Inside the garbage mountain of District Nine.
Kisho fled back here as if running for his life, dragging Amos with him. He set Amos down on the ground, then collapsed beside him, completely drained.
That pervert's way of speaking—and his voice—had way too much lingering impact. Even now, half of Kisho's body was still numb—numb to the point of dying on one side, hurting to the point of dying on the other.
He was still shaken.
That terrifyingly powerful pervert—where on earth did he come from? Why was he looking for him, and what was his purpose—
"Phantom Troupe," "spider," "number eight"…
He knew that the band of thieves led by Chrollo was called the "Phantom Troupe," and he also knew that "number eight" referred to a member's number. But what exactly was a "spider"? And if that pervert wanted to join the troupe, why did he have to come looking for him?
What he couldn't understand the most was this: if that guy had wanted to kill him, it would have been effortless. So why let him and Amos leave?
Kisho turned his head. Amos was still unconscious.
He slowly let out a breath—
But none of that mattered anymore. What mattered was that they had made it back alive.
He crawled over to Amos, lifted his shirt, and checked him for injuries. There were bruises on the back of Amos's neck and his lower abdomen, and the joints in both his hands had been dislocated by that pervert.
Fortunately, there were no open wounds. Otherwise, if an infection set in, there would be no way to deal with it in a place like Meteor City—that would be real trouble.
Kisho let out a sigh of relief. Grasping Amos's left arm and left shoulder, he enhanced his perception with nen, identified the positions of the bones and meridians, and with a sharp "crack," set the arm back into place.
Then he was startled when Amos, who had no idea when he'd opened his eyes, suddenly stared at him.
Amos looked at him expressionlessly. Even though he couldn't move, the killing intent in his gaze alone was enough to kill Kisho ten thousand times over.
Kisho's hand trembled as he moved to set Amos's right arm, nearly putting it back wrong.
"You idiot! Didn't I tell you not to come?! Are you fucking stupid?! How the hell have you even lived this long?!"
Amos showed absolutely no awareness that he was already in Kisho's hands, firing off words like a machine gun.
"Such an obvious trap and bait, and you still jumped straight in without a second thought! Apart from dragging yourself in too, it was completely—"
Before Amos could finish, Kisho directly raised his hands to cover his ears.
"Stop yelling, stop yelling. I know I was wrong. I'll dare to do it again next time."
Amos's serious face flushed red with anger.
"You—"
"Don't overthink it." Kisho smiled and said, "Aren't we both still alive right now?"
Amos: "…"
After a long silence, he muttered,
"If there's a next time, I'd rather you didn't come save me."
"That won't do." Kisho shrugged. "I can't just ignore a friend."
Amos choked on his words, then rolled his eyes.
"Idiot. Making friends in Meteor City?"
"Ha~" Kisho blinked.
He lay down on the other side of Amos, looking through the hole in the roof of the garbage heap up at the starry sky.
"—By the way, do you know who that person was just now?"
"Don't change the subject—!"
Amos snapped irritably, but still followed Kisho's question and answered him.
"I don't know. I was originally counting the things I'd gotten recently when that guy… suddenly barged in. He stared at me for a while, asked if Solzt was killed by me, and then asked if I was a spider."
Kisho frowned.
"So what exactly is a 'spider'?"
Amos stayed silent, turning his head to look at Kisho lying beside him. After a long moment, he softly said,
"You really don't know?"
Kisho looked utterly innocent.
"I really don't."
"…The A-rank thief group known as the 'Phantom Troupe'—each member has a spider tattoo with twelve legs and a number on their body." Amos explained. "So people outside like to use 'spider' as a nickname for them."
Kisho nodded in understanding.
Then he thought of something, a glint flashing in his eyes, and suddenly got excited.
"They're a group of thieves and even rated A-rank—so they must have committed countless crimes. Doesn't anyone arrest them? Once I get out of here, I'm calling the police!"
Amos's eyes rolled so hard they nearly flipped upside down. He no longer had the energy to complain about Kisho's cold jokes.
He looked at Kisho, his expression complicated, and slowly asked,
"…You have a connection with the troupe, don't you?"
The excitement in Kisho's eyes faded, replaced with complexity. After a moment, he slowly nodded.
"Even though I don't want to admit it, yeah, I do have some connection."
"I don't know why the person tonight insisted on looking for you, but…" Amos said solemnly, "no matter what, the fact that 'you're connected to the troupe' absolutely cannot be revealed."
"Every member of the troupe is on an A-rank wanted list. Who knows how many people want them dead. Even if those people can't touch them, they can still squeeze you, the soft persimmon."
Being described as a "soft persimmon," Kisho's face darkened instantly.
"…There's one more thing."
Amos continued,
"I've checked it thoroughly. That day when you said the vice chairman would continue trading with the Bankro family—that was just a pretense the vice chairman used at the time to stabilize people's morale."
"The real situation is this: after the East District elder obtained the raw liquid, he handed it over to Solzt for modification—the portion Solzt received was the elder's payment to him."
Kisho frowned.
"You mean that even though I already know the family producing the raw liquid is the Bankro family, if I want to infiltrate, I still have to start with the elders?"
"As a 'weapon' supplied by the elders to the mafia, it'll be trusted more. It's easier than trying to sneak in on your own."
Amos nodded lightly, a look of disgust surfacing in his eyes.
"But my advice is only for reference, because the elder of the East District is truly a nauseating guy."
Kisho laughed.
"Can't be helped. Life is unsatisfactory eight or nine times out of ten—and the remaining one or two are even worse."
Amos: "…"
He had lost count of how many times he'd rolled his eyes tonight.
"The Elders' Council will be convened in the central area in three days. The former vice chairman can bring two people to attend together with the West District elder."
Amos slowly began to explain his plan.
"The former vice chairman is now the chairman, and Wenide is the vice chairman. Those two will definitely go—so that leaves only one remaining spot."
"If things go according to my plan, I'll go look for my brother after the gathering of the four elders ends. If nothing goes wrong, after I succeed, I'll directly pull a group of White Eagle Association members to the West District and use them to counter my brother's remaining forces."
Amos's expression grew grave.
"But… if I fail, everyone connected to me will be in trouble."
"So I don't recommend that you get involved in this meeting. If possible, I'd even hope that you wait until my matters are fully settled before going through Chelsea Taber and entering Lashan Mountain via his connections."
"That won't do. I've helped you this much already—I should at least be brought along to the end to see the result." Kisho said with a smile.
Amos shot him a sideways glance.
"If I fail, I'll die."
Kisho didn't care.
"Come on." He paused, then looked at Amos with eyes full of trust. "If you didn't have complete confidence, you wouldn't act rashly. So you—no, we—definitely won't fail."
"And besides, instead of going through Chelsea Taber, why shouldn't I go through you?" Kisho looked at Amos and smiled.
"If you succeed, you'll be qualified to trade with the outside mafia too, right?"
Amos fell silent. A trace of complicated emotion appeared in his eyes. He muttered a low "idiot," but didn't say anything more to stop him.
Seeing this, Kisho smiled.
"Then let's wish us success."