's the big deal?"

Qi Zhou clenched his clothes, as though that could hold his cold heart tight.

"If you dare run away, I'll take your ability, break your arms and legs, and lock you in a box."

From the very beginning, he had already told himself what kind of place the Phantom Troupe was.

He had eaten and lived with a group of robbers for two months. He had learned about this world from a group of robbers, and in the end... he had become one of them, their accomplice...

Some of the blood that had spread across the entire hall was there because of him-he had blood on his hands-he had killed...

Living lives could never again be lived because of him, frozen there forever, becoming the spirits of the dead that clung to him.

Bang-

Qi Zhou heard a sound and opened his eyes in a daze. For a brief moment, his vision was blurry. He lowered his head and rubbed his face against his knee, feeling warm liquid. Only then did he realize he had been crying.

Chrollo had opened the box.

Ah... it was him...

Qi Zhou looked at him, his face reflected in Qi Zhou's eyes, mingling with the blood in his mind.

He didn't understand, and he would never be able to understand.

Why could they take the lives of people who had nothing to do with them without the slightest hesitation?

"Have you decided?"

Chrollo's voice reached his ears, but it took several minutes for Qi Zhou to respond.

Before locking him in the box, Chrollo had asked him a question and told him to think it over. "Will you join the Phantom Troupe as number eight, or will you choose to die?"

Die... huh?

It wasn't such a bad deal. At least he had played "The Four Seasons" with his own hands. At least he had taken a step forward himself. At least he had seen things with his own eyes that even healthy, able-bodied people in his previous world would have had difficulty seeing.

He was unwilling to accept it, but if he had to choose between being killed and killing...

Sorry, he was too weak. He was just a good-for-nothing who had once spent ten years lying in bed. His heart had been trapped in a tiny space for so long that it had become just as small, unable to bear the weight of another person's life.

Rather than trudge on, bent beneath the burden of innocent souls who had died by his hand, he would rather die. At least his heart could depart unburdened.

"Kill... me..."

Chrollo heard the boy's voice from inside the box. It was hoarse and low, yet unexpectedly calm, with a hint of relief.

"Oh?"

Chrollo raised a hand to cover his mouth, his eyes thoughtful.

Did I misjudge him...?

The human heart had always been the most unpredictable thing, which was why Chrollo found humans the most interesting creatures.

This brat had clearly been struggling to stay alive all along. He had even endured ten days in a dark, enclosed space, something that would have been hard to bear even for a Nen user.

And he had already killed someone. Chrollo had expected the boy either to break down or to compromise.

But he had done neither.

Chrollo couldn't understand it. Why?

Simply because he didn't want to kill, he would rather die himself.

Why was he like this? They were just people who didn't matter. Even if he killed them, how could it affect him?

To this boy, the lives of people who didn't matter somehow weighed more on the scales than his own.

Utterly ridiculous.

A blade flashed, leaving a cut on Qi Zhou's neck. Blood slowly seeped out.

But the boy remained motionless, as though asleep, offering no resistance. He was waiting for death calmly and gracefully. Ridiculous. Chrollo had actually seen grace and composure in a crippled child covered in wounds.

He truly did not fear death. He wasn't pretending.

Suddenly, Chrollo had another idea.

Machi followed Chrollo into the room. The others had put the box in a separate room simply because they didn't want to hear screams, but the person inside had been in there for almost ten days without making a single sound.

This boy possessed every contradictory trait: physically frail yet mentally resilient, longing to live yet unafraid of death. So, should he be defined as weak or strong?

Machi pulled Qi Zhou out of the box by his collar, then stitched his broken limbs back together.

It hurt, but the boy didn't make a sound. He merely stared at the two of them with scrutiny and anger, as though his former caution, fear and helplessness had all been a facade.

Chrollo's sudden new idea was that he wanted to know what this boy, who would rather die than kill, would become if he lived in Meteor City for a while and didn't die.

Nothing white could remain white forever after being plunged into darkness. Could he be an exception?

"I'll give you a choice. Hand your Nen Ability over to me, and I'll give you a chance."

Chrollo spoke softly. Afterward, he covered his mouth, seeming to fall into thought again.

Qi Zhou slowly raised his head to look at him.

"If you can survive in Meteor City for six months, I'll let you go."

Chrollo said calmly, "If you change your mind during that time, you can come back."

Of course, if he returned, he would no longer have any entertainment value as a test subject. His only destination would still be that box.

Qi Zhou stared at him, then struggled for a long time before slowly getting to his feet.

Chrollo put away Skill Hunter and watched the boy, who had eaten nothing for ten days and only occasionally been given a little water, stagger on feet that could barely hold him up.

After his Nen was taken away, the boy grew even weaker. He took a gentle step forward and swayed, then steadied himself before taking another.

Seeing that the two behind him made no move, he stopped and turned around.

He looked back and said slowly, "I'll find a way to pay back what I owe you, little by little."

His final words were spoken in the Chinese language: "I'd rather die out there than come back."

He turned and ran out of the room, then down the stairs. Under the stunned and startled gazes of the Spiders, he left the building, his figure disappearing into the night.

"Boss-what's he-"

"You just let him go like that? That's not like you, boss..."

Watching Chrollo walk slowly downstairs, the others all began talking at once.

"It's just an experiment." Chrollo smiled, his calm voice sounding as though nothing could affect his mood. "No prey has ever escaped a spider's web alive."

"Whether alive or dead, the prey's destination will never change."

An interesting show was about to begin, and he would wait and see.