The cold morning air carried the faint scent of pine and mountain dust. Liam turned to look at Machi, his shoes crunching softly against the gravel of the driveway. "Why exactly are you trying to follow me instead of your new head chef?" he asked, crossing his arms. "I am definitely not in the business of teaching you how to earn a one-star Gourmet Hunter license."
Machi stood perfectly still, her arms folded tightly over her chest. She watched him with those flat, diamond-hard eyes of hers. She didn't look like a dangerous criminal who had just been diplomatically expelled from the premises. Instead, she looked entirely unbothered, like a commuter waiting for a bus she already knew was running late.
The reality of her situation was bound by a strict Nen contract. Among the three rigid conditions Menchi had hammered into a vow and effectively forced onto Machi like a heavy iron pan to the skull, the first was absolute. Machi had to serve as Menchi's culinary apprentice until she successfully qualified as a one-star Gourmet Hunter.
Menchi didn't even have her own single star yet. But Menchi possessed the kind of bone-deep, unshakable confidence native to people who fully intended to win, so she was already planning three steps ahead. She had set Machi's chef qualifications as the baseline, cleverly structuring her own professional advancement right on top of it. The underlying logic was simple. One of the official Association requirements for advancing from a one-star to a two-star Gourmet Hunter was to personally train a junior student to the one-star level in that exact same field.
In other words, Menchi had designed the binding contract so that the moment Machi became a one-star Hunter, Menchi would automatically be upgraded to a two-star. It wasn't exactly a subtle plan. In fact, it was probably the least subtle scheme Liam had witnessed since arriving in this world, and considering everything he had seen, that was really saying something.
Machi's cold expression didn't shift a fraction of an inch. "Do you honestly think the Phantom Troupe will not come looking for you again?" she asked, her tone completely even. "With me staying here, I could at least explain the situation to them when they arrive."
Liam offered a smile. It was the kind of polite, empty smile that didn't reach anywhere near his eyes. "Explain what, exactly? Are you going to tell them I am simply too small a fish to bother with, so they should please stop trying to kill me? At that point, I might as well just offer them my neck right now and save everyone the long commute."
Beside him, Shizuku tilted her head, her dark hair shifting over her shoulder. "Machi, didn't you say the Troupe always puts the survival of the organization first? That the members do not let personal feelings push them into irrational, self-destructive decisions?"
"Not everyone follows the rules all the time," Machi replied, her voice remaining perfectly calm. "And most of the members have already been heavily restricted by Kurapika's abilities. They are not officially Troupe members anymore. Since they are no longer Spiders, the core rules no longer apply to them."
Kurapika stepped forward, his boots scuffing the pavement. "You are not a Spider anymore, either," he stated. His voice was flat, carrying a heavy, final weight. "You are not welcome here. Please leave with Menchi."
Machi shifted her gaze to him. The look she gave him said absolutely nothing on the surface, yet managed to imply everything.
Kurapika met her stare without blinking. "Let us be completely accurate about this. You are not trying to stay here to shield anyone from Troupe retaliation. You want to stay to observe Liam, Shizuku, and me. You want to build a psychological and tactical profile on us. Do not embarrass yourself by pretending otherwise."
He raised one hand, gesturing toward the heavy off-road vehicle idling in the driveway. It had just been pulled out of the underground garage beneath Battera Castle. Captain Sabazushi was holding the driver's side door open, waiting patiently. Bisky, for her part, was already herding Menchi toward the passenger doors with the focused, irritable energy of someone who considered standing still to be a massive waste of everyone's time.
Just before Menchi could climb into the back seat, Liam reached out and caught the fabric of her sleeve.
"What is it?" Menchi dropped her voice to a harsh whisper immediately. She read the serious look on his face and correctly assumed he was about to do something he didn't want the others overhearing.
"Think of a part of your body that is usually covered," Liam said, keeping his own voice pitched low over the rumble of the car engine. "Something that stays completely covered during your normal training. A spot that doesn't easily get bumped or scraped. Point me to one."
Menchi blinked at him, thoroughly confused. Then, a look of deep suspicion crossed her face, and she planted both hands firmly on her hips.
Objectively speaking, this was a somewhat difficult request. Menchi's standard, everyday wardrobe essentially consisted of a thin spaghetti-strap camisole, denim shorts that stopped exactly where workplace safety regulations would have preferred they didn't, long legs that had apparently never heard the word modest, and a loose windbreaker she carried around more as a vague fashion philosophy than an actual functional garment. The only regular addition to her outfit was the translucent black gauze layered over her arms. That was her entire inventory.
"Are you seriously criticizing my fashion choices right now?" Menchi narrowed her eyes, squinting up at him. "Because I know for a fact you are the one who deliberately put Shizuku in thick turtlenecks and ankle-length jeans. Do not think I haven't noticed."
"Shizuku was already dressed exactly like that when we first met," Liam defended himself, which was at least partially true. "And this is not a wardrobe consultation. Just point to a spot."
Menchi studied his face for a long second. She seemed to decide she didn't need a full, detailed explanation to cooperate with him.
