Javiera

When I opened my eyes, the right side of the bed was empty. The sheets had already gone cold, and for a few seconds, I wondered if the previous night had been nothing more than a dream.

Then I saw the vast bedroom.

I remembered my new surname.

I didn’t get up right away. Instead, I sat there, studying a room that still didn’t feel lived in. It was strange to share a life with someone whose existence barely left any trace behind.

His side of the bed was perfectly made. The towel was gone, and the wardrobe remained closed. If I hadn’t felt the slight dip in the mattress during the night, I would have sworn no one else had slept there.

The silence was different from the one in my old home.

It wasn’t peaceful.

It was disciplined.

Not a single door slammed by accident. No voices echoed through the corridors. Even the wind seemed unwilling to disturb the order that ruled this mansion.

I took a deep breath.

The air smelled of polished wood and freshly laundered linen. Everything was so immaculate that it was difficult to believe people actually lived there.

Slowly, I lowered my feet to the floor.

The marble was cold.

The instant my skin touched it, I caught my breath. My body reacted before my mind did.

For a brief moment, I found myself expecting someone to open the door without knocking.

A voice announcing another tradition.

Another ceremony.

Another trial I had yet to learn.

Nothing happened.

Only silence.

Even so, it took several long seconds before I convinced myself I was allowed to stand.

I walked slowly toward the window.

The mountains were still veiled beneath a thin layer of morning mist. From up there, the world looked motionless, as though the estate had been cut off from everything beyond it.

For a moment, I imagined the road leading down to the main gate.

It was the same road I had taken to arrive here.

Yet now it no longer looked like an entrance.

It looked like a road no one ever left.

I rested my forehead against the glass.

It was freezing.

I welcomed the sensation.

It was the first thing that had felt completely real since waking.

—

Three soft knocks broke the silence.

They didn’t wait for an answer.

The door opened with the same quiet precision that seemed to govern everything inside the mansion.

Amane entered carrying a silver tray. Resting upon it were a cup of tea, a flawlessly arranged breakfast, and a small notebook bound in black leather.

As always, her uniform was immaculate.

Not a wrinkle.

Not a single strand of hair out of place.

She placed the tray on the table without making the slightest sound.

“Good morning, Lady Zoldyck.”

I still wasn’t used to hearing that surname attached to me.

Amane seemed to notice my hesitation but chose not to comment on it.

“Master Silva has instructed me to guide you through the estate during the coming weeks.”

It didn’t sound like an offer.

Nor an order.

Simply something that would happen.

After a brief silence, I asked,

“Guide me… how?”

She gave a small nod.

“Every household has its rules. The Zoldyck family is no exception.”

She picked up the notebook but didn’t open it.

It was obvious she knew every word inside by heart.

“My duty is to ensure that you learn them.”

As she spoke, she adjusted the edge of the tablecloth by barely a few millimeters.

It was such a small movement.

Yet it told me that even the smallest imperfection was corrected immediately within these walls.

“The first rule is punctuality.”

Her voice remained as calm as ever.

“The Head of the Family’s schedule allows no delays.”

I didn’t ask what happened to those who arrived late.

Something about the calm certainty in her voice suggested no one ever dared find out.

Amane continued.

“Family meals are mandatory whenever the Head of the Family summons them.”

“And if someone doesn’t wish to attend?”

For the first time since entering the room, she paused.

She wasn’t searching for an answer.

She was deciding how much she could say.

“That doesn’t happen.”

The simplicity of her response was more unsettling than any threat could have been.

She placed the notebook back onto the tray.

“There are areas of the estate accessible only to certain members of the family.”

“How will I know which ones?”

“I will show you.”

Nothing more.

I understood exactly what she meant.

Don’t try to find out on your own.

She walked toward the door.

“If you ever find a locked door…”

She paused.

“Do not attempt to open it.”

I watched her carefully.

“What’s behind them?”

For several seconds she remained completely still.

It was the first time she seemed uncertain.

When she finally answered, her composure hadn’t changed.

“If the family decides you should know, someone will tell you.”

