Black suits were practically the standard uniform for professional bodyguards.
Franklin's towering physique naturally exuded an oppressive aura just by standing in front of others. In terms of appearance alone, he was the most fitting member of the Troupe for the role of a bodyguard.
Nobunaga's build was average, and his height met the requirements. Dressed in a black suit, he carried himself with a certain flair.
Among the four, Shalnark was probably the most aggrieved. His height, for a bodyguard, didn't even meet the baseline. In comparison, at least Chrollo barely scraped past the mark.
Pakunoda, arm in arm with the bald man, maintained a faint smile on her face.
The two walked ahead, while the four Troupe members acting as bodyguards followed behind.
The bald man, who is now a puppet under Shalnark's control, was the key to the Troupe's five-member team infiltrating the appraisal event.
The number of guards stationed at the main gate had increased to twenty, lined up outside, radiating an imposing presence.
Among them, a burly doorman stepped forward, blocking Chrollo's group.
The bald man expressionlessly pulled out a small, exquisitely crafted invitation from his pocket and handed it to the doorman. The latter took it, inspected it, and after confirming its authenticity, immediately granted them entry.
The group of six passed through the gate and boarded an open-top shuttle.
'Ordinary people.'
Chrollo silently assessed.
At the main entrance, aside from the twenty guards in plain sight, there were about fifty more hidden in the shadows… none of them Nen Users.
Deploying nearly seventy people at the main gate served as a reference point. By that metric, the total number of guards at the Ohara Museum would be no less than ten times that figure, which is a conservative estimate.
'From the very beginning, a frontal assault was never an option…'
Chrollo tilted his head slightly, gazing at the vast stretches of greenery extending along the roadside, the corners of his lips curling faintly.
Numbers, combined with firepower, could create a qualitative change. When alternatives existed, a brute-force attack was unwise.
It had to be said, this privately owned museum had its unique strengths. It managed to keep its true background hidden even from Shalnark's investigations, and it secured local government approval to station so many armed guards. Calling it a tough nut to crack was no exaggeration.
After about five minutes on the shuttle, Chrollo caught sight of the museum in the distance, constructed from three ancient trees. The tallest one housed the main hall… the repository for the ancient texts.
At the sight of the museum, Chrollo lowered his eyelids slightly, concealing the fleeting glint in his eyes.
The shuttle came to a stop midway, and a squad armed with sophisticated firearms approached. The leader politely said, "Please cooperate with the inspection."
The bald man disembarked, and Chrollo's group calmly followed suit.
This procedure had been anticipated beforehand, so there were no surprises. Nobunaga hadn't even brought his sword, avoiding unnecessary trouble.
"Beep… beep…"
The scanning device emitted its expected sounds.
The squad leader calmly stated, "Please surrender your weapons. Rest assured, the Ohara Museum's security is beyond reproach."
The bald man waved his hand, and Chrollo's group handed over their pistols to the armed squad.
"Thank you for your cooperation."
The squad leader nodded politely before stepping aside.
The group reboarded the shuttle, which continued toward the two palatial buildings.
Since the shuttle driver was an employee of the Ohara Museum, the Troupe members refrained from communicating during the ride.
With the Troupe's strength, they had no need to rely on firearms. The only reason they carried guns was to maintain their cover as bodyguards.
The Ohara Museum hadn't conducted weapon checks at the main gate, instead stopping them midway for inspection. There might have been some underlying reasoning behind this approach, but none of that mattered now.
The shuttle came to a halt in front of the largest palatial building, and the group disembarked.
A butler approached to guide Chrollo's group, leading them directly to the banquet hall.
At exactly noon, Clover would host a high-profile banquet for the guests. Once the meal concluded, they would proceed to the museum.
Upon entering the banquet hall, the Troupe members were separated.
The controlled bald man and Pakunoda were seated at the main table, while the bodyguards were directed to a side hall. Though they could still observe the main hall, the arrangement made the distinction in status clear.
The bodyguard seating was arranged in tables of ten. The moment Chrollo and Shalnark took their seats, they drew disdainful glances from the other bodyguards… clearly, these were men who judged by appearances. But when Franklin sat down, they promptly averted their gazes.
Chrollo paid no attention to the clowns at his table. Instead, he swept his eyes across the surroundings, silently memorizing the positions of the security personnel.
'From what we've seen so far, most of the guards are armed with high-powered automatic rifles. The banquet hall has no fewer than two hundred security personnel, but none of them openly carry firearms. Judging by the bulges in their clothing, they're only equipped with handguns.'
'They prioritize safety while also caring about appearances.'
'A distinction between what's necessary and what's not…'
Chrollo withdrew his gaze, his fingertips lightly brushing over the cutlery as he mused to himself, 'Given this, when it comes to the actual theft, the commotion caused by Uvogin and the others will be crucial.'
With so many people in the hall, the Troupe members refrained from recklessly using Gyo, making it impossible to determine how many Nen Users were among the thousand or so guests.
Time passed, and as the clock struck twelve, the banquet hall resounded with the stirring notes of a symphony… the orchestra had begun playing.
Amid the grand performance, a man in formal attire rose from the head table. It was Clover, making his way toward the stage beside the orchestra.
Salin's seat was near the head table, a testament to Clover's high regard for her… a result of their interactions over the past two days.
That table seated eight people, including Miki and Angie. Next to Salin sat a rough-looking man with a dark complexion, resembling the historical figure, Zhang Fei, standing out starkly among the refined guests.
"Couldn't you have at least worn a decent mask?" Saling leaned over to the man's ear and whispered.
"I want to, but the problem is, I don't have one."
The Zhang Fei-esque man muttered back, casting a glance at Salin before turning his attention to the stage… or more precisely, to Clover.
This was an extremely important collaborator… assuming the negotiations went well.
The rugged-faced man was none other than Law, who had arrived at the Ohara Museum just in time. Among the many masks available, he had chosen the least objectionable one, even adjusting his voice to match the disguise.
Salin sighed softly at his response and also turned her gaze toward the stage.
Their seemingly intimate exchange was observed by Miki and Angie at the same table.
Miki, who harbored intentions of poaching Salin, subtly studied Law.
Angie, meanwhile, inwardly mocked Sharine's taste. In her eyes, Law was Salin's superior… and likely shared another, far more obvious relationship with her.
The pleasant music came to an abrupt halt, replaced by a slightly hoarse, mature male voice that drew the attention of everyone in the room… including the bodyguards.
"Thank you all for coming. Those who know me are aware that I only take the stage to make a brief appearance. Rather than waste words, I'll substitute them with a song. Pardon my lack of skill."
Clover stood ramrod straight, snapping his fingers. The orchestra immediately began playing.
The moment the accompaniment started, Law noticed the subtle shifts in expression among most of the guests… even those at his own table.
'Could it be…?'
Law pondered briefly… until Clover's ear-piercing singing, amplified by the microphone, filled the entire hall.
'Oh no…'
Law's lips parted slightly as he watched Clover on stage, his performance and expressions full of passion… but his singing voice was nothing short of horrific.
'This singing… might even be worse than Uvogin's.'
At a table in the side hall-
Chrollo, Shalnark, Nobunaga, and Franklin exchanged glances.
'A singing voice more terrifying than Uvogin.'
Through silent eye contact, they reached the same conclusion.
Meanwhile, in a building a kilometer away, someone sneezed.