The red-nosed boy crept over like a thief, clutching a burlap sack in both hands.
Judging by the way he moved, he clearly planned to steal back his treasure while Bullet was asleep.
Or at least reclaim the portion that had once been his.
His footsteps were soft, his breath held, but his heartbeat pounded like a drum.
Bullet did not move.
He wanted to see how far Buggy could actually go.
Buggy lingered outside the canvas for a full three minutes. Only after confirming that there was no movement inside did he carefully lift a corner and slip in.
The hammock area was small. One hammock, one wooden chest.
Bullet's belongings were all in that chest.
He had never bothered to hide them, because there was no need.
The chest did not even have a lock.
Buggy's eyes lit up as he eased the lid open.
Inside were neatly stacked Beli notes and a few jewels from Carl's hoard.
Buggy swallowed, hard. His hand trembled as he reached toward the money…
Then froze.
Because at some point, Bullet had already appeared behind him, one large hand resting lightly on his shoulder.
"Trying to take your money back?"
The calm voice sounded right by his ear.
Buggy nearly lost his soul on the spot. He shot straight up, smacked his head on the canvas overhead, and crashed back to the floor.
He stared at Bullet in horror, voice shaking.
"I–I was just… looking…"
"I told you I'd give it back tonight."
Bullet crouched down.
"You don't believe me?"
In the dim light, those crimson slit pupils glowed like embers.
Buggy felt his blood turn to ice.
"I believe you! I believe you!"
He nodded so fast his nose almost fell off.
"I'll go now! I'm going, I'm going!"
But Bullet pressed him back down.
"Since you're here, do something for me."
Bullet reached into the chest and pulled out a stack of notes.
Exactly twice the amount he had "borrowed" from Buggy before.
"This is your money."
"The extra is interest."
Buggy stared, stunned.
"But you're going to help me gather information."
Bullet continued.
"I want to know if there are any scholars from the South Blue in Jaya, or anyone connected to the study of ancient writing."
"The more detailed the intel, the bigger the reward."
He released his hand and stood.
"Can you do it?"
Hugging the stack of notes, Buggy's brain spun into overdrive.
Dig up information?
That was a lot safer than stealing, and there was extra pay on top…
"I can!" he blurted.
"I met a few info brokers in the port district today, they know everything!"
"Then go."
Bullet lay back down in the hammock.
"I want results before dawn."
"Yes, sir!"
Clutching his money, Buggy scrambled away as if fleeing for his life.
The hammock area grew quiet again.
Bullet closed his eyes, but he did not sleep.
He replayed everything he had learned today.
South Blue. The Oliventa family. Scholars of ancient script. Destroyed by the World Government three years ago.
A surviving daughter, Anna Oliventa. Female. Had once met Rayleigh.
The goal was to find her, decipher the rubbing, and gain the ability to read Poneglyphs.
The road ahead would be hard.
The World Government was hunting them. The survivors were hidden deep. Even if he found her, she might not cooperate.
But it was the clearest lead he had.
And besides…
Bullet brushed the rubbing beneath his shirt.
He wanted to know what kind of "truth" could terrify the World Government to the point of exterminating a family to bury it.
Devouring history.
Devouring truth.
Devouring forbidden knowledge.
It sounded far more interesting than simply devouring strong foes.
Outside, the distant roar of Jaya's sleepless night drifted over the water.
On the Oro Jackson, most of the crew were already asleep.
Rayleigh's hammock was on the other side of the ship.
Bullet could sense that the first mate was still awake.
He was clearly still lost in thoughts of the Oliventa family.
After a while, Rayleigh got up and headed for the deck.
Bullet followed.
The two of them stood by the rail, looking out at the lights of the harbor.
"You want to ask about Anna?"
Rayleigh spoke first.
"If you don't mind sharing," Bullet replied.
Rayleigh was silent for a moment, then pulled a yellowed sheet of paper from his shirt.
A sketch.
A young woman's profile.
Glasses on her nose, hair pulled into a simple bun, head bowed over a book.
The drawing was not masterful, but it captured her essence.
"This is what she used to look like," Rayleigh said.
"By now she should be twenty-five, twenty-six. She probably hasn't changed much."
He handed the sketch to Bullet.
"If you really find her…"
"Tell her Rayleigh still remembers that dream about a free academy."
"If she still has the courage to keep dreaming, she can come find me."
Bullet took the sketch, studying every detail and committing her features to memory.
"I'll pass it on."
Rayleigh nodded and turned to go back inside.
After two steps, he paused.
"Bullet."
He spoke without looking back.
"The Oliventa affair isn't just about studying old letters."
"They may have touched something far more dangerous."
"That's why the World Government went for the kill."
"For example?"
"The Void Century. The whereabouts of the Ancient Weapons. And even…"
Rayleigh lowered his voice.
"The Will of D."
He looked at Bullet.
"The path you're choosing is lined with thorns."
"Are you ready for that?"
Bullet did not answer straightaway.
He raised his eyes to the night sky. In his crimson pupils, the stars burned quietly.
Then he smiled.
A faint smile, filled with anticipation.
"The more thorns there are," he said,
"the better they will taste when I devour them."
Rayleigh blinked, then laughed softly.
"That does sound like you."
He waved a hand and headed back below deck.
Bullet stayed on the deck alone for a long time.
When the eastern sky began to pale, Buggy came stumbling back, panting hard.
"I–I got it!"
He could barely get the words out between breaths.
"A bartender in the port said he saw a woman from the South Blue two months ago!"
"Dark brown hair, glasses, speaks all fancy and proper!"
"She was asking about how to get to a Sky Island!"
Sky Island.
A sharp light flashed in Bullet's eyes.
A survivor of the Oliventa family, asking about Sky Island.
He lifted his gaze to the brightening sky.
A scholar from the South Blue. Poneglyphs. The Void Century. The Will of D.
All the threads were beginning to weave together.