—

When Amane finished explaining the mansion’s most basic rules, silence settled between us once again.

“Is there anything else?” I asked.

“You may walk through the gardens.”

I looked up.

“I’m allowed outside?”

“The gardens are part of the estate. You may remain there as long as you stay on the marked paths.”

I nodded.

She turned the doorknob.

Before leaving, she added one final thing.

“There is one rule that isn’t written anywhere, Lady Zoldyck.”

She lifted her eyes ever so slightly.

“No one in this house asks questions out of curiosity.”

A brief pause followed.

“They ask only when they are prepared to accept the answer.”

The door closed softly behind her.

And for the first time since waking, I realized that surviving inside this family would require far more than memorizing its rules.

—

Amane led me to one of the mansion’s side entrances.

The moment I stepped outside, the air changed.

It was colder.

Cleaner.

I breathed deeply.

For the first time since arriving, the scent of polished stone and varnished wood gave way to damp earth and towering pine trees.

The gardens stretched endlessly before me.

They hadn’t been designed to impress.

They had been designed to remain untouched.

Stone paths wound through ancient trees, quiet ponds, and perfectly trimmed hedges. Everything seemed to grow exactly where someone had decided it should.

Even nature obeyed.

Amane inclined her head.

“You may remain here until luncheon.”

Without another word, she returned inside.

I watched the door close behind her.

For the first time since arriving…

I was completely alone.

Or so I wanted to believe.

I wandered without destination.

I simply needed to put some distance between myself and those walls.

The silence here was different.

Birds still sang.

The wind stirred the branches.

Leaves crunched beneath my shoes.

Small sounds.

Ordinary sounds.

Human sounds.

Eventually, I reached an old stone bench hidden beneath several towering trees.

Only a corner of the mansion’s roof remained visible through the branches.

I sat down.

Closed my eyes.

Only for a moment.

The peace lasted no more than a few seconds.

When I opened them again…

I hadn’t heard anything.

No footsteps.

No snapping branches.

Nothing.

And yet…

I felt watched.

Slowly, I turned my head.

Trees.

Mountains.

An empty path.

I stayed perfectly still.

Waiting.

Nothing happened.

I forced a bitter smile.

I’m imagining things.

At least, I tried to believe I was.

A crow crossed the sky.

The leaves rustled once more.

The feeling returned.

Stronger.

As though unseen eyes followed every movement I made.

I stood.

Scanned the path.

No servants.

No guards.

Not even Amane.

Yet my body still reacted as though someone stood directly behind me.

I folded my arms tightly across my chest.

The problem wasn’t knowing I was being watched.

It was not knowing from where.

Or by whom.

Or for how long.

The mansion had countless windows.

But I was beginning to suspect…

It also had eyes.

—

I kept walking.

The path sloped gently downhill between the trees. White flowers I didn’t recognize swayed quietly in the breeze.

Eventually, it led to a small clearing where another stone bench rested beneath an enormous tree.

I sat.

From there, only a sliver of the mansion’s roof could still be seen.

It was enough.

Far enough away to pretend the mansion couldn’t reach me.

I leaned back.

Closed my eyes.

Only for a few seconds.

Then it happened.

It wasn’t a sound.

It was the absence of one.

I opened my eyes.

The birds had stopped singing.

The wind no longer moved the branches.

Even the water in the nearby pond seemed to flow with unnatural stillness.

I frowned.

Looked around.

No one.

I resumed walking.

This time, a little faster.

Leaves crunched beneath my shoes.

Or so I thought.

Because a moment later…

I heard another crunch.

Heavier.

As though something had stepped exactly where I had.

I stopped.

The sound stopped too.

I waited.

Nothing.

Slowly, I turned around.

Trees.

Bushes.

Shadows.

A chill crept down my spine.

I walked again.

Crunch.

I froze.

Silence.

The air felt different now.

Heavier.

As though the entire forest were holding its breath.

I couldn’t explain why.

I simply…

Knew someone was watching me.

Not from one place.

From everywhere.

My eyes swept across the treetops.

Then the path.

Then the undergrowth.

