Cute yet pitiful sounds echoed through the vast halls of the Zoldyck family estate atop Kukuroo Mountain.
"Damn it… what kind of insane family is this?!" snapped the owner of those sounds—Tanya Zoldyck.
She had just finished another round of 'training,' something she had been forced to endure since birth. Her small body was wrapped in bandages, bruises blooming beneath them, cuts and burns scattered everywhere. Today's focus had been pain tolerance—apparently a necessary skill for an assassin.
What part of this is training?! This is just torture!
Tanya had never wanted any of this. Becoming an assassin didn't exactly scream peaceful retirement, and pain tolerance training that bordered on sadism certainly didn't help sell the idea. Unfortunately, her opinion had never mattered.
She had already died twice and still hadn't earned a break.
Born into a rich family, she thought bitterly. How lucky. Being X really won't leave me alone, will it?
Aside from her new appearance—black hair fading into white at the ends—Tanya looked much the same as she had in her previous life. Pale skin, sharp blue eyes, and a cute face that only made her situation more insulting. If anything, she looked even frailer now.
She had never left Kukuroo Mountain, yet she already knew this world was deeply, fundamentally wrong.
Here, child abuse wasn't just normalized—it was tradition.
And worse, it worked.
As much as she hated to admit it, the training was turning her into something absurd. Her strength far exceeded what should have been possible for a human child—and she was only seven years old. Sure, the Zoldycks were known for their monstrous physical abilities, but that wasn't the whole story.
A year ago, she and her twin brother had gone to Heaven's Arena.
She had defeated everyone up to the 200th floor.
And even then, she could tell—her opponents weren't normal humans either.
So it's magic again, she concluded. Or something like it.
Whatever the explanation, her life so far was nothing like what she wanted. She could endure pain—she wasn't weak—but this went far beyond endurance. Add to that the expectation that she would work as a professional assassin her entire life, a job with an unacceptably high mortality rate, and the entire situation became deeply suboptimal.
Naturally, she had considered escaping Kukuroo Mountain.
Naturally, she had also concluded that her family might simply kill her for trying.
Still… it remained an option.
Lost in thought, Tanya limped down the corridor toward her room, mentally shedding tears over her circumstances, when she noticed her twin approaching.
Killua Zoldyck.
Her relationship with him was—
She walked past him without a glance.
Killua walked past her just as absently.
That was it.
That was their relationship.
Twins in blood only.
To be fair, most of the family kept to themselves. The exception was their mother, who cared openly—sometimes too openly—especially about Killua and Tanya. Many in the family believed one of them would become the next head of the Zoldycks.
Tanya, however, had absolutely no interest in that future.
If Killua wanted it, she was more than happy to let him take it. Preferably while she faded quietly into the background.
Milluki doesn't seem to have it so bad, she reasoned. If Killua becomes the focus, maybe I can do my own thing too. Mostly.
It wasn't as though she hadn't tried to connect with them.
Her mother loved unconditionally, and was often annoyingly close to the point Tanya was the one who didn't want to talk.
Her father, grandfather, and Illumi only spoke when something "important" was involved.
Milluki got bored and irritated.
Killua seemed uninterested altogether, saying that she was too serious.
And the two youngest were hardly conversationalists.
Still, the butlers often told her that the Zoldycks cared deeply for one another—obsessively, even.
Tanya found that difficult to believe.
Who tortures their children if they care that much?
And barely talks to them?
Are they mistaking mother for the rest of the family?
At least, that was how it felt to her.
Am I the outlier? she wondered. Killua's friendly enough… just not with family. Except Alluka.
"Sigh…"
She pushed open the door to her room, exhaustion weighing down every step. If she didn't take on an actual job soon, her family might punish her for "wasting potential." Which would result in more "training."
Milluki isn't doing anything either… she thought. Should I just refuse too?
But they believed in her strength.
They believed in her future.
Tanya clenched her fists.
I really wish I could just stay in Killua's shadow.
