Contact

The next morning, the neighborhood shrouded in poverty and gloom greeted another dawn.

Sunlight struggled through the thin mist, yet could hardly dispel the dampness and poverty hanging in the air.

Aaron Ball appeared at the street entrance on time, just as he had the day before.

Yesterday's meeting with Rear Admiral Raymont, filled with alcohol, thunder, and maneuvering, still flashed through his mind.

In the end, after a long silence, the formidable Marine officer and his shrewd adjutant had nodded their agreement.

Raymont's reluctant expression, tinged with a look that said, "At least you know what's good for you," seemed to linger before his eyes.

"When, exactly? I need to arrange for men to come over." Boer had answered that "reluctance" with a touch of teasing:

"In about a week. We'll start once my engineers finish their work. Surely you didn't think I could accomplish all these feats of sugar-making and salt production on my own, old man?"

Remembering Raymont's final words-"Fine. Contact me by Den Den Mushi if anything comes up. Count yourself lucky, brat. Not many people in the West Blue have my number"-Boer's lips curled upward again.

The Marines had come in a hurry, taken a beating in a hurry, and left in a hurry with an agreement neither side could readily speak of, but both found satisfactory.

A potential catastrophe had thus become the solid foundation of an alliance.

"Put in a call to that long-haired freak Onigumo for me," Raymont had instructed his adjutant, patting his hard head.

"He came out of the West Blue too, after all. Tell him to hurry back so we can discuss this in person. And those weapons-I wonder how much headquarters can trace."

His adjutant, Carl Valentine, had answered quietly before sinking into thought himself. Then came Raymont's sigh as he gazed out to sea.

"Compensation for disabled soldiers, payments for soldiers' widows, bonuses for outstanding troops... Money, money..."

Shaking off these thoughts, Boer returned his attention to the present.

He had promised the two elderly engineers that he would handle the ore problem in the Northern Mountainous Region, and these people crowded into the slums, looking at him with eager eyes, were also part of his promises.

A simple dwelling with metal walls and a roof that could shelter them from wind and rain might be these people's entire hope of surviving the next winter as they struggled to keep themselves fed and clothed.

You really are the king of empty promises, Boer... he mocked himself inwardly.

The people in the mining district had suffered oppression; suspicion and wariness were instinctive to them.

If he went there unannounced, could he gain their trust? Wait-a thought suddenly struck him. Why fixate on gaining their trust?

Power, supplies, and tangible benefits were the quickest keys to opening the situation up. First, he would haul several tons of food over as a "greeting gift," directly declare them free citizens, and pardon their crime of attacking and killing a noble, removing their heaviest shackles.

Then he would propose an ordinary trade: buying ore.

Next, he would use his ability or organize workers to build them roads connecting to the outside world and making transport easier... Finally, he would paint a future built on mining and the community's development, with schools, hospitals, and steady incomes...

Bring everyone into my rhythm... He almost wanted to applaud his own combination of moves.

With a plan settled in his mind, Boer clapped his hands, the crisp sound carrying unusually clearly through the noisy street.

"All right, my friends!" His voice was not loud, yet it seemed to carry some strange magic, reaching everyone's ears clearly.

He pointed toward the end of the muddy street. At the same time, an invisible magnetic fluctuation quietly spread outward from him, and the chunks of metal in the street began humming low, as though they had been given life.

"Please move your household belongings outside as quickly as possible. Today, we're picking up the pace!"

The crowd immediately stirred, answering with eager enthusiasm:

"Yes, sir! I'll move mine right away!"

"Do you have something urgent to handle, sir? Go take care of it first. We can wait!"

"When will you come again, sir? My home is on the other side of town..."

"..."

Before their voices had faded, the enormous chunks of metal had turned into silvery-gray liquid. Like two awakened metal pythons, they surged along the ground toward either side of the street.

They deftly avoided the rushing crowds, precisely "licking" over the tottering plank houses and thatched huts, flattening and absorbing the original structures on contact.