Nothing.

Still, my heart beat faster with every step.

Then I saw them.

Footprints.

Enormous.

Deeply pressed into the damp earth.

I crouched instinctively.

They weren’t human.

Nor did they belong to any animal I’d ever seen.

Five clawed toes.

Far too large.

Another shiver forced me back to my feet.

A few steps farther ahead, I noticed deep gouges carved into the bark of a tree.

The scratches stretched from nearly two meters above the ground all the way down to its roots.

As though something had sharpened its claws there.

A knot tightened in my stomach.

I should go back.

I turned around.

And then…

I saw it.

At first, I mistook it for a boulder.

A massive dark shape standing silently among the trees.

Then it breathed.

My entire body froze.

The creature stepped into the light.

It was a dog.

No…

Dogs weren’t supposed to be that large.

Its body was enormous, muscular, covered in thick black fur. Its head was massive, its fangs visible even with its mouth closed.

But it was its eyes that stole the air from my lungs.

There was no anger in them.

No curiosity.

Only complete calm.

The quiet confidence of a predator that knew it never needed to hurry.

I took one step backward.

It took one forward.

The blood drained from my face.

I didn’t run.

Something deep inside me understood that would be a mistake.

But I couldn’t move either.

The enormous beast continued approaching.

Slowly.

Silently.

Every footstep seemed to make the ground tremble beneath me.

When it stood barely a meter away, it lifted its nose.

It sniffed the air.

Then…

It sniffed me.

I held my breath.

I could feel its warm breath against my hands.

I thought about my grandfather.

I thought about Killua.

I thought this would be my first…

and last…

walk through the estate.

The seconds stretched endlessly.

The beast walked slowly around me.

One full circle.

Then another half.

As though inspecting me.

I couldn’t understand what it was doing.

I only knew that if it decided to attack…

I wouldn’t survive.

My heart pounded so loudly I was certain it could hear it.

I never looked away.

Not because I was brave.

But because fear had left me incapable of moving.

The creature stopped in front of me once more.

For a long moment…

Neither of us moved.

Then…

It looked away.

With complete calm, it turned around, walked a short distance, and lay down in the grass.

It was still watching me.

But it no longer seemed interested in approaching.

I didn’t understand.

Not why I was still alive.

Not why the beast had walked away.

Not why I had the impossible feeling that…

Somehow…

I had just been judged.

If a creature like that roamed freely through these gardens…

What kind of family had I married into?

—

It took several minutes before I convinced myself to return.

Every few steps, I glanced over my shoulder.

The path remained empty.

Yet the feeling of being followed never disappeared.

When the mansion finally emerged between the trees, relief washed over me so suddenly I almost felt ashamed.

The towering stone walls no longer resembled a prison.

They looked like shelter.

I looked up.

Dozens of windows reflected the midday sunlight.

They all appeared identical.

Until one caught my attention.

A second-floor window.

Behind the glass, I thought I saw someone standing perfectly still.

I couldn’t make out a face.

Only the silhouette of someone tall.

Watching me.

I blinked.

A cloud drifted across the sun.

When the light returned…

The window was empty.

I stared for several more seconds.

It must have been my imagination.

I lowered my gaze and continued toward the entrance.

I never knew…

It hadn’t been.

—

Silva stood silently before the window.

He hadn’t looked away from the gardens since Amane escorted the young woman outside.

Several meters behind him, a butler waited patiently.

“Should we inform Master Killua?”

Silva continued watching the path.

The young woman had just disappeared beneath the mansion’s front portico.

Only then did he answer.

“There is no need.”

“And Mike?”

Silva glanced briefly toward the forest.

The enormous dog had already left the clearing.

“He did not consider her a threat.”

The butler remained silent.

So did Silva.

After several long moments, he finally spoke again.

“Fear reveals more about a person than any conversation ever could.”

He turned away from the window.

“We will continue observing her.”

Then he left the room.

—

A butler intercepted me before I reached the main entrance.

“Lady Zoldyck, luncheon will be served in a few minutes.”

I nodded quietly.

