Could it be because I'm handsome?

Back when he read manga in his original world, Randall had always had one question.

How exactly did the Marines find pirates?

If they didn't use a Vivre Card... or if you ruled out certain special Devil Fruit abilities...

Wouldn't finding someone out at sea be harder than finding an ant in the Sahara Desert?

Now Randall knew...

People in this world had the same question, too.

Although Randall had been brimming with confidence earlier and made some bold declarations.

Now that he was drifting at sea, he looked around and genuinely had no idea where to go.

But when he thought about how those other two must have felt the same way, Randall immediately felt much calmer.

"Hmm, let's go check out that village first...

Apparently, some lunatics like a second playthrough, or even several. Maybe I'll get lucky and run into them..."

Texas sat quietly on the deck, in the spot reserved exclusively for him.

His newly recruited lackeys had already hit it off with the old ones and were partying on deck.

Recruiting lackeys was easy.

After all, there was no shortage of people anywhere who wanted something for nothing.

No, rather, people who didn't want something for nothing were the rarest of the rare.

Texas had merely waved his hand, and a huge crowd had gathered around him like ants drawn to sugar.

Now Texas quietly watched the people laughing, joking, and cursing before him, his expression neither happy nor sad.

People couldn't truly share one another's feelings. All he felt was that the people before him were noisy.

But he had no intention of stopping them, because that irritation made him feel alive.

Of course, that was only one of the ways he experienced being alive...

As for the others...

Dozens of hours had already passed since he killed that Marine.

He was already starting to miss that sensation of his blood boiling.

Ah, don't think about it.

The mere thought was already making him uncomfortable.

"How about luring another Marine over?"

As for whether he might lure in someone he couldn't handle, the question had never even crossed his mind.

Or rather, he didn't care whether he lived or died.

He acted on the idea immediately, ordering a change of course.

As for where he could lure Marines, did he even need to think about it?

Merimee Island, where he'd been before, was the perfect place.

Merimee Island was part of a small country's territory.

There was a little village on the island.

The people here had once lived fairly normal lives.

But now, none of the people coming and going through the village looked particularly well.

Some were like walking, breathing corpses, without the slightest spark of life.

Here and there, patches of reddish-brown stains marked the streets.

Whenever passersby saw those stains, intense emotions showed on their faces or in their eyes.

Those clearly weren't stains of reddish-brown paint.

The whole village felt like a crystal ball that had been smashed and then glued back together.

Although it was still a ball overall, the cracks were painfully conspicuous.

Perhaps, before long, people would grow used to those cracks, too.

But not yet.

That was the sight that greeted Randall when he arrived on Merimee Island.

The village wasn't large, and nearly everyone living there knew one another.

That made Randall's unfamiliar face stand out.

And he was exceptionally handsome, which made him stand out even more.

But the villagers clearly weren't in the mood to pay any attention to this stranger.

Or rather, they were all somewhat afraid of him.

Like startled birds, they gave Randall a wide berth, as though terrified he might notice them.

After all, the last time strangers came, they had learned what hell on earth meant.

Randall couldn't help sighing at the sight.

Sure enough, pirates are the root of all evil.

He continued walking until his gaze finally settled on a small figure.

Along the way, he had seen plenty of indifferent, timid, frightened, wary, and disdainful looks, but the look in this figure's eyes was different from everyone else's.

"Little girl, aren't you afraid of me?"

Randall approached her and crouched down.

She was a little girl of about seven or eight.

She had short, light-brown hair and was about as tall as Randall was when he crouched.

She wore an old but very clean dress.

Her most striking feature was her pair of exceptionally clear eyes.

That was what had drawn Randall's attention, too.

Because he hadn't seen any negative feelings toward him in those eyes.

The little girl said shyly:

"N-no, I'm not afraid. I know you're not a bad person."

"Oh? Is it because I'm so handsome?"

Randall deliberately pulled a silly pose and face.

The little girl laughed.

"Pfft—" But she quickly covered her mouth with her little hand, then stole a glance at Randall.

Only after seeing that Randall wasn't angry did she breathe a sigh of relief and say:

"You really are handsome, mister, but that's not why!

I just know you're not a bad person!

Not only are you not bad, you're a good person, mister!"

The little girl's eyes curved like crescent moons.

Randall smiled, too.

He asked, "Where's your family, little girl? Why are you out here alone?"

The moment he said it, Randall inwardly cursed his mistake.

Because he saw the little girl's expression dim in an instant.

But she didn't cry. She only spoke in a voice tinged with tears:

"A few days ago, some people came to the island.

They took Mommy away.

Daddy told me those people were playing a game with Mommy.

When the game was over, Mommy would come back.

But I could hear that Daddy was lying... his heart was clearly afraid...

Mommy isn't coming back..."

The little girl bravely sniffled, stubbornly holding back her tears.

Randall fell silent at her words.

He merely stroked the little girl's head.

After a long while, Randall said:

"Then where's your daddy?"

The little girl had regained her composure by then, and she said:

"H-he's drinking at home.

I came out to buy him more. He's already drunk everything we had at home."

Randall frowned, wanting to say something but finding no words.

He wanted to condemn the man for actually sending a little girl out to buy him alcohol.

But after thinking it over, he felt that perhaps the man was drowning his sorrows because his wife had been taken away.

Although it was wrong to act that way, it was understandable.

After all, there were probably fewer people who could completely control their emotions than people with the strength of an Admiral.

He thought for a moment, then said:

"Little girl, how about I come with you to buy the drinks, then walk home with you?"

Because he had suddenly remembered something the little girl had just said that caught his attention.

It had given him an idea.

The little girl glanced at Randall.

She hesitated a little, but in the end, she nodded.