Illumi used the Nen needle technique to alter his appearance and voice, a skill honed by years of practice in the professional world. In the original work, his two disguises were flawless: one deceived Killua during the Hunter Exam, and the other, impersonating Hisoka, fooled the Phantom Troupe.
Mourse stepped on the dinner knife and made a move against Illumi, who was disguised as a waiter. The primary reason was the waiter's gaze, which was quite explicit and made her uncomfortable.
From Killua's perspective, he couldn't see the waiter's actions after he crouched down, his view blocked by the table and tablecloth.
The waiter, with a sharp object at his throat, grinned and moved his lips silently.
The lip-read words reached Mourse's brain simultaneously with a rising sense of foreboding. The threads of memory were pulled, and Mourse was transported back to her first intimate encounter in the bathtub. The man had ignored the scratches she'd made on his shoulder, blood dripping as he gasped out her real name:
"Mour."
An intimate address, only someone who knew Mourse well would call her that.
Mourse knew that Illumi was currently on surveillance duty, but she hadn't expected him to choose such close contact or to deliberately draw attention. What was his objective?
"Sister?" Killua's voice was filled with confusion.
Was there any point in exposing Illumi and revealing his identity as a waiter? Illumi was on surveillance, not an enemy. What would happen if she exposed him? Wouldn't it just turn into a Zoldyck family reunion? Then Illumi would sit down, and their dinner for two would become a dinner for three?
Setting aside whether Killua would feel comfortable in front of his older brother, who was a manifestation of his childhood trauma, Mourse certainly felt it would affect her appetite.
Then again, why was Illumi being so evasive with his hints instead of directly revealing his identity? Was he concerned about something?
An assassination mission. That was the most likely scenario Mourse could think of.
Perhaps to prevent Mourse from interfering and causing unforeseen complications, Illumi had specifically hinted at his true identity beforehand.
Mourse shifted her gaze from the waiter's face back to Killua, retracting the sharp object into her game backpack. As Mourse moved her feet, the waiter picked up the dinner knife, placed it on a tray, bowed to Mourse as if nothing had happened, and asked, "Would you like to see the menu again?"
...
There were no further disturbances, and the dinner concluded peacefully. After paying the bill, Mourse told Killua she had something to do. "Can you go back by yourself?"
"Of course, I can!" Killua, who was so small that Mourse had to crouch to meet his eye level, puffed out his chest indignantly. "Don't treat me like a child!"
Mourse ruffled Killua's small silver-white hair and stood up, feeling her clothes being tugged.
Meeting Mourse's gaze, Killua hesitated for a moment before quickly letting go of her clothes. He had some questions about Mourse's "sudden business," but for some intuition, he swallowed the questions that had risen to his throat.
After making up his mind in a couple of seconds, Killua stammered, "I had a really happy time today... Thank you, sis..."
Seeing this, Mourse bent down and hugged him. Their matching silver-white hair brushed against her warm cheek. Killua shifted awkwardly but didn't resist, allowing Mourse to nuzzle his cheek again.
As Mourse loosened her embrace, Killua skillfully wriggled out and took a couple of steps back before suddenly saying, "Come see me again," and then turning to run away.
The small silver-white head soon merged into the night scenery and disappeared.
Mourse adjusted her skirt and returned to the restaurant.
Bypassing the main entrance, Mourse used "Zetsu" to minimize her presence and entered the restaurant through the back door. The back door led to the kitchen. In the bustling kitchen, everyone was focused on their work and had no capacity to notice Mourse as she walked past them.
This is too strange. Mourse couldn't understand why Illumi, disguised as a waiter, wasn't approaching the assassination target but was instead focusing on serving Mourse and Killua's table. It was somewhat affecting her appetite.
Could it be that the assassination target wasn't expected to appear at the restaurant yet, and Illumi was still in the reconnaissance or waiting phase?
Regardless, her appetite had been affected. Since she had nothing else to do, and as a "reward" for Illumi's service, she might as well see how she could disrupt his plans.
She couldn't let him fail the mission. If it damaged the Zoldyck family's reputation, Mourse would also be punished. Moreover, such childish behavior that clearly disregarded the bigger picture would further lower the Zoldyck family's evaluation of Mourse, being detrimental to herself and achieving no benefit.
Under the successful education of the Zoldyck business mindset, Illumi placed great importance on the ratio of work output to reward. When the reward remained the same but the work became more troublesome, it was equivalent to doing business at a loss for him.
Therefore, a suitable reward would be to create some obstacles for him, forcing him to spend more effort.