I didn’t ask how long he had been looking for me.

Nor whether he had witnessed what had happened in the gardens.

I was beginning to understand that inside this mansion…

Some questions were destined never to receive answers.

I returned inside.

The change was immediate once again.

The air regained its familiar scent of polished wood and ancient stone.

The disciplined silence returned, as though the forest lay miles away instead of just beyond a single door.

As I walked through the corridors, I couldn’t help glancing toward every second-floor window.

All of them were empty.

Even so…

The feeling of being watched remained.

The dining room was every bit as imposing as the rest of the mansion.

A long table of dark wood stretched across the room, laid with flawless precision.

Every fork.

Every plate.

Every glass.

Perfectly aligned.

The members of the family arrived one after another.

No one commented on my absence.

No one asked where I had been.

No one mentioned the enormous beast waiting among the trees.

Conversation was scarce.

In truth, it barely deserved to be called conversation at all.

Only a few words exchanged when absolutely necessary.

The sound of porcelain touching the table filled the silences no one seemed interested in breaking.

I ate enough not to attract attention.

I couldn’t remember the taste of the food.

My thoughts remained trapped in the garden.

In those footprints.

The memory of my wedding was horrifying.

Painful.

Nothing like the beautiful ceremony a marriage is supposed to be.

There was no romance, no celebration, no joy.

Only rules.

Only procedures.

The night before the ceremony, I barely slept.

Inside the enormous bedroom, the only sounds were the rustling of expensive fabrics and the quiet murmurs exchanged between the maids—all women—as they dressed me. They spoke with the calm precision of people who had long ago learned which subjects should never be discussed.

Most of them chose silence.

The others simply avoided looking at me, as though refusing to meet my eyes was the only way to survive what was happening.

When they finished dressing me, I remained beside the window, watching the darkness slowly surrender to dawn.

The sky gradually turned a pale shade of gray, and for a brief moment, I wished the sun would never rise.

As long as the world remained suspended in that dim twilight, I could still pretend that time itself had stopped.

I didn't cry.

I refused to.

Inside the Zoldyck Estate, tears never changed anyone's fate—least of all mine.

I had learned that lesson long before I understood what fear truly meant.

Lost in my thoughts, I stared out at the morning sky until I failed to notice that I had been left completely alone.

When the door finally opened, only one person entered.

Amane.

Her butler's uniform was immaculate—not a wrinkle, not a single speck of dust. She walked with the same flawless precision she brought to every task within the estate.

She placed a silver tray on the table.

A cup of tea, still steaming.

A wooden comb.

And the final accessories that would complete my attire for the ceremony.

She didn't ask whether I had slept.

She didn't ask whether I was afraid.

She simply said,

"It's time."

Those two words weighed more heavily than any speech ever could.

As Amane adjusted the collar of my dress and smoothed an almost invisible crease from the fabric, every movement was meticulous, never intrusive.

There was no roughness in her hands.

But there was no comfort either.

Only the quiet gentleness of someone who had spent far too many years obeying orders to remember how to offer anything else.

For a moment, I wanted to ask whether she had ever witnessed another wedding like mine.

I wanted to know whether everyone inside the estate accepted these traditions with the same quiet resignation, or whether somewhere within these walls there was still someone willing to question them.

But when I caught Amane's reflection in the window, I realized she would never answer.

There was no indifference in her eyes.

Only exhaustion.

An old, silent exhaustion that seemed too deeply rooted to put into words.

When she finished adjusting the final detail, she stepped back and quietly examined her work.

After several seconds, she inclined her head.

"Everything is ready."

Nothing more.

No comforting words.

No wishes for happiness.

No promises that everything would be all right.

Only the flawless completion of her duty.

And somehow, her silence hurt far more than any comforting lie ever could.

Because if even someone like Amane remained silent...

Then there were things inside the Zoldyck family that not even its most loyal servants could change.

—

When the officiant began reading the vows, I felt my hands begin to tremble.

I hid it by clenching my fists.

Then Killua's voice reached me, barely louder than a whisper.

"Breathe."

I looked at him in surprise.

