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The pleasure district?

Wasn't that basically this world's version of a red-light district?

Sol went to a place like that for morning training?

With that body and that age...

Corvin had no words.

The shop opened for business, but customers were almost nonexistent.

Sunny did not ask him to do anything, and Corvin did not volunteer.

He leaned against a corner of the wall, closed his eyes, and continued sorting through his memories of One Piece.

Once he had those memories organized, he would need to pick up the daily training he had abandoned for far too long.

After all, the Hunter's Ledger would not be much practical help for now unless another Watt delivered himself to the door.

The morning dragged on.

Two hours went by without a single customer.

Corvin glanced at Sunny, who sat behind the counter reading the same newspaper over and over.

Judging by her calm reaction, terrible business was probably normal for this weapons shop.

Also, it was too quiet.

Corvin turned his gaze to the partly closed double doors.

This was supposed to be a lawless town where armed fights and killings could break out in the street at any moment. Yet after several hours, all he had heard were scattered footsteps passing outside.

Finding it strange, he walked toward the entrance.

When Sunny did not react, he opened the door and leaned halfway outside.

A moment later, he pulled himself back in and shut the door in silence.

'Damn it. This is an alley in a residential area.'

No wonder it was quiet most of the time.

Who opened a weapons shop in a place like this?

Anyone who did not know better would think the house sold wine.

Corvin silently cursed the arrangement.

The fearsome image he had built of Mad Hatter Town was crumbling by the hour.

For a moment, he felt the urge to go out and look at the main streets.

He killed the thought quickly.

Instead of wasting time on that, he would be better off figuring out how to get a gun from Sol.

Corvin turned away from the door and started back toward the corner.

He had only taken a few steps when the shop door opened.

He looked back by reflex and stopped short when he saw who had entered.

Three people stood at the entrance.

The three appeared to enter abreast, but the men on either side naturally hung half a step back, drawing the eye to the man in the center.

The man on the left had center-parted curls and a long-barreled flintlock musket slung across his back. A broad tan belt circled his waist, with an ammunition pouch hanging at his left hip.

The heavyset man on the right was the tallest of the three. A green bandanna covered his head, and tiny burgundy sunglasses sat comically on his broad face. He held a half-eaten piece of meat.

The man in the middle had pushed open the double doors.

Seeing Corvin's strange reaction, he gave a bright, easy smile.

"Hey, kid. Didn't hit you with the door, did I?"

Elsewhere in Mad Hatter Town, Lookout Point Street stood beside Bar Street and served as the center of the black market.

Any trade that could not be shown in daylight could be conducted there in the open.

Lookout Point Street had Mad Hatter Town's largest auction house at its center, with businesses tied to the underworld spreading outward in every direction.

The House of Aimei, where Arthur worked, was one of them.

As an undertaker, Arthur had endless work.

Of course, much of that work came from jobs he created for himself.

Today was his rare monthly day off. To properly enjoy that precious time, he had arranged a full schedule the day before.

Then, just as he finished eating and drinking and prepared to visit the pleasure district for a little exercise, a Den Den Mushi rang.

He immediately had a bad feeling.

Half an hour later, he was back at work.

When you worked for someone else, even your day off was not really yours.

Arthur grumbled to himself as he changed into his work clothes.

Uniform. Mask. Armband marked with DEATH.

Those three items were standard issue after becoming an undertaker.

Once dressed, he waited for the next order.

Colleagues hurried back to the House of Aimei one after another. They had probably all been called in by the boss at the last minute.

"Why are you back too? Don't tell me the Pig Farm had another mess."

"It did. Happened this morning. Another slave uprising."

"How many slaves were hurt or killed this time?"

"Not sure. They say it's worse than last time."

"Tch. I thought we got a big job. Turns out it's that rotten work again."

One undertaker complained.

The lead undertaker glanced over everyone present and said calmly, "We move once everyone is here."

Arthur sat in an unobtrusive corner and listened silently to his colleagues talk.

So the Pig Farm had another incident. A lot of slaves had probably been injured or killed.

In other words, they would be busy today.

And it would be the kind of work with too much labor and too little money.

Arthur sighed inwardly.

His rare day off.

"I heard the auction at the end of the month has a few heavy items."

"What kind of items?"

"A Devil Fruit. A named blade. A fish-man slave."

"Seriously? Where did you hear that? The auction house hasn't even started selling catalogs yet."

"I swear on my honor."

"Then it's fake."

"What?"

"Oh, right. I forgot I gave up my honor when I became an undertaker. Want me to swear on something else?"

In the corner, Arthur's attention snapped toward them. Without making it obvious, he glanced at the colleagues whispering nearby.

A Devil Fruit and a named blade?

Arthur was surprised, but he would not believe the news easily.

In a place like Mad Hatter Town, alcohol did sometimes make rumors move faster than official information.

But a Devil Fruit was an extremely rare thing.

If the auction house had gotten one, would they not have advertised it everywhere by now?

'A Devil Fruit...'

Arthur's interest sharpened.

With his income, he would have to go without food or drink for decades before he could even compete for one.

If the auction at the end of the month truly had a Devil Fruit, he could at least go watch the spectacle, even if he had no right to bid.

As for the named blade, that old man Sol would probably be interested.

On Bar Street, inside one of the taverns, it was only noon, but the place was already packed and noisy.

Bars were one of the main places where pirates spent money, so this kind of crowd was hardly strange.

Kid occupied a table alone. In the cramped tavern, he stood out sharply.

Even so, no one tried to bother him.

The dozen or so pirates lying on the floor served as warning enough.

At that moment, a man wearing a blue mask entered the tavern. He looked left and right, then walked straight to Kid's table.

When he reached it, the masked man sat down without asking.

Kid looked up at him.

"You're here."

The masked man nodded and asked, "Did you get the gun?"

"No."

Kid shook his head.

"Someone bought it?"

"No. The owner wouldn't sell it to me."

"Wouldn't sell it to you? What happened?"

"No idea."

Kid irritably drained the bottle in his hand.

The masked man could guess what had happened.

"Then give me the money. I'll buy it."

"I already spent most of it."

The masked man fell silent.

Kid, however, looked completely unconcerned.

As far as he was concerned, money was something you could always grab from someone else.

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