Visitors

Flower Street?

Wasn't that basically the modern-day—red-beep-beep-beep-beep district?

Saul went to places like that for his morning exercise?

With that physique and age...

Maud was speechless.

The shop opened for business, but there were hardly any customers.

Sunny didn't ask Maud to do anything, and Maud didn't take the initiative to find work for himself, either.

He leaned against the corner of the wall and continued organizing his memories of One Piece with his eyes closed.

Once he had more or less sorted through his memories, he would have to pick up the daily training he had abandoned for so long.

After all, Hunter's Notebook couldn't provide any substantial assistance in the short term—unless another Watt came knocking.

Time trickled by.

Two hours passed, and not a single customer came in.

Maud glanced at Sunny, who was sitting behind the counter and repeatedly reading through a newspaper.

Judging from his calm reaction, this weapon shop's dismal business was probably the norm.

Besides, it seemed a little too quiet.

Maud turned his attention to the half-closed wooden double doors.

This was a lawless area where armed fights and killings could break out on the streets at any moment, yet after several hours, all he could hear were faint footsteps passing outside the shop.

Finding it strange, Maud walked toward the shop entrance.

Seeing that Sunny showed no reaction, Maud calmly pulled open the wooden door, then leaned most of his body outside to take a look.

A moment later, Maud retreated and silently closed the door.

Damn, wasn't this an alley in a residential district?

No wonder it was so quiet most of the time.

Opening a weapon shop in a place like this—if you didn't know better, you'd think the place sold liquor.

Maud vented his frustration internally.

The prestige of Mad Hatter Town that he had imagined based on the scant information he possessed was steadily declining.

He suddenly felt like going outside to take a look at the streets, but quickly snuffed out the impulse.

Instead of thinking about that when he had nothing better to do, he might as well figure out how to get Saul to give him a gun to carry.

Maud turned around and walked toward the corner.

He had only taken a few steps when the shop door was suddenly pushed open.

Maud instinctively looked back. When he saw who had arrived, surprise immediately appeared in his eyes.

Three men stood at the entrance. They looked as though they were walking side by side, but in reality, the men on the left and right habitually lagged half a step behind, emphasizing the identity of the man in the middle.

The man on the left had a head of center-parted curly hair. A long-barreled smoothbore flintlock rifle was strapped to his back, and a khaki belt five fingers wide was slung diagonally around his waist. A cloth pouch filled with ammunition hung from the belt's left side.

The man on the right was fat, but he towered over the other two men.

A green headscarf was tied around his head. He wore a pair of small wine-red sunglasses that looked extremely ill-suited to his face, and he held a half-eaten piece of meat in one hand.

The wooden double doors had been pushed open by the man in the middle.

Seeing Maud's unusual reaction, the man laughed heartily. "Hey, kid, I didn't bump into you just now, did I?"

Mad Hatter Town, Cape Street.

It bordered the bar district and was also where the black market was located.

Any transaction that couldn't see the light of day could be conducted openly here.

Cape Street centered around Mad Hatter Town's largest auction house, with all kinds of establishments tied to the black economy radiating outward.

Arthur's Home of Beauty was among them.

As an Undertaker, he had endless work to do every day.

Of course, most of that work was secured through his "ability."

Today was his rare day off that came once a month. To enjoy the wonderful day properly, he had already filled his schedule to the brim yesterday.

However, just as he had eaten and drunk his fill and was preparing to go exercise on Flower Street, the Den Den Mushi rang, giving him a bad feeling.

Half an hour later, he had returned to work.

Working for someone else meant one was always at the mercy of circumstances.

While lamenting inwardly, he changed into his work clothes.

Uniform, mask, and an armband marked with the character for "death."

These three things were standard equipment for an Undertaker after joining the profession.

After changing, Arthur waited for his next instructions.

One after another, his colleagues hurried back to Home of Beauty. They had apparently all been called back by the boss at the last minute.

"Why are you back too? Don't tell me something happened at Pig Farm again?"

"Yeah. What happened this morning was another mass slave riot."

"How many slaves were killed or injured this time?"

"Not sure. They say it was worse than last time."

"Tch, I thought we'd landed some major job, but it turned out to be another lousy assignment from that place."

One of the Undertakers complained.

The lead Undertaker glanced at the colleagues present and said calmly, "We'll leave once everyone's here."

Arthur sat in an inconspicuous corner, silently listening to his colleagues' conversation.

So something had gone wrong at Pig Farm again. Quite a few slaves must have been killed or injured.

In other words, they were going to be busy today.

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

Arthur sighed inwardly.

His rare day off...

"I heard there'll be several major auction items at the auction toward the end of the month."

"What auction items?"

"A Devil Fruit, a famous sword, and Fish-Man Race slaves."

"Really? Where did you hear that? The auction house hasn't even released its catalog, and you already know?"

"I swear on my character!"

"Then it must be fake."

"?"

"Oh, I almost forgot that I'm a heartless Undertaker. I threw away something like character when I joined the profession. How about I swear on something else?"

In the corner, Arthur's ears twitched. He discreetly glanced at the few colleagues whispering nearby.

A Devil Fruit and a famous sword?

Arthur was somewhat surprised, but he wouldn't readily believe the authenticity of the news.

Although, in this chaotic place, alcohol meant that some bits of gossip could indeed spread faster than official news, a Devil Fruit was an extremely rare thing.

If the auction house had acquired one, it would probably have announced it with great fanfare long ago.

"A Devil Fruit..."

A look of longing appeared in Arthur's eyes.

Given his income, he would have to go without food or drink for at least several decades before he had a chance to compete for one.

If there really was a Devil Fruit at the auction toward the end of the month, he could go join the excitement even if he wasn't qualified to bid.

As for the famous sword, that old fellow Saul should be interested.

The bar district, a certain tavern.

It was noon, yet the tavern was already filled with noise and voices.

As one of the biggest money pits around, bars had always been one of the pirates' preferred places to spend their money. Such a clientele was therefore nothing strange.

Kid occupied a table by himself. In this somewhat overcrowded tavern, he seemed especially conspicuous.

Even so, no one went looking for trouble with him.

The dozen or so pirates lying on the floor served as a warning.

Just then, a man wearing a blue mask entered the tavern. He looked around, then walked straight toward the table where Kid was sitting.

When he reached Kid's table, the masked man sat down directly.

Kid looked up at the masked man and said, "You're here."

The masked man nodded and asked, "Did you buy the gun?"

"No."

Kid shook his head.

"Did someone else buy it?"

"No. The owner wouldn't sell it to me."

"He wouldn't sell it to you? Why?"

"I don't know."

Kid irritably drained the alcohol from the bottle.

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

"I've spent almost all of it."

"..."

The masked man was speechless.

Kid, however, looked completely unconcerned.

In his view, money was something he could get just by snatching it.