Among the waiters moving between tables, Mourse spotted the waiter Illumi had been impersonating. She walked over, and before she could reach him, the waiter quickened his pace and ascended the stairs leading to the second floor.
The second-floor corridor was lined with private rooms, and at the end was the restroom. The waiter wasn't in those rooms; he had disappeared on the second floor.
"..." Trying to shake me off?
He underestimated me.
She had to find him.
Mourse closed the door to the staff changing room. It wasn't the time for shift changes, so there usually wouldn't be anyone here, except for... a fake with ulterior motives.
"You found me after all," Illumi sighed as he unbuttoned the waiter's tie in front of the locker. "There's nothing I can do."
He hadn't actively approached Mourse; rather, Mourse had reacted to his gaze and actively sought him out. He had merely looked at Mourse a few times and then tried to avoid being followed. He had been passively approached by Mourse, which did not violate the head of household's orders.
Due to the locker door's obstruction, Mourse didn't see Illumi remove the needle. By the time the locker door was closed, Illumi's disguise had been removed.
Aside from the vest and tie that marked him as a waiter, the unremarkable white shirt and black trousers could serve as generic casual wear.
Since he wasn't wearing a tie, Illumi unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. Mourse watched him approach, her gaze fixed on his Adam's apple as he spoke.
"I know, we'll be in sync," he said.
"..." Mourse's expression remained impassive as her gaze moved upward.
Her gaze met empty air. Illumi lowered his head, his hair brushing against her neck, then her slightly cool nose, before burying his entire face in her neck.
"Mour," he whispered, his voice extremely low, "I've missed you so much."
In Mourse's memory, Illumi had rarely shown such vulnerability, except for when he was six years old in Meteor City. The unsanitary living conditions and continuous failures had caused him to feel a sense of dejection for the first time.
"Sister," he had said back then, his voice lowered as much as possible, "I miss home."
If this was Illumi's rare way of showing vulnerability or weakness, was it credible?
Mourse's heart remained unmoved as she raised her hand. She didn't know if Illumi had misunderstood or if it was something else. As she made a move, he chose to wrap his arms around her waist.
According to Illumi's attack patterns, his Nen needles had to be inserted into the head to manipulate humans. By using his hands to hold her waist, did he intend to engage in close combat?
Perhaps unlike in Meteor City where there were no conditions for bathing, Illumi was now senselessly sniffing her scent, his breathing deepening.
Mourse felt the roots of her hair near her neck become damp from his breath, so she turned her head to the side.
This action undoubtedly exposed more of her neck, as if inviting him. Illumi, "not to be outdone," used his tongue to lick her pulse through the thin layer of skin.
Mourse raised her hand to push his face away. His arms around Mourse's waist tightened, lifting her off the ground, and he began to lick and kiss her fingers and palms that were blocking him.
As Illumi moved his feet, Mourse's long hair swung, and then brushed against the long bench in the changing room.
The bench in the changing room was too low, but it was long enough. Mourse, sitting on the edge of the bench, ended up lying on it, her long, slightly curly silver-white hair cascading to the floor.
"..." Mourse continued to block her lips with the back of her hand, staring blankly at the ceiling.
The next second, her vision was filled with Illumi's approaching face. His dark, vacant cat-like eyes, silhouetted against the light, cast him in shadow.
His face was expressionless, and she had no idea what he was thinking.
He seemed unbothered by not being able to kiss her lips. He knelt on one knee, leaning over and kissing her everywhere but her lips, moving to her ear. His hands were also busy, fumbling to unfasten her clothes.
Although her expression remained unchanged, Illumi curved his lips upwards. "You missed me terribly too, didn't you?"
Mourse half-closed her eyes.
"How many points do you think I'll get for this answer?"
"..." Mourse averted her gaze.
"You don't want to give me points." Illumi tilted his head slightly, looking troubled. "Then I'll just have to figure it out myself."
"I've always... only thought of you." He said with a satisfied smile.
A flash of steel.
Dodging the attack, Illumi's dark eyes widened, his surrounding Nen fluctuating for an instant before he quickly suppressed it.
Even though it was just a momentary surge, the incandescent light bulb on the ceiling was affected, starting to flicker.
Mourse had already stood up, unconcerned about her disheveled clothes. She took out a tissue from her game backpack and expressionlessly wiped the parts of her body that he had licked wet.
Illumi was not as boldly naked in front of others as Hisoka when it came to dressing. He chose to wear his clothes, but his pants were rather form-fitting, not concealing his physical changes very well.
