Midnight. A torrential downpour hammered the city.
Yorknew City, Lower Street District.
Rain fell in sheets, like a curtain of beads, rushing along the veins of the streets.
The streetlights flickered between light and shadow, yet one antique shop blazed with warmth against the storm.
Above its door hung a common electronic sign, red letters scrolling slowly:
[Buying antiques and handmade works of art — June 22, 1997]
Inside, display cases lined the walls.
Under the orange glow, rows of antique treasures sat quietly, their true value hidden from careless eyes.
At the back of the shop, a solid wooden table stood against the wall, a single desk lamp perched on its corner.
In the cone of light sat a roughly fifty-centimeter-tall red wooden doll carving, perfectly still.
Suddenly, a pair of hands reached into the light and wrapped around the unremarkable figure.
The owner of those hands was a young man in casual clothes, neat black hair framing sharp, handsome features.
Click.
With a light squeeze of his fingers, cracks spider-webbed across the wooden surface. Strands of pale white light, different from the lamp's glow, seeped through the fissures.
Then, the wooden shell shattered and fell away, revealing a jade figure wrapped in the faint shimmer of Nen.
Across the jade's translucent surface ran shallow green patterns like fish scales, gleaming brilliantly under the light. Clearly priceless.
Breaking the shell, turning trash into treasure.
The whole scene was witnessed by a burly man wearing a dog-head mask who stood beside the door.
Yet the man didn't look surprised in the least; he knew exactly what Moro was capable of.
Arms folded, he stared straight at the young man, voice low and steady. "Moro, why'd you turn down the gift Morena prepared for you?"
"Gift?"
The young man called Moro lifted his head sharply, meeting the dog-masked man's gaze with a helpless smile.
"Brother Ken… telling me to kill twenty-one total strangers… that's supposed to be a gift?"
"Of course it's a gift. Once you kill them, you'll jump straight to level 21. After that, barring surprises, you'll awaken a Nen ability perfectly suited to you. Even if the result shifts a little, you'll still massively increase your aura volume."
The dog-masked man's tone never wavered. After a brief pause, he continued,
"Moro, Morena needs feedback on her ability as fast as possible. Don't disappoint her. Besides… getting stronger just by casually killing a few people? For you, that's pure profit, zero downside."
"…"
Moro fell silent.
Just casually killing a few people, huh…
That's the mafia way.
Or rather, in this world called Hunter × Hunter, treating human life as disposable isn't exactly rare.
Moro had felt that truth in his bones the moment he transmigrated here a year ago…
He stared quietly at the dog-masked man.
As a transmigrator, he knew the plot and characters of Hunter × Hunter inside out.
Both the dog-masked man in front of him and Morena—who had saved his life a year ago—were mafia characters from the Kakin Succession Contest arc.
Putting aside Morena's status as an illegitimate princess of Kakin and her future as head of the Heil-Ly Family…
What Moro remembered most vividly was the Nen ability she revealed in the original story.
An ability that lets others level up by killing…
"Killing to grow stronger… sounds so simple when you put it like that."
Moro pushed down the thoughts swirling in his mind, the corner of his mouth curling into a strange smile while his eyes stayed perfectly calm, without a single ripple.
"Brother Ken, Nen abilities aren't that shallow. There's the whole system of Vows and Limitations… I don't know how Morena developed hers, but one thing is certain."
He shifted his gaze away, looking down at the jade figure on the table, and said softly, "There's risk. Massive, unknown risk."
"…"
This time it was the dog-masked man who fell silent.
Sometimes silence is as good as admission.
Yet he didn't forget his position. Breaking the quiet, he asked bluntly, "So your answer is no?"
"How could I refuse…?" Moro lowered his eyelids, a self-mocking smile tugging at his lips. In his mind flashed Morena's pitch-black eyes, deep as the abyss.
After a pause, he looked up again. "Give me one day."
"Fine. I'll tell Morena."
The dog-masked man nodded once, then turned and left without another word.
Just as he was about to push the door open into the storm, he stopped as if remembering something.
"Right—Morena hasn't decided on a name for her ability yet. She wants you to name it."
"…"
Moro froze. Fragments from the manga flashed unbidden across his mind.
[Etude of Love]
That was the name of Morena's ability in the original story.
Why something so destructive carried such a gentle name…
Moro had no idea.
Without thinking or hesitating, he answered straight from the source material. "Call it Etude of Love… if Morena doesn't hate it."
"Hm?"
The dog-masked man sounded surprised; he hadn't expected something so… soft from Moro.
But he didn't dwell on it. He waved once, pushed the door open, and strode into the pouring rain.
Moro watched him go, expression calm.
Creak—
The door shut.
A few minutes later, Moro finally looked away, turning to the translucent jade figure standing amid a pile of broken wooden shards.
"Guess I've got no choice but to bail…"
Some things he refused to do, and there was no room left to negotiate.
