"Luca, what do you think?"
"What can I think? Anyone running over here to give away money is either a fool or a pervert with ulterior motives."
"Then what do we do?"
"What else can we do? Report it... We only get paid so much a month, why risk our lives? Don't take chances, just report it up!"
The two men in black guarding the entrance exchanged a glance after their initial daze. The slightly sharper one took out his phone and made a call directly to the higher-ups.
In front of the gate, Roy patted Kastro on the shoulder, signaling him not to be nervous. Using [En] to capture inner voices, he unexpectedly heard a familiar name—Chrollo.
An image immediately surfaced in his mind: a cool, detached face with a cross tattoo on the forehead.
"Chrollo, what do you think?"
Meteor City, West District, 3rd Street, at a street corner.
In contrast to the other sectors piled high with garbage, this street corner had been rarely cleared to form a vacant lot, where a beautiful single-family villa had been built. Many green plants and flowers were planted around the villa to form a courtyard, attempting to isolate it completely from the surrounding trash heaps... Looking down from above, it was jarringly conspicuous, highlighting the status of the villa's owner—
It was the residence of one of the ten elders of the Meteor City Council... the "fake high-class"... Berus Raymond.
Berus, already over fifty, had his hair combed back and wore a pair of reading glasses. He was sitting in his study, checking the production progress of the scrap stations, paper mills, and other factories under his banner for the month. He was racking his brains planning to use plastic waste to open an injection molding factory when he suddenly received the call... He didn't avoid Chrollo, Shalnark, and Pakunoda, who relied on cleaning his residence every half-day to earn a meal, and asked with a smile.
Shalnark, who was sweeping the floor, and Pakunoda, who was wiping a vase, stopped their broom and rag respectively to look over...
Chrollo, who was responsible for cleaning the coffee table, straightened his back. After pondering for a moment, he said, "Boss often teaches us that pies don't fall from the sky."
The boy's bright eyes reflected Berus's encouraging gaze as he voiced his opinion: "For the other party to come and offer charity for no reason... if there isn't an underlying objective, I don't believe it."
"You haven't watched Clean-up Rangers in vain." Berus pushed up the reading glasses perched on his nose, looking at Chrollo with appreciation. In a trance, he seemed to see his younger self...
Facing an extremely cruel survival environment, yet remaining rational, good at thinking through problems, and finding ways to solve them instead of resigning to fate or letting others slaughter him like a pig or dog. He chuckled, "I remember an episode in Clean-up Rangers about a rapist who posed as a 'missionary,' tricking girls into becoming believers, and then raping them under the guise of 'God's gift'..."
Berus closed the ledger, his gaze sweeping over Chrollo, Shalnark, and Pakunoda one by one. Noticing Pakunoda frown, he said calmly, "Here, there is only 'waste' and 'people'... Since the other party chose 'charity,' they certainly don't lack money. Then it can only be... people!"
"Ah... I get it, they're in cahoots with those human traffickers!" Shalnark's OCD flared up; he couldn't stand the dust in the floor crevices. He squatted down, using his fingernails to dig it out. To the side, Pakunoda wrinkled her high nose, arms crossed over her chest. Her figure was already budding; despite being only a teenager, she already had the air of a "white-collar older sister."
She suddenly realized, "Sister Lotus from the church warned us yesterday to minimize going out unless necessary recently. And if we do go out, it's best to go in groups. She said... a few more waves of human traffickers have entered from the outside."
The girl looked at Chrollo, then at Berus, and asked tentatively, "Is the other party planning the same thing?"
Berus didn't answer but looked at Chrollo with a scrutinizing gaze.
At that time, Chrollo hadn't yet learned to comb his black hair back like Berus. He still had a pageboy haircut and said expressionlessly, "Whether they are or not, we'll know if we test them."
The boy raised his eyes to meet Berus's gaze. "Isn't Boss planning for 4th Street recently and discussing buying land with Elder Elijah?"
"The other party is jealous of Boss's legitimate businesses and is asking for an exorbitant price. It just so happens there's an abandoned church on 4th Street. If he wants to preach and give charity, give it to him for free, as long as he can deal with Bolton."
"The Paired Destructors"—Bolton!
Using a tiger to devour a wolf... Good kid! Berus looked at Chrollo approvingly, took out a cigarette, lit it, and spoke to the phone which was on speaker: "You heard him. Do exactly that."
