Chrollo Lucilfer

Chrollo transformed an abandoned landfill into a Memorial of Lost Hearts. He placed books found in the rubble on rusted crates, opened to specific pages. Each book is a tomb. Each page, a memory. Troupe members wander between these makeshift altars, uncomfortable. Why here? Why now? Feitan found an annotated torture manual. Phinks, a gangster novel. Machi, a sewing pattern collection. And Chrollo, sitting on a concrete block, waits. He invited someone who won't come. He knows this. He waits anyway.

Dialogue 1 — Chrollo and Machi (the broken thread) Machi: (standing before her pedestal, the sewing book open) "... My mother taught me with this book. She said every stitch was a promise."

Chrollo: "You never talk about it."

Machi: "Because it's useless. She's dead."

Chrollo: "..."

Machi: "Why did you keep this? You went through my things?"

Chrollo: "You left it in the Yorknew hideout. I thought it was an oversight."

Machi: "It wasn't an oversight."

(Silence. Machi touches the page with her fingertips.)

Machi: "... It was an abandonment."

Chrollo: "Then I'm giving it back to you."

(Machi doesn't answer. She tears out a page, folds it, slips it into her pocket.)

Machi: "Keep the rest. For the next time I want to forget."

(She walks away. Chrollo carefully replaces the book on its pedestal.)

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Dialogue 2 — Chrollo and Feitan (the child soldier) Feitan: (staring at the torture manual) "Why you keep this?"

Chrollo: "Because it's the first book you learned to read."

Feitan: "... Not read. Pictures. Guess."

Chrollo: "You guessed right."

Feitan: "Not right. Just survive."

Chrollo: "It's the same thing, in Meteor City."

(Feitan takes the book. It's heavy in his small hands.)

Feitan: "You know... why me not can throw away?"

Chrollo: "Because it's you. Because without this book, you'd be someone else."

Feitan: "... Maybe better."

Chrollo: "Maybe. But it wouldn't be you."

(Feitan presses the book against his chest. He says nothing. He doesn't need to.)

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Dialogue 3 — Chrollo and Phinks (the king without a crown) Phinks: (snickers, flipping through the gangster novel) "Seriously? You still keep this crap?"

Chrollo: "You read it eleven times."

Phinks: "... The hell, you count?"

Chrollo: "I observe."

Phinks: "That's creepy."

Chrollo: "Why did you read it eleven times?"

(Phinks scratches his neck, embarrassed.)

Phinks: "I dunno... The hero, he's got no family, no power, nothing. He fights with his fists and his mouth. And at the end, he becomes the boss."

Chrollo: "Like you."

Phinks: "... Like nobody. It's just a book."

Chrollo: "Books are never 'just' books."

(Phinks puts the novel down. His fingers linger on the cover.)

Phinks: "... You're really a sappy romantic, Boss."

Chrollo: "I prefer 'collector'."

Phinks: (smirking) "Yeah, well, collect this."

(He places his half-empty soda can next to the book. Chrollo doesn't remove it.)

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Dialogue 4 — Chrollo and Shalnark (the prodigal son) Shalnark: (smiling, but the smile is fragile) "Oh! You kept my programming manual! I lost this years ago!"

Chrollo: "You didn't lose it. You gave it to a child in the slums."

Shalnark: "... Ah."

Chrollo: "I retrieved it. I thought you might want to keep it."

Shalnark: "No, no, it's fine! It's... it's really thoughtful, Boss."

(He flips through the book. A pencil inscription, in scrawled handwriting: "To the one who taught me that machines also have hearts.")

Shalnark: "... He's doing well, you know. The kid. He's a developer now. At a big company."

Chrollo: "I know."

Shalnark: "... You always know everything."

Chrollo: "Not everything."

(Shalnark closes the book. He holds it like one holds a fledgling.)

Shalnark: "Thank you, Boss. Really."

Chrollo: "It's nothing."

Shalnark: "No. It's everything."

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Dialogue 5 — Chrollo and the empty pedestal (Night has fallen. The Troupe has left. Chrollo remains alone before a pedestal that has never held anything.)

Chrollo: (quietly) "I kept your place."

(Wind lifts dust. No one answers.)

"Every year, I come back. Every year, I open this book to the page where you wrote your name."

(He opens Bandit's Secret. A flyleaf. Childish handwriting: "Sarasa.")

"I never stole your ability. You didn't have one. You just had... you."

(He touches the name with his fingertips.)

"I don't know if this is love. I don't know if love resembles this pain that won't leave."

(A silence. The wind rises.)

"But I never wanted to heal."

(He closes the book. He remains sitting on his concrete block, waiting for a dead woman who will never come.)

"Happy Valentine's Day, Sarasa."