Roy Sits On The Ground And Raises The Price, Chrollo Throws A Mouse!
"Tied! Good guy, I'm exhausted here."
Roy cracked his neck and plopped lazily onto the ground next to the unconscious Troupe members.
"Chrollo, when are you going to pay my four billion in wages?"
Zi Po Nian: "…"
Didn't he just say three billion a minute ago?
This rate of appreciation… Young Master truly is a financial prodigy.
At an abandoned construction site on the outskirts of Davyla—
The faint signal from Uvogin's phone reached the quiet chamber of the Phantom Troupe's temporary base.
The voice on the other end wasn't Uvogin's.
Chrollo Lucilfer, sitting under an unfinished beam, opened his eyes at the unfamiliar voice.
Someone else has Uvogin's phone. That only means one thing…
Something had happened.
But the young spider leader remained composed. Composure was, after all, his most dangerous weapon.
Dressed in a clean-cut black suit, with his signature cross earrings dangling, Chrollo looked more like a philosopher than a mass murderer. His hair slicked back, his hands calm and folded, his expression unreadable.
"Name your price," Chrollo said flatly. "Give me the people, and you'll get the money. Tell me the account number."
"Pleasure doing business."
Roy's voice was crisp as he rattled off the bank details.
Like a magician pulling props from the void, Chrollo retrieved his familiar black Bible notebook, flipped open the cover—beneath a verse scribbled in ink:
"Because of your faith, the Lord walks with you; because of your sin, He delivers judgment."
He quietly wrote down Roy's banking information.
Then, pausing briefly, he said: "Cardholder's name?"
"Roy Zoldyck."
The pen paused.
Chrollo's calm gaze flickered for the first time.
Zoldyck…
After two seconds of silence, he resumed writing.
"…Good name."
"Within five minutes," Chrollo said, "the money will be in your account.
I'm sure a 'Zoldyck' keeps his word."
Roy chuckled on the other end. "Likewise. I'm waiting."
Click.
The call ended.
Chrollo set the phone down and looked across the room at his gathered troupe.
Phinks, Franklin, and Feitan were playing poker.
Pakunoda leaned against the wall, arms folded, unreadable.
Machi was stringing together pieces of thread with mild boredom.
Shalnark was glued to a handheld game device.
Kortopi cowered silently in the corner, anxious as always.
The calm before the storm.
Chrollo stood and clapped once, loud enough to cut the silence.
"Uvogin, Nobunaga, and Shizuku," he said coolly, "have been captured."
BOOM.
The room fell into complete silence.
Then—
"WHAT?!"
Phinks leapt to his feet so fast the poker table flipped over, cards scattering everywhere.
"WHO DID IT?! I'LL RIP HIM TO SHREDS!!"
"Enough," said Pakunoda quickly, keeping her voice even. "Think. Someone capable of taking down Uvogin, Nobunaga, and Shizuku at the same time… isn't ordinary."
"We should be cautious. If we act without understanding the enemy, we'll only lose more."
Feitan's eyes narrowed beneath his cloak. "You rescue them…
I torture the one who touched them."
The infamous torturer of the troupe, Feitan's rage was like a storm beneath still waters. And given his performance against the Chimera Ant Queen, his threat wasn't bluster.
"Wait…"
Shalnark paused his game. "I think Uvogin mentioned earlier he was going to… tie up a cartoonist?"
Everyone stared.
"…What."
"Yeah," Shalnark continued, slapping his forehead, "That mangaka—Tianwei! The guy who draws One Piece."
"He was having a signing event at the Davia City Library today. That's where they went."
Machi raised an eyebrow. "Could he be the one who caught them?"
Shalnark shrugged. "Dunno. But even if he's not, the scene might still give us some clues."
The room turned to Chrollo again. Machi asked:
"Captain. What now?"
One by one, eyes turned to their leader.
Meteor Street's monsters. Born from trash, raised by violence, forged in betrayal.
To the Phantom Troupe, each other wasn't just comrades—they were family.
Someone had tied up their family.
That person clearly had a death wish.
The rage in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. The Spiders were ready to strike.
But Chrollo… was calm.
He raised four fingers.
"I've already negotiated the ransom," he said evenly. "Four billion Jenny. I'll pay it."
"AND THE MURDERER?" Phinks snapped. "We're just letting him go?!"
Feitan glared and raised a fist. "Leader's decision. Shut up."
Franklin, calm and quiet until now, looked up.
He was the oldest, most experienced, and perhaps the most observant.
"Chrollo… this guy. Is he that dangerous?"
Chrollo met his gaze. Silent for a moment.
Then he nodded.
"…Yes."
"Even I wouldn't fight him without a plan."
"In my judgment—he may be the strongest opponent we've ever encountered."