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"This one seems easy enough," Tanya muttered. "Just kill some rich girl because she rejected a rich guy."
She skimmed through the details of the request again. The pay was good, the target unremarkable. A petty dispute between spoiled elites—one bruised ego later, and someone had a death warrant on their head.
"Man… this world is seriously fucked up," Tanya sighed. "Better to live middle class if it's this easy to get a hit put on you."
With that, she began preparing.
She would've preferred a gun. Clean, efficient, minimal risk. Unfortunately, her father had been very clear on that matter.
Apparently, she "wasn't compatible" with firearms.
He had told her not to rely on weapons because she was afraid of dying, insisting she use the assassination techniques drilled into her since birth until she developed a combat style of her own. One that actually suited her.
At the time—when she was five—how exactly had she been supposed to explain that she had extensive experience with guns?
Silva had been adamant anyway. He claimed firearms would prove ineffective against professional targets later in her career.
It felt like there was something he wasn't telling her.
And given that this was yet another supernatural nightmare of a world, listening to a veteran assassin was probably the smart move.
So for now, she relied on her monstrous physical strength and the techniques she had been forced to master since infancy. Still, she could feel it—her own fighting style hadn't surfaced yet.
I'll probably find out eventually, she thought. And it'll be something completely nonsensical just like the rest of this world or anything at all after I met that abomination.
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"W–who are you?!"
The scream echoed through the room as the girl fell backward, scrambling uselessly on the polished floor. Two bodyguards lay motionless beside her, their lives already snuffed out.
Tanya didn't answer.
She was already dialing her client's number as she walked forward, her footsteps unhurried.
Even though Tanya was small—short, slight, almost fragile—the girl on the floor felt as though a mountain was bearing down on her. Like she had already been caught in the grip of something far larger than herself.
"W-who are you calling?!" the girl cried. "A–are you a hired assassin?!"
Realization dawned, followed by desperate hope.
"I–I can pay more! I swear I can—!"
Her words died in her throat.
She looked down.
Tanya's slender arm had pierced straight through her chest.
When she blinked, the arm was gone—leaving only a gaping hole.
Her vision wavered as she looked up one last time, seeing her own heart clenched in Tanya's hand. A dark silhouette loomed over her.
"If I accepted every offer to spare someone's life," Tanya said calmly, "my reputation would plummet."
That was the last thing the girl ever heard.
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Job done, Tanya thought as she waited for the call to connect. Now when is this rich brat going to pick up?
It rang.
And rang.
Finally—
"H–hello?"
"It's me," Tanya said flatly, already cleaning the scene. "The assassin you hired. The job's finished. Pay up."
"D–did you really kill Bella?" The man's voice trembled. "N-no one will find out… r-right?"
"They'll know she's dead," Tanya replied. "They won't know who did it."
"A–ah… Bella… Bella…" His voice cracked, thick with regret. "What have I done…"
Tanya sighed.
"Well, I'm hanging up now," she said. "You have five minutes to transfer the money."
But he wasn't listening.
"My–my father can't know! I–I'm sorryyyyy—!"
Beep.
Tanya ended the call.
She wasn't entirely sure she'd be paid, but honestly? Money was the least of her concerns. She'd completed the job—that alone should keep her family satisfied for a while.
"If this somehow isn't good enough," she muttered, "and I have to collect the money myself…"
She grimaced.
"…then I'll just make the client the next target."
She really didn't want the extra risk, however small it was. Overtime was inefficient.
"Please just pay," Tanya sighed. "I hate unpaid overtime."
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Silva Zoldyck was deep in thought.
It was a rare fortune for the head of the Zoldyck family to have two children with the potential to become the greatest assassins the family had ever produced. That fortune also came with responsibility.
It was his duty to see that potential realized.
Even if only one of them could inherit leadership of the family, both were far too valuable to be wasted. They needed to reach their limits—and then serve the family for the rest of their lives.
Yet one of those two troubled him.
Killua was not the problem.
