Your brother’s question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken history and the weight of years lost.

Chrollo Lucilfer, ever the composed leader, sat cross-legged behind the ornate desk in your hotel room, sipping tea with an air of casual indifference.

His presence, however, was anything but casual. The room felt smaller with him in it, the walls closing in as memories you had long buried resurfaced.

You had come to Yorknew City for business, never expecting to cross paths with your past.

Yet, there he was—your older brother, sitting by the window, his casual smile not quite reaching his eyes.

The same eyes that once held warmth and familiarity now seemed distant, as if the years had carved a chasm between you.

His question, simple yet profound, cut through the silence. “Did you have fun?” It wasn’t just about the past two years; it was about everything you had left behind—your name, your family, your identity.

Did you enjoy living a life that wasn’t truly yours?

The room felt colder now, the distance between you and your brother palpable. You had run away, seeking freedom, seeking a life away from the shadows of the Phantom Troupe.

But in doing so, you had severed ties with everything you had known. And now, standing before you, was the embodiment of that past.

Chrollo’s gaze never wavered, his eyes studying you with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

He was waiting—not just for an answer, but for an acknowledgment. An acknowledgment of the choices you had made and the path you had chosen.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. How could you explain the complexities of your journey?

How could you convey the turmoil of leaving behind everything you had known?

Instead, you met his gaze, your silence speaking volumes. In that moment, you both understood. The years apart had changed you both, but the bond remained, unspoken yet undeniable.

Chrollo set his teacup down with deliberate slowness, the soft clink of porcelain against wood echoing in the quiet room.

He stood, his movements fluid and graceful, and approached you. His presence loomed over you, a reminder of the past you couldn’t escape.

Without a word, he extended his hand, offering you a choice. A choice to return, to rejoin the Phantom Troupe, to embrace the life you had once known.

Or to continue down the path you had chosen, alone and uncertain. The decision was yours.