He never turned his head.

Anyone watching would have believed he hadn't spoken at all.

When I searched for his eyes, he didn't acknowledge me.

As though those single words had never existed.

The officiant lowered his head.

"You may seal the union."

There was no music.

No applause.

The silence that filled the hall weighed far more heavily than any celebration ever could.

I felt Killua turn slightly toward me.

Only then did I realize how close we were.

The sleeve of his formal jacket brushed against mine as he stepped forward.

I raised my eyes.

His expression remained impossible to read.

I searched for nervousness.

Compassion.

Regret.

Anything that might convince me I wasn't completely alone.

I found nothing.

Only the calm face of someone who had been taught since childhood that emotions were unnecessary luxuries.

That was when I understood.

Even this kiss didn't belong to us.

It was simply another order.

—

When we pulled away, no one smiled.

The officiant closed the ceremonial book with a soft thud that echoed throughout the hall.

Several butlers immediately began moving.

That was when I realized the kiss had never marked the end of the ceremony.

It had only marked the beginning of the part that truly mattered.

The kiss concluded the public wedding.

What followed was the real ceremony.

The part every member of the Zoldyck family considered the most important.

It was never mentioned in family portraits.

Nor recorded in official documents.

It survived only as one of those ancient traditions no one dared question anymore.

That day, I realized the ritual had never been about me.

It was about them.

About power.

About control.

About reminding the newest member of the family that, from this moment onward, even the moments that should belong only to husband and wife would never truly be private.

The massive ceremonial doors slowly opened.

Butlers stood in perfect lines along both sides of the corridor.

Some stared straight ahead.

Others lowered their eyes as we passed, as though even they felt ashamed to participate in what came next.

Killua never looked away from the elders.

His face remained as expressionless as it had during countless assassination missions.

He had learned long ago to conceal every thought capable of betraying him.

Only the tightness of his jaw hinted at the effort beneath the surface.

He walked beside me without releasing my arm.

No one spoke.

As we left the hall, I kept my hand around his arm, forcing myself to look at the faces surrounding us.

Every servant remained perfectly still.

Then one small figure caught my attention.

Alluka.

She held a tiny bouquet of flowers in her hands.

When she saw me, she offered a shy wave and smiled with such genuine warmth that, for one impossible moment, I forgot where I was.

There was no cruelty in her eyes.

Only the innocent excitement of a child who believed she was watching a wedding.

Perhaps no one had explained what would happen afterward.

Or perhaps they had...

and she was simply too young to understand what the ritual truly meant.

I returned the smallest smile I could manage.

It was the only act of kindness I received that entire day.

As we passed, Alluka took a tiny step forward, as though she wanted to come closer.

Before she could, a gloved hand rested gently upon her shoulder.

Tsubone.

She never said a word.

She didn't have to.

Alluka lowered her gaze and quietly stepped back into place.

Her smile remained.

But it no longer reached her eyes.

—

The elders sat in silence, deliberating among themselves.

In that moment, Killua understood that none of them cared about truth.

They wanted only one thing:

Proof that the Zoldyck legacy remained unbroken.

Proof that another member of the family had learned to obey, even when every instinct demanded rebellion.

None of them seemed to enjoy the ritual.

Neither did any of them attempt to stop it.

To them, preserving tradition was simply another responsibility.

The hall felt less like a wedding...

and more like a courtroom.

Every gaze weighed upon me before I had even crossed the threshold.

Each step reminded me that my own will mattered less than traditions older than anyone present.

Once we stood before the family patriarch, the enormous doors closed behind us.

The officiant announced that the Rite of Purity would proceed according to customs preserved for generations while an official scribe prepared the family records.

The room felt impossibly cold.

In that moment I realized the ceremony wasn't truly about proving anything about me.

It existed to demonstrate the power others held over my life.

For a brief instant, I wondered whether obedience had ever truly been a choice.

Since childhood, I had been told this day would determine my worth.

Not my education.

Not my character.

Not the sacrifices I had made.

Everything was reduced to a single ritual.

