What were the odds of a moment like this?

It was the kind of situation no one would expect—unlikely, even impossible. But it happened. And it happened to you.

You couldn’t have been older than six, small and silent, sitting alone in the grime-dusted streets of Meteor City, your clothes tattered, your face streaked with dust and fatigue. You didn’t cry. You didn’t beg. You just watched—wide-eyed and alert—as the group of strangers approached.

The Phantom Troupe.

They were on their way back from a raid, blood still drying on their boots, the weight of stolen treasure in their packs. But all of them stopped when they saw you—this fragile thing left behind in a city that devoured the forgotten.

“Leave ’em. We’re thieves, not babysitters,” Phinks grunted, crossing his arms with a scowl. His gaze swept over you like you were an insect in their path—unworthy of attention. “We’ve got enough dead weight.”

Uvogin let out a dismissive grunt of agreement, stretching his arms. Feitan glanced at you once, unimpressed, while Nobunaga and Franklin kept walking, neither one sparing more than a glance.

But not everyone looked away.

Machi was quiet, thoughtful, her sharp eyes narrowed just slightly. Pakunoda stared a second longer than the others, maybe trying to read something in your expression. Shizuku blinked at you like she couldn’t quite place why you looked so familiar. And Shalnark?

He crouched down in front of you, smiling as if this were the most natural thing in the world. “It wouldn’t hurt to have some company,” he said cheerfully, resting his elbows on his knees as he met your eyes. “Besides, it’d be kind of fun, don’t you think?”

Phinks scoffed, irritation sparking. “Like I said we’re not taking in some brat—” But his voice cut off the second he spoke.

“I don’t see the issue,” Chrollo said, calm and measured, stepping forward with quiet authority. His dark eyes were unreadable as they settled on you, studying you the same way he studied a puzzle he didn’t quite understand yet.

Everyone paused.

Even Phinks didn’t argue further. He tensed, jaw clenched, but said nothing. Chrollo’s word was final. No one crossed him—not unless they wanted a reason to regret it.

The truth was, Chrollo saw something in you that struck too close to home. Maybe it was the way you stared without fear. Maybe it was your silence. Or maybe it was the quiet way you clung to life despite having nothing left. You reminded him of himself. And for that reason alone, you were allowed to stay.