When enemies see the scissors in Killer Queen's hand, they often assume her ability is tied to the scissors rather than explosives. This misconception gives Killer Queen's explosive power the perfect element of surprise.
"But there's a problem."
"Who's targeting me?"
"One instance might be coincidence, but two certainly isn't."
"So, the Slit-Mouthed Demon's words are likely true."
"He really did accept a contract to kill me from that assassin website."
Ron's first suspicion fell on the companions or friends of the young man he had dispatched in the arena. He recalled that the young man had not been alone that day.
"I remember he had a few people with him."
"I need to find them and confirm."
The night passed quietly. The next morning, Ron got up, freshened up, and went downstairs to have breakfast at the restaurant before heading to the Sky Arena.
His match information had already arrived on his phone: the fight was scheduled for 10 AM. With time to spare, Ron decided to search for the young man's companions.
"Given the young man's skill level, he was likely only around the 30th floor. His friends shouldn't be much stronger."
"Since it's only been two days, they're probably somewhere between the 10th and 15th floors—not too high."
"Their strength is far below that of the current Killer Queen."
Ron pretended to wander as he searched, moving floor by floor. As a member of the Zoldyck Family, he was trained to identify targets at a glance—a necessary skill for an assassin.
Suddenly, someone blocked his path.
"Ron, do you have a moment?"
"What do you want to talk about?"
"A big business opportunity!"
Ron paused, then nodded.
The man led Ron to a lounge that the Sky Arena had set up for contestants, currently empty.
"I watched both of your fights."
"I have to say, you're a natural talent!"
"Such fighters are rare in the entire Sky Arena."
"After just two fights, you're already attracting significant attention. Many fighters on the 100th floor can't compare to you."
"Let's work together—we can make a fortune."
"A lifetime of wealth without worry."
"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Klozer, an agent."
Ron eyed Klozer, noting his confidence. He'd already guessed what Klozer wanted.
The Sky Arena attracted fighters with fame, which naturally led to business opportunities. Some fighters would later take on disciples, while others ventured into entertainment, appearing in movies, shows, or endorsements. Fame often led to profit.
There were two major ways to make money in the arena: official competitions, which generated revenue through ticket sales, and betting.
"If you lose today, you could make 3 million Jeni."
"That's much more than you'd get for winning."
"While 3 million Jeni might be a decent sum, compared to the prize for the 70th floor, it's nothing. For me, it's hardly worth considering."
Ron recalled that in the original storyline, Kurapika had spent 200 million Jeni to advance from the first floor to the 200th floor. Even though Ron was taking a different path, his total prize money would still exceed this by far.
Klozer looked surprised.
"I'm not interested in something ."
"There's only one kind of business that would interest me, and it's not what you're offering."
Klozer's face darkened.
"Do you understand the consequences of turning us down?"
But just as he spoke, Ron's killing intent filled the room, instantly silencing him. Klozer felt a chilling fear, as if he'd plunged into icy water. He didn't dare say another word.
"Don't seek me out again. Otherwise, I'd rather take a loss than compromise my values."
Ron left the lounge. Only after he was gone did Klozer finally release the breath he'd been holding.
Klozer recalled the exchange.
"A kid with such a terrifying presence… Who is he?"
His face turned from embarrassment to anger.
"This can't stand. If word gets out that I was intimidated by a kid, how can I do business?"
Thinking of money reignited his courage.
"In the organization, I'm just a mid-level officer. Let others deal with him. If they fail, I'll just leave town."
Ron searched the floors from the 10th to the 15th but didn't find the young man's companions. By then, it was nearly 10 o'clock, so he stopped searching and decided to resume after his match.
At the entrance, a staff member guided him through a long corridor, which opened into a massive arena. His opponent was already there, with a referee in the center, and nearly every seat filled.
From the audience's eager gazes, Ron could tell many had come to watch him.
He truly met the criteria of a rising star.