One so ancient that no one remembered how it had begun...

yet everyone defended it as though questioning it would bring the entire family crashing down.

Just before it began, I looked around the room.

I searched desperately for a single face that looked uncomfortable.

One person.

That was all I needed.

Someone willing to lower their eyes.

Someone who silently admitted this wasn't normal.

I found no one.

That was when the ritual itself stopped frightening me.

The true terror was realizing that everyone had already learned to live with it.

—

When the doors finally opened again, the silence had changed.

No one spoke.

No one congratulated the newlyweds.

A slight nod from the family patriarch was enough.

The butlers immediately understood that the ceremony had officially concluded.

One by one, everyone began leaving.

Within minutes, every trace of the ceremony disappeared.

As though it had never happened.

Among the last servants, I recognized Amane.

For a brief moment, our eyes met again.

I thought perhaps this time she would say something.

Anything.

Instead, she did exactly what she had done that morning.

She lowered her head.

I realized that gesture was the only compassion she could afford to show.

Then she walked away.

As though nothing had happened.

As though today had simply been another obligation recorded in the Zoldyck family's calendar.

That was when I understood.

It would not be the last time I sacrificed a part of myself for the surname I had just inherited.

—

I don't remember how long I remained standing there.

The voices slowly faded.

The grand hall emptied with flawless efficiency.

Every chair returned to its place.

Every curtain was straightened.

Every trace of the ceremony vanished.

The Zoldycks possessed a remarkable talent for erasing the past the moment it ceased to be useful.

Only then did I look up.

Silva remained seated at the opposite end of the room.

He never spoke.

He didn't need to.

Everything had gone according to plan.

There had been no applause.

No blessings.

Only confirmation that another obligation had been fulfilled.

He looked at me the way an assassin studies a newly forged weapon before deciding whether it deserves a place in his arsenal.

That was the moment I realized I wasn't his daughter-in-law.

I was an investment.

After one final glance around the hall, Silva turned and left without saying a word.

His presence alone was enough to command obedience.

I thought I could finally breathe.

I was wrong.

A delicate perfume drifted through the air before I heard the measured click of heels against polished marble.

I didn't need to turn around.

Kikyo.

Her elegant black dress swept across the floor as she approached.

The smile upon her lips was flawless.

It carried no warmth.

It looked like the carefully rehearsed expression of someone who had forgotten long ago how to smile sincerely.

She stopped before me.

For several seconds she examined my face, as though inspecting a newly acquired possession.

Then she gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

To anyone else, it would have looked maternal.

"I trust you won't become a disappointment to this family."

She paused.

"And I expect you to fulfill your duty. The Zoldyck family requires an heir to continue our legacy... and many more descendants to strengthen it."

Her voice never hardened.

It didn't need to.

Every word was spoken with perfect composure, as though she were discussing tomorrow's weather rather than the rest of my life.

I tried to answer.

No words came.

Kikyo interpreted my silence as acceptance.

She turned toward Killua.

"Don't forget who you are."

He said nothing.

She hadn't expected him to.

She left as elegantly as she had arrived, leaving behind only the scent of her perfume... and the crushing weight of expectations that would now rest upon my shoulders.

I felt Killua's grip loosen ever so slightly.

Such a small gesture.

Anyone else would have missed it.

I didn't.

For the first time that day, I dared to look directly at him.

His expression remained unreadable.

Assassins were taught from childhood to control every muscle in their face.

Yet something had changed.

It wasn't guilt.

Nor sadness.

It was exhaustion.

The kind of exhaustion that seemed to have lived behind his eyes for years.

For one foolish moment, I hoped he would say something.

Anything.

One word would have been enough.

But Killua was a Zoldyck.

And Zoldycks survived by remaining silent.

We walked through the estate accompanied by two butlers.

Neither addressed us.

Their footsteps were perfectly synchronized, as though even the sound of their shoes had been rehearsed.

Killua didn't need to look where he was going.

He had walked these corridors thousands of times.

I, however, stepped carefully, afraid even the rustle of my dress might disturb the silence.

The walls were lined with portraits of generations of Zoldycks.