Mourse activated the [Clothing] voice device and finally adopted the classic villainous smile of "a smile that doesn't reach the eyes," her tone filled with sarcasm. "Illumi, haven't you always been good at enduring since you were little?"
This referred to his excellent grades in interrogation classes.
"..." Illumi became even more still, his breathing almost nonexistent. His gaze was dark and deep, as if brewing with whirlpools from the abyss.
Every time the incandescent light flickered, it seemed to be gathering darkness for him.
Mourse used the "one-click outfit change" function in her game backpack to switch clothes and activated "Ren," entering combat readiness.
"All for this," Illumi wiped away a smile, but his voice was devoid of emotion. "All for this?"
This was the calm before the storm. It seemed Illumi was truly provoked.
In the flickering light, Mourse stood ready, her brows furrowed.
Illumi's smile deepened, his shoulders shaking slightly. He actually burst out laughing. His dark, unfocused eyes widened unconsciously, his face gloomy, and his laughter, devoid of any joy, was quite chilling.
"Yes," Illumi's eyes were wide open, his gaze unfocused, his black pupils like two empty holes on his face. "As expected of you."
"This kind of childish game truly... annoys me a little."
"Mm, I understand. I will endure."
*Crack—*
Contradicting his words, the incandescent light bulb reached its limit. After a cracking sound, it went out completely.
The hallway light seeped in through the door crack, so the room wasn't completely dark.
Illumi, with his back to the door, was the darkest part, like a humanoid shadow rising from the ground, flat and lifeless.
He concealed his presence, voice, and breath. He truly endured it.
Then he turned and opened the door.
A large amount of light poured in from outside. Mourse squinted. Illumi, like a ghost dispelled by sunlight, flickered, and within the frame of the door, only the white wall opposite remained.
Mourse tilted her head, trying to recall carefully. Her emotions felt like itching through a sock, unable to grasp the core.
Alas, what a pity. If she hadn't undergone brain surgery, she should have felt extraordinary pleasure from successfully provoking Illumi this time.
Exiting the restaurant, Mourse bit her thumb, still feeling unsatisfied.
It wasn't enough.
She hadn't won.
Because Illumi had successfully endured, and his killing intent hadn't leaked out much, it was far from Hisoka's provocation of him in the original work. Back then, he had been overflowing with killing intent, so much so that even Killua, who was far away, could sense it.
However, Hisoka's provocation was not replicable. Hisoka had used a gesture towards Killua, implying "sex first then kill" (or possibly "kill first then sex"), using Killua as a tool for provocation.
... This was clearly not suitable for Mourse to use.
No, she had to think of another way.
Walking aimlessly towards a more crowded area, she focused her attention slightly and saw the health bars above the NPCs' heads clustered together densely. Mourse curled her fingers and then relaxed them.
Ah, she'd thought of it, a way to disgust Illumi.
She would find an NPC to do what Illumi couldn't finish.
Nightclubs or bars were places where it was easier to take someone away. Generally, the better the building's decor, the higher the quality of the NPCs.
After visiting several places without finding a suitable one, Mourse thought whether her standards were too high, or if it was the influence of "the real world" not being interested in such places.
In any case, she was getting thirsty from browsing.
At the bar, she took out a sticky note, wrote a word on it, and handed it to the bartender.
"Miss, we don't sell milk here," the bartender said. "If you don't want to get drunk, you can choose low-alcohol drinks."
Mourse thought for a moment and wrote "soda water" on the note.
"I'm sorry, we don't have soda water."
Mourse raised her hand and pointed to the shaker next to the bartender.
"Soda water can be used in cocktails, but we don't provide it separately," the bartender raised an eyebrow. "Is this your first time at a bar?"
Mourse shook her head. She had visited many entertainment venues before when tracking targets for Zoldyck missions.
Another slightly tipsy customer sat at the bar and ordered a drink, so the bartender began preparing it for that customer. At the same time, he said to Mourse, "I can recommend a drink suitable for ladies."
Mourse turned her head away. The bartender didn't insist and focused on preparing the drink, pushing the finished drink towards the customer.
The bartender's forehead seemed to be touched by something, followed by the customer's displeased voice. The bartender looked down and saw a small rolled-up piece of paper in his glass. Before he could apologize to the customer, another paper ball hit the customer's face directly. The customer turned towards where the paper ball had been thrown, and the angry words were about to come out, but upon seeing that it was a beautiful woman, his anger turned into flirtatious teasing. "Are you trying to play a game with me?"
Mourse closed her fingers, formed another sticky note into a ball, and threw it into the customer's mouth before he could close it.
