One Piece: Scourge of the Seas

The Pleasure District?

Wasn't that essentially the modern—redacted red-light district?

Sol went to such a place for his morning exercise? With that kind of physique and age...

Maude was speechless.

The shop had opened for business, but it was eerily quiet.

Sunny didn't assign Maude any tasks, and he didn't volunteer to take on anything either.

He leaned against the corner wall, eyes closed, mentally organizing his memories of the One Piece world. Once that task was finished, he'd have to resume the daily training he'd neglected for far too long.

After all, the Hunter's Notebook wouldn't provide substantial help in the short term—unless another Watt-like character conveniently delivered themselves to his doorstep.

Time ticked by slowly. Two hours passed, and not a single customer walked in.

Maude glanced at Sunny, who was sitting behind the counter, engrossed in reading a newspaper over and over again. Judging by her calm demeanor, business being this dismal must be the norm for this weapons shop.

It was almost too quiet.

Maude shifted his gaze toward the slightly ajar double wooden doors. In a lawless town where street brawls and shootouts were commonplace, the near-silence outside was peculiar. He could only hear the faint sound of footsteps passing by every so often.

Puzzled, Maude walked toward the shop's entrance. Seeing that Sunny didn't react, he felt at ease opening the door slightly and poking his head out to take a look.

Moments later, he retreated back inside and silently shut the door.

Seriously? This is basically an alley in a residential area.

No wonder it was so quiet most of the time.

"Opening a weapons shop in a spot like this? Anyone unfamiliar with the place would think you were running a tavern," Maude muttered to himself, his thoughts dripping with sarcasm.

The impression he'd formed about the prestige of Mad Hat Town was steadily unraveling.

Suddenly, he had an urge to explore the streets outside but quickly dismissed it. If he had the time to entertain such thoughts, he might as well focus on getting a gun out of Sol.

Maude turned and headed back toward the corner he'd claimed as his spot. But just as he took a few steps, the shop's door was pushed open.

Instinctively, Maude turned to look. When he saw who had entered, his eyes filled with surprise.

Standing in the doorway was a group of three. They appeared to walk side by side, but in reality, the two men flanking the central figure lagged half a step behind, subtly emphasizing the leader's prominence.

The man on the left sported wavy, center-parted hair and carried a long-barreled flintlock rifle slung across his back. A wide, earthy-toned belt diagonally crossed his waist, with a pouch full of ammunition hanging on the left side.

The man on the right was obese but towered over the other two. He wore a green headscarf and a pair of comically small, wine-red sunglasses that clashed with his broad face. In his hand was a half-eaten piece of meat.

It was the man in the center who pushed the wooden doors open. He looked at Maude, whose reaction seemed unusual, and grinned broadly.

"Hey there, kid! I didn't bump into you just now, did I?"

...

Mad Hat Town, Watchpoint Street.

This street was adjacent to Bar Street and home to the black market. Here, all manner of illicit transactions could take place in broad daylight without fear of interference.

Watchpoint Street centered around the town's largest auction house, with various establishments tied to the underground economy radiating outward from it.

Arthur's workplace, the "House of Aesthetics," was among them. As an undertaker, he always had his hands full. Of course, most of his business was self-solicited thanks to his "unique skills."

Today marked one of his rare monthly days off. Eager to make the most of his free time, he'd planned his schedule meticulously the day before. However, just as he'd finished eating and was about to head to the Pleasure District for a workout, his Transponder Snail (Den Den Mushi) rang. That sound alone gave him a bad feeling.

Half an hour later, he was back at work.

Such is the fate of an employee under someone else's thumb.

Sighing internally, Arthur donned his work attire: a uniform, a mask, and an armband emblazoned with the kanji for "Death." These three items were the standard gear for undertakers upon joining the profession.

Once dressed, Arthur awaited his next orders. Gradually, his colleagues trickled back to the House of Aesthetics, clearly summoned by the boss at short notice.

"What brings you all back? Don't tell me the 'Pig Farm' is acting up again," one of them asked.

"Yeah. Happened this morning. Another slave uprising."

"How many casualties this time?"

"Not sure. They say it's worse than the last one."

"Tch. I thought we had a big job lined up, but it's just more of that mess."

One undertaker grumbled in annoyance.

The lead undertaker scanned the group, his expression calm. "We'll set off once everyone's here."

Arthur sat quietly in an inconspicuous corner, silently listening to his colleagues' conversation. So, the Pig Farm had another incident—likely with heavy casualties among the slaves. In other words, they'd have a busy day ahead.

And it'd be one of those low-paying, high-workload gigs.

Arthur sighed inwardly. So much for a rare day off.

"I heard there'll be some big-ticket items at the auction at the end of the month," one colleague said.

"Oh? What kind of items?"

"A Devil Fruit, a famous blade, and some Fish-Man slaves."

"Are you serious? Where'd you hear that? The auction hasn't even released their catalog yet."

"I swear on my honor!"

"So, it's fake, then."

"?"

"Oh, I almost forgot. We undertakers don't have things like honor. Tossed that away when we took the job. Maybe I should swear on something else?"

From his corner, Arthur's ears perked up. He glanced subtly at the group whispering nearby.

A Devil Fruit and a famous blade?

Arthur was intrigued but remained skeptical about the rumor's validity. While this chaotic town—thanks to the loose lips of inebriated patrons—was occasionally ahead of the curve with certain tidbits, Devil Fruits were exceedingly rare.

If the auction had acquired one, they'd likely have publicized it already.

"A Devil Fruit, huh…" Arthur's eyes betrayed a flicker of longing. With his current income, he'd need to forgo food and drink for decades to even consider competing for one.

If there really was a Devil Fruit at the auction, he'd at least want to catch a glimpse of it, even if he couldn't bid. As for the blade, old man Sol might be interested.

Bar Street, some tavern.

It was noon, yet the tavern was packed and boisterous. As one of the biggest money pits in town, bars were always a go-to for pirates, so the crowd was unsurprising.

Amid the chaos, Kid sat alone at a table, standing out like a sore thumb. Despite his isolation, no one dared to provoke him—the dozen pirates sprawled unconscious on the floor served as a clear deterrent.

At that moment, a man wearing a blue mask entered the tavern, glanced around, and then headed straight for Kid's table.

Reaching the table, the masked man sat down unceremoniously.

Kid glanced up at him. "You're here."

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

"No."

Kid shook his head.

"Someone else got to it first?"

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

"Wouldn't sell? Why?"

"No idea."

Irritated, Kid downed the rest of his drink.

The masked man seemed to grasp the situation and sighed. "Fine. Give me the money, and I'll buy it for you."

"Money's almost gone."

"…"

The masked man was speechless.

Kid, however, looked entirely unfazed. To him, money was easy to come by—a simple matter of taking what he needed from others.

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