So Moro decided to leave Morena's circle for good.
It wasn't that he was completely against killing; among the twenty-one names she'd sent, there were infants and small children.
That crossed a line.
More importantly, he knew better than anyone what Morena truly wanted deep down.
Destroy Kakin. Destroy humanity. Destroy the world. Destroy everything.
That was her real goal.
So he always knew he'd leave someday. He just hadn't expected that day to come so soon.
For the past six-plus months, the antique shop he'd run had brought Morena considerable profit.
If nothing had happened, he would have kept repaying her lifesaving kindness this way for as long as possible.
This much is enough… right?
Moro thought silently, then raised his right hand and looked at the back of it.
There, a tattoo resembling Annual Rings was formed from six hollow concentric circles of different colors.
From the innermost to the outermost, the rings were white, green, blue, purple, red, and finally gold.
At the very center lay a tiny black infinity symbol.
Moro had no idea where the Annual Rings tattoo came from or what it did.
A few days after transmigrating, he noticed the outline suddenly appear on the back of his hand, growing darker and more defined until it settled into its current form.
What he did know:
No one else could see the Annual Rings tattoo.
The skin it covered seemed to have gained an unbreakable Vow effect.
And he could absorb faint Nen from antiques to fill the hollow rings.
That was the real reason he'd opened an antique shop in Yorknew City.
Over the past six months, he'd absorbed quite a bit of residual Nen from old objects and handmade pieces. The innermost white ring was now almost completely filled.
Moro set aside thoughts of leaving Morena for the moment and focused on the jade figure wrapped in faint Nen.
Once he absorbed its aura, the white ring should finally be complete.
Even if it fell short, the employees he'd sent out would return tonight with more antiques that might carry Nen.
In the silent shop, Moro reached out and placed his hand on the jade figure.
There was no visible movement, no ripple of aura, yet the faint Nen on the jade flowed visibly into the back of his hand.
The last tiny gap in the white ring filled in, becoming whole.
Looks like I don't need to wait for those workhorses after all.
Moro stared at the completed white ring, a flicker of anticipation rising after half a year of effort.
Because to him, the Annual Rings tattoo was very likely the "golden finger" every transmigrator dreams of.
If it activated now, he'd have far more confidence escaping the Heil-Ly Family's grasp.
He waited patiently for something to happen.
But seconds turned to minutes, and the fully filled white ring showed no change whatsoever.
"The worst-case scenario, then."
Moro shook his head slightly.
Right now there were only three possibilities.
One: he needed to fill every single ring before the ability revealed itself.
Two: each filled ring required some unknown trigger condition.
Three: the Annual Rings weren't a cheat at all.
A bit disappointed, but not crushed.
Even if a cheat activated right this second, it would only be an unexpected bonus.
His real trump card was the Emission-type Nen he had painstakingly trained since arriving in this world.
The night grew deeper; the rain showed no sign of letting up.
The dog-masked man walked through the storm until he reached a black sedan parked at the curb.
The rear window rolled down, revealing an elegant, refined woman.
Her brows were like willow leaves, her eyes phoenix-shaped.
Yet two parallel, ferocious scars ran across her otherwise beautiful face.
They started at her hairline, sliced through her left eyelid, and continued down to her cheek—nearly bisecting half her face. The sight was chilling.
"Morena."
The dog-masked man bent slightly, looking into the car.
Morena lifted her gaze. "A-Ken, what did he say?"
"Moro asked for one day."
The dog-masked man reported truthfully.
Morena lowered her eyes, as if sensing something.
The dog-masked man waited in the rain, water streaming off him.
After a while,
Morena reached up and traced the scars on her cheek—an old habit.
"Fine."
She murmured softly.
The dog-masked man blinked in surprise.
Morena dropped her hand and looked past him toward the antique shop.
"A-Ken, do you know… there's something on little Moro that I really hate."
"What?"
The dog-masked man asked immediately.
Morena's eyes darkened, her voice growing cold.
"A bottom line."
"…"
The dog-masked man didn't know how to respond.
Morena continued icily, "My people can't have that kind of thing."
The dog-masked man understood perfectly. He almost tried to talk her down, but swallowed the words and asked instead,
"Morena, the Phantom Troupe is hunting someone—they've already massacred several mafia families. Shouldn't we at least warn Moro…?"
"No need."
Morena looked away. "This is his choice."
"Understood."
The dog-masked man sighed inwardly, then relayed the name Moro had suggested.
Etude of Love…
When Morena heard it, a ripple passed through her eyes.
As expected… still incomplete.
Even if she could taste little Moro's loyalty in that deep kiss they had, if their ultimate purposes were completely opposed, it meant nothing.
"Let's go."
Morena lowered her head slightly. Though she couldn't yet get the feedback she needed, she had at least discovered the flaw in her ability.
A-Ken glanced at her, hearing the faint trace of regret in her voice…