Chapter 30
What kind of person is Ray Adrian?
After receiving news that his childhood friend was getting married to his older brother, Killua rushed home, never expecting to hear this question from a friend he had made years ago.
The airship had just landed.
He slowed down his pace, which was originally rushing to catch a connecting flight, and focused intently on reading his friend's text message word by word in the waiting room.
“You mean she might have done something to Leorio… No, that’s not Ray’s style.”
Without needing to think twice, Killua replied to the message without hesitation after hearing the whole story.
“Lay prefers to observe rather than take action herself. Besides, if she really had any dangerous plans, she wouldn’t tell anyone.”
...
This happened more than ten hours ago.
After failing to capture the Phantom Troupe once again, Kurapika retrieves his hidden phone and faces the threat of Rei using Leorio as a wager. After much consideration, he asks Killua if Leorio will encounter the dangerous situation Rei claims.
Killua, who was boarding the plane, did not reply immediately. He only gave a negative answer the next morning when he was changing flights, and then made a request:
"Has she been with you the whole time? Please keep an eye on her for now. I'll be there soon."
Worried that Kurapika might be misled by Rai's appearance or fail to grasp the importance of his request, he added:
"Consider this a favor... She's not a bad person, but she has a bit of a temper. My family is letting her be with Illumi this time, and she's bound to have a problem with it. I need to find a way to get her away before she causes any trouble."
After the message was sent, it seemed to sink without a trace, and there was no reply for a long time.
However, Killua wasn't in a hurry. He believed that Kurapika must have had some reason or special consideration for not replying in time.
He will definitely help me.
Killua is very confident about this.
Sure enough, after he changed his route to the lobby, his phone vibrated again.
The screen lit up, and a dialog box popped up. He didn't need to unlock his phone to see Kurapika's reply. The message was brief, but given the sender's identity, it was enough.
--good.
Kurapika made that promise.
Killua felt completely relieved, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest and shoulders. He let out a long breath, and the name flashed through his mind:
Lei.
Wait for me.
He thought.
I'll come pick you up soon.
After resting for another morning on the rebooked flight, Killua finally got one step closer to the person he was going to meet.
He opened his phone and stared at the message Kurapika had sent him over and over again, as if he could piece together the image of the girl he cared about from these fragmented words... even though these actions could only bring him psychological comfort.
Finally, remembering something, he edited a new message and sent it:
"I'm almost there."
It comes with a location.
...
“I can’t take a joke,” the blond youth who received the message said, raising his phone towards the light blond girl in front of him. “My friend is waiting for you.”
In this way, he erected a boundary marker between the two of them, subtly and implicitly declaring his resistance to establishing a possible intimate relationship.
However, the boundary marker was severely cracked by the words that came out of the other party's upturned face and lightly from their lips.
“I don’t want him,” she said. “I want you.”
...
What kind of person is Ray Adrian?
对于奇犽·揍敌客来说，她生动、鲜明，爱开玩笑，爱打闹;她总会在大家都说“不、你不该这样”的时候压低声音对他道“这样试试又有何不可”;她总是在旁观着一切，带着恶意、温柔地微笑。
In a worldly sense, Rae might not be considered a good person; but to Killua, she was definitely not a bad person.
For Kurapika, Rai Adrian was an existence from another world that he could not even imagine.
When he first heard the name, he was at a job agency waiting for an agent to help him find a suitable job opportunity.
The other person was a good person. After hearing that Kurapika was penniless and had no relatives, he risked everything to find such an opportunity for the then underage Kurapika, even though he knew Kurapika had nothing to offer as collateral.
“There’s an auction coming up soon, which will be held as a dinner party,” the kind agent quickly found the information he needed and offered enthusiastically. “They’re short-staffed and hiring temporary workers. What do you think?”
Kurapika nodded without hesitation, indicating that he was willing to take the job.
As the agent retrieved more information, he continued:
"Actually, this kind of work is not difficult. You just need to complete whatever tasks you are assigned... However, there will be a rather special person at this auction. Have you heard of Lady Adrian? I heard that there is nothing on the continent that she does not know. Anyone who stands in front of her for a moment will have all their secrets seen through."
Kurapika had certainly heard of the name. In fact, he had even imagined himself asking to meet the other party and requesting assistance—he had information he needed to ascertain, and Adrian was the most powerful and well-known intelligence-trading organization on this continent and in the underworld.