Every face carried the same cold eyes.

The same rigid posture.

The same feeling that emotion had been abandoned long ago.

I wondered how many of them had walked this same hallway after their own wedding.

How many had felt this same emptiness.

And how many had eventually convinced themselves that it was normal.

At the end of the corridor stood another door.

It looked identical to every other door inside the estate.

Yet Killua slowed before opening it.

For the first time all day...

he hesitated.

Only for a second.

But it was enough to understand that even someone raised within these walls could still feel imprisoned by them.

—

Killua stopped in front of the door.

His hand rested on the handle, yet he made no attempt to open it.

For several long seconds, he remained silent.

I assumed, just like throughout the ceremony, that he wouldn't say another word.

Then he spoke.

"My mother will demand an heir as soon as possible."

His tone was as calm as if he were commenting on tomorrow's weather.

"Then she'll demand another."

I lowered my eyes.

"And then another."

For the first time since we had met, his gaze met mine.

"The only thing they care about is making sure the Zoldyck name survives."

There was no anger in his voice.

Only resignation.

"Don't mistake that for a family."

For the first time, I realized those words weren't meant only for me.

They were meant for himself as well.

Slowly, he turned the handle.

Before opening the door, he spoke one final sentence.

It all began fourteen years ago.

Long before she could walk.

Long before she learned to speak.

Long before she was ever given the chance to decide her own future.

Only a few days after her birth, Isaac Netero arrived at the Zoldyck Estate carrying a newborn wrapped in white blankets.

That newborn was Reader Netero.

The mansion, as silent then as it is now, welcomed the Chairman of the Hunter Association with the respect reserved for a man whose presence alone required no announcement.

As servants escorted Isaac through the endless stone corridors, a three-year-old boy waited quietly inside one of the estate's reception rooms.

Killua Zoldyck.

Far too young to understand the conversations of adults, he had no idea why the old man had insisted that he be present, nor why his great-great-grandfather, Maha Zoldyck, had interrupted an important meeting simply to receive him.

With his usual gentle smile, Isaac carefully placed the newborn into Killua's small arms.

The boy stiffened awkwardly, holding the baby with the uncertainty of a child who had never carried one before.

He frowned slightly.

"She's so tiny..."

The newborn slowly opened her eyes.

For several long seconds, she stared directly at him.

Then, without hesitation, her tiny hand wrapped around one of his fingers.

Killua froze.

He didn't know who this little girl was.

He didn't understand why the old man seemed so pleased to see them together.

Much less could he imagine that this brief encounter would shape the course of both their lives.

Isaac chuckled softly.

"Take care of her for a moment."

The boy simply nodded.

As Isaac left the room alongside Maha Zoldyck, neither of the children noticed them disappear.

Because behind closed doors, two old men were about to decide their future.

The room they entered was spacious, silent, and devoid of decoration.

No witnesses.

Only a dark wooden desk, two identical documents, and the signatures of two men whose influence reached every corner of the world.

This was no business agreement.

Nor was it a political alliance.

It was a contract forged out of necessity.

For Maha Zoldyck and the Zoldyck family, the agreement promised substantial financial benefits and, more importantly, future descendants who would unite the bloodlines of the Netero and Zoldyck families, ensuring the continuation of one of the world's most formidable lineages.

For Isaac Netero, however, the purpose was entirely different.

He knew better than anyone how cruel the world could be.

He understood that his own name would one day disappear with him.

Most of all, he feared the future awaiting his beloved granddaughter once he was gone.

If anyone could protect her from the dangers that would inevitably follow the Netero name, it was the Zoldyck family.

Without another word, Maha signed the document.

Isaac followed.

The contract was sealed.

Its most important clause was also its cruelest.

The agreement would remain dormant until Reader Netero lost the protection of her grandfather.

The moment Isaac Netero died, the contract would automatically come into effect.

From that day forward, the Zoldyck family would have both the right and the obligation to claim what had been entrusted to them.

The marriage arrangements would begin immediately.

There would be no exceptions.

Not for age.

Not for circumstance.

Not for personal wishes.