"What a lively place."
The blond-haired young man who pushed open the door and entered the tavern was none other than the pipe-wielding youth who had arrived in Mad Hat Town earlier that day.
With a slight press of his finger against the brim of his hat, a faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips.
The tavern was nearly full, but the table where Maude sat still had two conspicuously empty seats, standing out amidst the crowded scene.
Without hesitation, the youth made his way directly to Maude's table.
Unfamiliar with the undertaker profession, he harbored no superstitions or aversions about it.
Reaching one of the empty seats, he glanced at the masked and silent Maude without saying a word before taking a seat.
This was a tavern of freedom and spontaneity—if there was a seat, you sat; if there wasn't, you stood. No one needed anyone else's permission for where they chose to be.
After sitting down, the youth's peripheral vision remained on Maude, gauging his reaction. At the same time, he signaled one of the overworked waitresses bustling about, indicating he wanted to place an order.
Maude quietly observed the newly seated young man. His dark-tinted sunglasses seemed oddly out of place in the dimly lit tavern.
To conceal his gaze, Maude took a bite of the side dish he had ordered long ago but hadn't touched until now.
A few seconds later, a waitress carrying a tray hurried over, softly asking what the young man wanted.
With a smile, he ordered a pint of draft beer and a small snack.
"Please wait a moment," the waitress replied before quickly leaving.
As time passed, the establishments near the Mad Hat Auction House—taverns, restaurants, and even casinos—were filled to capacity.
Most potential buyers at the auction had arrived with a large entourage, but the auction house rules allowed each guest only two attendants. This left the rest of the party waiting outside, flocking to nearby establishments for a place to rest.
Had the youth not taken the seat, someone else undoubtedly would have—possibly a more aggressive pirate who might have forced Maude to relinquish the table entirely.
In that sense, this seemingly amicable youth inadvertently spared Maude some trouble.
After ordering, the blond-haired youth leaned back in his chair, only to be nudged by the pipe strapped to his back. He promptly removed it and placed it on the table.
Maude glanced at the plain-looking pipe, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
Using a pipe as a weapon? That's… unconventional.
"Hope you don't mind," the youth said with a faint smile, noticing Maude's gaze.
Maude remained silent.
Do it first, then ask if it's okay.
Clearly, this guy was accustomed to doing as he pleased.
Seeing Maude's lack of response, the youth took the opportunity to strike up a conversation:
"I saw several people wearing masks like yours in town today. I heard it's something to do with a profession called undertakers. So, are you one of them?"
While talking to Maude, the youth kept an ear on the surrounding conversations, attempting to glean useful information from the chatter of nearby pirates.
Maude didn't reply verbally, merely nodding to brush off the question.
His focus remained on eavesdropping for valuable intel.
And so, the two shared the table, their exchanges sparse and minimal. Yet beneath this surface interaction, they were engaged in the same covert activity.
It was a curious twist of fate that had brought them together at this table.
After several minutes, both Maude and the blond-haired youth sensed something peculiar about the other.
Whether by coincidence or instinct, their eyes met briefly before darting away, each looking elsewhere.
This guy…
Both thought the same thing.
The air between them turned noticeably tense.
Creak—
The tavern door swung open.
A man with unnaturally pale skin and a cane stepped inside.
He was none other than Laffitte, a figure infamous in the West Blue as the "Demon Sheriff."
Once a local sheriff, his excessive violence had earned him a notorious reputation, leading to his eventual expulsion. Naturally, he had since turned to piracy, but his former title remained—a testament to how infamous he had become.
Laffitte's gaze swept across the room, landing immediately on the single vacant seat.
He headed straight for Maude and the youth's table.
Many pirates in the tavern turned their eyes toward Laffitte, wary of his reputation for bloodshed.
Laffitte's mere presence disrupted the lively atmosphere, casting a subtle but palpable tension over the crowd.
Maude also noticed Laffitte. The man's distinct style and appearance made his identity unmistakable.
Isn't this one of Blackbeard's crew? What's he doing here?
Maude's expression shifted slightly.
Though Laffitte's appearances in the original storyline were limited, his dramatic flair made him unforgettable.
Seeing Laffitte approaching their table, Maude instinctively glanced at the vacant seat next to him.
Time to leave?
His gaze briefly flicked to another table about five or six meters away.
That table belonged to a pirate loudly boasting about his bounty poster, flaunting it as a badge of honor.
Targets like that—practically advertising themselves—were too good to pass up.
Initially, Maude had planned to wait for the braggart to leave and ambush him outside. But Laffitte's arrival changed his plans.
Ambushing didn't have to be done here; outside would work just as well.
While Maude weighed his options, Laffitte nonchalantly took the empty seat at their table.
Maude prepared to leave.
The blond-haired youth, however, remained unperturbed, standing in stark contrast to the rest of the wary pirates.
Unfazed by the many watchful eyes on him, Laffitte ignored the attention. Just as he was about to call for a waitress, the tavern door slammed open with a loud bang.
The noise drew everyone's attention to the entrance.
Two pirates stormed in, their expressions menacing.
Without a word, they raised their pistols and aimed directly at Laffitte's table.
Bang! Bang!
Two gunshots echoed, silencing the tavern.
The two intruding pirates froze, their expressions stiff as blood trickled from bullet holes in their foreheads.
All eyes turned to the source of the shots.
It was the masked undertaker, calmly holstering his pistols.
"So fast!" someone exclaimed in astonishment.
The blond-haired youth, his hand resting on his pipe, glanced at Maude with mild surprise.
Laffitte, gripping his cane, looked equally intrigued.
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