“She also has a daughter,” the agent added, “who is a very scary woman. You must never show up in front of her while you are working, or who knows what might happen.”
"Why do you say that?" Kurapika asked.
The intermediaries were tight-lipped about the matter.
After Kurapika finished signing the work agreement, he looked around to make sure no one was nearby and there were no eavesdroppers, then quietly said to Kurapika:
"She is a witch."
That young lady, whose status seemed extraordinary, always smiled gently and spoke amiably, but her eyes were devoid of emotion, as lifeless as a dried-up pool.
She was never short of followers, but their faces kept changing; they either went insane for no apparent reason or died in strange struggles.
People always regretfully retire from Miss Adrian's side, but new talents always flock to her one after another.
"Don't go near her." After delivering a long and exaggerated warning, the agent solemnly reiterated his reminder.
Kurapika didn't take it seriously.
What kind of relationship could a young lady from a prestigious family, practically a princess, possibly have with me?
They are from completely different worlds.
However, fate is so strange. Just a few days later, Kurapika, who lost his composure after seeing an item he cared about at the auction, unexpectedly met the legendary Lady Adrian.
Her mother happened to be the buyer who purchased the auction item he was interested in.
Filled with resentment and bewilderment towards the so-called "upper class," he asked her what the point of bidding on such auction items was.
She turned her face and looked at him as he answered—Kurapika immediately recalled the assessment the agent had made.
She is a witch.
That beautiful face simultaneously blurred the lines between life and death, warmth and malice, and even in the dim night, she shone brightly.
That magic doesn't just come from a beautiful appearance; in fact, beneath that indescribable smile, physical appearance becomes an unnecessary bonus.
“When a person dies,” she said casually, tracing the direction of the wind in the air, “they should become part of the cycle of this world.”
It becomes wind, rain, decaying flowers, flowing blood, joy and sorrow, tears and laughter.
And she stated all of this so frankly, as if she were made up of all of it.
The rooftop where the two were talking wasn't large, and they were conversing on the same level; the girl in front of him was even a head shorter than him.
But for some inexplicable reason, Kurapika had a vague feeling that there was a barrier between them, and that she was standing on a cloud, halfway up the mountain, looking at him calmly through something.
She is this world, while he is an insignificant, obscure entity outside of it.
She always is.
They bumped into each other a few more times afterward, but always kept apart by crowds or avoided opportunities to talk.
He hurried along his painful path, while she always stood alone in the bustling crowd, her head slightly tilted back, smiling.
In her eyes, he was just one of many passersby coming and going.
She was different from him, and she seemed different from everyone he had ever met in the world.
They met again, and he wanted to send her back to the world that belonged to her. For a long time, he had been depicting her in the frame of his imagination, gradually painting her into a form that was excessively detached from her true self.
He thought she would go back.
But she unexpectedly stayed by threatening the safety of his friends.
The still, beautiful oil painting breaks free from the frame in my mind; the butterfly tears open its cocoon, stretches out its wings, and flutters about. The time that had stopped moving on her body begins to flow slowly.
"I want to drink black tea."
"I want to drink milk."
"I want to buy clothes."
"I need to know your name."
She made one unexpected request after another to him with confidence and vividness.
He coldly rejected her every time, trying to swat away her tentacles that reached out to him again and again. He was unwilling to share himself with anyone and only wanted to be alone.
He refused to show her any care, he tried to distance himself from her, he solemnly declared his position, and he told her that she could not possibly receive even a shred of love from him.
And she asked, quite naturally: Don't I deserve to be loved?
He was speechless for a moment.
He had so much to say, but he kept telling himself he shouldn't, couldn't, wouldn't, and it wasn't necessary... Of course she deserved it; she was so special.
But as he spoke, a turning point flashed through his mind:
……never mind.
He was saying this to himself.
He was already exhausted from racking his brains to find another reason to reject her.
One after another, without end.
He gave up thinking and, like her former followers, silently hid himself in her shadow.
All the excuses he had desperately come up with were no longer valid at this moment. Tearing away those pointless illusions, he had to admit that, given the current situation, there was only one reason why he could finally make up his mind to reject her.
“My friend is waiting for you, Ray.”
He said.
“I don’t want him,” she replied, “I want you.”
Always like the wind and rain, a presence swaying in another world, she reached out her hand to him, inviting him to hold it and grasp her.
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