Warning X Interest X The President Arrives

They were a pair of unusually tranquil emerald eyes.

Unlike most adults, whose eyes gradually become clouded and yellowed over time, tainted by fine particles and dust in the air, the gaze that Kuroro met was astonishingly clear. The irises were limpid, the pupils distinct—a shade of green so pure, like the first tender shoots of early spring, possessing a purity and clarity beyond imagination, reminiscent of a newborn’s enviable brilliance and translucence.

Long, thick lashes framed those green eyes, like twin wings, shielding them in each gentle flutter.

Yet within those eyes, Kuroro found no trace of emotion—only a silence, calm and deep, like the surface of the sea under a quiet night sky.

The thief leader felt his heart suddenly sink.

Even at the beginning of their acquaintance, no matter how practiced and composed Kurama was, Kuroro could still discern subtle shifts in his eyes and expressions—fleeting moments of contemplation or doubt.

But now…

When he raised his eyes once more to meet the emerald gaze of the fox spirit, Kuroro realized he could no longer find the slightest trace of emotion within. His brow furrowed, and in that instant, he recalled the words of concern spoken to him by Shizuku in the tunnel—those fears of being forgotten.

Could it be… that her words had come true?

Kuroro was taken aback, though he did not truly believe it.

Yet at that very moment—just as he was about to avert his gaze—a distinct hint of laughter flashed from those green eyes.

Kurama was smiling.

His brows arched, lips curved, and in those emerald depths rippled rings of delight, as clear as the surface of a tranquil pond.

“Well? How do you like… the belated gift I’ve given you all?”

Though they were separated by a considerable distance, with other examinees scattered between them, the fox spirit’s lips moved almost imperceptibly, and this low, whispered phrase reached Kuroro’s ears with uncanny clarity.

Kuroro’s midnight-dark pupils contracted sharply.

Narrowing his eyes, he gazed with keen intensity at the smiling red-haired youth.

This time, however, Kurama did not return his gaze.

Turning away, the fox spirit’s mood seemed unusually bright as he flashed a radiant smile at Hisoka, who watched with an amused expression.

“I didn’t do anything at all,” he said lightly.

“Except… I happened to send them a ‘wonderful’ gift.”

Yes, quite… “wonderful.”

The “gift” Kurama referred to was a demonic plant easily mistaken for a poisonous mushroom.

Even in the demon world, this plant had no official name, as its effects had initially gone unnoticed and unvalued by the denizens. It once flourished abundantly throughout the demon realm, harmless to demons, but for the beasts sharing that world, it was the harbinger of a nightmare.

It possessed a deadly allure for animals, drawing them irresistibly close. Yet, at the same time, it induced terrifying effects—triggering heat, inciting rage, destroying reason, awakening bloodlust…

And so on.

Depending on the species, the plant’s influence varied, but the result was always catastrophic: the regions where these “mushrooms” grew would eventually be ravaged by wild beast rampages, left desolate and barren.

The devastation was so stark, it was hard to believe that vibrant life had once thrived there.

At first, demons regarded these nameless mushrooms with a measure of wariness, but never as a serious threat. It wasn’t until an entire minor faction in the West was nearly wiped out by a beast tide induced by these plants that the issue was truly acknowledged.

Imagine it: dozens, even hundreds of demon beasts in a frenzy, attacking indiscriminately—no matter what triggered their madness—even the hardy demons could not withstand such an onslaught.

Yet, with their straightforward natures, the demons’ solution was simply to band together, send out teams to scour the realm, and destroy the plants wherever found. Before Kurama appeared, no one had realized the plant could actually be used.

Thus, it fell to our fox spirit, the prince of peerless gems.

By Kurama’s era, such mushrooms were nearly extinct in the demon realm—either eradicated by demons or hidden deep in remote, forsaken forests. The few seeds Kurama possessed had been found by chance in a secluded valley, carefully gathered and cultivated through his own research.

Therefore, even for a fox spirit capable of manipulating most plants, these mushrooms were exceptionally precious.

And today, Kurama chose to use them—merely to give Shizuku and Kuroro a “small” warning.

In truth, Kurama took advantage of Kuroro’s relaxation. From their first meeting, Kurama had seemed rational and cautious, not the type to act rashly against Kuroro and Shizuku.

But Kuroro did not know that Kurama’s restraint was not due to any real concern; he was simply waiting—for the opportune moment.

Clearly, in Kurama’s mind, the second rally in the Zumelo Wetlands was the perfect chance. As soon as they entered the mist, Kurama used the ubiquitous dandelions to scatter finely milled plant powder onto the two spiders.