"Look," Liam continued quietly, "Machi cannot physically harm you under the terms of your vow. But that does not mean she is the only threat out there, or that she couldn't arrange for someone else to cause a fatal accident. Giving you one of my Star Marks is cheap, effective insurance. And I mean that literally. It costs nothing, and I am not asking you to do anything weird to get it. If you ever decide you need it removed, just tell me, and I will take it off immediately. If you do not agree right now, I will not activate it. I promise."
He deliberately chose not to bring up the obvious follow-up point. The mark would also make it considerably harder for any other Manipulation-type Nen ability to take hold of her. Machi couldn't easily attach her aura threads to someone who was already operating under the subtle authority of another Manipulator's mark. That specific layer of the explanation could wait for another time.
He had watched Bisky's shattered arm grow back completely. Bisky was incredibly old, possessed a supply of aura that bordered on the absurd, and had access to her own Nen beast that could provide restorative aura massages on a regular schedule. The passive healing benefits of a Star Mark simply weren't something a master of her caliber needed. Menchi, however, was a very different situation.
Menchi was highly talented and undoubtedly dangerous in her own right, but she would absolutely end up in the frying pan if she ever had to face a seasoned killer like Machi entirely alone and off-guard.
"Okay, fine." Menchi thought about it for approximately two seconds. The children of the road didn't stand much on ceremony, and Menchi had spent extended stretches of her professional career digging for rare ingredients in harsh wilderness environments that lacked hotels or running water. She wasn't the type of woman to faint over a highly practical conversation.
She hooked two fingers under the top hem of her camisole, tilted the fabric down just an inch or so, and tapped the very center of her sternum with her index finger. "Right here. It is easy to hide. It is not going anywhere, even during intense training."
A fine, glowing red thread surfaced along the tip of Liam's index finger. The aura coiled briefly, weaving itself into the shape of a small, intricate five-pointed star. With a single, precise flick of his wrist, he released it. The glowing mark struck her sternum and sank seamlessly into her skin, leaving behind a faint, rose-gold star no bigger than the nail on her thumb.
Menchi pressed a finger against the fresh mark, rubbing the skin. She felt absolutely nothing in particular, no pain or heat. But she had been standing right there when Bisky's arm miraculously grew back, and she wasn't stupid. She knew exactly how valuable this little mark was.
She pulled the hem of her camisole back into its proper place, letting the fabric cover the rose-gold star completely.
"I honestly thought you would have to touch my skin directly to apply it," she said, flashing a quick, teasing grin that suggested she had been fully prepared for a much more invasive process.
"The rules and boundaries keep getting stricter these days," Liam muttered, shaking his head. "Everything has to stay perfectly PG. No unnecessary contact. This is all I have got to work with."
"Then get going. Take your new apprentice with you and get out of here," Liam told her.
Liam stood back with his hands in his pockets, watching the heavy car roll away down the driveway. Bisky sat comfortably in the passenger seat, Sabazushi took the wheel, and Menchi relaxed in the back with Machi sitting stiffly beside her, staring out the window at nothing in particular. The vehicle kicked up a cloud of dry dirt, disappearing around a sharp bend in the mountain road. Soon, there was nothing left but the open countryside, the whistling wind, and an extremely long dirt road going nowhere interesting.
Kurapika watched the dust slowly settle. He let out a quiet exhale. "I know what Machi was actually testing just now."
"What test?" Liam and Shizuku asked at the exact same time, both turning to look at him.
Kurapika turned his back on the empty road and faced the massive stone walls of the castle. "Machi was testing whether Menchi's apprenticeship contract forced her to physically stay near Menchi at all times. She got her definitive answer the moment Menchi turned around and asked Liam if Machi could stay behind. If the vow strictly required constant physical proximity, Menchi wouldn't have even been able to entertain the idea or ask for permission. The mere fact that Menchi could ask meant that Machi didn't have to stay by her side."
The heavy implication of that realization sat there in the cold air for a moment.
If Machi wasn't magically forced to shadow Menchi's every move, her effective range of movement for the foreseeable future was essentially unlimited. She had no curfew. She had no invisible leash tying her down. The only thing waiting for her at the very end of this arrangement was a cooking exam.
Liam thought about this tactical oversight for approximately three seconds. Then, he shrugged his shoulders. "Well. Let her do what she wants."
Kurapika sighed, choosing to drop the subject. "So, about Nen?" he asked.
The three of them turned and began walking back toward the grand entrance of the castle. As they walked, Liam started talking. He rambled in that specific, rapid-fire way he sometimes did when his brain was aggressively processing two entirely different concepts at once, and only one of them managed to make it out of his mouth. He jumped wildly between topics, discussing Nen contracts, vow mechanics, the fundamental difference between a binding oath and a simple condition, and randomly throwing out technical terms like activation trigger and cooldown window. He mixed these concepts with obscure references that made Shizuku squint in confusion and forced Kurapika to stop walking twice just to confirm he had actually heard the boy correctly.
Despite the looming threat of the Phantom Troupe and the complexities of their situation, the air around Battera Castle lightened considerably, defying all reasonable expectations.
Eventually, Kurapika couldn't take the chaotic rambling anymore. He held up a hand to stop the flow of words. "Can we just focus on the Nen?"