The Hunter of Pirates

Flower Street?

Isn't that essentially the modern equivalent of a... red-light district?

And Sol is going there for "morning exercise"? With that physique and age...

Mobin was speechless.

The shop opened for business, but it was utterly deserted.

Sunny didn't assign Mobin any tasks, and he didn't take the initiative to find something to do either.

Leaning against a corner, he closed his eyes and continued sorting through his memories about the One Piece world.

Once he had reviewed his memories thoroughly, he would need to resume the long-abandoned practice of daily training.

After all, the Hunter's Notebook wouldn't provide substantial help in the short term—unless, of course, another Watt came knocking at his door.

Time trickled by.

Two hours passed, and not a single customer showed up.

Mobin glanced at Sunny, who was sitting behind the counter, repeatedly flipping through a newspaper. Judging by her calm demeanor, the shop's poor business seemed to be a regular occurrence.

Also, the silence was a bit unnerving.

Mobin turned his gaze toward the slightly ajar double wooden doors.

In a place like this, where brawls and skirmishes could break out on the street at any moment, the only sounds for hours were the occasional light footsteps passing by.

Puzzled, Mobin headed toward the store's entrance.

Seeing that Sunny didn't react, he confidently pulled open the door and leaned halfway out to take a look.

A moment later, he withdrew and silently closed the door.

Damn it. This is a residential alleyway!

No wonder it was so quiet most of the time.

Setting up a weapon shop in such a location... Anyone unaware might think you were running a speakeasy.

Mobin mentally cursed up a storm.

The intimidating impression he had of Mad Hatter Town was rapidly diminishing.

He suddenly had the urge to step outside and explore the streets but quickly suppressed it.

Instead of thinking about that, he figured he'd better plan how to convince Sol to lend him a gun.

Mobin turned away from the door and walked back toward the corner.

Just as he had taken a few steps, the store's door suddenly swung open.

Mobin instinctively turned to look. When he saw who had entered, his eyes filled with surprise.

A group of three men stood in the doorway. They appeared to be walking side by side, but in reality, the two on the left and right lagged half a step behind to emphasize the importance of the man in the center.

The man on the left had neatly parted curly hair, carried a long-barreled flintlock rifle on his back, and wore a tan belt slung across his waist. A pouch full of ammunition dangled on his left side.

The man on the right was obese but noticeably taller than the other two.

He wore a green headscarf, small burgundy-tinted glasses that clashed with his round face, and held half-eaten meat in his hand.

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

He looked at Mobin, who was visibly taken aback, and chuckled heartily.

"Hey there, young man. I didn't bump into you, did I?"

Meanwhile, in another part of Mad Hatter Town, a bustling street known as Horn Street was teeming with activity.

Horn Street, situated next to the bar district, was home to the black market. Any transaction too shady for the public eye could be conducted openly here.

Centered around the town's largest auction house, various establishments tied to the underworld sprawled outward like a web.

Arthur, an undertaker by trade, worked at a place called The Home of Elegance, which also operated on this street.

As an undertaker, Arthur's hands were always full. Most of his workload came from "contracts" he personally secured through certain "methods."

Today, however, was his rare monthly day off. To savor the occasion, Arthur had meticulously planned his itinerary the night before.

But just as he was preparing to head to Flower Street for some "exercise," his transponder snail rang. A sinking feeling crept over him.

Half an hour later, he was back at work.

When you work for others, you're never truly free.

Arthur sighed as he put on his uniform.

The undertaker's outfit consisted of three key items: a uniform, a mask, and an armband bearing the kanji for "Death."

Dressed for work, Arthur awaited his next set of instructions.

One by one, his colleagues trickled back into The Home of Elegance, having also been summoned unexpectedly.

"Why are you all here? Don't tell me there was another incident at the Pig Pen?"

"Yep. Happened this morning. Another slave uprising."

"How many casualties this time?"

"Not sure. Heard it's worse than last time."

"Ugh, I thought we had a big contract. Turns out it's just more of that messy grunt work."

One of the undertakers muttered in frustration.

The team leader glanced at his assembled colleagues and said calmly, "We'll head out once everyone's here."

Sitting quietly in a corner, Arthur listened to their chatter.

So, there had been another incident at the Pig Pen, and apparently, the death toll among slaves was high.

In other words, it was going to be a busy day.

And it was the kind of job with too much work and too little pay.

Arthur sighed inwardly.

There goes my day off...

Elsewhere, in one of the town's noisy bars, the midday crowd was already roaring.

Bars were a natural hotspot for pirates, so it was no surprise to see one packed to the brim.

Amidst the sea of rowdy customers, a man named Kid sat alone at a table, standing out like a sore thumb.

Despite his solitary appearance, no one dared bother him.

The ten or so unconscious pirates sprawled on the floor around him served as a warning.

Just then, a masked man in a blue face covering entered the bar.

After scanning the room, he walked straight to Kid's table.

Reaching it, the masked man sat down without hesitation.

Kid glanced up at him.

"You're here," he said.

The masked man nodded. "Did you buy the gun?"

"No."

"Someone else bought it?"

"No, the owner wouldn't sell it to me."

"Wouldn't sell it? Why?"

"Don't know."

Kid, irritated, downed the last of his drink.

The masked man sighed, piecing together the likely explanation. "Hand over the money, then. I'll go buy it."

"The money's almost gone."

"..."

The masked man was speechless.

Kid, on the other hand, looked utterly indifferent.

To him, money was just something you could grab more of whenever you needed it.

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