57 Confrontation? X Takes Responsibility? X... Confession?!

To be fair, if one were to disregard appearances, this man truly embodied the aesthetic ideal of the Zoldyck family. His tall frame was adorned with fluid, powerful muscles. Whether it was his broad, yet not overly bulky chest, his well-toned but not knotted arms, his lean and flexible waist, or his straight legs brimming with latent strength—all attested to the fact that this body, with its perfect proportions, had undergone equally perfect training and development. Every ounce of his natural potential had been drawn out, nothing wasted of his innate gifts.

As for the bizarre and unusual attire he wore, it hardly factored into the Zoldycks’ appraisal; after all, within this family… The great-great-grandfather himself was an eccentric, the grandfather favored calligraphy pinned to his chest, the father was a long-haired muscle man, the mother sported cybernetic eyes and bandages, the eldest son’s tastes were no less peculiar than this intruder’s (one need only recall his alien nail-faced disguises), the second son was a shut-in obsessed with the internet and anime figurines, the third son’s style now seemed the most conventional, and as for the youngest…

Well, the mother’s preferences may not reflect Kurt’s own taste, but the glaringly red kimono he wore was proof enough—more telling than any abstract notion of “preference.”

So, in sum, from physique to fashion, the newcomer had not triggered any of the Zoldycks’ taboos. As for that face—nearly obscured by clown makeup and difficult to discern beneath its garish mask—even Silva had to admit: in certain situations—such as now, where a touch of blood smudged the painted visage, and excitement and fervor animated his features—such a “boldly painted” face could be quite to his liking.

Especially those slender golden eyes, burning with violence and the thrill of battle, set off by the white face with its vibrant stars and teardrop designs, the blood spatters on his cheeks, and the blackened, dried stains on his collar—could there be a more fitting combination?

Yes, indeed.

Through the Zoldycks’ discerning gaze, the red-haired man who barged into the banquet hall was, in terms of appearance, not odd at all—in fact, he was a rare and outstanding specimen! (Silva, do you still question Illumi’s taste in friends after this?)

However, no matter how impressive the intruder, his previous arrogance could not be overlooked. Having been attacked in their own home, even the smallest crime family would not simply sit and appreciate his looks at this point.

Though Silva had remained silent, from the moment Hisoka entered the hall, a terrifying aura of Nen had erupted from him. If Maha had not also enveloped the table in his own Nen, shielding the area, someone like Killua, who had not yet awakened his Nen, might have already crumbled under the pressure.

Still, Silva had not taken action, merely exerted his aura—leaving Hisoka some margin for maneuver. Whether this was out of appreciation for Hisoka himself, or because of something he said earlier, remained to be seen.

When the overwhelming pressure from Silva’s Nen swept over him, the red-haired man’s eyes, which had only glimmered before, now deepened suddenly into a blazing gold, matching the surge of his own Nen. Excitement and madness began to flicker in his gaze.

A wide grin stretched across his lips. His killing intent and Nen radiated in every direction. Clearly, Silva’s strength had utterly awakened the battle lust inside him, sending him into a frenzy that made one’s skin crawl.

Yet, as both sides’ Nen pressure intensified and a clash seemed inevitable, the red-haired intruder abruptly closed his eyes and reined in his aura.

“Oh my, that was close—almost forgot I didn’t come here just for a fight.”

He said this nonchalantly, wearing a relaxed smile as he calmly took two steps forward through Silva’s unrelenting Nen. Among the faces at the table, his gaze immediately found the person who had occupied every corner of his mind since he first heard the rumor—

“Illumi! I came to play with you!”

***

Kurama suddenly felt an urge to laugh.

Though he knew it was terribly inappropriate—how could he possibly find this moment amusing, at such a serious time?—he couldn’t help himself.

Forgive me =v=

He was laughing again…

Covering his face, the fox spirit swore he truly didn’t mean to—but what else could he do? How was he supposed to connect Hisoka’s greeting with the word “serious”?

Watching the red-haired magician not far away, waving lightly and grinning at Illumi, Kurama’s lips twitched, but he couldn’t suppress the smile that formed—a subtle, involuntary curve.

Hisoka truly was a character—in every sense.

It had been a very solemn occasion.

He had single-handedly fought his way up Kukuroo Mountain, defeating countless butlers of various ranks. Although he wasn’t entirely unscathed, he’d handled it all with apparent ease. He’d then brazenly smashed his way through a window and, just moments ago, stood facing off against the Zoldyck patriarch in a contest of Nen. Nothing about this bespoke a friendly or harmonious atmosphere.

And yet, in the very next moment, he could smile and call out to Illumi, “I came to play with you,” as though everything that had happened before was nothing more than child’s play.

How shameless must one be to do something so audacious?

Or perhaps, how cunning must he be, to so deftly shift his role from an illegal intruder and enemy to that of an uninvited but capricious “guest”?

Kurama stroked his chin, exchanging a meaningful glance with Mokona, who had leaped into his arms the moment Hisoka arrived. Both of them wore knowing expressions.

As for Hisoka’s antics—or was it a plea for help?—Illumi didn’t even bother to lift his eyelids.

“I don’t recall inviting you as a guest.”

