After seeing off a smug Baro, I head back to my corner booth, polishing off the rest of my drink and fruit plate. Then I stroll to the bar counter where Wendell’s stationed and toss a key onto the surface. “Take Scarface’s body to Smoker for me, Wendell. Same spot—third street, that rundown warehouse.” I pull a thick stack of Berries from my coat and slap it down. “No issues, right?”
“None at all, Mr. Morgan!” Wendell replies eagerly, snatching up the key and the cash with a grin. The stack’s noticeably thicker than what Baro left, and that’s exactly why Wendell’s always so happy to do my errands. I’m not stingy with my money.
“Alright, I’m outta here,” I say, waving him off. “Loguetown to the Goa Kingdom’s a haul, and I’m on a tight schedule.” Without looking back, I leave the bar. When Baro mentioned the Paradise Emperor’s route, I’d already decided to board at the Goa Kingdom.
————
Ten Days Later
I step off a merchant ship onto the streets of the Goa Kingdom, carrying a small case. I’m in the heart of High Town, the district where nobles live. Say what you will, this place lives up to its rep as the East Blue’s prettiest kingdom. The streets are spotless, the buildings pristine, exuding a clean, orderly charm. The scenery’s lush, the vibe prosperous but not chaotic. People stroll by, elegant, with faint smiles, looking like they’re living the good life.
But behind this polished facade lies a ruthless “rule”—everything “unnecessary” gets scrubbed out. What’s unnecessary? Could be trash that mars the view, plants that don’t fit the aesthetic… or people. That’s how the Goa Kingdom keeps its “beauty.” Rumor has it even the Celestial Dragons have visited, and it’s no wonder. Their glass-domed heads and this place’s obsession with perfection are cut from the same cloth.
I’m not here to sightsee, though. My focus is on the Hunter’s Shop humming in my mind. Over the past ten days, I’ve decided to spend my 1,000 Hunter Points on the only Blue-tier item in the shop: the skill Shave, one of the Six Powers from the One Piece world’s CP organization. It lets you move at blinding speed by stomping the ground dozens of times in a split second (0.36, to be exact), making it look like you vanish. Pretty damn useful. It’ll double my speed in short bursts, perfect for close-quarters fights.
I’d hesitated because, as part of the newbie reward, my first purchase gets a 20% discount—meaning Shave, normally 5,000 points, only cost me 1,000. I’d considered holding out for something pricier to maximize the discount. The more expensive the item, the bigger the savings, right? But after some thought, I went for it. I haven’t spent a single point yet, and waiting for a rare item could take forever. Sitting on a golden finger like the Hunter’s Shop and not using it? That’s just dumb.
Before long, I find myself on a quiet street in High Town, standing before a modest but luxurious mansion. Compared to the heavily guarded noble estates around it, this place is low-key. No swarm of guards—just two armored guys at the gate and a lone gardener tending the grounds. It’s clearly a private residence, the kind young nobles without real power set up as their personal playgrounds. They keep things discreet to avoid attention, only staffing the bare minimum to keep the place running.
“Hold it! Who are you?” one of the guards snaps, stepping in my path as I approach.
“I’m here for Stelly,” I say, stopping. “We spoke via Den Den Mushi. Check with him, he’ll know.”
The guards exchange a glance, startled to hear their master’s name. “You stay here,” one says to the other, then heads inside to report.A few minutes later, a burly man in a black suit and sunglasses strides out with the guard, looking like a textbook bodyguard. He sizes me up and asks, “You’re Mr. Morgan?”
“That’s me,” I nod.
He gestures to the guards, who promptly open the gate. “This way, Mr. Morgan,” he says, motioning for me to follow.
I trail him through the mansion’s grounds to a small castle-like building. We climb to the fifth floor, stopping outside a lavish parlor. The bodyguard opens the door and steps aside. “His Highness Stelly has been expecting you. Please, enter.”
“Thanks,” I say, giving a half-hearted nod for his courtesy, and walk in.
The bodyguard doesn’t follow, closing the door behind me and standing guard outside.
Inside, I take a quick look around. Even for a private residence, this parlor screams wealth—ornate decor, polished surfaces, the works. Nobles sure know how to live.
“Hahaha, you’re here, Morgan!” a grating voice cuts through the room, jarring my ears.