Abachi was a performer who joined the freak-show troupe right after the Moritonio Troupe fell apart.
She wasn't disabled or deformed. The only reason the freak-show outfit took her in was that their boss had been tight with Moritonio and knew she was a Nen user. Ability users were always the real moneymakers in a place like that—crowd-pleasers who could pull off something jaw-dropping every single night.
Abachi's specialty was her fishing rod. She could hook literally anything she wanted, and the audience ate it up. Next to the troupe leader's own act, hers was the one people talked about most.
The last time she'd performed in Gramglaslan with the Moritonio Troupe had been back when Moritonio and Hisoka were still around. After that show everything went to hell. The troupe disbanded, and the people she cared about most just… vanished.
So when Ryan Grasse's invitation landed in her hands this time, a bad feeling settled in her gut.
She stood on the rooftop, staring up at the scatter of stars, and pulled a crumpled old poster from her pocket. The face on it was the red-haired kid she used to know—now a young man.
The Magician, Hisoka.
He's alive. Thank God.
Abachi hesitated. She wanted to track him down and ask what happened to Moritonio, but she was terrified her worst fear would turn out to be true. Was she really ready for the answer?
She smoothed the poster, folded it back into a tight, wrinkled ball, and shoved it into her pocket. The knot in her chest felt just as crumpled.
With a quiet sigh she turned and left the rooftop.
She never noticed the eyes already watching her from the shadows.
Kurapika hadn't managed to set up a direct meeting with Ryan Grasse, but he had scored tickets to the freak-show performance. The event was being held right here in Gramglaslan, packed with big shots, and Ryan—as the host—would definitely be in the house. It was the best shot they had at getting close.
Their background check on Ryan had turned up almost nothing. In Gramglaslan the Grasse Clan was basically royalty; every scrap of information about them was locked down tight. You could still read between the lines, though. The family ran both the legal and illegal sides of the city. They kept up a slightly cleaner image than straight-up mobsters, but they were still gray at best.
That gray area made things tricky—especially for Kurapika.
For Ronin it was simpler. When he used the Mind Reading jutsu on one of the Grasse bodyguards, he pulled out plenty of dirty secrets. The Grasse Clan members weren't exactly saints. In Ronin's book they didn't deserve pity, but they weren't automatically worth killing either.
So his plan was straightforward: if Ryan refused to hand over the Scarlet Eyes, Ronin would just take them. The only question was whether Ryan would give up the location willingly or if Ronin would rip it straight out of his head.
"The number of ability users around here is higher than I expected," Kurapika muttered, still working the angles.
The captured bodyguard had been one. Ronin hadn't killed the guy—just knocked him out and read his memories. It might raise a small red flag, but it wouldn't set off every alarm in the clan.
"Pretty much every major nation has its own Nen training programs," Ronin said. "Kakin's got whole squads made up of nothing but ability users—like the one Prince Benjamin put together. Dozens of them in one unit. Who knows how many squads they actually have."
He shrugged. "Nen's kept away from the lower classes, but the elite treat it like any other weapon. The Grasse Clan has deep roots. They seized this whole city after they found the natural gas deposits. Training a few ability users to act as bodyguards for the family makes perfect sense. I'd bet Ryan's one himself. We'll find out what his ability does once we meet him."
Kurapika nodded, mentally bumping Kakin's threat level up another notch. "Still, the real top-tier ability users are rare."
"Exactly," Ronin added. "The ones you really have to watch are the weird specialists—especially Manipulators and Conjurers. Their abilities almost always come with rules. Step into their conditions without realizing it and suddenly you're dancing to their tune. Game over before you even know the fight changed."
That was the part of Nen battles that kept even the strongest fighters on edge. No matter how powerful you were, the right combination of abilities and intel could flip the script in a heartbeat. Just look at the Chimera Ant war—Morel, Knuckle, and Meleoron working together turned a simple trap into a guaranteed kill.
For Ronin, the only Troupe members he actually had to stay sharp against were Chrollo's unknown stolen abilities in Skill Hunter and Shalnark's antenna control. Everyone else—even Pakunoda and a wounded Feitan—was manageable.
Kurapika gave a short nod. "Got it."
The freak show ran from eight to eleven, so the four of them left the hotel at seven and headed straight for the Gramglaslan Theater. It was inside the city's biggest hotel, but they were only using the smaller auditorium that seated about a thousand.
They filed in with the crowd. On the central stage a clown in heavy makeup was already riding a unicycle, working the room. The atmosphere was lively, but Ronin's group kept their eyes locked on one of the VIP boxes.
A middle-aged man with short brown hair sat there, cigar clamped between his teeth, radiating that low-level thug energy. He watched the stage with open anticipation.
Ryan Grasse.