The python-like streams of metal did not stop. As they surged forward, they left portions of metal behind as though shedding their skins. Boer, meanwhile, walked slowly down the street as if taking a leisurely stroll.

Wherever he passed, the liquid metal left behind seemed to be shaped by invisible, skillful hands. Beneath the crowd's astonished gazes, it swiftly rose from the ground and solidified into neat rows of sturdy sheet-metal houses gleaming with a cold sheen!

Walls, roofs, even doors with simple bolts-everything was there. The entire process flowed seamlessly, filled with the beauty of strength and creation.

When the last piece of metal had found its place, becoming part of the neighborhood's new scenery, Boer accepted another round of profuse thanks with a smile and prepared to leave.

He already could not wait to return to the club and begin planning his "mine liberation and grand promises scheme."

Just then, a small disturbance rippled through the crowd, and a petite figure struggled her way out.

"Sir! Sir! Please wait! I have something important to report!"

Her voice was as clear and pleasant as a lark at dawn, though urgency stretched out its notes. Boer turned to see a girl wearing a woven linen hooded cloak, waving her right hand vigorously as she hurried breathlessly through the crowd to him.

She had run so fast that she nearly lost her footing when she stopped. Bracing her hands on her knees, she panted for breath, and her hood slipped back, revealing her face.

Even Boer, accustomed to Elena's intellectual charm and Chloe's radiant beauty, could not help raising his eyebrows slightly.

The girl looked about fifteen or sixteen, an age like a flower waiting to bloom. Her thick, naturally curly, medium-short beige hair looked like a mass of soft, fluffy cotton candy, making her little face seem all the more delicate.

Together, her features formed an almost cloying sweetness, like an exquisitely crafted porcelain doll.

Yet her skin had an unhealthy, bloodless pallor, as though she had long lacked sunlight or nourishment. That pallor added a heartbreaking weariness and fragility to her sweet appearance.

Boer's thoughts drifted for a moment. Although he himself was only seventeen, whether because of genetic differences between the two worlds, the Devil Fruit's gradual influence on his physique, or simply never lacking nutrition, he was already nearly two meters tall, with a strong, well-proportioned build and smooth muscle contours full of power.

Sometimes he even thought that, at this rate, reaching Raymont's towering height of over three meters might prove difficult, but passing two and a half meters seemed quite possible.

Would finding a partner be a little difficult then...? A somewhat comical image flashed through his mind: his beastlike self, carefully taking Elena or Chloe...

Time returned to the present. The girl before him, like an unopened orchid bud in a secluded valley, stood hesitantly, nervously twisting the hem of her clothes in both hands. Her pale cheeks bore a barely perceptible flush from her running and her present agitation.

She seemed to summon a lifetime's courage as she looked up at the tall Boer, her voice trembling faintly. "I... I have something very important that I can only tell you in private. It concerns the mining district."

The young girl said nothing more, merely lowering her head in silence.

Boer understood and asked no further questions. With a seemingly casual lift of his sleeve, he flicked out a mercury-like droplet of liquid metal. It landed precisely beneath her feet and instantly spread into a sturdy metal disk about a meter across.

"Ah!" Caught unprepared, the girl gave a short cry and toppled backward as she lost her balance.

But the disk had already lifted her steadily off the ground, hovering half a meter above it.

Whoosh!

Drawn by the magnetic field, the metal disk carrying the young girl accelerated instantly. Together with Boer, it became two streaks of light, sweeping over the astonished crowd and newly built metal roofs below, hurtling toward the city center, where his club stood.

On the disk, the girl clung tightly to its edges to keep from falling. Powerful currents of air blew through her curls and hood. Beneath her feet, the streets raced backward, the houses and pedestrians like miniature models.

She had never experienced anything like this. Her bright eyes widened further in wonder, her heart pounding like a drum. She secretly lifted her gaze toward the straight-backed young man ahead, who controlled all of this. His towering figure seemed capable of shutting out every storm, and a complex mixture of fear, excitement, and indescribable reassurance quietly spread through her heart.

