Chapter 8: Tearing off the disguise

The Glam Hotel's grand theater could hold a hundred thousand spectators, and today the Morittonio Circus would finally grace its legendary stage.

"This is the biggest event in all of Glam Gas Land!" the venue manager proclaimed, his pride evident. "Success here means worldwide recognition. Every performer dreams of this stage."

He continued with growing enthusiasm, "Today you'll perform for Glam Gas Land's highest authority, the head of the Glam family. Their applause is worth more than worldwide acclaim."

The Glam family... Oboro's interest piqued at the name. The Yorbian continent was notorious for its powerful mafia presence, particularly the Ten Dons' operations near Yorknew City. Given this city's name and atmosphere, the Glam patriarch was likely a major underground figure.

"Give it your all, everyone," Morittonio smiled at his nervous troupe members.

The performance began with practiced precision, each act flowing seamlessly into the next. The packed auditorium thundered with appreciation after every performance. The circus had earned its reputation, when Morittonio took to the air in his signature "air swimming" act, his graceful movements captivated even the most jaded observers.

Their success was undeniable. Backstage, the troupe celebrated their triumph, anticipating their imminent rise to fame in Glam Gas Land. The manager whisked Morittonio away to meet the Glam family leader.

That evening, the celebration continued in full force.

"You were all magnificent!"

"Let's drink until dawn!"

"Abaki, stick to juice, you're still too young!"

The girl glanced around the room, noting the absence of both Hisoka and Oboro. Even Morittonio, who'd returned earlier, had disappeared again.

"Where are those two?" she asked.

"Tch! Who cares about those brats?" Berize sneered.

"I'll look for them-" Abaki started to rise.

"Sit down," one of the senior members grabbed her arm. "Listen, Abaki, stay away from those two, especially Hisoka. Oboro's changed since getting close to him, not the obedient kid he used to be!"

Meanwhile, in the vast empty theater, Morittonio sat alone on the steps, contemplating the vacant seats.

Footsteps approached from behind.

"Yo."

A familiar greeting made the old man smile. "Hisoka... and Oboro..." He didn't turn around.

"It's strange," Morittonio mused. "With so many people here during the day, the silence now feels unreal."

"After a performance ends, there's always this... emptiness."

"It's like magic itself, we cast a spell on stage, become something magnificent... but when it fades, we're just ordinary people again, like the audience. Perhaps that void is something no performer can escape..."

The leader's philosophical mood shifted suddenly. "Hisoka... I'd like to give you more responsibility. Shouldn't we get to know each other better?"

The timing was suspicious. Hisoka and Oboro seeking him out alone, when they should be celebrating... their purpose was clear.

"It's you, isn't it?" Hisoka's smile was sharp. "The serial killer."

Morittonio paused, then laughed softly. "Clever boy."

"Let's be honest with each other. Oboro..."

"I'll tell you everything about myself."

"Sorry, I don't like discussing the past," Hisoka shuffled his cards idly.

"Other people's affairs don't interest me," Oboro added coldly.

"Oh... how's your left eye feeling? I've been worried..." Hisoka's tone turned playful. "John Doe?"

Morittonio's hand instinctively covered the left side of his face, tension evident in his posture.

"Careful now. Move too suddenly... and that fake skin might peel off~"

"You really meant to kill Abaki that day, didn't you?"

"Planning to kill us too?"

"Is it because we're too brilliant? Have we wounded your fragile, inferior ego?"

Each of Hisoka's words struck like precise knife thrusts into Morittonio's psyche.

"A few words exposed me completely. Perhaps I'm getting senile..." The old man laughed bitterly, peeling away the artificial skin to reveal his scarred face. "You two... are truly dangerous."

Hisoka's smile widened as he watched the disguise fall away. He'd suspected Morittonio's identity since Abaki mentioned the killer's wanted posters appearing in every city they'd visited. He was certain Oboro had figured it out as well.

"I always loved surprising expressions..."

"I used to perform for my family."

"But gradually... normal reactions couldn't satisfy me anymore."

"One day, seeking the ultimate 'expression,' I killed my sister... Her pain and struggle held more meaning than mere surprise."

"Becoming a Hunter or performer was just an attempt to elevate my art... find a new method. But after each show, the emptiness returns. Only watching death expressions brings peace..."

Oboro silently backed away, knowing what would follow. He left the two alone in the vast space.

"What now?" Morittonio asked, studying Hisoka.

"Your murders and cons don't interest me," Hisoka's aura began to stir as he toyed with his cards. "I already have what I wanted..."

His reference to Nen training was clear.

"Since you helped me learn, I'll repay you... let me satisfy your desires."

"Don't you love surprises? Feeling empty inside? Try to scare me."

Hisoka's aura swirled visibly now, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust and a sick anticipation.

"Mind if I use every trick I know?"

"Let's have some fun," Hisoka's grin turned predatory. "Either I kill you... or you kill me!"

A playing card shot toward Morittonio as Hisoka lunged forward, his aura blazing with murderous intent.

...

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