Learning X Death X Non-Professional Teacher

"Truly harsh, Boss."

Machi pulled back her Nen Needle and stood up, and Qi Zhou, whose left and right shoulder bones had been sewn back together, had passed out cold from sheer agony.

Chrollo looked at his book without even lifting his head, and his words of condolence lacked any sincerity: "Thanks for the effort."

"18 million in total." Machi, who needed no condolence, spoke up.

Chrollo finally looked up: "Why the sudden price hike?"

He said thoughtfully: "Aren't there discounts for internal personnel?"

"10 million for the whole body yesterday, plus 3 million for the left shoulder and 7 million for the right shoulder today, for a total of 20 million." Machi replied indifferently: "But this brat is not internal personnel, and a ten percent discount has already been given for your sake, Boss."

Chrollo smiled, "Alright, put it on the tab, and charge it to you together after the next operation."

Machi nodded, walked out of Chrollo's room, and closed the door behind her.

Chrollo put down the book in his hand and walked with long strides to the corner of the wall where Qi Zhou was lying.

To someone who grew up in Meteor City, "passing out from pain" simply did not exist; the possibility of "fostering unconsciousness" only arose under irresistible external factors, such as having half of one's blood drained or being knocked out instantly. Because the body was also considered a recyclable item, whether living or dead, in most cases things that "passed out" were also processed as corpses.

Therefore, as long as the body could still move, even if one had to endure the greatest pain, one would not choose to "pass out."

"How weak." Chrollo murmured softly. "Not at all like a person from Meteor City."

The boy was too weak, both in physical fitness and mentally. He feared pain and death, his combat power was close to zero, and in terms of personality, he did not possess a single trait of Meteor City.

Chrollo's interest in "Silver-Blue" far exceeded that of "Qi Zhou," and if possible, the one he actually wanted to invite into the Troupe was "Silver-Blue"-that youth who, after appearing, dragged his broken limbs and stood up by clinging to a crate, launching fierce, resolute, and desperate attacks.

Dealing with "Qi Zhou" felt like teaching a completely oblivious child, whereas "Silver-Blue," though they had only met once, Chrollo felt for some reason that he was an existence on equal footing with himself.

However, the brat's learning ability was passable-while learning simple conversations and words in the Common Language, he practiced Ren, and it only took him half a day to increase his "Ren" to the level of 1 centimeter, and he even taught himself without a teacher to use Gyo to observe the Nen attacking him.

Yet based on the Nen "Silver-Blue" had used, how much Nen quantity currently existed inside this body of his remained an unknown, so this would still be a long and arduous difficult cultivation.

He poked the boy's face: "Break time is over, it's time to continue."

Qi Zhou frowned heavily, looking as though he had been trapped by a nightmare, and it was only after a long while that he slowly opened his eyes. For him, the dream was a pitch-black world of despair, and outside the dream was the same.

Qi Zhou sat on the ground holding a pen, with a notebook spread across his knees.

The top line of every page was written by Chrollo, who incidentally told him how to read them and their meanings.

And what he had to do was copy them over and over until he remembered them.

Copying the names of all Troupe members and his own name.

Copying the numbers one through ten, copying the numbers ten, hundred, thousand, ten thousand, hundred million.-Although the capitalized numbers of this world were different from his previous world, the lowercase ones were still the Arabic numerals he knew to the point of familiarity.

Copying hours, minutes, seconds, Monday through Sunday, months and years-the timing of this world was also seconds, minutes, hours, and weeks, just like before.

He copied them stroke by stroke, unable to imagine that the elementary school first-grade curriculum he had escaped back then was actually being made up for in this world.

According to the terrifying Teacher Chrollo who could kill at any moment, each word had to be copied to the point of not forgetting it before it counted as acceptable.

Credit where credit was due, Teacher Chrollo's handwriting-though he didn't know what the standard for "good-looking" calligraphy was in this world, he thought it was indeed quite nice.

Only, his fingers were still not very nimble, and what he wrote was probably only slightly better than a child who had just started learning to write.

The next second he frowned again, because the Nen pressure that caused him extreme discomfort rolled toward him for the umpteenth time, and he used "Envelop" to protect himself for the umpteenth time-it was truly unimaginable that he could get used to this feeling of "a finger pulling the trigger with a gun pointed at your temple just about to press down" in just one day.

Yet the person releasing the Nen pressure had no self-awareness of being disliked; after the Nen pressure was barely blocked by "Ren," he continued reading his book quietly without any reaction.

Dinner was brought in by Pakunoda, who knocked on the door, and when she handed it to Qi Zhou, Qi Zhou even stammered out a "thank you" in the Common Language.

However, it was hard for him to describe Pakunoda's expression upon hearing that "thank you."

The things to fill his stomach remained expired water and canned goods, and although his stomach would feel uncomfortable after eating, if he focused Qi into his stomach area, that uncomfortable feeling would quickly disappear, so... being able to fill his stomach was already quite good.

After dinner came study time once again, and Qi Zhou, who had thought he was almost done copying, looked in despair as Chrollo slowly walked over to him and walked back, and then another dozen or so words were added to the notebook.

Copying all the way until past ten o'clock at night, after even using up two pens, Qi Zhou gave up entirely.

Closing his notebook and putting the cap on his pen, his whole body slumped down, and then he hissed-the back of his head hit the wall, and although he had "Ren," it still hurt quite a bit.

Teacher Chrollo, who could kill at any moment, raised his head to look at him, candlelight dancing in his dark pupils.

As a side note, the wretched elementary school first-grader had no money to trade with Teacher Chrollo for a candle, and was thus forced to use "Gyo" to enable himself to see the characters clearly in the dimness.

Qi Zhou said in unpracticed Common Language: "I want to rest, I'm tired."

"You can rest after the inspection passes."

Teacher Chrollo walked with his long legs to Qi Zhou's side, slender fingers picking up the notebook on the ground and opening it, and upon seeing the writing on the first few pages, a trace of visible disgust clearly appeared on the teacher's handsome face.

After finishing leafing through the notebook, Teacher Chrollo asked: "Do you remember everyone's names?"

"Mn..." Qi Zhou felt for his notebook, writing one name on it and reciting it.

"Nobunaga Hachama."

"Feitan Portor."

"Machi Komacine."

"Phinks Magucap."

"Shalnark."

"Franklin Bordeaux."

"Pakunoda."

"Bonolenov."

"Uvogin."

"Kortopi."

After finishing, he capped the pen. The boy opened his eyes wide and waited for Teacher Chrollo to check his work.

Teacher Chrollo looked at Qi Zhou. "...?"

Qi Zhou opened his innocent eyes wide and looked back at him.

Teacher Chrollo reminded him, expressionless, "My name."

"Ah, right." Qi Zhou uncapped the pen again and wrote on the paper, "Chrollo Lucilfer."

Teacher Chrollo said, expressionless, "Say it."

Qi Zhou: "Chro, llo, Lu, ci, fer."

Teacher Chrollo: "Lucilfer."

Qi Zhou enunciated clearly, "Lu, ci, ci."

Teacher Chrollo corrected him again, "Lucilfer."

Qi Zhou read it aloud again, in a flat voice. "Lucicifer."

After an hour of repeating it without success, Qi Zhou covered the bumps all over his head and curled up in the corner to fall asleep. Meanwhile, Teacher Chrollo held a book, but his eyes didn't move as he turned the pages. Teacher Chrollo, whose first attempt at teaching a student had been a "complete failure," still couldn't figure out which part had gone wrong.