The whole reason Moro went to Argo was to hammer in a nail that could track Feitan's movements at any time.
He couldn't risk all his plans collapsing at the last second.
He never expected her to already have fresh intel on the Phantom Troupe.
That caught him completely off guard and instantly reminded him of the two member-replacement incidents the Troupe had gone through.
The original story gave almost no details, but the rough timeline was clear enough.
One member was replaced by Hisoka.
The other was killed by the current Zoldyck patriarch, Silva.
Moro didn't remember the exact dates, only that both events happened three years before the Yorknew arc, meaning… this year.
So the bounty Argo just mentioned, the one targeting a specific Troupe member…
Could Silva have taken the contract?
If so…
From what little Silva had revealed in the manga, plus the way he warned Killua and the others to never mess with the Troupe, the job had clearly been a nightmare.
If memory served, Silva had even crossed blades with Chrollo himself.
That meant Silva most likely pulled off the kill right under the noses of multiple Troupe members.
The thought made Moro's stomach tighten.
There wouldn't be any butterfly effect, right?
Like… what if Feitan happened to be there and walked straight into Silva's line of fire?
If something like that was even possible, Moro was screwed.
Because the [Brand of Death] could only be broken by his own hands.
Until then, if Feitan died for any other reason, the brand would drag Moro down with him.
The odds were low, but still…
What worried him most was the memory of Silva and Zeno tag-teaming Chrollo.
Zeno saw Chrollo stalling for time, so without hesitation he locked the leader in place and told Silva to hit them both, no holding back.
They had a perfect 2v1 advantage, yet they chose the riskier, faster play just to shave off seconds.
That insane professionalism, that "get it done no matter what" madness leaking from both father and son…
That was what scared Moro.
His thoughts raced, then he shook his head.
Until the intel was confirmed, all of this was just paranoia.
"Follow it up," he told Argo. "But I have one condition."
He met her questioning stare and continued in a dead-serious tone before she could speak.
"The Troupe has a monster at intelligence gathering. I don't care how you do your job, just be careful. Extremely careful. Do not let them catch your tail."
"Tch. I don't need you to tell me that."
For once, the lazy glint in Argo's eyes vanished, replaced by sharp focus.
"Look, I'm very attached to staying alive. You didn't seriously think I took this job because I'm greedy, did you?"
"…"
Moro stayed silent.
His eyes, however, very clearly asked: Wasn't that exactly why?
Argo read the look perfectly, shot upright, hands on hips.
"You're so shallow! I took the job because I'm confident I can pull it off. It has absolutely, positively nothing to do with the giant pile of money you threw at me."
"Oh."
Moro nodded, mentally applauding the double "absolutely."
Argo caught the sarcasm.
"You still don't get it."
She huffed, chin high.
"The second you called, I already had your basic dossier. I let you come here. That's why you're standing in my room right now."
"Impressive. Then I'll sleep easy."
Moro gave another nod. He'd warned her; that was enough.
"I knew you wouldn't belie—huh?"
Argo's sentence derailed. She stared at him.
"Why are you reacting like that?"
"Like what?"
"You're supposed to keep doubting me so I can flex a little and blow your mind!"
"…"
Moro seriously considered asking for a refund and finding another broker.
Argo narrowed her eyes, as if reading his mind.
"What's going through your head right now?"
"Nothing. Just… please handle the follow-up carefully."
Argo waved him off.
"I get paid, I work. Save the polite crap."
"Fine. I'll wait for your report."
Objective complete. Moro turned to leave.
Argo spun her chair back to the monitors, then suddenly called out just as he reached the curtain.
"Since you're a big-spending client, I'll throw in one free basic tip."
Moro stopped and looked back.
Argo didn't turn around.
"Someone's looking into you. More than one party. And they're not being subtle about it. Oh, and if you die, I'm not burning that two billion for your ghost, just so we're clear."
Moro's eyes sharpened. He ignored the second half.
"Can you find out who?"
"Of course. Information flows both ways. If they can dig into you, someone with the right skills can dig right back."
She leaned back, serious again.
"But I said one free basic tip. Actually tracing them costs extra. Deduct from the two billion?"
"Deduct it."
"Sweet. Results before midnight tonight."
Argo flashed a toothy grin.
Moro bottled up the unease, left the hideout, and stayed on high alert the whole way back.
Who the hell is after me?
The mental hospital crew?
Payback for the two delivery Nen users I killed?
He hadn't dug into their background at the time, so now he was stuck guessing.
Given the fake death certificates and the rest of their dirty business, whoever was behind that hospital had serious pull.
Forging a legal death in this world was basically erasing someone's entire identity, and international law treated that the same as murder.
The fact that even their errand boys were Nen users said plenty about the scale of the organization.
And the other group?
Leftovers from the Shinra deal?
Or had he flashed too much cash lately and painted a target on his back?
Didn't matter who.
From now on, he had to be even more careful.
Moro drove through the quiet suburban roads.
His private range sat outside the city; once he left the main avenues, buildings gave way to dense tree lines.
Under the night sky, light and shadow wove together into peaceful silence.
Then,
A spike of bloodlust slammed into him like a physical blow.
In the darkness, a muzzle flash, gone in an instant.
A tracer round streaked straight at the moving car.
The next second,
CRASH!
The windshield exploded inward.
SCREEECH!
Tires screamed. The car fishtailed, lost control, and slammed head-first into a roadside tree.
______
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