Setting down his utensils calmly, Illumi raised his eyes, his face expressionless as he looked at the smiling redhead.

“Hisoka.”

His thin lips parted; for the first time since Hisoka’s intrusion, Illumi addressed him by name. But within that single utterance, so much was concealed that, even under Silva’s Nen, the ever-composed Hisoka’s trademark sugary smile stiffened momentarily.

But the magician recovered quickly, his expression shifting to one of exaggerated grievance.

“You’re bullying me again, Illumi! Does that mean you’re not welcoming me?”

“That’s right.”

“…What.”

Illumi’s crisp reply killed off whatever Hisoka had meant to say. Indeed, the magician’s face showed rare shock and utter defeat. Kurama could wager that not even when his duel with Chrollo backfired had Hisoka’s expression been so vivid—and so exasperated.

Subtly glancing at Illumi, a vague thought flickered through Kurama’s mind, but before he could grasp it, Hisoka had already bounced back, wearing his trademark rakish grin.

“It wounds me deeply to hear you say that, Illumi,” he said with a smile, yet his tone was uncharacteristically earnest and carried an icy menace. “Because, as I just said, if I didn’t come… you’d belong to someone else, wouldn’t you?”

He paused, seeing that Illumi had no intention of replying; Hisoka’s smile grew even more radiant, but the murderous aura around him intensified.

“Or are you saying… you’re serious this time?”

“So what if I am?”

With these words, Illumi, for the first time since Hisoka’s arrival, met his gaze head-on.

In that instant, a fierce flame flared in Hisoka’s golden eyes, nearly scorching Illumi’s vision.

“Oh-ho-ho~ That won’t do at all,” the magician laughed softly, though his expression was chilling and grim.

“Because you, Illumi, have to take responsibility for me, don’t you?”

At this, the atmosphere in the hall shifted once more.

After Illumi had spoken, the Zoldycks had been mainly curious and gossipy—even Maha and Zeno. But with Hisoka’s words, everyone was instantly startled—clearly thunderstruck.

Responsibility, indeed…

Illumi certainly seemed more honorable than this red-haired interloper! If anyone should be held accountable, shouldn’t it be the other way around? And besides—they were both men; what sort of “responsibility” was this? Could it be… Illumi was the dominant one?

Well, even among assassins, gossip knows no bounds. The family elders cared about Illumi’s love life, and the younger brothers wondered if he’d ever bring home a proper sister-in-law. Otherwise, Kurama’s prior arrival wouldn’t have been so readily accepted—Illumi was already twenty-four; at Silva’s age, Miluki had already been born!

The Zoldycks were not proponents of late marriage or delayed childbearing. Illumi’s single status was a concern for everyone; if he found happiness, even with a man, they would support it!

Still, to go from the refined Kurama to the… uniquely mannered Hisoka was quite a leap. It had to be said, Kurama’s temperament had certainly won the family over.

But of course, now was not the time to debate such matters.

So… had they all misunderstood? Was Kurama merely a friend, and Illumi’s partner someone else entirely?

Such speculation caused everyone’s gaze toward Hisoka to shift noticeably.

But Illumi’s next words froze the room again.

“Responsibility?” he repeated, as if he’d heard a joke. A rare, sardonic smile touched his lips. “Hisoka, do you expect everyone who ‘almost slept with you’ to take responsibility? If so, how many times would you have bothered the Hunter Association?”

Marriages, divorces, reconciliations—wasn’t that more trouble than it was worth?

Hisoka was momentarily taken aback by Illumi’s rare sarcasm, but this exchange also confirmed that something had indeed happened between them.

And so, in full view of the astonished Zoldycks, the red-haired magician narrowed his eyes and smiled sweetly.

“I only want you to take responsibility, Illumi.”

“Tch tch—don’t try to provoke me again; you know my patience is limited.”

“Ever since the first time I wanted to be with you, I’ve been troubled. Clearly, we’re just compatible friends, so why have I become so obsessed with getting you into bed?”

“At first, I could tell myself I just wanted to try it with you. But as time went on, I had to wonder.”

“Why is it you?”

He smiled, eyes narrowing, as if pleased with something only he could see.

Author’s note: Surprised by the Zoldycks’ reactions? I spent a long time imagining what would be both reasonable and unexpected for Silva and the others given their family’s eccentricities. Eventually, I realized their unique tastes are part of their genetic legacy, leading to this development. Does it seem plausible to you?

Illumi’s response is also rather intriguing, isn’t it? Maybe Kurama’s suspicions aren’t far off—perhaps the eldest brother had foreseen some of this? Only the parties involved know the truth…

Coming up: a certain pair about to become (perhaps) intimately acquainted—

Oh, Hisoka, your actions and expressions—what exactly are you planning in the study, of all places?

Next chapter preview: Confirming x the Invitation x Alluka. How will Illumi respond to Hisoka’s “confession”? Will a true relationship be established between them? And how will the rest of the Zoldycks react? After the banquet, Mokona unexpectedly brings up Alluka to Kurama—what could this mean? Stay tuned for the next chapter: “The Demon Fox Kurama—Confirming x the Invitation x Alluka!”

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