Immediately after, Mourse picked up the customer's drink and hit the customer's chin with it. The customer fell to the ground, making no sound. The bartender braced himself on the bar counter and leaned over to look at the customer on the ground. He saw no blood; the customer seemed to have just fainted.
The bartender let out a sigh of relief and looked at Mourse, who was placing the glass back on the counter. He smiled cautiously at her. "Would you like to try a drink mixed with fruit juice? It's low-alcohol and tastes like a beverage – my treat."
Mourse lowered her gaze and wiped the spilled alcohol from her hand with a tissue.
Although her gaze wasn't on the bartender, he inexplicably felt a deeper sense of danger. His fingers stiffened, and when he picked up the glass, his fingers slipped, almost making him drop it.
"Sloc," a hand with well-defined knuckles pressed on the bar counter. The newcomer hadn't sat down and was leaning lazily against the counter. "My treat."
"Apologies, sir." The bartender looked at Mourse, whose gaze shifted to him, further strengthening his resolve to finish his sentence. "This lady dislikes high-alcohol drinks."
"Sloke" was a high-alcohol cocktail with various strong liquors added, despite its sweet and sour beverage-like taste. The alcohol aroma was masked by the drink's flavor, making it difficult to detect.
"Is that so?" The newcomer chuckled in a low voice, his laughter carrying a strange tremor that sent shivers down the bartender's spine. "I thought this lady had the same taste as me. What a shame... Then, give me one."
As the bartender poured ice into the glass, Mourse wrote "What's your name?" on a sticky note and showed it to the newcomer.
"You want to know my name? Sure," the newcomer propped his chin with one hand. "My name is Bolly."
Aside from his hair color, eye color, and good-looking features, there wasn't much else that made him strongly resemble Hisoka. He didn't speak with strange intonations, wasn't wearing a clown outfit, didn't have playing cards in his hand, and his hair wasn't slicked back. It was said that "three people in the world look exactly alike." Perhaps it was a case of mistaken identity? And facial similarities were not uncommon in the two-dimensional world; different characters from various works could even resemble each other.
If it was a resemblance, it was actually a good thing. Mourse could accept a lower-tier Chrollo, and she could also accept a lower-tier Hisoka. In fact, a knock-off with lower risk would be safer to play with.
However, the name "Bolly" sounded very similar to "boiling" in this "Boiling Bar." Was it a coincidence?
If he had used a fake name, it was too careless.
Was this a test?
Mourse couldn't help but recall the common SMS scam tactics in the "real world," where they sent out low-level messages to a large number of people to filter out those less susceptible, thus saving resources, and then gradually approached the remaining vulnerable users.
Flipping the sticky note over, Mourse wrote: Got it. I won't call you by the wrong name in bed later.
She took the drink the bartender had just prepared and pushed the sticky note towards the newcomer.
"Oh?" The newcomer's lips curved slightly, a half-smile on his face.
The beverage flavor of this drink masked the alcohol, but Mourse still wasn't entirely accustomed to it, finishing it in several sips.
"Down on your luck in love?" The newcomer pointed to the side of his own neck.
The bartender looked at Mourse with sudden understanding, his movements lagging. He failed to see the red mark on Mourse's neck.
Mourse had already lowered her head to write a new sticky note. Her hair cascaded down, obscuring the bartender's view.
Only the newcomer could see the content of the sticky note Mourse handed him:
[Want to make a bet: I absolutely won't call your name in bed]
"Miss," the newcomer chuckled, his expression turning colder. "Are you of legal age?"
Mourse didn't quite understand what he meant, but the other party seemed to reject it. Mourse didn't want to waste any more effort trying to guess his thoughts. Compared to the battle-maniac Hisoka, she preferred Chrollo's type of pretty boy. So, she reached out to take the sticky note he was holding.
As he raised his arm, Mourse grabbed his wrist and felt a force incompatible with his slender appearance. His eyes widened slightly.
Bending his knuckles, he crumpled the sticky note into fragments. He leaned close to Mourse, and at this intimate distance, Mourse's nose twitched, detecting a faint scent of blood.
"I hope you can help me regain my interest..." His fingers threaded through Mourse's hair. "Don't blame me if you end up crying later."
"My name is Hisoka," he sneered, not specifying what he was mocking. "Don't get it wrong."
Hearing the name, Mourse instantly lost all interest.
Given Hisoka's character in the original work, with his battle lust outweighing his sexual desire and his unpredictable moods, the upcoming fight might very well be a real battle.
Flesh and blood flying, the kind that wanted to take your life.
She wasn't particularly in the mood for a fight right now.
"..." If that's the case, she'd slip away.