Kurapika remembered the scene at Room 1801 when he faced Chrollo—his own question, and Chrollo's reply.
His Scarlet Eyes shone even more brilliantly.
Kurapika had never imagined someone could talk about slaughtering others so matter-of-factly. It felt as if, in Chrollo's eyes, the Kurta weren't even people—just a batch of "goods" that could provide value.
Kurapika had also asked about the sentence left behind in the Kurta village.
But Chrollo only looked at him and gave no answer.
Kurapika traced that sentence's origin. It came from Meteor City, where most Troupe members were born.
But why leave that sentence in the village?
Kurapika couldn't understand. Even if he uncovered the reason, he would never forgive the Phantom Troupe—but he felt that sentence hid a secret, and he also wanted to know how the Troupe had found the village in the first place.
The Kurta village wasn't perfectly hidden, but it also wasn't a place anyone could casually stumble upon.
Especially since the Kurta only went to nearby cities for routine supplies; the rest of the time they lived in the village, which reduced the chance of exposure.
And even when they left, they interacted with outsiders in a normal state, rarely showing Scarlet Eyes—making it even harder for anyone to confirm that the people in the hidden village were Kurta.
Yet the Phantom Troupe found it, came prepared, slaughtered the clan, and took all the Scarlet Eyes.
Kurapika feared one thing—
that the village's exposure was somehow his fault.
Because the most recent person to leave the village had been him, and before that he had revealed Scarlet Eyes in a nearby city.
Kurapika's red eyes looked as if they might bleed. If it really was because of him—
"What are you thinking about? You're spacing out," Ronin's hand landed on Kurapika's shoulder. "Go wash up and sleep. It's late."
Kurapika looked up and saw Ronin's concerned smile.
"O-oh… okay." He pushed down his spiraling thoughts and headed toward the bathroom. But halfway there, he turned back. "nii-san Ronin—if the Phantom Troupe found the village because of me—"
"You're really going to put that on yourself too?" Ronin stood up and flicked a finger from a distance toward Kurapika's forehead. "Once Scarlet Eyes were coveted by someone with intent, that night was already destined. If you want to blame anything, blame us for not being strong enough."
As he finished, a tiny Nen pellet lightly tapped Kurapika's forehead.
"Ugh!" Kurapika covered his slightly reddened forehead—but his gaze became even more resolute, as if he'd understood something. "I get it."
Yorknew's auction lasted seven days.
The Troupe's fake-death stunt was exposed—those people didn't even stay quiet for a few days before committing another crime.
Kurapika spent money to increase the bounties on Hunter sites and posted more intel about Troupe members.
Names, faces, abilities, and behavioral patterns—he packaged everything into different "tiers" of information and listed it online.
Names and faces could be viewed for free.
And from the photo backgrounds, it was clear some were taken at Adan Hotel and some at Numpis.
There were even "bids" in Yorknew's underground circles for information on locating Troupe members.
Kurapika squeezed every drop out of his resources—trying to create as much trouble as possible, even hoping to cause early casualties.
But the results were minimal.
Ronin had expected as much. If the Phantom Troupe were that easy to deal with, they wouldn't have remained A-rank wanted criminals while living freely around the world.
And just like now—
From various channels, it seemed the Troupe had chosen exactly what Kurapika predicted: restraint, hiding, and building power.
Chrollo—the Troupe's brain—really was too sharp.
On September 7, Ronin accompanied Neon to Numpis.
This was also the last probe arranged by Kurapika: if the Troupe had truly split up, this trip should be safe.
When Ronin entered and took his seat, he didn't sense danger—until a red-haired young man sat down beside him.
No clown outfit. No clown makeup.
Hisoka wore a crisp suit and sat next to Ronin.
His voice was faintly magnetic, with excitement he couldn't fully hide. "Ronin… or should I say, Hatake Kakashi. Found you."
"Yeah? What do you want?" Ronin's body tightened slightly, ready to move at any moment.
Hisoka figuring out Kakashi was him didn't surprise Ronin at all.
"Relax." Hisoka turned his gaze toward the auction stage. "I think you already know why I'm here."
"Cooperation?" Ronin said.
"Yes." Hisoka looked mildly troubled. "Your existence has put the whole Phantom Troupe on edge. I can't think of any way to force a clean one-on-one with Chrollo besides killing the leeches around him."
"And you think I'd just hand you a premium prey like Chrollo?" Ronin didn't agree—he fired back a question instead.
Chrollo was strong.
And as Kurapika put it, Chrollo had left specifically to find a counter to Ronin—making Ronin look forward to their next encounter even more.
Chrollo was preparing.
Now swap him out and let Hisoka take the fight?
Win or lose, Ronin would feel regret.
He wanted to kill Chrollo with his own hands.
Not even purely for revenge—maybe just for the thrill of fighting a top-tier opponent.
Hisoka's aura grew dangerous.
"If that's the case…" Hisoka smiled. "Then should we fight? The winner earns the right to enjoy a battle with Chrollo."
Chrollo was great.
But Ronin looked sweet too.
Hisoka turned his head fully, foxlike eyes locking on Ronin—greed, excitement, and anticipation burning inside.
"Heavens Arena?" Ronin didn't refuse. The way he looked at Hisoka now was the same way Hisoka looked at prey—full of aggressive intent.
Chrollo was great.
But Hisoka wasn't bad either.