Smoke curled up in the study. Berus pushed away his chair and looked out the window. The street not far from the villa was 4th Street, also known as "Flesh Street," specializing in "organ business"... To dare snatch business from Elijah and Bolton... Berus's gaze was deep. One had to be careful about "going in whole and coming out piece by piece!"
"Yes." The phone hung up.
Berus finished smoking the cigarette and turned to Chrollo and the others. "Extra meal today."
Chrollo, Shalnark, and Pakunoda bowed. After cleaning the room, they left happily, leaving Berus alone watching the "unsightly" scenery outside the window, sighing silently...
"Still too weak..."
Neither he nor the "person" behind him currently had any "Nen users" capable of confronting Bolton... It wasn't that Berus hadn't "invited" some Nen users explicitly or implicitly over the years, or even hired some Hunters with heavy gold to hold down the fort. But... compared to Bolton, the people he hired weren't even worth looking at. Instead, they became the opponent's "food," completely no match for him, or even...
Over these years, Berus discovered that this guy Bolton seemed to get a boost every time he killed someone... bizarre, ferocious, and despair-inducing!
It once cooled his earnest heart that wanted to change Meteor City through "normal means." In the end... he had to compromise, using the "renting" method to try and cooperate with the other party, promising heavy profits so that his "plan" to transform Meteor City—which he had spent decades of effort building—could continue.
However, Berus knew clearly in his heart that cooperating with people like Bolton and Elijah was no different from asking a tiger for its skin. But... who told him he was lacking?
Who told him he was born in Meteor City, with a weak foundation and unstable backing, having no "true strongman" in his hand who could be presented, hold the fort, and be relied upon?
Strength is confidence... Force is justice... The law of the jungle is nothing more than this...
Shoo~ The cigarette butt cut through the air, flicked by Berus's finger, and landed straight into the ashtray.
Creak~ The door closed.
Shalnark rolled his eyes and whispered to Chrollo, "Should we go over and take a look?"
Traffickers or true missionaries... daring to come to Meteor City to preach under the guise of "charity"—it was the first time Shalnark had heard of such a thing growing up. His curiosity overflowing, he just felt it was novel.
"Do you want to be kidnapped, killed, and taken apart piece by piece?" Pakunoda, walking beside Chrollo, shot him a cold glance.
The corners of Shalnark's mouth pulled diagonally upward. He flipped his hand and took out a telescope from his chest pocket, waving it triumphantly. "I have this!"
"A telescope? Where did you get that?"
"Nonsense, I picked it up, of course!"
Shalnark treasured it, wiping the lens. "Don't tell that guy Uvogin. If he knows, he'll make a fuss again. It's just a pity... one lens is a bit cracked, it's a little uncomfortable to look through."
Shalnark tilted his head to look at Chrollo. "But seeing clearly isn't a problem, so... want to go?"
Pakunoda tugged at Chrollo's sleeve.
The boy stood silent between the two. After a long while, he gazed toward 4th Street through the courtyard, took a deep breath, and said, "Sarasa has been looking for videotapes. If we don't expand the search range, it will probably be hard to find."
Clean-up Rangers was a serialized animation, with 10 episodes... 20 episodes... 30 episodes... dozens of videotapes...
Chrollo reached out, holding Shalnark with one hand and Pakunoda with the other, just like performing in the church's prayer hall. He smiled and said, "I want to finish acting out Clean-up Rangers. I want to see everyone's smiles. If possible... just as Boss Berus said, take everyone to see the outside world."
"Whether it's performing or enjoying the scenery, in short... I want to announce to the whole world that Meteor City also has an outstanding performance troupe!"
Shalnark and Pakunoda were both stunned. Feeling the warmth in their hands, the former grinned, "When the time comes, we have to go check out Gasland too! I heard it's the world-famous 'Entertainment Capital.' I've wanted to see it for a long time."
"There will be a chance."
"Definitely!"
Chrollo said decisively.
"Then we'll watch from here. We absolutely cannot go to 4th Street." Pakunoda pointed to the west.
There was a garbage heap piled high there. It was also their secret base and treasure-hunting ground. With the "geographical advantage" over there, plus the telescope Shalnark just scavenged, it shouldn't be hard to see the entrance and the neighboring street.
"Okay."
The group left the villa and headed straight west.
At the entrance, receiving Berus's order.
The two men in black immediately made way, opening a path for Roy and pulling open the iron gate.
"Go west, turn a corner, and when you see the number 4, that's 4th Street."