Among the powder was a potent hallucinogenic essence, capable of causing even one as powerful as Kuroro to momentarily lose focus and misjudge direction, separating from the examiner, losing the group, or running off course—and then…

Ta-da~! It was time for the mushroom powder to take effect!

This processed powder had a unique trait known only to its creator: the beasts drawn by its scent were always the strongest in the area.

So one can imagine, in the so-called monster paradise of Zumelo Wetlands, what sort of “wonderful” encounter awaited Kuroro and Shizuku, now marked by the fox spirit’s secret powder.

Even a powerhouse like Kuroro, facing a horde of berserk beasts with their attributes randomly boosted by 200% to 500%, would find no advantage—especially with Shizuku, a non-combatant, at his side. The troupe’s strategist had some skill, but was no match for the battle-hardened members.

Thus, when Kurama prepared this “gift,” he already anticipated the pair’s embarrassing fate.

And now, it seemed the result was even better than expected.

The fox spirit’s lips curved into another smile.

He had no intention of taking Shizuku and Kuroro’s lives.

As he had said, this was only a minor warning: “Do not approach, do not covet, do not scheme.”

A year ago, Kurama had the power to slip away from Shizuku unnoticed and foil him; now, he could plunge Kuroro and Shizuku into “accident” without warning.

If he wished, he could easily end their lives—whether or not that was true, Kurama intended to instill such a belief in Kuroro and Shizuku through this warning.

And now, though not entirely successful, it was likely that for some time to come, those two would not dare approach again.

For Kurama, that sufficed.

Through the messages carried by the dandelions, Gon was already drawing near. The fox spirit narrowed his eyes, focusing on his next move.

***

Gon finally arrived with Kurapika, making it just in time to qualify for the exam.

As Kurama expected, their late arrival drew the attention of most, and Kuroro noted the oddity in Kurapika’s attire.

The thief leader merely glanced at the outfit, and once he confirmed it was simply a ridiculous coincidence—no member of the Kuruta clan would ever wear such a thing—he turned away, utterly uninterested.

Kurama and Mokona snickered quietly together.

The little creature was well aware that Kuroro and Shizuku seemed to be scheming against him, and seeing them stumble brought him joy.

“They say Mokona belongs to Kurama! They won’t even pay gold—what kind of people are they!” the white fluff proudly declared.

Kurama pressed and kneaded Mokona’s soft belly.

“Exactly! Mokona is my treasure, and belongs to no one else!”

Their sticky, affectionate display drew odd looks from Illumi and Hisoka, who watched as bystanders.

The red-haired clown stared at Kurama for a while, then suddenly remarked, “I think I’ve been mistaken about you all along.”

Kurama gave him a confused glance, sensing he’d been labeled with something unfortunate.

But before he could ask, with a dull thud, the wooden cabin door swung open from within, and the examiners for the second round—Menchi and Buhara—appeared before the candidates.

***

When it came to cooking, Kurama was quite confident.

In fact, he had considered winning outright in this round, passing the exam alone.

But on one hand, he took Gon into account; on the other, he knew that if he did so, a certain someone might not show up later, and the scene he hoped for might never occur. So after hunting and roasting a wild boar for Buhara, Kurama simply forfeited Menchi’s exam.

While the other candidates struggled with sushi, he and Mokona had already found a spot by the stream and happily began their picnic.

Drawn by the aroma, Buhara watched Kurama’s freshly grilled meat skewers with longing, while Menchi’s nose flared in outrage—such skill wasted on barbecue, not sushi? Was this deliberate?

The queen’s wrath echoed across the fields (wait—is this phrasing alright?), and the gourmet hunter, stomach stuffed with bad food, finally lost her patience, declaring all candidates failed—come back next year!

This infuriated the others, making the atmosphere tense and brittle.

Satots, lingering nearby either to watch the spectacle or expecting Menchi’s unreliability and ready to clean up, saw things go awry and swiftly contacted the chairman.

Thus, minutes later, an airship approached from afar.

The chairman made his entrance as in the original story.

Leaping down from hundreds of meters without aid, and most impressively, not leaving a single crater in the soft earth of the forest, the trendily dressed old man landed, quickly made Menchi admit her mistake, and turned to announce the outcome and soothe the candidates. Suddenly, his eyes flashed…

“Oh? What a rare guest indeed.”

He smiled amiably, but the surge of aura from his body was anything but friendly…