Tonpa watched the group ahead of him and began considering the first opening he could exploit.
He did not expect his first attempt to succeed.
In fact, he was certain that a sudden apology after trying to poison them would look like yet another trick.
But keeping his distance would teach him nothing.
He needed to find out just how bad his position was and how each of them responded to words they did not trust.
A failed attempt was not a loss if he learned something from it.
‘Let’s start with the easiest one.’
He chose Gon.
Of the four, the boy was the most willing to speak with strangers and probably the most likely to give someone a second chance.
The problem was that his simplicity was not stupidity.
Gon possessed an almost animalistic instinct for malicious intent, and it was difficult to deceive someone who did not need to understand a lie to sense that something about it was wrong.
Tonpa gradually increased his pace until he caught up with the group.
He did not approach Gon directly.
Instead, he ran beside them for several seconds, pretending that his presence nearby was nothing more than a coincidence.
Killua was the first to notice him.
His blue eyes moved to the bag of juice, then to Tonpa’s face, before a faint smile appeared on his lips.
It was not a welcoming smile.
Gon turned next and said, “Hello, Tonpa.”
Tonpa heard no hostility in his voice, but the small window that appeared before his eyes ruined any optimism he might have felt.
[Gon Freecss — Trust: 0%]
He maintained his friendly smile.
“About what happened at the beginning of the exam…
I think you misunderstood the situation.”
Killua fell silent, and his smile widened.
Tonpa recognized his mistake the moment the words left his mouth.
It was a terrible opening.
An apology that began by accusing the other person of misunderstanding was not an apology.
It was merely a polite attempt to sell the same lie again.
Still, he continued the performance.
“I admit the joke went a little too far.
I’ve spent years testing new applicants, and sometimes I forget that it can look worse than I intend.
In any case, I’ve decided to stop doing it.”
Gon looked at him as they ran, his expression free of anger.
That was better than Tonpa had expected—until the boy tilted his head and asked, “Are you really sorry?”
“Of course.”
A short chime rang out.
[Persuasion Failed.]
[Gon Freecss does not believe you.]
Another notification followed, this one more specific.
[Gon Freecss knows you are lying about your remorse.]
Tonpa’s smile nearly stiffened.
Gon could not have produced any proof that he was lying, but he did not need any.
The boy stared at him for a few moments before speaking with an honesty devoid of accusation.
“I don’t know…
Your words sound right, but you don’t look sorry.”
‘What an irritating talent.’
Tonpa could imitate a remorseful expression and use the proper tone, but Gon did not judge the performance the way an adult would.
He seemed to sense the contradiction between the words and what lay behind them directly.
Tonpa offered him a regretful smile.
“I understand your doubts.
I only wanted to clear things up.”
He dropped back slightly, committing the result to memory.
Gon was not hostile, but he had not accepted the claim.
Pressing him any further would make him wary rather than earn Tonpa any trust.
He moved on to the second target.
Killua was still watching him with open amusement, as though he were waiting for his turn in the show.
Tonpa said, “I have to admit, you surprised me.
No one has ever drunk that juice without being affected.”
“I drank five bottles.”
“That’s exactly what I mean.
You figured out the trick quickly and ruined it before the others could drink too much.
I didn’t expect that.”
The compliment was genuine.
Killua was strong and intelligent, and acknowledging his ability might make him more willing to listen.
The window appeared.
[Persuasion Attempt in Progress…]
Killua raised an eyebrow, then pointed at the bag hanging from Tonpa’s side.
“You said you’d turned over a new leaf, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Then why are you still carrying the juice?”
Gon’s gaze shifted to the bag as well.
Tonpa suddenly felt the bottles grow heavier.
He could throw them away, but discarding a useful tool merely to improve a performance that had already failed would be wasteful.
He might need the liquid later, whether to use against another applicant or for some purpose that had yet to present itself.
After a moment, he answered, “Littering inside the tunnel would be irresponsible.”
Killua burst out laughing.
“You were ready to make hundreds of people take turns in the bathroom, but littering is where you draw the line?”
[Persuasion Failed.]
[Killua Zoldyck does not believe you.]
[Killua Zoldyck believes you are choosing your words to conceal your true objective.]
‘At least it didn’t say I’m bad at lying.’
Another message appeared.
[Killua Zoldyck finds your attempt amusing.]
[Trust Level: 0%]
Any small comfort the report might have offered vanished.
Killua was enjoying his failure, not him.
Tonpa turned toward Kurapika.
