Chapter Eleven: Should We Choose a Name First?

Listening to the conversation coming from the shop, Maud couldn't help but become interested in Saul's background. To be acquainted with someone as influential as Shanks, and to be addressed respectfully by Jesus, it was clear Saul was no ordinary figure.

Within just two days of arriving in this world, Maud had come to understand one thing deeply: in this age of great voyages filled with countless formidable characters, there were surely many powerful figures never mentioned in the original story. To establish oneself in such a world... the difficulty was far greater than in the Hunter world.

Maud instinctively tightened his grip on the flintlock pistol he had obtained from Jesus. He had a weapon now, but next he needed to find a second prey. Yet, the prerequisite for hunting a second target was having the means to move freely outside. The intimidation of a single gun was far from sufficient. Although he had marksmanship, he lacked the near-supernatural reloading speed of Jesus. In a fight, he estimated that after firing one shot, there would be no follow-up.

“Hm?” Maud’s eyelids twitched as he suddenly thought of a more pressing issue.

“I don’t have any bullets…”

Earlier, he had been focused on leaving the scene quickly and hadn’t had time to ask Jesus for gunpowder and lead bullets. Maud was at a loss.

That night.

The restaurant was brightly lit, the table laden with delicacies, and the fragrance of wine filled the air. Shanks gazed at the wine stains in his wooden cup and sighed, “I’ve tasted countless fine wines, but only the wine from my homeland lingers in my memory.”

“Why are you still here?” Saul drooped his eyelids, his face full of disdain—almost as if it could be sprinkled onto the dishes as seasoning.

“Don’t be so cold. It’s been a while since we last met, after all.” Shanks smiled warmly, setting down his cup as if the sharp exchanges of the day were already behind them.

Sunny timely refilled Shanks’s wine, while Jesus busied himself eating and drinking. As for Lucky Roo, he hadn’t returned after bringing the wine back to the ship.

Maud sat by the wall, relieved that Jesus hadn’t left yet, contemplating the best moment to ask him for gunpowder and bullets. Of course, he couldn’t do it at the dinner table. After considering it, the only opportunity seemed to be—

Go to the bathroom, hurry to the bathroom, hurry to the bathroom…!

Maud silently chanted in his heart.

Jesus, who was drinking, suddenly shivered inexplicably.

Hmm? Could it be the drastic difference between day and night temperatures?

He shook his head and continued drinking.

Saul glanced at Shanks’s empty left sleeve and said coldly, “Those words earlier today—I wasn't joking. Someone of your stature coming here just to buy wine every now and then will inevitably bring me unavoidable trouble.”

“You’re right,” Shanks stared at the wine in his wooden cup. “But have you ever considered… coming aboard my ship?”

“Your ship?” Saul sneered, “I'm already an old man heading for the grave. You want me to retire on your ship? Besides, you already have Jesus; that's enough.”

“Uh, I’m going to the bathroom.” Unable to withstand Saul’s sudden heavy words, Jesus stood up, eager to escape.

Maud seized the chance and quietly followed.

With two people gone from the table, Shanks and Saul’s conversation continued, unaffected.

“You have a point…” Shanks smiled, unable to refute Saul’s words.

Saul drained his cup in one gulp, saying calmly, “For decades, pirates have been as numerous as fish in the river, but in the end, how many meet a good end? Old men like me, discarded by the times, are content just to breathe another day.”

“…” Shanks fell silent.

Sunny muttered quietly, “Old men can still visit the pleasure quarters every day…”

Shanks couldn’t help but smile.

“Less talk, more eating.” Saul shot Sunny a glare, then glanced sidelong at Shanks, snorting, “What are you laughing at? If you understand, don’t come here again.”

Shanks replied seriously, “Then perhaps you could tell me the location of your secret wine island.”

“Get lost!”

…

In the corridor.

“Do you need something?” Jesus stood at the bathroom door, tilting his head at Maud, who had followed him.

Maud nodded and lowered his voice, “I’d like to ask you for some lead bullets and gunpowder.”

“Huh?” Jesus looked at Maud curiously. “This is a weapons shop, you know.”

It was one thing to ask for a gun during the day, but now he wanted ammunition at night?

“That’s true, but…” Maud was momentarily speechless, searching for a suitable excuse. Yet, unlike Sunny, he lacked the skill to shift blame effortlessly onto Saul in casual conversation.

Seeing Maud hesitate, Jesus didn’t press the issue. He simply took a small portion of lead bullets and gunpowder from his ammo pouch.

“Will this be enough?”

“Enough!” Maud nodded vigorously, afraid Jesus might change his mind, and quickly accepted the ammunition.

Jesus was speechless: it was just a few rounds—was it really such a big deal?

He glanced at the lights coming from the restaurant, thinking the boss and Mr. Saul would probably chat for a while longer, so he squatted at the bathroom door and lit a cigarette.

Having received the ammunition, Maud didn’t plan to linger. He intended to go upstairs and store it safely in his room.

Before he could take a step, Jesus handed him a cigarette.

“Want a smoke?”

“Uh…” Maud felt awkward refusing, so he carefully put the ammo in his pocket before accepting the cigarette.

Jesus exhaled a puff of smoke; perhaps out of boredom, he opened up.

“Have you ever thought of giving your gun a name?”

Maud considered the question, about to answer, but Jesus interrupted him: “Sigh, I always called it ‘Old Pal,’ but I never got to see it through to the end. Guns aren’t like swords—they’re not easily remembered by name.”

“Even if you give your gun a flashy name, people mostly remember the person wielding it. But I hope you remember: a good gun makes a good sniper. By the way, what name are you thinking of for ‘Old Pal’?”

“I…”

Maud started to speak, but was cut off again.

“Honestly, leaving ‘Old Pal’ behind, I do feel a bit reluctant. But after handing it over to you, for some reason, I feel an inexplicable sense of relief.”

“I…”

“As a shooter, your physical condition is important too. You can’t make it like this—your body is too weak.”

“I…”

“Oh, what am I doing? With Mr. Saul around, it’s not my place to give you advice. Haha. Right, I still don’t know what name you’ll give your gun.”

“I…”

“Why not call it ‘Usopp’? It’s such a cute name. Actually, that’s my son’s name. Now that I think about it, he should be about your age.”

“…”

The air around the bathroom door was thick with choking smoke.

Maud understood.

When faced with a drunken chatterbox, don’t bother trying to speak.

Just listen. That’s all you need.