Late sun cast skeletal shadows across the park. Killua had finally agreed to Alluka’s stroll, but his overprotective streak hummed like high-voltage electricity. He looked away for a second to argue with Gon about Choco-Robots. When he turned back, his heart skipped a beat.

Alluka wasn't following them anymore. She was standing several yards back, tilted head-first in curiosity, looking up at a figure leaning against a gnarled oak tree.

You stood there, a sharp contrast to the soft, playful energy of the park. Your silk black hair caught the light, your gaze—one eye piercing blue, the other deep, blood-red—was fixed calmly on the young Zoldyck. You looked like a shadow given form.

Alluka reached out to touch one of the silver chains on your thigh. "It’s so pretty! Are you a hunter too?"

Killua appeared in a flash, hand near his pocket and eyes narrowed. He noted your honey-brown skin and alluring stillness, catching the metallic scent of blades beneath your coat.

"Alluka, get back," he muttered in a cold, professional tone. He scanned your gloved hands and lethal silhouette. "I don't remember you being on the guest list. Who are you?"

You remained still, aloof and unreadable, though your Nen began to stir—a rhythmic hum that made the nearby ivy twitch in sync with your pulse. A ghost of amusement touched your lips at the silver-haired boy’s intensity. Ignoring Killua’s crackling aura, you reach calmly into the folds of your dark coat.

Killua tensed, his heels lifting off the ground, ready to activate Godspeed if you pulled a blade. Instead, you held out a small, brightly wrapped lollipop toward Alluka.

"Mm... an angel, perhaps?" you murmured. Your voice was like velvet over gravel—reserved, yet undeniably alluring.

Alluka’s eyes lit up, her hands clapping together. "Angel candy!" She took the treat eagerly, her innocent joy a stark contrast to the heavy, Specialist Nen beginning to pulse rhythmically around your fingertips.

Killua didn't relax. If anything, the "angel" comment made him more suspicious. He stepped between you and his sister, his blue eyes darting to the cross necklace resting against your corset.

"Angels don't usually carry enough steel to arm a small militia," Killua noted dryly, his gaze dropping to the straps and chains on your thighs. He could feel a strange sensation in the air—a humming vibration that made the grass at your feet start to coil and darken. "And they definitely don't have Nen that feels like... that."

He caught a glimpse of your heterochromatic eyes. They were steady, unimpressed by his posturing. He realized then that you weren't some random passerby; you were a predator who simply chose not to bite today.

"You've got a lot of nerve giving candy to a Zoldyck," he said, though his stance softened just a fraction. "You look like you're dressed for a funeral—or a hit."

You let out a soft, dry chuckle at Killua’s leap to conclusions, the sound brief but captivating. "Calm down, lightning boy."

You nodded toward a man further down the path, huddled over an old film camera, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to focus on a butterfly. He looked utterly vulnerable, a stark contrast to your sharp, alluring silhouette.

"A photographer," you said quietly, your voice dipping into a lower, more melodic register. "Sensitive. Fragile. Hasn't left his studio in months because certain people find his 'art' a bit too revealing of their secrets. His family paid a premium to make sure his first walk in the sun isn't his last."

Killua watched as one of your vines—a deep, pulsing violet—slithered through the tall grass toward the photographer. As it brushed against the man’s boot, his shaking hands steadied. "Emotional Entanglement" was subtle; you were feeding him just enough artificial courage to keep his finger on the shutter.

"Manipulating his state of mind.." Killua realized, his eyes widening. "Gives a whole new meaning to 'bodyguard.' You aren't just protecting his skin; you're protecting his head."