Meanwhile, a plainly dressed middle-aged man with exceptionally sharp eyes was looking around anxiously, cursing under his breath:

"Damn it, where did that girl Bella run off to?! Didn't I tell her to wait right here?"

As he complained about the nobles' shamelessness and oppression, he worried for the safety of the girl who was like his own daughter, terrified that something might happen to her.

Boer snapped his fingers. Invisible magnetic force precisely warmed the milk and bread rolls on the dining table to a suitable temperature. At the same time, a faint vibration had traveled downstairs, instructing the waiter to prepare some soft milk candies.

"Though I'd like to entertain you at a more leisurely pace," Boer said, softening his voice as much as possible, as though addressing an easily frightened bird,

"I imagine the adults in your family must be very worried. So, can we talk directly about what matters most?"

Bella carefully lifted the warm milk and took a tiny sip, warmth sliding down her throat. She quietly raised her eyes and met Boer's smile as he tried to reassure her. That smile seemed to give her a little courage.

"It's Uncle Blake... He's worried about everyone at the mine."

Her voice was soft, yet as clear as morning dew. "The food is almost gone. There's no medicine for the injured or sick. Winter is coming, and nobody has warm clothes yet..."

Her unusually bright, large eyes, which seemed capable of reflecting the entire world, watched Boer without blinking, trying to catch any expression on his face that might mean he would agree.

"We... We'll work very hard! We can trade the ore we dig up!"

As though afraid Boer would think they were begging, she hurriedly added this, her tone carrying an almost stubborn dignity.

"In fact," Boer said, feeling as though something had tugged at his heart and trying to make his voice sound gentler,

"you've done me a great favor. I was just worrying about how to establish contact with the mine."

Instinctively wanting to treat her like an endearing little sister, he reached out and ruffled her cotton-candy curls.

Yet the instant his fingertips touched her hair, Bella's body abruptly stiffened!

She seemed to freeze solid, her pupils rapidly contracting and dilating, filled with indescribable terror.

Her frail body began trembling uncontrollably, like the last leaf in an autumn wind.

Boer's hand froze in midair. He immediately realized that he had made a terrible mistake.

Given his height of nearly two meters and his strength, this seemingly gentle gesture was no different to her from the shadow of a giant beast looming overhead.

He hurriedly stepped back several paces and raised both hands, showing a helpless, wry smile as he clearly signaled that he meant no harm.

Bella slowly lowered her head, drew her feet onto the chair, and wrapped her arms tightly around her knees, curling herself into a tiny ball.

She buried half her face behind her knees. Her voice grew thinner and softer, as though drifting from far away, carrying a heartbreaking calm:

"Lord Boer... You're a good person. A good noble."

"Before... that noble lord also said Bella was pretty, like a doll."

"He captured me and Daddy."

"He said... if Bella behaved and played a 'game' with him, he would let Daddy go."

"That game... hurt a lot. It was very scary. Bella cried and begged him, but he wouldn't listen..."

"But... but Daddy still died in the dark mine in the end. He never came back."

"Uncle Blake secretly hid Bella and saved Bella."

"Everyone at the mine is very kind to Bella. They save their bread crumbs and give them to Bella..."

"They all say Bella is pretty, that she's the light in everyone's suffering..."

She paused, her long eyelashes trembling like the wings of an injured butterfly.

Then, as though using every last bit of her strength, she lifted her utterly unclouded eyes toward Boer and spoke in a tone mingling innocent sacrifice with despairing resignation:

"So... if Lord Boer is willing to help everyone..."

"Bella... Bella can play that 'game' with you."

"This time, Bella won't cry or beg you."

"As long as... as long as you let everyone survive."

"..."

The muscles in Boer's face stiffened.

He tried hard to move the corners of his mouth, to maintain his customary smile of having everything under control, only to find that his face felt as though it wore an iron mask, too heavy to obey him.