A while ago
The streets of Sabaody Archipelago felt different once Shanks and Giovanni split off from Beckman and Building Snake.
On one side of the archipelago, carnivals screamed with life, pirates laughed too loudly, and trouble seemed to arrive at every corner with a grin on its face.
On the other side, deeper into the more polished and wealthier groves, the air changed.
Everything looked cleaner.
Benn Beckman walked with his usual measured pace, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cigarette near his lips. Building Snake kept beside him, posture straight, eyes moving from street to street with quiet caution.
The two had already searched several likely places.
Low-class bars.
High-end taverns.
Dice dens.
Card houses.
Even a bubble race betting hall.
But wherever they went, the answer was roughly the same.
"Old man with glasses?"
"Yeah, I think I saw him."
"Was he gambling?"
"Yes."
"Did he win?"
"No."
"Then he left."
After the fifth variation of that conversation, Building Snake exhaled slowly.
"So this Rayleigh-san…" he said, glancing sideways at Beckman, "does he always live like this?"
Beckman took a drag, then answered flatly, "From what I know, yes."
"That's…" Building Snake paused, searching for the right word. "Unexpected."
Beckman let a faint smirk tug at his lips.
"You expected the right hand of the Pirate King to be mysterious? Dignified? Hard to find?"
"Something like that."
Instead of answering right away, Beckman stopped in front of a large gambling house whose entrance was lined with thick curtains, bright bulbs, and over-dressed barkers shouting at passersby.
He looked up at the sign.
Then he stepped inside.
Building Snake followed.
The moment they entered, the sound hit them all at once.
Cards slapping wood.
Coins clattering.
Dice rolling.
Men shouting.
Women laughing.
Arguments rising and crashing like waves.
The place was crowded with gamblers and crooks, all gathered under clouds of cigarette smoke and bubble lantern light.
Building Snake scanned the room and frowned.
"He could be anywhere in here."
"No," Beckman said. "If he's been here recently, we won't need to find him ourselves."
He walked straight to the counter.
The woman behind it gave him a bored look. "You buying in or asking questions?"
"Questions."
"That costs too."
Beckman pulled a few berry bills out and placed them down.
Her attitude improved instantly.
"Ask."
"Old man. Glasses. White hair. Drinks while gambling."
The woman's eyes sharpened in recognition.
"Oh. Him."
Beckman waited.
"He was here."
Building Snake stepped closer. "Recently?"
She nodded. "Very recently. Sat at the far table for hours. Lost a lot."
"How much is a lot?" Beckman asked.
The woman laughed.
"Enough that even I started feeling bad for him."
Beckman said nothing, but his eyes shifted slightly.
Building Snake noticed.
"What is it?"
Beckman looked at him.
"I know where Rayleigh is"
"Where?"
Beckman responded. "I heard once that he sold himself into slavery to cover gambling debts."
Building Snake's face went blank for a moment.
"You're joking."
"No."
The silence that followed lasted only a second.
Then both men moved at the same time.
Building Snake straightened sharply. "The Human Shop."
Beckman was already turning toward the exit.
"If he really did it again, that's where he'll be."
They moved fast through the groves after that.
As they crossed into the district where the Human Shop operated, the atmosphere changed again.
The Human Shop stood tall and bright, decorated like a theater.
As Beckman and Building Snake approached, they could already hear a voice booming from inside.
A salesman's voice.
Loud. Artificially cheerful and rehearsed.
Beckman's eyes narrowed.
"Too late."
The doors were open. The show had already begun.
Inside, the place was arranged like an auction hall.
Rows of seats were filled with buyers, rich nobles, smug traffickers, bored investors, and men with too much money and too little humanity. At the front was a lit stage with chained "goods" waiting behind curtains and iron gates.
And at the center of it all stood the host.
Disco.
Tall hat. Star-shaped glasses. Ridiculous smile. The kind of man who looked like he should be selling toys instead of people.
He held a microphone-like den den receiver and raised his arms dramatically.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Distinguished guests! Welcome, welcome, welcome!"
The crowd applauded with practiced greed.
Disco grinned wider.
"And now, for one of today's more interesting selections!"
Beckman and Building Snake stopped near the entrance, just far enough to observe without drawing too much attention.
Disco snapped his fingers.
A spotlight shifted.
Then the curtain opened.
An old man stepped onto the stage in shackles.
White hair.
Round glasses.
A calm, almost amused smile.
Dark King Silvers Rayleigh.
Building Snake's jaw dropped.
"That's him?!"
