❛ Look After You. Chrollo Lucilfer

viii. you save everyone, yet who saves you?

Keiko gasped awake, her body's natural instinct urging her to rise after the trauma her neck had just faced, but she found herself trapped. Barely visible strings held her tight, securing her in place with an unyielding grip. She struggled in vain, the fine threads digging into her skin, preventing any escape.

"You're awake," Chrollo said, his tone neutral. Her head snapped in his direction, already glaring daggers, and if looks could kill, Chrollo would be six feet underground right now. "I hope you understand that this is necessary. We need answers, and you, sweetheart, just might be the only one who can provide them." His calm demeanor only fueled her anger, but she knew any attempt to lash out would be futile against the invisible strings that bound her.

"And you expect me to provide you with answers right after snapping my neck?" Keiko chuckled, sarcasm dripping from her tone. "Go to hell, Chrollo."

As if in response to her defiance, the strings wrapped around Keiko's body tightened, making her wince as they drew blood. Using Gyo, her eyes trailed the source of the strings to a familiar pinkette, Machi, the female who accompanied the samurai. She was one of the two who Keiko, Killua, and Gon had been quasi-stalking. Machi's glare was icy, and her nen threads glowed faintly, a clear warning to Keiko.

And during so, Keiko had managed to scan her surroundings, assuming that this was their hideout. The Phantom Troupe's base was a dimly lit, abandoned, cavernous space, its walls lined with multiple wooden boxes which stored various stolen artifacts and treasures that shimmered ominously in the sparse light. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and faint traces of metal, mingling with an undercurrent of something darker, more sinister.

Around the room, members of the Phantom Troupe moved with an air of casual menace. Feitan, with his dark eyes and perpetual scowl, sharpened his blade methodically, his movements precise and deadly. Shizuku, seemingly indifferent to the tension, casually cleaned her vacuum, her glasses reflecting the dim light. Nobunaga sat cross-legged on the floor, his katana resting across his knees, a picture of deceptive calm. Nearby, Franklin's hulking form was hunched while he sat on a large piece of rock, his fingers flexing as if itching for action. And Pakunoda, with her piercing gaze, observed Keiko closely, her expression unreadable.

In the midst of them all, Chrollo stood, his presence commanding and enigmatic. His dark eyes locked onto Keiko's who now managed to sit up against a large piece of rubble, a hint of curiosity mingling with the cold detachment in his gaze.

"Oh? And might she be your lover, Chrollo? Should I fancy making her my next meal?" Keiko looked at Machi then sniffed the air, a sly smirk forming right after. "Ah, type O. Just my favourite."

Chrollo raised an amused brow, "Jealousy's certainly a good look on you, sweetheart."

Keiko tilted her head back, meeting Chrollo's gaze. The nen strings of Machi, like invisible chains, held her tightly, making her every movement a struggle. "You insult me if that is what you think this is about."

"Well, after spending a few days with you, I can begin to think so."

Keiko's expression remained resolute. "Never once have I shown an ounce of jealousy during my time with you, Chrollo. Perhaps you mistake me with your lover over there."

"Shall I tell the story of how we met? How we shared that one intimate night?" Chrollo only scoffed at Keiko's words, "She isn't my lover, Keiko. You were the first to ever even receive a dot of my interest in terms of love."

"But yet you ended everything between us in an instant right after snapping my neck—no hesitation, no remorse."

Chrollo's lips curved into a thin, detached smile. "In this world, attachments are liabilities. You should have known that."