Killua was rebellious, impulsive, and would likely try to escape someday—but Silva had accounted for that. Zoldyck training was not merely about teaching how to kill. It was about shaping a life so completely that leaving it became impossible.
They could resist at first.
They would return eventually.
Silva had no doubts about Killua.
But Tanya—
She is strange.
On the surface, she was obedient. She followed orders precisely, completed her training without complaint, and accepted assassination jobs without resistance. But Silva could sense something wrong beneath it.
It felt as though she wasn't truly listening.
As though she was simply accommodating their expectations.
Not resisting. Not rebelling.
Just playing along.
She was far too mature for her age—more so than even a Zoldyck child hardened by brutal training should be. Her eyes lacked the instability, fear, or hunger he expected. Instead, they held something even colder.
More unsettling was her attitude toward work.
She took on assassination jobs eagerly, yet when Silva hid himself and studied her, she would behave as though she believed she was being forced into them.
A contradiction.
So perhaps I am mistaken, Silva considered. Perhaps she is rebellious after all… simply conditioned well enough to stay on the path.
The thought eased him slightly.
In the end, they were Zoldycks.
Assassination was their nature. It was not something one abandoned. It was something one was.
And yet—
Silva's expression darkened.
To be certain…
Having Illumi place a needle in Tanya as well would reassure him.
Not necessarily the same kind used on Killua.
Something subtler.
Something that ensured obedience—not through fear, but through direction.
Yes.
That would be safer.
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In the past, Killua had gone to Heaven's Arena with his twin sister.
That had been the closest they had ever been.
At the time, Killua had assumed Tanya thought the same way as the rest of the family—that everything revolved around the Zoldyck name. Loyalty. Duty. Obedience.
Killua didn't get that.
It wasn't that he hated his family. He just didn't want to live like that. Every day measured by expectations, every future already decided. He was bored. Suffocated. And he had been on the verge of leaving for a long time now.
In that sense, he probably did dislike Illumi and his mother. They were always trying to push him into becoming some cold-blooded assassin, twisting his thoughts, nudging him toward what they wanted him to be.
Because of that, he'd never felt like he could really get along with Tanya.
She was always obedient. Always eager to perform. Always willing to help the family.
Which was fine.
Just… really boring.
He liked playing with Alluka more.
Actually, the way his family treated Alluka annoyed him. Sure, she was dangerous when someone made a wish and Nanika came out—but she was still family. And they acted like she was a thing instead of a person.
What made it worse was that Killua was exempt from Nanika's rules.
And no one else knew.
So it got really irritating when they tried to keep him away from her.
Still, Tanya wasn't bad.
She wasn't like Illumi. Or their mother.
The only thing that rubbed him the wrong way was that she shared the family's feelings about Alluka—but that was it.
Otherwise?
So boring.
Even so, Killua had nothing better to do right now.
Maybe he'd check on her. See if she'd somehow become more interesting. And if not, he could just ask her to play some games—anything to shut her up before she started talking about serious stuff again.
Maybe he could even trick her into buying him more candy.
She'd always taken on more assassination jobs than necessary. Always had money. And for some reason, she never hesitated to spend it on him whenever he asked.
That part still confused him.
Whatever, he thought. The candy I bought with my Heaven's Arena money is already gone anyway.
Might as well take advantage of that weird trait.
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"Tanya, have you ever heard of the Hunter Exam?"
Tanya looked up from her anatomy textbook as Killua suddenly barged into her room.
…Honestly, she was glad to see him.
She wasn't entirely sure why he had suddenly decided to spend time with her again, but it was nice nonetheless. Killua was one of the most valuable connections she had, and was glad to strengthen it. Moments like this had been fairly common before they went to Heaven's Arena together at six.
Back then, he'd always looked bored while talking to her. Like he was just waiting for the right moment to—
—ask me to buy him candy.
Wait.
Didn't he spend all the money he earned at Heaven's Arena on sweets?
Has he run out already? Is that why he's here again?
Tanya dismissed the thought almost immediately.
