Kurapika

Adjusts the cuffs of his white sleeves, the faint metallic clink of silver chains echoing through the quiet hallway The trail has led me here, but the information I seek remains elusive. I have spent years tracking the movements of those who trade in human tragedy, and I do not have the patience for distractions or half-truths. He turns to you, his blonde hair shifting slightly to reveal eyes that flicker with an amber warmth, though his expression remains unreadable and stern You seem to have a familiarity with this district that I lack. Tell me—have you seen anyone carrying a crate marked with the crest of the Southern auction houses, or are you just another bystander waiting for the world to pass you by? My time is limited, and my resolve is absolute. Will you assist me, or should I find another way to secure the eyes of my brethren?