The night had deepened, casting a serene silence over the once lively and busy streets. The twinkling lights of the city seemed to stretch on forever, a canvas of diamonds against the dark canvas of the sky. As the hours ticked by, the streets slowly emptied, and the sounds of the city grew quieter.
In the midst of this peaceful atmosphere, a lone figure emerged from the shadows. Silva Zoldyck, Killua's father and a renowned member of the infamous Zoldyck family of assassins, walked through the empty streets with an air of quiet confidence. His white, long, wavy hair cascaded down his back like a river of moonlight, and his masculine figure seemed chiseled from the very darkness itself.
As he strolled through the streets, his footsteps were eerily silent, a testament to his profession and training. He had just completed a mission commissioned to his family, and the familiar rush of satisfaction lingered within him.
Suddenly, Silva's gaze shifted upwards, his eyes locking onto a rooftop in the distance. He felt a gaze upon him, a gaze that was not malicious, but rather full of curiosity. The owner of this gaze wasn't hiding it at all, and Silva's interest was piqued.
On the rooftop stood a young man, perhaps 16 or 17 years old, with silver hair that cascaded down his back like a river of moonlight. The ends of his hair were tinged with pink, resembling the delicate petals of a flower. He wore a white long-sleeved shirt, black square pants, and a pair of boots with 1-inch high heels. A long brown coat draped over his shoulders, adding a touch of elegance to his overall appearance.
However, what truly caught Silva's attention was the young man's eyes – or rather, the blindfold that covered them. Despite the obstruction, Silva felt an uncanny sense that the young man could see right through the blindfold, as if his gaze was not reliant on sight.
The air seemed to vibrate with tension as Silva and the young man locked gazes, their eyes meeting across the distance. For a moment, time stood still, and the only sound was the soft rustling of the wind.
The young man's smile was a gentle whisper of elegance, a soft curve of his lips that seemed to dance in the moonlight. He nodded his head politely, a gesture of greeting that was both refined and enigmatic. As he turned to look in another direction, his figure began to shimmer and fade, like the delicate petals of a flower unfolding in the breeze.
The transformation was mesmerizing, a kaleidoscope of pink hues that swirled around him, gradually taking the shape of scattered petals. Glistening pink glitter sprinkled the air, casting a mystical glow over the rooftop. The moonlight danced across the petals, imbuing them with an ethereal quality, like a masterpiece of beauty and mystery.
As the petals dispersed, they seemed to carry the young man's essence with them, leaving behind a trail of wonder. Silva watched the scene unfold, his trained composure faltering for a moment. Despite his years of discipline and control, he couldn't help but be captivated by the young man's enchanting display.
His eyes remained fixed on the spot where the young man had stood, his gaze lingering as if reluctant to let go of the beauty he had witnessed. The silence was palpable, punctuated only by the soft rustling of the wind. Silva's fascination was evident, his usual stoicism momentarily replaced by a sense of awe and curiosity.
As he stood there, frozen in time, Silva felt a strange sense of connection to the young man. It was as if their brief encounter had bridged a gap, allowing him to glimpse a world beyond his own. The feeling was fleeting, but it left him with more questions than answers.
As the last remnants of the pink petals dissipated into the night air, Silva slowly returned to his senses. He stood there for a moment longer, his mind replaying the scene he had just witnessed. The young man was long gone, vanished into the night like a whispered secret. Yet, the image of his smile and the beauty of his transformation lingered, etched in Silva's memory like a delicate brushstroke on a canvas.
---------------------------------------------
"So I'm really in the hunter world huh" a gentle voice sounded, the soft voice was like a gentle breeze on a summer day, its beauty and addictiveness making it hard to determine whether it belonged to a man or a woman. In a luxurious room, adorned with opulent furnishings and lavish decorations, the young man who had captivated Silva's attention earlier lay reclined on a spacious bed.
The blindfold was gone, revealing mesmerizing blue eyes that sparkled like broken crystals. His pupils were unlike anything ordinary, shaped like scattered stars in the universe, with a violent blue color that seemed to shift and move as his eyes rolled or changed direction. This unique feature made his eyes even more fascinating, drawing the viewer in with an otherworldly allure.
Merlin Evren, a transmigrator from Earth, looked around the room with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. He couldn't shake off the feeling that he had simply gone to sleep in his own room, only to wake up in this strange and unfamiliar place.
"I just slept, though...so why am I here?" Merlin muttered to himself, trying to piece together the events that had led him to this moment. "It's not like I wandered into the streets and got hit by a car or truck – that's the most common trope for transmigration, right?" He chuckled wryly, wondering what had happened on Earth, whether he was dead or something.
As he lay there, Merlin's gaze drifted around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. He was still trying to wrap his head around his situation, unsure of what lay ahead or how he had ended up in this new world.
Merlin's memories of waking up in the room were hazy at first, but as he recalled the events, the details became clearer. Initially, he hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary, but when he got out of bed to use the bathroom, he realized he wasn't in his own bedroom.
Panic set in, and he looked around anxiously, his heart racing with uncertainty. However, taking a deep breath, he calmed himself down and began to think more clearly. He needed to confirm his suspicions, and the first step was to find a mirror.
Merlin's eyes scanned the room, and he spotted a full-body mirror near the closet. He walked towards it hesitantly, his mind racing with thoughts of reincarnation and transmigration. It was impossible for him to have been kidnapped and brought to his own house, given the high level of security and bodyguards hired by his parents.
As he stood in front of the mirror, Merlin was met with a face that left him confused once again. The reflection showed a beautiful and handsome face that seemed almost unreal, transcending traditional notions of gender with its soft and gentle features. The face was reminiscent of a mythical elf, with an added air of mystery that was both captivating and intriguing.
Merlin's gaze lingered on his reflection, taking in the changes that had occurred. His hair, once dyed, now appeared to be his natural color, as if he had been born with it. His eyes, previously a deep blue, had transformed into a mesmerizing broken crystal-like hue, containing the universe within them. The movement of his eyes seemed to shake the very fabric of his gaze, as if the stars themselves were shifting.
The only thing that seemed out of place was his clothes, which were different from what he had worn before. Everything else, however, seemed to be his, including his face and body. Merlin's mind was a whirlwind of questions and doubts, as he struggled to comprehend the reality of his situation.