That would be far too stupid. And obvious. Besides, it's just candy—it's not even expensive. He wouldn't need to entertain me just to ask for that… right?
Still, something nagged at her.
Why does he ask me, anyway? Shouldn't he have plenty of money himself? We should be taking roughly the same number of missions. Maybe he even does more than I do…
Oh well.
"No," Tanya answered calmly. "I've never heard of it. Is it important?"
"Apparently, if you pass, you become a Hunter," Killua said, flopping onto her bed like he owned the place.
"…And?" Tanya stared at him expectantly.
Silence.
Why did he stop there? What am I supposed to infer from that? Can't he explain what a Hunter actually is?
"…Anyways," Killua added, "can you buy me some candy?"
Tanya was fairly certain her expression could now be drawn with three lines.
So he really is just here for candy?!
"…Okay," she said, barely suppressing a sigh. "But what is a Hunter?"
"Dunno."
She slowly turned her head. "Did you seriously come here just for the candy?"
Killua's eyes narrowed into nervous little slits as he broke into a cold sweat, glancing around like he'd been caught committing a crime.
"Uh—well—Dad said that people who pass are really strong. Most of them are stronger than me."
That caught her attention.
"Stronger than you?" Tanya repeated.
Killua nodded. "Sounds interesting, right?"
"Hm."
She turned to her desk and powered on her computer. Killua hopped up and leaned over to look at the screen as she typed "Hunter Exam" into the search bar. A Hunter Association site popped up, and she clicked it.
"By completing five stages of the Hunter Exam, one acquires a Hunter License," Tanya read aloud. "With it, you can travel freely without visas—even in restricted zones or private property—gain access to secret Hunter websites, receive massive low-interest loans, use most public facilities for free, and receive significantly reduced legal consequences…"
She paused.
"…You can also sell it for generational wealth."
Killua leaned in closer. "They can't be handing those out to just anyone, right?"
"I highly doubt it," Tanya replied. "The exam must be extremely difficult." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Father was probably right about most of them being stronger than you. And by extension… stronger than me."
So my family really isn't unique, she thought. Hunters… I'll need to be more careful during missions.
"Hey, it also says Hunters are highly sought after for all kinds of jobs," Killua added.
Tanya blinked. "So being a Hunter isn't one specific job?"
"Nope. It says Hunters get freedom and resources to pursue their own goals. Like treasure hunting, bounty hunting, research, exploration…"
So it isn't actually about hunting, Tanya concluded.
"I wonder how much Hunter Licenses sell for," she murmured. "'Generational wealth' is annoyingly vague."
"You'd buy one?" Killua asked, baffled. "Where's the fun in that? Besides, wouldn't that be a total waste? We could just pass the exam ourselves."
"Why would it be fun?" Tanya replied. "From what I'm reading, it sounds miserable." She scrolled. "People die during these tests."
Killua didn't really see why that mattered. It wasn't like either of them would be in real danger. Still—
"Seems like a waste when we can do it ourselves."
Tanya considered it.
"It would help me get better mission offers," she admitted. "But buying one would be expensive. It would take time to earn that money back, even with better pay." She frowned slightly. "Still… I don't know if that cost is worse than risking my life during the exam."
Killua stared at her.
"You seriously think you'd be in danger?" he asked. "I thought we'd breeze through it. You're talking like you might actually die."
"…Perhaps I'm exaggerating," Tanya admitted. Then she straightened. "Regardless, I won't be participating anytime soon. It's unnecessary for my current missions. Someday, maybe."
Killua sighed dramatically. "Man, you're such a bore. I really thought you'd do it with me."
While he was speaking, he'd already opened another tab and ordered candy—with her money.
"Add some chocolate for me," Tanya said absently. Then added, "Besides, we couldn't go even if we wanted to. We can't just leave home."
"Yeah, yeah," Killua waved her off. "I'm heading out. When the candy arrives, tell the butlers to bring it to my room."
And just like that, he was gone.
