Chapter Eight: The Visitor

Red-light district? Isn't that just the modern-day—well, you know? Saul goes to that kind of place for his morning exercises? At his age and with that physique...

Maud was speechless.

The shop opened for business, but there wasn't a soul to be seen. Sunny didn't ask Maud to do anything, and Maud made no effort to find something to do himself. He leaned against the corner, eyes closed, sifting through his memories of One Piece.

Once he finished organizing his memories, it would be time to pick up his long-abandoned "daily training" again. After all, the Hunter's Notebook couldn't provide any substantial assistance in the short term, unless another fool like Watt delivered himself to the door.

Time trickled by.

Two hours passed, and not a single customer appeared.

Maud glanced at Sunny, seated behind the counter, poring over a newspaper again and again. Judging by her calm demeanor, it seemed poor business was the norm for this weapon shop.

Moreover, it was almost too quiet.

Maud shifted his gaze to the half-open double wooden doors. For a lawless zone where street brawls could break out at any moment, all he heard in hours were the soft footsteps of passersby outside.

Odd.

Unable to hold back his curiosity, Maud walked over to the doors. Seeing that Sunny didn't react, Maud confidently pulled the door open and leaned out to take a look.

A moment later, he shut the door again in silence.

Damn, this is just a residential back alley. No wonder it's so quiet most of the time. Opening a weapon shop in a place like this, anyone not in the know would think you were running a tavern.

Maud vented his inner complaints.

The image he'd pieced together of Mad Hatter Town from scant information was steadily crumbling.

A sudden urge to explore the main street flickered in his mind, but he quickly extinguished it. Better to think about how to persuade Saul to lend him a gun than to waste time with such thoughts.

Maud turned and walked back toward his corner.

He'd barely taken a few steps when the shop door was abruptly pushed open.

Instinctively, Maud turned his head. When he saw who it was, surprise flashed in his eyes.

Three men stood at the door. Though they appeared to walk side by side, the two on either side hung back half a step, clearly deferring to the man in the middle.

The man on the left had slicked-back, parted hair, a long-barreled flintlock slung over his back, and a wide, earth-colored belt slung diagonally at his waist with a pouch full of ammunition hanging on his left side.

The man on the right was fat and towered over the other two. He wore a green bandana, a pair of tiny wine-red sunglasses that clashed comically with his face, and held a half-eaten piece of meat in his hand.

The middle man was the one who'd pushed open the door.

He noticed Maud's startled reaction and laughed heartily. "Hey there, kid, didn't bump into you just now, did I?"

...

Mad Hatter Town, Watchpoint Street.

Here, right next to Bar Street, lay the black market. Any deal too shady for the light of day could be conducted here without fear.

Watchpoint Street revolved around the town's largest auction house, venues linked to the underworld radiating in all directions. "The House of Beauty," where Arthur worked, was one such place.

As an undertaker, he was forever busy with endless work. Of course, most of these jobs he landed thanks to his "abilities."

Today was his rare monthly day off. He'd made sure to pack his schedule to the brim, eager to enjoy his hard-won free time. However, just as he was preparing to visit the red-light district after a hearty meal, the den-den mushi rang—and he had a bad feeling.

Half an hour later, he was back at work.

Such is the lot of a wage-earner—never truly your own master.

Sighing inwardly, Arthur changed into his work uniform: uniform, mask, and an armband marked with the character for "death." These three items were standard issue for every undertaker.

Once ready, Arthur waited for the next set of instructions.

One by one, his colleagues hurried back into the House of Beauty—no doubt all summoned by the boss.

"Why are you guys back too? Don't tell me there's trouble at the 'Pig Farm' again?"

"Yeah, something happened this morning. Another slave riot."

"How many dead or injured this time?"

"Not sure, but they say it's worse than last time."

"Tch. I thought we'd landed a big job, but it's just that mess again."

One undertaker grumbled.

The lead undertaker glanced at his colleagues and said calmly, "We'll head out once everyone's here."

Arthur sat quietly in a corner, listening in on their conversation.

So, the Pig Farm had erupted again—no doubt with plenty of casualties among the slaves.

In other words, they'd be busy today.

And it was another job with lots of work and little pay.

Arthur sighed inwardly.

What a waste of a rare holiday...

"I heard there’ll be some heavy hitters up for auction at the end of the month."

"What kind of items?"

"A Devil Fruit, a famed sword, and a fishman slave."

"Seriously? Where'd you hear that? Auction house hasn't released the catalog yet and you already know?"

"I swear on my life!"

"Then it must be a lie."

"?"

"Oh, I almost forgot, I'm just a cold-blooded undertaker. I lost all sense of honor when I took this job. Maybe I should swear on something else?"

...

In the corner, Arthur's ears pricked up. He cast a discreet glance at the colleagues whispering nearby.

A Devil Fruit and a famed sword?

He was surprised, but not enough to believe such rumors easily.

True, in a place as chaotic as this, sometimes the gossip in the bars was faster than official news. But a Devil Fruit was a rare treasure—if it had been acquired for auction, the town would be buzzing about it by now.

"A Devil Fruit, huh..."

Desire flickered in Arthur's eyes.

With his salary, it would take decades of living on nothing but air to save up enough to bid for one.

If the end-of-month auction really did have a Devil Fruit, even if he couldn't compete, he could at least go to witness the excitement.

As for a famed sword, that old bastard Saul would probably be interested in that.

...

Bar Street, a certain tavern.

It was noon, and the tavern was packed and noisy. As one of the major dens of dissipation, bars were always a top choice for pirates to spend their loot, so the crowd was no surprise.

Kidd sat alone at a table, standing out amid the crowded tavern.

Even so, no one dared to cause him trouble.

The dozen or so pirates lying sprawled on the floor were warning enough.

At that moment, a man wearing a blue mask entered, glanced around, and made his way straight to Kidd's table.

He sat down without preamble.

Kidd looked up. "You're here."

The masked man nodded. "Did you get the gun?"

"No."

Kidd shook his head.

"Someone else bought it?"

"No, the boss just wouldn't sell it to me."

"Wouldn't sell to you? Why?"

"No idea."

Kidd irritably drained the last of his bottle.

The masked man more or less guessed what had happened. "Then give me the money and I'll go buy it."

"The money’s almost gone."

"…"

The masked man was speechless.

Kidd, on the other hand, seemed utterly unconcerned.

To him, money was something you could always get by just taking it.