Chapter 12

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Illumi’s already mechanical voice came through the phone even colder and more rigid, yet Hisoka could detect a spark of genuine enthusiasm beneath it. When he talked about his little brother Killua, it was like a wind-up robot suddenly gained a soundtrack—every gesture turning into a dance.

“Sounds like you’re the one on the verge of tears, more than your mom crying from emotion.”

Illumi went quiet on the other end. Hisoka could almost picture him pondering seriously before retorting firmly, “No way. I haven’t cried since I was little.”

Hisoka raised an eyebrow. “Really? Not even at birth? Were you a normal baby?”

“Ah, if you’re talking that far back, I wouldn’t know.” Illumi paused. “But Allu doesn’t cry much. I’m probably the same.”

Hisoka burst out laughing—three sentences in, and it was back to Killua. He seriously wondered if the other Zoldyck brothers were even blood-related.

“So, what’s up, Illu?” Hisoka tried steering the conversation again.

“Aren’t you the one who said to call even if it’s nothing?” Illumi countered.

That caught Hisoka off guard. He knew Illumi was a man of his word, but treating what sounded like a joke so seriously? Troublesome—stirring reactions he shouldn’t have. Hisoka gripped the phone tighter, pulling it away from his heavy breaths, shifting to a more comfortable position.

Before he could savor the moment, Illumi’s voice drifted in faintly. “But you’re right—I do have something.”

Crack—something in Hisoka snapped. “Oh, to gush about how perfect your brother is?”

Illumi’s words cut over him. “Actually, Mother wants me to bring Allu home soon. I just checked his whereabouts—he’s heading to the Hunter Exam. You mentioned wanting a Hunter License too, right? What a great coincidence. I’m going as well.”

Hisoka hummed in acknowledgment.

“Where are you now?” Illumi switched topics abruptly.

“Heavens Arena.”

“Open the door.”

Hisoka grinned, rising to let Illumi in, scanning him head to toe like a rare artifact. “Still using zetsu? With our relationship?”

“Ah, habit. Wouldn’t want to disturb the other floors.” Illumi settled familiarly on the living room sofa, his gaze questioning why Hisoka was still standing.

“When did you figure it out?” Hisoka asked, fingering his freshly changed earring.

“Hmm?” Illumi blinked, then pulled out the three of spades Hisoka had given him at least thrice. “Oh, the floor card. Not hard. Didn’t suspect at first, but after you swapped the core, I noticed. Had Milluki check—easy to trace the access system. You didn’t need to go through all that trouble; I’d have taken it straight-up. Otherwise, like this time, I nearly tossed it as trash a few times.”

“Liar.” Hisoka skipped the opposite seat, plopping right beside Illumi, who subtly scooted to the edge without standing.

Hisoka handed over a key. Illumi stared, as if verifying his earlier words, before pocketing it with the card. Hisoka kept chin-propped, appraising him.

“Not asking where it’s for?” Hisoka teased.

“Heavens Arena rooms have code locks and keyholes—for staff, probably. Not here. From your public records and recent haunts, Yorknew’s most likely.”

“Ah—” Hisoka flopped back, stretching dramatically, whining, “No mystery left in me. Take responsibility, Illu.”

Illumi thought, But I still can’t figure out what you’re after, shifting topics. “Hunter Exam—want to team up?”

“Illu,” Hisoka straightened, eyes narrowing. “You can be direct with me.”

Illumi pursed his lips, blinking. “Heard you joined the Phantom Troupe.”

“Yep. After flunking last year’s exam, got annoyed and played with a member—backfired spectacularly.”

“Because you want to fight Kuroro.”

Illumi hit the nail on the head; Hisoka clutched his chest in mock agony, shooting pitiful glances. “I know you dealt with Kuroro—don’t tell him.”

“Won’t.” Illumi shook his head. “Kuroro won’t suspect you anyway. But if you want hush money, I won’t mind.”

After silence, Illumi spoke. “Just warning you—don’t capsize in the gutter.” His delivery was stiff, lashes fluttering faster than usual. As Hisoka leaned in, he bolted up, striding to the door. “That’s it. See you at the exam.” Slam.

Hisoka froze, infected by the stiffness, before savoring with a lip-lick. “Ah, what to do? Really can’t hold back anymore. Is Illu doing this on purpose?”

An hour later, back at Kukuroo, Illumi got Hisoka’s text: Cooperation sounds fun, with a smiley and his signature mark. But the following fifty million jenny transfer left him speechless—had Hisoka gone dumb, missing the joke? Fine, more pocket change. Illumi mentally noted a new side hustle.

“This job’s unique. I want to see your Hunter License first, then details.”

Illumi sat with his new client in a secluded bar corner. No qualms about the request; he just stressed, “Fine. But 30% upfront.”

The client obliged, phone out—instant ding on Illumi’s.

Deal sealed, Illumi upped the service. “Any other requirements?”

“None. Just soon.” The client downed his Scotch like water.

“Noted. But quickest is two months post-exam.”

“No issue.” Standing, they shook. “Eager for results.” He left, covering the tab plus tip.

Illumi stared after him, brows faintly creased. No specifics, license needed, bonus on outcome, 30% of base yielding two billion jenny… He’d never had such an enigmatic gig. The client felt off too—no eye contact, no disguise detected.

This oddity came via a trusted regular, with triple assurances and a hundred million guarantee. Illumi vetted Lexy Dolublin: clean on assassin hires, solid banking cred—no default risk. Target: single kill, identity “special” but non-nen; license precautionary.

Risky, but instinct said payoff matched. Occasionally tackling challenges like Hisoka? Nice change. Ah—sudden thought: rope in Hisoka. He’d bite, boosting success big time.

When Illumi mentioned it, Hisoka was showering. Water rushed through the speaker, mingled with oddly ragged breaths.

“Hisoka, what are you doing?” Illumi’s calm voice echoed from the speaker; Hisoka nudged the phone farther.

After cooling the water, Hisoka rasped, “As you see—showering. If urgent, spit it out quick.”

“Fine. Got a job you’d like.” Illumi dropped the probe, diving in. “Pre-exam, let’s meet.”

“OK.” Unusually curt.

Illumi waited; no elaboration. Sensing disinterest, he rambled the client chat for persuasion.

“Hmm? Still there, Illu?” Hisoka finally stepped out, towel-draped head eyeing the active call, chuckling lightly. “Did you say something?”

Illumi hung up wordlessly. Hisoka blinked innocently—he’d zoned out, only registering Illumi’s ongoing chatter. Something about a job needing help; rest blurred.

Sigh—Illu mad again. Hisoka wrapped a towel loosely, sinking into the sofa, staring at the beeping phone. After hesitation, he set it down, resignedly drying off.

Illumi zoned on the incoming call display. Those forty minutes, courtesy of sharp hearing, he’d caught every explicit shower sound. Terrifyingly, no urge to hang—even for a second. Only Hisoka’s words snapped him, fumbling to end it.

Weird. Illumi adjusted his collar—normal male urges; he’d had few, but not enough to eavesdrop entranced. He let the phone ring ten minutes, ignoring the hot potato.

Ah—they hadn’t set a meet spot. Sudden realization: he’d waited for Hisoka’s response. Explained everything.

Relieved, Illumi clapped his hands, texting proactively. But Hisoka called instead; Illumi’s finger slipped, hanging up.

Next time, he swore—no shaky hands. But only a text arrived: Heavens Arena, with a plea and emoji—don’t be mad.

Illumi’s lips twitched upward, barely.