The room fell silent.
Tanya stared at the closed door for a few seconds.
"…I'm not a bore," she muttered.
She paused.
Then realization hit.
"Oh. He's still only seven."
She sighed. "How did I not notice that?"
Probably because he can rip someone's heart out while smiling, she thought.
With that, Tanya returned to her anatomy studies.
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After finishing her anatomy studies, Tanya returned to training.
This time, her focus was on refining her assassination techniques.
She began by adjusting her own anatomy, reshaping her fingers into sharp, hardened claws. It was a fundamental Zoldyck technique, one taught to every family member from a very young age. By altering muscle tension and bone alignment, the hand could be turned into a natural weapon capable of piercing flesh and bone with ease.
Tanya flexed her fingers, watching the claws form smoothly.
Among the family, everyone knew how to perform this technique—but proficiency varied. Tanya and Killua happened to be particularly adept at it, able to transition in and out of the claw state quickly and without unnecessary strain.
She practiced precise thrusts aimed at vital points, each movement efficient and controlled. The technique was not about strength alone, but accuracy and timing.
After about an hour, she moved on.
The next technique relied on movement rather than direct lethality.
She began stepping in a strange, deliberate rhythm—varying her speed, stride length, and timing just enough to disrupt perception. As she moved, faint afterimages of herself lingered behind, creating the illusion of multiple overlapping figures.
Rhythm Echo.
Its purpose was simple: confusion. By forcing the opponent's eyes and instincts to desynchronize, tracking the real body became difficult.
It shared similarities with Shadow Step, another standard Zoldyck technique that focused on extreme speed and near-total silence to produce brief afterimages. Because of their overlap, Tanya trained both together, refining her transitions and minimizing wasted motion.
Two hours passed.
Next came Snake Awakens.
Her arms began moving in rapid, fluid patterns—unnaturally fast, almost serpentine. Each strike left behind streaks of afterimages, overwhelming the eye while delivering a barrage of lethal blows. The technique was designed for close-range dominance, leaving opponents no time to react.
Extremely efficient.
Extremely dangerous.
Even if Tanya disliked the methods used to shape her, she couldn't deny the value of the techniques themselves. They were effective tools, and tools were meant to be used.
After an hour of practicing Snake Awakens, she repeated the full sequence once more before finally stopping.
Night had fallen.
Normally, she would go to bed—but she found herself wanting chocolate. She had already finished the batch she ordered earlier, and waking a butler at this hour felt unnecessary.
She considered it briefly.
"…A short night stroll to the Butler Headquarters won't hurt," she decided. "I'll just get it myself."
With that, Tanya slipped out into the quiet corridors.
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Tanya walked through the mountain paths in the dead of night, heading toward the Butler Headquarters.
She did not notice that she was being followed.
The presence behind her was perfectly controlled and completely hidden.
Illumi Zoldyck.
Earlier, their father had asked him to do something.
Place a needle in Tanya, something to ensure she would remain with the family.
Silva had not demanded it. He couldn't with Illumi. The request alone had been enough to convey his unease.
Illumi had considered it briefly and then agreed.
It wasn't difficult to understand why. Tanya and Killua were both rare talents, the kind that appeared once in generations. Letting either of them drift away from the family would be very unfortunate.
I don't particularly see the problem, Illumi thought. She's odd, but not unstable. Still… if Father is uneasy, it's better to address it early.
That was reason enough.
The needle he intended to use would not be the same one he had used on Killua.
Fear worked well on Killua. When confronted with something clearly stronger, he hesitated. He doubted himself. He slowed down.
Tanya would likely react differently.
Not because she was superior—but because she was different.
Where Killua stalled and would run, Tanya would disengage in a more reasonable fasion. Avoidance instead of cowardice. A slightly more sensible response, but not especially remarkable.
Fear conditioning would be less effective. She isn't actually afraid of stronger opponents in the first place. Despite her extreme reluctance to fight them, she isn't actually afraid.
