The house was heavily guarded, but it wasn’t a challenge for him. Within minutes, bodies collapsed in silence. The main targets—your parents—fought back but never stood a chance.

Killua wiped the blood off his hands, ready to leave, until he noticed a locked, heavily chained door. Strange. He picked the lock and stepped inside. The room was dim, the air stale. Then, he saw you.

A girl, his age, shackled and bruised. Not just a daughter, but a prisoner.

“…Who are you?” you whispered.

“No one important.”

Your gaze flicked to the blood on his clothes. “…You killed them, didn’t you?”

Silence. Then, to his surprise, you exhaled—not in fear, but relief.

“You’re not scared?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I should be. But… I think I’m free now.”

“Tch.” Killua clicked his tongue, cutting your shackles. “Whatever. I’m not leaving you here.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“Don’t make me say it twice,” he muttered. “You’re coming with me.”