230 The Position of the Next Head of the Phantom Troupe

"Otherwise, the Spider's head is just for show. Whichever side can save the leader with the least cost, that's where I stand~"

"If Pakunoda fails, the leader will die, and Paku will be lost. If Phinks fails, the leader will die, but the difference is only Pakunoda's life. Neither outcome endangers the survival of the troupe as a whole."

"That said, Paku's approach is safer and has a higher chance of success. Phinks' side? The odds are just too low~"

"So, my suggestion is to let Pakunoda attempt the trade first. If Kurapika violates the deal and kills both the leader and Paku, we can retaliate later. Anyway, I've got their information—they won't escape us."

Ronnel's words lingered, and silence fell over the room again.

Phinks glanced at him, lips moving as though he wanted to retort, but no words came out.

"Tch."

After spitting on the ground, Phinks slammed his fists together in frustration before stepping aside, arms crossed. His posture silently signaled agreement with Ronnel's plan.

"Then it's settled," Franklin declared, his voice cutting through the tension. "Paku will take those two kids and negotiate with the Chain User. What we do next depends entirely on the outcome of the trade."

Franklin's voice turned menacing, a dark smirk creeping onto his face.

"If they go back on their word, or if there's any threat left behind... I'll make them understand there's a limit to our patience!"

His declaration set the final tone for the debate.

Phinks, Feitan, and half of Shalnark had initially opposed the trade. However, with Phinks no longer objecting and the others staying silent, the decision was unanimous.

When Kurapika called again, Phinks begrudgingly spat out the words, "We agree to the trade," like someone forced to swallow nails. Then he sulked in the corner, fuming.

The rest of the troupe watched Pakunoda escort Gon and Killua out of the building. Silence blanketed the base once more.

"Thank you~"

After a while, Ronnel, seated on a clean stone, heard a soft voice beside him. He looked up to find Machi standing there, her gaze steady and calm.

Behind her, Kortopi's face was obscured in shadow.

Machi's usual aloofness was absent—her features softer, almost approachable.

"Thank me? Not necessary. We're all part of the troupe. There's nothing to talk about~"

Ronnel shook his head with a smile, his gaze shifting toward the gate. His expression grew serious.

"I'm only looking out for the leader, ensuring nothing happens. But if this deal fails… if the leader dies…"

"What will you do?" Machi interrupted, her tone unchanged.

"Then the position of the next head of the Phantom Troupe will be mine," Ronnel said suddenly, his grin revealing dazzling white teeth.

Machi blinked. "..."

Sliding a little further away from him, Machi muttered inwardly. Sometimes he seems reliable… other times, his thoughts are completely unhinged.

"In this world, strength is everything. If the next head isn't decided by combat, I won't acknowledge it~!"

At this, Feitan snorted from across the room. "Strength? If it comes down to a fight, you might not win."

"Try me when the time comes~" Ronnel replied, unfazed.

"Or… do you want to settle this now?"

"Enough, you two!" Franklin groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The leader's not dead yet, so quit planning his succession already!"

Elsewhere, Hisoka sat fiddling with his cards. A single card slipped from his grasp, fluttering to the ground.

"Hisoka, when did your card skills get so sloppy?" Ronnel's voice carried a teasing edge. "You never used to drop your cards."

Hisoka froze, his usual smug grin faltering.

"When building pyramids earlier, I dropped a few cards. It happens," he replied nonchalantly.

"But now you're shuffling cards," Ronnel noted, his tone sharpening. "And normally, wouldn't you pick it up with Bungee Gum?"

The room grew tense as Hisoka stopped mid-motion.

"What's wrong? That's not like you, Hisoka~"

Others began to notice the irregularity. Even Phinks turned his gaze toward Hisoka, brows furrowing.

Feitan's eyes narrowed, suspicion flashing in their depths. Bonolenov, lounging nearby, straightened, adopting a guarded stance.

The Spiders had started to suspect one of its own.

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