If she were cornered into fighting a stronger opponent, then she wouldn't be stalled by her fear.
So Illumi chose another approach.
Rather than restricting her, he would nudge her. A subtle increase in inclination toward killing—nothing overt, nothing obvious. If assassination work felt more natural, more satisfying, then remaining with the family would simply make sense.
No resistance.
No visible control.
Efficient.
Illumi wasn't entirely certain how she would respond, but that wasn't important. The adjustment didn't need to be perfect—only sufficient.
Now then.
He could throw the needle from a distance and be finished quickly.
Or he could approach her, speak with her briefly, and insert it without drawing attention.
The second option seemed marginally more interesting.
He hadn't interacted with her much, after all.
With that decision made, Illumi closed the distance.
Tanya had just arrived at the Butler Headquarters.
Out this late? he noted. Not unusual enough to matter.
He followed, unhurried.
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Tanya made her way through the mountain halls toward the Butler Headquarters, intending to grab chocolate and return quietly.
Instead, she walked into an argument.
Two butlers—both still teenagers—were in the middle of a tug-of-war over the last bag of potato chips.
They were apprentice butlers.
The Zoldyck family recruited young men and women with exceptional potential, but becoming a full butler required the strength to open the Testing Gates. These gates are the front doors of the Zoldyck estate weighing several tons. Naturally, no one was expected to manage that immediately.
Those still undergoing training were classified as butler apprentices.
Across the estate, entire academies existed for their training. Dedicated instructors molded them into loyal, disciplined fighters through constant physical conditioning, and teachers taught them the culture and etiquette of the Zoldyck family.
The butlers, apprentice or not, lived under strict rules.
For example, having a lover—inside or outside the estate—was grounds for execution. Emotional attachment to the Zoldyck family was also forbidden, though not punished as severely.
Service was lifelong. They knew too much of the Zoldycks to ever leave.
Tanya felt a flicker of sympathy.
They're forced to serve for life because they know too much, she thought. I'm honestly surprised there's never been a rebellion. Must be the indoctrination. Or fear. Probably both.
She ignored them and walked to the drawer where the chocolate was stored, opening it and looking through the contents.
Behind her, the argument continued.
"You're going to start a ruckus if you keep this up, Larry," one of them whispered sharply. "Give me the chips."
Larry clutched the bag tighter. "You're the one who should stop being greedy! You had some yesterday, Filo!"
"Sssh! Lower your voice, dumbass!" Filo hissed, somehow whispering louder. "And don't call me greedy! You've already eaten three bags this week—I've only had two! I saved this one for today!"
Larry scoffed and shoved him back slightly. "You've been slacking in training lately. I'm just looking out for you. You shouldn't be eating junk food right now."
"That's such bullshit," Filo snapped. "My lap time around the mountain is still three seconds faster than yours!"
"For a full lap, that's nothing," Larry shot back, standing his ground. "Compared to that, the fact that my vest is ten kilograms heavier than yours is way more impressive!"
Their shoving escalated into a clumsy wrestling match.
Tanya finally found the chocolate she wanted and was about to leave—
Then she stopped.
Someone was standing behind the apprentice butlers.
Filo noticed first.
He froze mid-motion, face draining of color.
Larry, still unaware, shoved him one last time.
"Hah! You finally admit my superior—"
He turned.
And walked straight into the figure behind him.
Larry fell backward, the bag of chips slipping from his hand and landing neatly at the newcomer's feet.
Illumi Zoldyck.
Larry blinked, dazed, then instinctively reached for the chips.
Illumi lifted his left foot and stepped down.
Directly onto Larry's hand.
And the bag.
"Khu—" Larry choked, biting down hard to suppress a scream.
"I doubt apprentice butlers have night duties," Illumi said calmly.
He shifted his weight.
"Khuuuu—" Larry trembled, lips splitting from the pressure of his teeth.
Illumi lifted his foot.
"You," he said, pointing to Filo, "clean this up."
Then he gestured toward Larry. "And take him with you when you're done."
