Hi, my name is Chrollo Lucilfer."
Seeing Chrollo extend his hand first, Rimo naturally responded with a calm smile and reached out as well.
He wasn't here to start a conflict today.
"Hello, my name is Rimo."
Noticing Rimo's relaxed attitude and the complete lack of hostility in his aura, Chrollo felt the tension in his heart ease significantly.
First impressions mattered a lot.
For someone like him, who had already begun forming the core of what would later become the Phantom Troupe, judging people accurately in the first meeting was crucial.
If the first impression was good, everything that followed would proceed smoothly.
If not, even simple communication would become complicated.
And right now, Rimo was clearly giving off a cooperative signal.
Since Rimo showed no disgust or hostility, Chrollo's confidence in what he planned next rose sharply.
He was certain that Machi and the others had already conveyed his intentions.
And since Rimo had chosen to come personally—and in such a composed manner—it already meant something.
What remained was how to guide the conversation to a mutual agreement.
Thinking of this, the smile on Chrollo's face became more genuine.
The two shook hands briefly, neither applying force, but both subconsciously gauging the other.
Then Chrollo stepped slightly to the side and gestured toward the people behind him.
"Ah, before anything else, let me introduce them. This is Pakunoda, this is Franklin… and this is Feitan. They're my companions."
"Hello."
Rimo nodded with a faint smile, his gaze sweeping across the three.
Pakunoda and Franklin showed no hostility.
They trusted Chrollo completely.
For someone Chrollo personally valued, they were naturally more curious than wary.
So both of them simply nodded back in acknowledgment.
Feitan, however, was different.
Before meeting Rimo, he had already formed quite a few negative assumptions.
But the moment he actually saw him…
Those thoughts disappeared.
There was only one reason.
Rimo was strong.
In Meteor City, strength was everything.
People who survived here long-term developed an instinct sharper than most—a sensitivity to danger that bordered on intuition.
And Feitan, with his small stature and violent temperament, had survived precisely because his instincts were exceptional.
The moment he laid eyes on Rimo, every nerve in his body tensed.
Rimo's aura—leaking slightly due to imperfect control over Zetsu—felt like a beast constantly roaring in the dark.
It wasn't just large.
It was oppressive.
Unstable in a way that made it even more dangerous.
That invisible pressure directly suppressed Feitan's killing intent before it could even surface.
Although he still didn't bother putting on a friendly expression, he gave Rimo a stiff nod.
That alone already showed acknowledgment.
As for Rimo, among the three, the only one he paid a bit more attention to was Pakunoda.
Feitan and Franklin were straightforward.
One was a fast, assassin-type fighter with terrifying burst potential.
The other was a long-range emitter-type powerhouse.
Useful, but not irreplaceable.
Pakunoda, on the other hand…
Her ability, Memory Bomb, had extremely unique utility.
For someone like Rimo, who valued flexibility and information, that kind of Nen ability had potential value in the future.
Of course, that was the practical reason.
As for the rest…
Rimo's gaze lingered on her for a brief moment longer than necessary.
At this point in time, Pakunoda was only around fourteen years old.
Her clothing was far less bold than it would be later, but Rimo's perception—honed from experience and reinforced by Nen—was sharp enough to notice details others might miss.
Ahem.
Purely observational.
Nothing else.
Though…
That nose.
Rimo couldn't help but feel a slight regret.
If her hooked nose had been a bit softer in shape, it would have been even more… balanced.
His gaze unconsciously paused there for a moment.
Pakunoda, noticing his line of sight, subconsciously touched her nose, a trace of confusion flashing in her eyes.
Was there something on it?
Among everyone present, only Machi seemed to pick up on something subtle.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
A faint chill spread from her body, her aura tightening almost imperceptibly.
Rimo instantly felt it.
His heart skipped a beat.
Without hesitation, he shifted the topic.
"Speaking of which, Chrollo… did you come looking for me for something?"
Seeing Rimo get straight to the point, Chrollo glanced around briefly before replying calmly,
"This isn't really the best place to talk. How about we go inside first?"
Rimo looked up at the sky.
The sunlight over Meteor City today was unusually harsh—not so much in temperature, but in how glaring it felt against the endless piles of scrap and metal.
He nodded.
"Alright. Let's go in and talk. And just call me Rimo—I'm not that old."
Chrollo didn't refuse.
"Okay. Rimo… please."
As he spoke, he stepped slightly aside, gesturing for Rimo to go first.
That small action caused Pakunoda and Franklin to frown slightly.
Chrollo's status among them was unquestioned.
Yet he was lowering himself like this.
Still, out of trust, neither of them said anything.
Feitan, on the other hand, had no reaction at all.
After sensing Rimo's strength, he had already accepted one simple truth.
The strong deserved respect.
Since Rimo was stronger than Chrollo, then naturally, he should take precedence.
Rimo's eyes flickered slightly.
He couldn't quite grasp what Chrollo was planning.
A natural-born thief like Chrollo Lucilfer operated on a completely different wavelength from someone like him.
But Rimo had one advantage.
Absolute confidence in his own strength.
So without hesitation, he stepped forward and entered first.
Chrollo followed half a step behind him, maintaining just the right distance—both respectful and controlled, giving Rimo enough face without appearing submissive.
After entering the house, Rimo's gaze swept across the interior almost instantly.
The environment was exactly what one would expect from Meteor City.
Broken furniture.
Cracked walls.
Rust-stained surfaces.
A chaotic, almost war-torn aesthetic.
Even traces of dried blood could still be seen in certain corners.
Most likely leftovers from when Chrollo and the others took over this place.
Rimo's gaze landed on a set of old wooden chairs that looked like they would collapse at any moment.
He frowned slightly.
Going from hardship to comfort was easy.
Going from comfort back to hardship was not.
If this were the Rimo who had just arrived in this world, he might not have cared.
But now…
He had no intention of making himself uncomfortable if he had the ability to change it.
Rimo raised his hand slightly.
With a subtle surge of aura, a long, multi-person sofa was instantly conjured into existence.
The moment it appeared, it directly pushed aside the broken wooden chairs on the ground.
Then Rimo repeated the action on the opposite side.
In just a few seconds, the entire seating arrangement of the room had been replaced.
"Don't mind me," Rimo said casually. "Just helping you upgrade the furniture a bit."
Without waiting for a response, he sat down comfortably.
Then he looked at Chrollo with a faint smile and made a natural gesture of invitation.
As if he were the host.
As if this were his territory.
In that instant, the dynamic in the room subtly shifted.
Rimo had taken control of the atmosphere.
If he couldn't figure out what Chrollo was planning…
Then he would simply take the initiative and test him directly.
Let's see just how far this future leader of the Phantom Troupe was willing to go.