To everyone else in the room, Rayleigh looked like a decent enough purchase. Healthy, old but sturdy, perhaps useful around a household or workshop.
To Beckman, he looked exactly like what he was.
A monster pretending to be furniture.
Disco spread his hands wide.
"Take a look, everyone! A remarkable old man! Strong build! Experienced hands! Polite posture! Calm temperament! A perfect servant for refined living!"
Rayleigh smiled pleasantly and even gave a small nod to the audience, as if he were helping sell the act.
Building Snake stared at him in disbelief.
"He's… actually letting this happen."
Beckman exhaled smoke through his nose.
"He probably wants the money."
Disco continued, working the stage with over-the-top flair.
"Do not let the age fool you! This gentleman is healthy, composed, and very obedient!"
Rayleigh adjusted his posture slightly.
The shackles clinked.
Disco leaned in closer to the crowd.
"And for those among you who value sophistication, look at that face! Wise! Reliable! Respectable! The kind of servant who pours your wine properly and never raises his voice!"
Rayleigh smiled a little wider.
Building Snake looked physically offended by the performance.
"This is unbelievable."
Beckman said nothing.
On stage, Disco was still trying his best to present Rayleigh as premium stock.
"A marvelous buy for any household! Elegant bearing! Good bones! White hair! You may never see another one like him!"
That was when Rayleigh's eyes drifted toward the entrance.
And found them.
For half a second, his expression changed.
Recognition.
Then warmth.
Then amusement.
He visibly brightened.
Building Snake noticed it at once.
"He saw us."
"I know."
Rayleigh looked straight at Beckman and smiled like a man who had just been pleasantly surprised at a bar rather than put on display at a slave auction.
Then, without warning—
His shackles flew apart.
There was no visible strike.
Just a pulse.
A brief, terrifying release of power so refined and controlled that most of the room didn't even understand what had happened.
The broken restraints shot away from his wrists and ankles like they had been flung by an invisible hammer, clattering across the stage and into the audience.
Disco froze.
The buyers froze.
The guards froze.
Rayleigh casually rolled one shoulder as if he had just shrugged off an itchy coat.
Then he stepped down from the stage.
Smiling.
"Hahaha! Benn Beckman!"
His voice carried easily through the hall.
"It's been a while!"
The room still hadn't caught up.
Beckman looked up at him with the same flat expression as always.
"Six months missing, and this is where we find you."
Rayleigh laughed as he approached.
"What can I say? I had a little bad luck at the tables."
Building Snake stared.
'Bad luck? This old man got himself sold and he's calling it bad luck?'
Rayleigh turned to him then, his eyes kind but sharp.
"And who's this?"
Building Snake straightened immediately.
"Building Snake, sir."
"Ah," Rayleigh said, smiling. "One of Shanks' new crewmates, I assume."
Building Snake blinked. "How did you—"
Rayleigh tapped the side of his head.
"Observation."
Then he looked past them both, as if checking for someone else.
"Where's Shanks?"
"With Giovanni," Beckman said.
"Giovanni?"
"The other new one."
Rayleigh's smile grew more interested.
"Oho. So he really has started building a crew."
That was when the guards finally remembered their jobs.
"STOP HIM!"
Several rushed forward with electrified weapons.
Rayleigh didn't even look at them.
His presence shifted.
That was all.
The nearest guards collapsed instantly, dropping like puppets with cut strings. The rest stumbled backward, knees shaking, faces pale.
Disco pointed with trembling hands.
"H-He escaped! Stop him! Stop—"
Rayleigh looked at him once.
Just once.
Disco fainted on the spot.
Building Snake swallowed hard.
He had seen strong men.
He had sailed under strong captains.
But this…
This was different.
There was no effort in it.
No performance.
No strain.
Just absolute control.
Beckman turned away from the stage.
"Come on."
Rayleigh followed with easy steps, hands tucked into his coat as if they were simply leaving a restaurant after a boring meal.
As they reached the doors, Rayleigh chuckled.
"I have to say, Beckman… I didn't expect Shanks to send you looking for me."
"He didn't."
"Oh?"
"We came on our own."
Rayleigh looked amused by that.
"Then I suppose I should be grateful."
Building Snake finally found his voice.
"You… you used Haki to break the shackles."
Rayleigh glanced sideways at him.
"Mm."
Building Snake hesitated, then asked carefully, "That was… advanced Haki, wasn't it?"
Rayleigh smiled.
"You've got good eyes."
Then he looked ahead again.
"Now then… take me to Shanks."
---
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