Filo was drenched in sweat. Mostly fear. Larry's was mostly pain.
Despite that, Filo obeyed immediately and began cleaning.
Illumi's gaze shifted.
"Hello, Tanya," he said. "How have you been?"
Filo followed his line of sight and nearly dropped the cloth.
She's been here the whole time? I didn't sense her at all! Oh man, the instructor is going to chew me out—both Illumi and Tanya saw this. I'm dead.
Tanya, unaware of his internal breakdown, replied casually,
"So-so. Nothing much. What's the occasion?"
She had been wary the moment Illumi appeared. Punishment? A message? She hadn't done anything wrong—so it had to be something else.
"I just wished to check up on you," Illumi said. "You're very important to the family."
Illumi Zoldyck.
Tall. Lean. Dressed in dark green and purple, needles with rounded heads embed in his clothes. Long black hair reaching his waist.
Handsome yet unsettling.
Those eyes always felt like they were looking through people.
Tanya had never liked being watched by him, though she'd long since stopped letting it show.
"I'm glad to be needed," Tanya said. "And appreciated for my abilities, brother."
That part was true.
Being equally capable as Killua, however, was not something she wanted emphasized.
If the family began to see Killua as the clearer talent, the one worth focusing on, then her own position would naturally recede.
And then when they don't care as much about me anymore… I'll be gone. Or become a deadbeat like Milluki. That's better then working as an assassin.
So she nudged the conversation.
"But the family also has Killua," she added, her tone mild. "Sometimes I wonder if I can really keep up with him."
Illumi looked at her.
So father really is right to be uneasy.
The silence stretched.
"No," he said calmly. "Father and I both raised you two to become killers."
As he spoke, his hand drifted behind her head.
"You and Killua are the same," he continued. "You don't wish for anything. You don't desire anything. You only feel pleasure when people die."
The needle slid in.
"You live in the shadows," Illumi went on. "That nature won't change."
He withdrew his hand and turned away, then paused.
"No matter who becomes head of the family, both of you are suited only for killing."
A brief glance over his shoulder. "That's why you matter more than enough. And you already know you can keep up with Killua."
Tanya waited a moment.
"Yes," she said. "Of course. It was just a jest."
After some more silence, Tanya shifted the topic.
"Would you like some chocolate?"
Illumi stopped.
For a moment, he only stared at her.
Her face was calm. It was a face that said it understood perfectly.
He turned back around.
"Well," he said with an innocent smile on his face like he was a child getting a treat, taking the bar from her and biting into it, "if you insist."
"I'm going to sleep now," Illumi added. "Good night!"
"Good night, brother."
And so Illumi left the kitchen.
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Once he was gone, Filo finally exhaled.
"Phew…"
He had finished cleaning a while ago but hadn't dared to move. Now that Illumi was gone, the air felt lighter. All he wanted was to get Larry out of here and go to bed.
He lifted Larry's right arm and draped it over his own neck.
Then he looked up.
And froze.
Tanya was still standing there.
Her cute, youthful face was twisted with rage. Veins bulged along her temples, her jaw clenched so hard her teeth audibly ground together. Red streaks webbed through the whites of her eyes as she stared at the doorway Illumi had exited through.
Her hands tightened.
The chocolate bar shattered in her grip and fell to the floor in broken pieces.
Only after a moment did she move.
She glanced at Filo.
He flinched and fell backward, dragging Larry down with him.
Tanya turned away, washed the chocolate grease from her hands, and walked toward the exit.
"I've lost my appetite," she said quietly. "Clean that up too."
Then she left.
Silence.
"Haaaaaah…" Filo slumped. "Clean this, clean that… maaan."
After finishing for the second time, he hoisted Larry up.
"Larry," he muttered, "we should never argue again. We should behave like good dogs from now on."
"Agreed," Larry groaned. "So don't steal my chips again."
"You—"
"Just joking—OW OW OW—STOP! My hand's already broken!"
Filo sighed.
"Idiot."