It was a quiet evening in the Phantom Troupe’s headquarters. The heavy, stale smell of the room mixed with the scent of wood and old smoke. The table in the middle was occupied by several members of the Troupe.

You sat slightly apart from the others, on the opposite side of the table. The atmosphere was relaxed, yet it was always tinged with the constant tension that came with being around the Phantom

You felt Feitan’s gaze on you every time you said something. It wasn’t the first time you’d noticed it. It was a constant, unobtrusive stare, as if he were trying to understand more about you without uttering a single word.

“And what do you think?” Chrollo asked, turning to you as the conversation paused.

You hesitated for a moment, then answered calmly, knowing your opinion would probably go unnoticed in this crowd. But Feitan’s gaze didn’t leave you, his eyes following your every word. He wasn’t the type to speak much, but his constant watching made you feel like he was piercing through every thought you had.

The room was now quiet, only the clinking of glass and the crackling of the fire in the hearth could be heard. Another glance from Feitan, this time sharper. You could feel it deep within, as if he were searching for something in you. Suddenly, he spoke, his voice barely audible but somehow still felt.

“You talk a lot about what you want to do, but never about what you truly are,” Feitan said calmly, his words a subtle but precise observation.

His gaze was still fixed on you, almost challenging. You knew this wasn’t a casual remark—it was something he truly meant. There was a depth in his eyes that you couldn’t quite grasp. Something that went beyond the shallow surface of his usual demeanor.

The other members exchanged glances, but Feitan didn’t speak further. He had made his point, and it seemed as though he expected something more from you, more than just a response.

It was a moment of silence, where only you and Feitan communicated in some strange, unspoken way.