We

The Baron's call was fruitful.

At least by the next day, Buggy had moved out of the somewhat monotonous Marine Sanatorium.

His Excellency Baron handed him over a property in Area 36, which was said to be a rather large estate.

Hmm, I wonder how it compares to Gotham City's Richest?

Buggy quickly retracted that thought.

To call the building before him an estate would be a bit of a stretch.

A slightly larger villa?

That description was more fitting.

It was just that the exterior of the house was a bit old. Many of the red tiles on the three-story roof had fallen off, and under the slanted orange-red sunlight, it looked somewhat desolate.

It wasn't far from Soap Bubble Park, and crowds could be seen coming and going in the distance.

Fortunately, Buggy wasn't picky.

He also felt that he probably wouldn't be staying long.

A gravel road, no more than four meters long, connected the front gate to the stone steps in front of the house.

The furniture inside wasn't old. At least the door handles were still gleaming.

It was quite strange, actually.

As Buggy walked into the house that nominally belonged to him, he felt a distinct tremor in his heart.

So he split his chest open and held it in front of his eyes.

He looked at it carefully.

It would cheer and rejoice at owning such an asset.

This wasn't a reaction he should have.

Buggy's feet stepped onto the soft carpet. He simply took off his shoes, wanting to see his reaction.

His heart rate didn't increase.

But when he passed a gold ornament, his heart suddenly beat faster.

It was a gold plate mixed with some silver copper.

It was just a plate.

Buggy felt his nerves hadn't been touched, but the reaction in his heart couldn't be faked.

Gold.

Many images popped into his mind.

One was of him discovering a treasure trove in a dark cave, so rich it illuminated the surroundings, and him bathing in this pile of riches!

Another image was:

Him returning to his countryside town, using the money from selling gold to build a bright, three-story Western-style house for his family, making his sighing grandmother overjoyed.

He also called back the friends he grew up with.

To eat and drink together.

Those friends...

Suddenly, a memory flashed through Buggy's mind: an experience of him and a red-haired kid weaving through a crowd of adults, holding wine glasses.

A man with a mustache watched the two of them, smiling happily.

And a middle-aged man with round frame glasses, who looked somewhat refined.

During that time, He could feel that he was very happy.

"Perhaps I've neglected you all for too long," he murmured.

The sunlight outside shone through the intricately patterned enamel glass, illuminating half his face in light and half in shadow.

One half held greedy joy, the other extreme indifference.

"Sir!"

The white-haired butler walked in from outside.

He had some grass on him; the small lawn outside hadn't been tended to in a long time, and he had just trimmed it.

The light inside the room wasn't very bright, so he only saw half the face and the conspicuous navy uniform.

But that was enough to confirm it was his employer.

"There's a guest outside looking for you," he said softly, not approaching too closely.

Before understanding the new master's personality, maintaining etiquette and politeness was a good approach.

"Alright, thank you for your trouble."

Buggy turned his head, a gentle smile on his face. His chest had also returned to its original position at some unknown time.

No one would think this was a madman or a pirate who had just left a mental hospital.

The old butler even felt that he had met a good new master.

Outside the door.

Arne hesitated with a camera in his arms.

"First, sir." He felt the appellation was a bit awkward.

"The News Agency has agreed to accept me as a freelance reporter." But his smile still revealed a hint of happiness.

After all, not long ago, he was a slave ready to give up his dignity. Now, being able to be a reporter was quite good.

What surprised him even more was that the branch manager who was in charge of the interview, a sharp-mouthed and monkey-faced fellow, not only did not discriminate after hearing about his pirate experience, but was instead full of pleasant surprise.

Pirates, pirates are good!

The pirate Supernovas of the Sabaody Archipelago are the biggest news for us in a year!

He still remembered the expression on the branch manager's face when he said this.

Pirates with dreams of being a swordsman, a cook, or a navigator were common, but a reporter's dream was not!

Even Buggy was a little surprised.

He had already prepared to have Jacques extort some money.

"Not bad," he said softly.

His gentle attitude made Arne feel a little strange.

How to put it...

The Buggy he knew before felt like a prickly, unruly thorn.

Now, this thorn seemed to have softened a bit.

Illusion!

Arne shook his head. He wouldn't be surprised if others changed, but this Joker...

Impossible, absolutely impossible!

"But the branch also assigned me a task."

"The Heart Pirates, who were rated as one of the Supernovas, are currently active in Area 30. They want me to interview them."

Area 1.

Towering mangroves drifted with scattered neon bubbles.

Roots, winding like stone veins, intertwined on the sea's surface, forming flat ground akin to island land.

The Human Auction House was situated on a plaza-sized clearing formed by multiple surrounding mangroves.

It was a tall, semi-circular architectural complex.

And on the second floor of the auction house, a high-level meeting of the auction house was being held.

"Are we really going to let that brat have a piece of the pie?"

Diouf made no attempt to hide his feelings. His white Marine Uniform was particularly conspicuous in the dimly lit auction house.

The man in the high hat and with purple long hair, seated in the main seat, let out a light chuckle.

"Heh, isn't this a good thing?"

"Lux's illegitimate son becoming one of us—isn't that a major blow to their own family business?"

"Besides, the resources that brat can access are indeed what we need."

"What do we need so many Pirate Slaves for?"

The Man in Suit said disdainfully.

Pirate Slaves took much more time to train than normal slaves.

"As long as our esteemed guest likes it." The purple-haired man retorted indifferently.

"The Lord might not agree with your plan."

"You know, the profits generated by the auction house are acceptable on the islands, but compared to the Lord's Other Industries, it's merely on the fringe."

"That's why we need to be more aggressive!"

The purple-haired man's face was full of unwillingness.

"As long as we annex Area 4 Auction House, we'll get more Pirate Slaves!"

"Then we can please that Lord even more, do you understand?!"

"I have another method." Diouf tapped the long table in front of him, signaling.

"If Auction House 4 also loses its supply channel for Pirate Slaves, won't that achieve our objective just the same?"