He needed to change his approach.
Pretending to be remorseful had failed, and his attempt at flattery had been recognized immediately.
So he chose partial honesty instead.
“I’m not asking you to forget about the juice.
I only want us to put it behind us.
This exam will be long, and having an experienced applicant on your side could prove useful.”
Kurapika regarded him calmly.
There was none of Killua’s mockery on his face, which did little to reassure Tonpa.
Quiet people forced you to keep talking, and every additional sentence gave them something else to analyze.
Tonpa continued, “I’ve taken the Hunter Exam many times, and I’m familiar with all kinds of examiners and applicants.
I can warn you about certain dangers in exchange for a fresh start.”
“Then your apology wasn’t an apology.”
Kurapika maintained his pace as he spoke, never raising his voice.
“You approached Gon first because you believed he would be the most receptive.
Then you tried to win Killua over with praise.
When that failed, you offered us information in exchange for overlooking your actions.
You’re not trying to make amends.
You’re testing which approach might work on us.”
Tonpa’s expression did not change, but something inside him shrank.
[Purpose of the Conversation Detected.]
[Persuasion Failed.]
[Kurapika does not trust you.]
[Kurapika has become more wary of your motives.]
The third attempt was worse than a failure.
Kurapika had not merely remained at zero; he had become more alert to Tonpa’s actions.
‘Wonderful.
A few more sentences and he’ll write a complete psychological profile on me.’
Tonpa did not argue.
Arguing with an accurate conclusion would only confirm it.
He nodded as though he respected Kurapika’s opinion, then turned his attention to the final person.
Leorio was running a few steps away and had heard the entire conversation.
Fatigue showed on his face, but it did not stop him from directing a sharp glare at Tonpa when he approached.
Tonpa opened his mouth.
“Listen, Leorio—”
“No.”
Tonpa waited a moment.
“I haven’t said anything yet.”
“And I’m saving you the effort.”
Leorio pointed at the bag while panting.
“Stay away from me—and keep your juice with you.
If you try to trick us again, I’ll make you drink every last bottle.”
[Persuasion Failed.]
[Leorio does not trust you.]
Tonpa did not need the System to interpret that one.
Leorio had made sure half the tunnel heard his opinion.
Tonpa dropped back from the group, ignoring Killua’s quiet laughter.
None of them followed or tried to continue the conversation, allowing him to return to his previous position between them and the rest of the crowd.
He summoned the quest interface.
[Gon Freecss: 0%/20%]
[Killua Zoldyck: 0%/20%]
[Kurapika: 0%/20%]
[Leorio: 0%/20%]
Four perfect zeroes.
‘If these were exam scores, I’d at least earn full marks for consistency.’
The result was not unexpected, but it proved that the quest was harder than it had appeared.
He did not merely need to accumulate eighty percent trust.
He had to build it on top of a reputation that had been cultivated for years specifically to prevent that from happening.
He looked toward the distant end of the tunnel, but saw nothing except more pale light and moving backs.
Somewhere beyond that path, the rest of the Hunter Exam awaited him.
If he reached its end without completing the quest, the System would transport him to the Dark Continent.
A body with F- and E-rank stats, unawakened Nen, and a destination whose outskirts were filled with creatures that treated even the strongest Hunters as prey.
‘I wouldn’t survive long enough to regret it.’
He dismissed the quest interface and forced himself to think calmly.
His failed apology was not the problem; he had expected it to fail.
What mattered was why.
They did not believe him because his words cost him nothing.
Apologies were free.
Promises were free.
Even the information he had offered could have been false.
No matter how convincing his performance became, every sentence that left Tonpa’s mouth would remain suspect.
Trust was not built through what a con artist said about himself.
It was built through what the target witnessed and concluded on their own.
He needed an action that benefited them, appeared costly to him, and left no simple explanation for his motives.
If that action occurred amid genuine danger, it would carry more weight than dozens of apologies.
A faint smile began to form on his face.
He did not need to wait for danger to appear at random.
He knew the events of the Hunter Exam—or at least the important ones.
He remembered some of its traps, creatures, and the situations the main characters would encounter.
All he needed was to choose the right moment and place himself where it would look as though he had risked himself for them.
‘I won’t convince them that I’ve changed.’
He raised his eyes toward the four figures ahead and began rearranging everything he remembered about the exam.
‘I’ll give them evidence that makes doubting me harder than believing me.’
He did not need to create the danger.
It was already coming for them.
All he had to do was receive it the right way.