CRACK!
In an alley of the Sabaody Archipelago, a coarse leather whip tore through the air with a sharp whistle, lashing viciously across the girl’s thin back.
Her flimsy burlap clothes split open on impact.
A fresh bloody welt instantly appeared, the torn flesh darkening as blood seeped out.
The girl in the corner convulsed violently, letting out a pained whimper as she curled up like a shrimp on the cold, damp ground.
Her dirty little face was buried in her arms, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
Broken, tearful murmurs slipped through her clenched teeth:
“I…
I’m not a slave…
I want to go home…
Mama…”
Tch!
The man holding the whip was a bald brute with a thick neck and a face full of fleshy bumps.
He spat on the ground and cracked the whip through the air again with a vicious snap.
“You little bitch!
You still want to go home?
You nearly got me killed!”
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.
His strikes grew even more ruthless.
A few days ago, this timid-looking girl had somehow picked the lock of the cage holding their “merchandise.” Not only had she escaped, but she had also freed several others.
Although he and his men had managed to recapture most of them, two or three had slipped away like loaches, vanishing without a trace.
“I already made deals with the auction house boss and several regular clients for this batch!
Now I have to pay compensation and smile through it!
Do you know how much that costs?!”
Veins bulged on his forehead as he roared.
“It’s all your fault, you little bastard!”
The girl’s consciousness was fading.
The burning pain on her back nearly knocked her out, but instinct and a faint hope kept her awake.
Weak but stubborn, she repeated:
“I’m not…
a slave…
let me go…”
“Let you go?”
The man grinned viciously and stopped his whip.
He grabbed her chin, forcing her to face him.
“I don’t care if you were some noble’s daughter or a common brat.
Once you’re in my hands, you’re merchandise.
Priced goods.
Understand?!”
“If you want to blame someone, blame your bad luck for being caught and sold here.
Next life, keep your eyes open.”
He raised his whip again—
SHING!
A flash of cold light erupted from the shadows at the alley entrance.
SHRIP!
The whip snapped in two.
The severed half dropped with a dull thud.
The man’s hand suddenly felt light.
Before he could react, a cold blade was already pressed against his throat.
A thin line of blood appeared.
His body stiffened.
He shifted his eyes slowly—and saw a black-haired young man standing before him.
He hadn’t even noticed when the man arrived.
The young man’s eyes were ice cold.
“Y-you… who are you?!”
The man tried to sound tough, but his voice cracked.
“I’m warning you!
This is Sabaody Archipelago!
I’m backed by Big Hand the Undertaker’s people—if you touch me—”
“Shut up.”
The voice cut him off instantly.
The blade pressed slightly deeper.
“AH!” His legs nearly gave out.
His breathing turned ragged.
He understood clearly now—this man would kill him without hesitation.
“D-Don’t!
Please!
I’ll pay you!
I’ll give you everything!
Even the girl!
Just spare me!”
The young man ignored him.
He turned toward the girl.
She froze, staring blankly, tears and dirt covering her face.
With a subtle motion, two items from his Collector’s Compendium were activated.
A faint light flashed.
A wooden cup of clean water and a soft white loaf of bread appeared in his hand.
“Eat.”
His voice was calm now.
Softer.
“It’ll help.”
The girl hesitated… then took a small bite.
Then a sip.
For a moment, her trembling stopped.
The world felt real again.
The man was still kneeling.
“Kneel.”
He dropped instantly.
Then began kowtowing wildly.
“I was wrong!
I’m trash!
I didn’t see clearly!
Please spare me!”
The girl flinched.
The man who was once a monster… was now nothing.
The young man didn’t look at him for long.
“Speak.
What are you doing here in Sabaody Archipelago?
How many places like yours exist?
Which Groves?
Who’s behind all this?”
The man’s eyes darted.
Was this a Marine?
A rival?
A mad vigilante?
He forced himself to answer:
“I’m just small-time… I’ve got a warehouse in the 29th Grove… I deal in stray goods sometimes…”
“I supply a few shops near Happy Wharf… and the owner of the Bubbling Bar shows up too…”
“As for the big auction houses… people like me don’t get anywhere near them…”
His voice was fast—but unstable.
Too perfect.
Too rehearsed.
The girl suddenly raised her head.
Her voice was weak—but sharp.
“He’s lying.”
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