Two months had passed since he last saw the light of day.
Stepping out of the weapons shop, Maude felt a wave of relief wash over him, as though unburdened.
Even the pungent stench of "alley rats" didn't seem as offensive anymore.
"Refreshing."
Maude tilted his head back, gazing at the sunlight slanting onto the eaves, and gently stretched his legs. A sense of agility coursed through him, as if he could take flight like a swallow.
He turned his gaze forward. The narrow alley was a chaotic mess—garbage littered the ground, and dust-covered wooden crates lined the walls, exuding a moldy odor.
"A quick run sounds good."
After hopping in place a couple of times, Maude suddenly bolted forward. A gust of wind swirled around him, lifting the scattered trash in his wake.
Without a care, he darted through the winding alleys at speed.
When he passed through areas where people were present, all he left behind were shocked, wide-eyed faces.
No one had even caught a glimpse of his features. By the time they reacted, all that remained was the sight of garbage drifting down from midair.
The Nightshade Bar.
As a hidden information hub, business here was as uneventful as ever.
At the bar counter sat the only regular—Wolfrat.
Behind the counter, Tatamu, dressed in his usual bartender uniform, was calmly polishing glasses.
Creaaak—
The door opened, and Maude stepped inside.
Hearing the sound, both Tatamu and Wolfrat instinctively looked toward the entrance.
Both were intelligence brokers, though their specializations differed.
Every person who walked into the bar was a potential client.
To their surprise, the newcomer was Maude, returning after a two-month absence.
"Yo, long time no see."
Maude greeted them as he walked in.
Seeing Maude enter, Tatamu raised an eyebrow but then offered a welcoming smile.
"Welcome back."
Wolfrat, however, quickly masked a fleeting glimmer of wariness, replacing it with the demeanor of an old friend reunited.
"Usopp! Where on earth have you been all this time?!"
Wolfrat leaped off his stool, arms outstretched, as though ready to embrace Maude warmly.
"Nowhere special. It's a long story, really."
Maude sidestepped Wolfrat's enthusiastic gesture with ease, brushing him off with a casual response before heading straight to the counter.
Unfazed by the dodge, Wolfrat let his arms fall naturally and then slid onto the stool next to Maude.
"Come on, tell us. Tatamu and I don't have much going on right now anyway."
"Ah, it's a long tale."
Maude sighed and held up a finger toward Tatamu, signaling for a drink.
Wolfrat leaned in with an eager expression. "That's fine. We've got time."
Wolfrat was admittedly curious—this might be the first time he'd hear Maude talk about his time at the weapons shop. A slight tension crept into his anticipation.
But Maude merely shrugged. "It's too long, so maybe another time."
"Ha... ha-ha..."
Wolfrat's face twitched slightly.
Paying no attention to Wolfrat's reaction, Maude gestured toward the drawer.
"The bounty posters, please."
Tatamu paused his drink-mixing, opened the drawer, and handed a stack of bounty posters to Maude.
Taking the stack, Maude began perusing them with focus.
Seeing Maude's intensity, Wolfrat refrained from interrupting and sipped his drink quietly.
It had been five days since Wolfrat obtained information about Maude's true identity from Gion.
Not only had he learned Maude's real name and background, but he had also uncovered the true culprit behind the attack on the Bacardi merchant ship.
After all, the Navy's intelligence divisions were no slouches. When given a target, they dug up everything worth uncovering.
What had been shocking at the time wasn't that the mafia boss Capone "Gang" Bege was behind it, but rather that Maude was still alive.
"Bacardi Maude."
Wolfrat took another sip of his drink, silently repeating the name in his mind.
And the person bearing that name was now sitting right beside him—within arm's reach.
As for "Usopp," the name still etched in the minds of the pirate scum of Mad Hat Town...
Forget it. Wolfrat wasn't about to waste his time correcting the alias. Fake names were a dime a dozen here, used by almost everyone, including himself.
"How can I subtly manipulate Maude and the mafia into a dog-eat-dog brawl?"
From Gion, Wolfrat had not only received intelligence on Maude but also a directive:
Push Maude and the mafia into conflict and observe the Gun Demon's stance.
This was the final test.
While mulling over his options, Wolfrat's gaze landed on the Bacardi brand rum on the liquor shelf.
An idea sparked.
Wolfrat glanced at Maude, still absorbed in the bounty posters, and at the drink Tatamu had just served him.
It wasn't the right time to bring up the rum. He'd wait until Maude finished with the posters and his drink was empty.
Patience, for now.
Maude, meanwhile, continued to study the bounty posters while sipping his drink.
Ten minutes later.
Maude reached the last poster, his glass nearly empty.
Sensing his moment, Wolfrat suddenly spoke. "Tatamu, I feel like having a glass of Bacardi White Rum. Could you pour me one?"
"Sure."
Tatamu retrieved a bottle from the shelf, then poured Wolfrat a glass, filling it three-quarters full.
The crystalline liquor flowed into the glass with a melodic sound, its rich aroma spreading through the bar.
The scent caught Maude's attention, and his gaze flicked toward the rum bottle.
Bacardi...
A faint shift in his expression.
Noticing this, Wolfrat seized the opportunity. "Usopp, this Bacardi White Rum is a gem. How about a glass for you too?"
Maude nodded slightly.
Tatamu obliged, pouring Maude a glass and setting the bottle aside.
Wolfrat took a sip, letting out a long sigh of satisfaction before offering a wistful comment.
"This brand of rum, you know, used to be exclusive to the Bacardi Company just a few months ago. You couldn't find it anywhere. But now? It's everywhere."
Maude remained expressionless.
Wolfrat continued, "It's all thanks to Capone 'Gang' Bege. After all, he didn't just raid Bacardi merchant ships—he slaughtered the entire Bacardi family to seize their operations."
"In the aftermath, the mob took over Bacardi's business, flooding the market with their products. This rum is just one example."
Feigning casualness, Wolfrat sipped his drink, watching Maude carefully.
Maude fell into silence, his gaze contemplative rather than furious.
Wolfrat wasn't surprised.
He had already seen the infuriating composure Maude was capable of.
Still, there was some reaction.
Seethe with hatred, Maude. Then go cause trouble for Bege.
Wolfrat smirked inwardly.
Little did he know, Maude felt no such hatred.
His only thought was calculating whether hunting Bege was feasible.
If the opportunity arose, settling the old score of his predecessor's life wasn't out of the question.
As for cleaning up the mess afterward? That wasn't his concern.
Those earlier memories, vivid enough to leave a mark, had long been sealed away in the farthest recesses of his mind.
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