Chapter 77: Shackles
After hearing what Hoyle said, Charlotte curled his lips in disdain.
"Afraid of a bounty? I've been wanted for years with a bounty of 950 million berries. The higher the bounty, the greater the fame. Why would I be afraid of it?"
He smirked, unfazed by Hoyle's threats.
With one swift kick, Charlotte crushed Hoyle's head, silencing the man forever. The auction house fell into a deathly quiet.
Charlotte let out a deep sigh of relief.
The oppressive weight on his chest was finally gone, and the lingering sense of despair that had clouded his mind dissipated completely.
For the first time in a while, Charlotte felt truly relaxed.
Looking at his blood-soaked clothes, he tore off the outer layer and grabbed a fine brocade robe from one of the nearby nobles. Draping it over himself, he turned to Redfield.
"Redfield, how about a bath?"
Charlotte raised an eyebrow at Redfield, who had been watching silently from the stands.
Redfield sniffed himself, detecting the pungent odor of alcohol and blood clinging to his body. After a moment's thought, he nodded.
"Hahahahaha! Let's go!"
Charlotte kicked open the back door of the auction house, leaving behind the gruesome scene of carnage.
The survivors, trembling and hidden under chairs and tables, hesitated.
"Did he leave? Is it safe now?"
A shaky voice broke the silence.
Another voice, equally uncertain, whispered, "Should we run?"
"Run! I never want to come here again!"
One disheveled noble darted for the door. Seeing his escape, the others quickly followed, stumbling and scrambling to flee the auction house.
In moments, the hall emptied.
Of the nearly 300 people who had attended the auction, only about 50 managed to escape. The rest were slaughtered.
Charlotte's momentary mercy had spared a handful of lives.
Outside the auction house, onlookers watched the disheveled nobles burst out into the open, their once-regal appearances now reduced to that of frightened beggars.
Inside, the only remaining individuals were Major General Wells and his group of plainclothes marines.
Wells sat in stunned silence, his eyes fixed on the carnage before him.
"How… how could this happen? How could someone be so cruel?" Wells muttered, his voice shaking.
The colonel beside him was faring only slightly better. He hesitated before addressing his superior.
"Your Excellency, Major General!"
Wells didn't respond, still lost in his thoughts.
The colonel leaned closer and shouted into Wells' ear.
"Your Excellency, Major General!"
Startled, Wells snapped out of his daze.
"Huh? What is it?"
The colonel hesitated before continuing.
"Sir, the pirate Charlotte has left. Should we pursue him?"
At the mention of Charlotte's name, Wells' face went pale, and his hands trembled.
"Chase! We must chase him!" he shouted instinctively.
But then he froze.
"Wait! Let me make a call first."
Wells pulled out his Den Den Mushi, only to find it still unconscious, foaming at the mouth.
"What's going on? Why won't it work?" Wells muttered, his anxiety growing.
The colonel, seeing his superior's distress, spoke cautiously.
"Your Excellency, perhaps we should send someone to observe him from a distance. Once the Den Den Mushi recovers, we can contact headquarters and decide whether to pursue."
Wells nodded.
"Good idea. Do it."
The colonel saluted and quickly left to issue orders.
Charlotte and Redfield entered the backstage area of the auction house, where the imprisoned slaves sat huddled in their cages.
Every pair of eyes turned toward Charlotte, filled with a mixture of fear and hope.
The slaves had heard the chaos in the front hall—the screams, the pleas for mercy—and they knew this man was responsible.
Charlotte scanned the room, his sharp gaze sweeping over the rows of cages. The oppressive atmosphere of despair weighed heavily on him, making him uncomfortable.
He walked over to one cage where a young girl sat curled up in the corner.
The girl shrank back as Charlotte approached, her small hands clutching the bars of her cage.
Charlotte smiled gently and, with a simple motion, tore the lock from the cage.
The girl stared at him in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
Charlotte said nothing. He moved to the next cage and did the same, breaking the locks one by one.
He didn't open the cages for them—he simply made it possible for them to open the doors themselves.
It was a symbolic gesture: freedom was theirs to claim, but they had to take the first step.
When he was done, Charlotte turned back to Redfield.
"Let's go."
With that, he strode toward the exit, Redfield following close behind.
For a long moment, no one moved.
The slaves sat frozen in their cages, too afraid to believe in their newfound freedom.
Finally, the young girl Charlotte had freed earlier mustered her courage. She approached the cage door and, with trembling hands, pushed it open.
Creak!
The sound of the door opening echoed through the silent room.
All eyes turned to the girl as she stepped out of her cage.
She stood there for a moment, staring at the bars that had confined her for so long. Then, a radiant smile spread across her face.
"Hahahaha!"
Her laughter, like the tinkling of silver bells, filled the room.
One by one, the other slaves began to move. Inspired by the girl's courage, they pushed open their cage doors and stepped into the world beyond.
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