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虚拟主播, 收藏到 CHAPTER 005

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虚拟主播, 收藏到 CHAPTER 005.
V. THE MEETING . ( 🈡 ) 深配の

As the Phantom Troupe's dimly-lit meeting buzzed with subdued menace, the tension was suddenly split open—like glass cracking under pressure—by an unexpected crash.

"That absolute brat," Fei growled under her breath, irritation radiating off her like heat. "I told you she'd screw it all up. Let's just go, Phia. Whatever happens next, she earned it—" Fei turned on her heel, voice trailing off like smoke.

But before she could even complete a dramatic exit, Phia and Paku already jumped through the shattered window, diving straight into danger like it was a goddamn team-building exercise.

Fei blinked once, cursed under her breath, and begrudgingly followed. "You too? Ugh. Fine. Whatever. I hate all of you." They landed hard and fast, fists clenched, eyes blazing, forming a protective wall around Gina who lay dazed and probably regretting everything while the original Phantom Troupe stared in stunned confusion. The silence in the room turned sharp.

Muscles tensed. Nen flickered. The Troupe looked ready to strike, but something about these strangers... something was off. The style. The aura. The energy. They looked eerily familiar—like someone had hit "shuffle" on the Phantom Troupe playlist.

Chrollo stepped forward, his gaze unreadable, voice smooth as ice and twice as dangerous. "Now this is interesting. Intruders, hmm? Who sent you? What do you want?"

Phia didn't miss a beat. She smirked like the devil had just given her the mic. "Why? You planning on sending us a thank-you card?" Every member of the Troupe bristled at her tone. Sarcastic. Disrespectful. The kind of voice that made you want to rearrange someone's bones. Phinks, in particular, looked two seconds from cracking knuckles—and skulls.

But Paku caught the shift in the room. He gave a subtle signal to Fei and Phia—an almost imperceptible nod that said: chill out. Just for now.

They weren't surrendering. Not really.

Just buying time... and maybe a little karma for Gina's nosedive.

When the stakes hit the ceiling and all cards were on the table, Paku stepped forward like a ringmaster about to tame lions—or in this case, his feral girls. His expression was calm, almost mournful, but his voice? Pure sweet, calculated, and smooth enough to make even a knife feel like a lullaby.

"My dazzling girls," he purred, his tone dipping into something dangerously soft, "how about we all take a nice, deep breath... and gift these lovely people a taste of our obedience, hmm?"

The girls looked like they'd been told to swallow glass. Especially Phia, who exploded with disbelief like a firecracker in a quiet church.

"Surrender? Are you actually out of your damn mind?" she snapped, practically foaming at the mouth. But Paku didn't flinch—just gave her that pointed, practiced glance only an exhausted older brother or a very persuasive cult leader could master. She grumbled, hissed under her breath, and finally relented with a melodramatic sigh that screamed "I'm doing this under protest."

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐋 | c. lucilfer, the phantom troupeWhere stories live. Discover now