Open Book [Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader]

i. prelude

Today was one of those days where you just wanted to curl up, read a book, and escape the sentimental thoughts you detested. You had known it was going to be dreary when you woke up to gray clouds, rain pounding heavily through the streets of downtown York New City. Whether it was just natural or your own self-fulfilling prophecy, it did come true. Nonetheless, just because the day looked bleak, didn't mean that you could slack off.

Standing behind the counter and leaning against it in boredom as another hour went by without any visitors, your mind began to drift to the past that you hated so much. Usually, it was easy to push it aside, but recently, you had been feeling more sentimental. Wistful. Strange, considering your childhood was nothing to sneeze at, but the human brain was strange itself. Even if it certainly didn't have happy days to look back on, your brain liked to bring back these memories anyways.

You hated dwelling on the past, and yet here you were, stuck in your small antique shop, reminiscing about days that you could never bring back.

Closing your eyes, you let out a small sigh, trying to clear your brain for a moment. No use in standing here doing nothing. With the weather how it was, there was no way that you were going to be getting customers today. It'd be better to just close up and maybe read a good horror novel.

Turning around to grab the 'closed' sign, you heard bells jingle up front, signalling a customer and nearly startling you. Immediately, you turned around, your gaze scrutinizing and somewhat irritated that you had to get a customer right before closing.

"Can I help you today?"

Protected from the rain by a sleek umbrella, the teen who had walked in scanned the shop dismissively before closing the umbrella and leaning it against the door. He was in strange clothes you had never recognized before, a blue and gold two piece. That wasn't what caught your eyes, though.

It was his own eyes, gray and haunting.

Walking forward, the teen hummed. You doubted he was any older than 18, and you frowned. He wasn't here for antiques. His demeanor gave him away.

"I heard you are the person to go to for information."

You eyed him up and down, your lips thinning. It wasn't rare for people to come to you, considering you were probably York New City's best informant, but something about this teen made you weary. Cautious. You weren't sure what about him was making you skeptical, but there was something.

It took you a moment to respond. ". . . I may be. What do you need, kid?"

His face remained stoic, although you noticed the muscle in his jaw twitch as you called him 'kid'.

"I need information on a particular group." He paused, and you took this time to cut him off, holding your hand up.

"Look, if this has anything to do with the mafia, I'm stopping you right here. I stay out of mafia aff--"

"It's the Phantom Troupe."

Immediately, you stopped talking, your face going still. Once again, your eyes swept him from head to toe. He was one hundred percent serious, and your frown deepened. You crossed your arms.

The Phantom Troupe... You weren't an idiot. Anybody who didn't live under a rock knew full well who the Phantom Troupe was, as well as the danger they posed. You did know a bit about them, but you weren't stupid enough to give that information away. It would be suicide, and you were not about that life. Besides, the last thing you needed was to get dragged into anything involving that particular band of thieves.

Leaning against the wall behind you, you kept your face passive. "I only get information from people within the city," you said smoothly. "They're always scattered. I'm not about to travel across the globe in search of information that could easily get me killed."

Your blond customer was clearly not having it, his expression unchanging. "I have intel that they're in the city."

That caused you to stop, your eyebrows shooting up.

They were in York New City... That certainly spelled out bad news, and you sighed before giving him a wry smile. "I wish I could help," not really, "but I want nothing to do with them. I'm sorry, but I can't help you."

Finally, some emotion - anger and frustration flickered across his face. Sadness, as well, although that was hidden more deep.

"I can stop them, if you have any information--!"

This time, it was you cutting him off. "No," you replied firmly. "Leave me out of this. I'm serious." He looked ready to argue more, but then drew back, taking a deep breath in what looked to be an attempt to calm himself down.

"I'm sorry."

He was back to being professional, and your gaze softened a bit. No doubt, he was after vengeance - you doubted somebody like him wanted to join the Troupe, but you were resolute in your decision. Shaking your head to show that you weren't offended or upset with his outburst at all, you relaxed.

"Don't apologize. I get people like you all the time." It was true. He wasn't the first, and certainly wouldn't be the last, to ask about the mysterious Phantom Troupe. "I can tell you that the original members hail from Meteor City, but that's it. I'd suggest you go before it rains any harder."

The rain was lightening up, but the blond got the memo, nodding once as thanks. You could practically see the cogs turning in his brain at the mention of Meteor City. Hopefully that would be enough to appease him.

When he left, you slumped slightly, a rueful smile gracing your face. Talk about the past - even the mere thought of Meteor City brought up too many memories.

Making sure nobody else was going to enter the shop, you finally locked the front door, turning the sign to say 'closed' before turning the lights off and heading to the back. Leading upwards was a rickety staircase, and you climbed it with ease. The story above your little shop was small, but it served as your living space. A studio, of sorts, all one room save for the bathroom. It's not like you ever had visitors, anyways. You didn't necessarily trust anybody to ever allow them into your home.

And despite the minimalism of it, it was your home. All of your furniture and belongings were mix-matched with no cohesive theme, and you didn't have a lot, but this place was yours and nobody else's. You liked that.

Eyes scanning the room, another sigh left your mouth. You couldn't stop thinking about that strange kid from earlier - you regretted not getting any information on him, but the mention of the Phantom Troupe had shaken you more than you'd like to admit. Especially if what the kid said was true and that the Troupe was in the city. If they were... That was definitely a problem you didn't want to deal with.

On auto-pilot, you went to the kitchenette to put some tea on the stove, your thoughts still inward. If the Phantom Troupe was in town, that meant something big was happening. Was it possible to avoid it? You already felt a headache coming on, and you didn't even know if this information was true. Despite not wanting to get involved, you were a curious person by nature. You wanted to look into this and try and see if it was just some baseless rumor.

The easiest way would to be to contact him, but you were still absolutely pissed at him, and doubted he would answer. So that was off the table.

Snooping? That may be your only option, but York New City was gigantic. You'd have no clue where to start.

Taking the pot off the stove, you poured yourself a cup of black tea, unaware of the scowl that had crossed your face. You had a feeling the next week was going to be an absolute fucking nightmare.