"There's an abandoned church there. If you have the ability, take it and use it yourself..."
"Just that simple?"
"Just that simple!"
"Young Master." Kastro whispered to Roy, "They were muttering, making calls, and waiting for news just now. There might be a trap!"
When he first entered society, the boy's master had repeatedly warned him... "Society is perilous; always keep an extra eye open for everything."
Since then, whether in Heavens Arena or at the Zoldyck family home, Kastro had upheld this saying and acted accordingly.
Furthermore, this was Meteor City. Earlier, he had heard Gotoh tell him exactly what kind of place this was, so he had kept his nerves taut and remained vigilant, speaking up to remind Roy.
It had to be said, since being accepted into the "sect" at Heavens Arena, the boy had changed his mindset early on and gradually began to resemble Gotoh slightly.
"I have you." Roy smiled, helping Kastro smooth out the wrinkles on his clothes, and said gently.
Kastro's heart warmed. He clenched his right fist and tapped his chest. "Please rest assured, Young Master. Unless I die, no one will touch a hair on your head!"
[Notification: "Believer" Kastro... "Loyalty" +1...]
Roy patted his shoulder with satisfaction. "Let's go."
"Yes."
The boy followed closely in Roy's footsteps. One foot stepped into Meteor City, and immediately after, he witnessed what was called the "World's Garbage Station"!
Garbage piles stacked like mountains, one after another, continuous and unending, extending to the horizon... The pungent smell was accompanied by swarms of mosquitoes and flies buzzing around... Compared to the Zoldyck family's Kukuroo Mountain estate, this place was simply... Hell!
"Young Master, mask."
Kastro immediately took out a mask and handed it to Roy.
Gotoh had specially prepared quite a few for him before the trip, enough to last a while.
Roy took it. While his gaze scanned around, he noticed many sallow and emaciated people. Adults looked like minors, and minors were practically skin and bones... As his vision shifted, he cast a look toward a certain high "hilltop" in the west. On a massive garbage heap bulging dozens of meters high, he spotted three people sticking their heads out.
He put on the mask, withdrew his gaze, and led Kastro unhurriedly toward the 4th Street the men in black mentioned...
On the garbage heap, Chrollo thought secretly, 'What a keen sense!'
Separated by several hundred meters, yet looking over here at a glance... The boy was stunned and quietly lowered the telescope.
"What's wrong?" Pakunoda noticed Chrollo's strangeness. Always attentive, she asked in a whisper.
Chrollo handed the telescope in his hand to Shalnark and was silent for a long while before saying, "I feel like he discovered us."
"Not 'like', he definitely did." Shalnark took the telescope, took another look, and noticed Kastro, who was following Roy, casting a sharp glance over. He clicked his tongue, "Those two guys give me a feeling just like Bolton!"
Shalnark remembered once sneaking to the edge of 4th Street from hundreds of meters away to search for a game console, only to be spotted by that guy instantly. Fortunately, he slipped away fast enough and luckily kept his life... Putting down the telescope again, he said excitedly to Chrollo and Pakunoda, "Paku, Chrollo, there's a good show to watch!"
Chrollo remained silent; Pakunoda looked at each other... The three took turns using the telescope, observing Roy and Kastro.
The boys arrived one after another in front of an abandoned gray-white spired church. As soon as they stood still, they were surrounded by numerous men in black in the vicinity.
Then... the mottled, tall main door of the church suddenly swung open with a creak!
Revealing a corner of the prayer hall. At the very back, in the center, a wicked-looking young man was holding a knife and fork, cutting a medium-rare steak.
"What do you want?"
"Rent place. Charity."
"Don't understand."
"Rent place. Preach. Provide relief."
"You have money?"
"Praise the Sun... I have some family assets."
Roy said with a smile. The wicked youth chewed the steak—crunch, crunch—with "Sun" and "Moon" marks branded on the backs of his left and right hands respectively. The corners of his mouth pulled into a diagonal grin, eyes narrowing into slits. "Relief is good... relief means there's money. I wonder..."
Bolton leaned forward, looking at Roy with interest. "Priest, would you be willing to provide some relief to me?"
Click-clack— Gun bolts were pulled, blades and steel bars reflected glints of light...
His expression suddenly turned fierce as he said...
"Take them down. Gouge out the money. Slice the person. Sell them..."
"As for... the brain..."
"Damn it, running to Meteor City to give charity to that trash... must be stupid too..."
"Dump the ashes directly!"