After hearing the Drunkard's story, Hack let out a long sigh.
He really couldn't find a reason to fight him.
"So you've decided to leave and start over somewhere nobody knows you? You think the World Government won't come after you?"
As Hack spoke, he glanced at Old Ghost, whose companions were preparing his body.
Whatever else had happened, the dead deserved respect.
Hack felt he owed Old Ghost a peaceful departure.
Across from Hack, the Drunkard, a Swordsman, held his wine gourd. Several times he raised it, only to lower it again.
"What else can we do?" He smiled bleakly. "I'm a broken man now. Even if we don't run, we'll go back to face punishment, then execution."
"If we run, there's at least a sliver of hope." The Drunkard turned toward Ghost, who was being pestered by Sabo, and smiled with unexpected tenderness. "And that child won't have to keep living in this sickening Underworld. Isn't that a good thing?"
"For the child, huh?" Hack looked over too. Watching Sabo bounce around like a monkey, he couldn't help smiling.
"For the child!"
Meanwhile, Sabo was trying his hardest to get along with Ghost, peppering Ghost with questions.
"Hey, is your hair naturally like that? It's so Bai."
"Whoa! Is that gun yours? That's so cool!"
"Hey, look, we're about the same height!"
Grit.
A vein bulged on Ghost's forehead. Ghost struggled to resist the urge to put a bullet in Sabo.
"Shut up, ugly!"
"Uh..." Sabo froze for a second, then took off his hat without a care, exposing the burn scar on the left side of his face.
"This doesn't make me ugly. Scars are the mark of a man of the sea. They're our pride!"
Sabo gave Ghost a disdainful look. "Come to think of it,