The vendor's regret over the treasure map never even registered with Argus. Things that come for free often taste the sweetest. Still, somewhere beneath his usual pragmatism, Argus held a flicker of belief. The map might be a hoax—but the possibility was real enough.
After all, in the future he remembered, his older brother Whitebeard would come to wield Murakumogiri, one of the Twelve Supreme Grade swords. Was it really so impossible that another of those legendary blades was hidden out there, forgotten by time?
"Argus," Newgate muttered, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. "That map's probably fake. Who the hell would sell the location of a Supreme Sword?"
"Maybe someone desperate. Maybe someone dying," Argus shrugged, slipping the scroll into his coat. "If it's real, we strike gold. If it's fake, we're no worse off."
Newgate laughed. "Gurararara! Fair point."
The four-man crew made their way deeper into the Black Market's heart—toward one of its more disturbing specialties.
Human trafficking.
The moment they entered the facility—a heavily guarded warehouse converted into a slave depot—the manager practically tripped over himself rushing to greet them.
"W-Welcome, esteemed guests!" the man cried, bowing so low his forehead nearly hit the floor.
He had reason to panic. He recognized the naginata. He recognized the crescent-white mustache. Edward Newgate had walked into his shop.
"Gurarara..." Newgate chuckled. "Got any rare bloodlines? Royal brats, exotic races?"
"O-Of course! This way, gentlemen!"
The manager didn't walk—he scampered—leading them down a reinforced staircase into the facility's premium vault.
"We stock everything from peasant labor to high-born elites," the manager explained nervously. "All clean. All verified. No trouble."
They passed rows of cells. Most held malnourished captives with dull eyes. One thin woman didn't even flinch when rats skittered over her foot. Another man coughed blood into a corner. The stench of suffering was thick.
Argus didn't speak. But when one caged boy—barely ten—locked eyes with him and mouthed the words "help me", Argus paused. Just for a moment. His jaw tightened. Then he walked on.
They reached a more secure cell. Inside sat a young woman—blonde, seventeen, clothed in a torn but unmistakably royal gown. Even smeared with grime, her posture remained straight, her gaze sharp. She radiated the unmistakable aura of nobility in exile.
"She's from the Teloslak Kingdom," the manager offered quickly. "Princess Sally. Captured three months ago when her kingdom fell. Certified clean—never sold before."
Argus studied her, eyes narrowing slightly. Her face reminded him faintly of Serena, though sharper. Younger. Meaner.
[BLONDE PRINCESS - MONOLOGUE]
They think I'm broken. I let them think that. It keeps me fed. Keeps me untouched. But I remember every face. Every insult. Every coin I was weighed against. If this is my new master… he'd better be strong enough to keep me. Or die trying.
"How much?" Argus asked.
"For standard humans, five hundred thousand Berries," the manager replied. "But she's royalty. Seven Million."
Argus glanced at Newgate.
Newgate didn't blink. "Pay it. She's worth it. That bloodline could come in handy."
Argus nodded once. "We'll take her. What else?"
"Y-Yes, of course!"
The manager hustled them deeper into the vault, his voice climbing in pitch with every step.
"We have long-arm and long-leg tribes, snake-heads, a few minks, even dwarves! Merfolk, of course, fetch higher prices—especially females."
"What about giants? Or mermaids?" Argus asked.
The manager's voice dipped. "Rare. Male Giants run fifty million minimum. Females are cheaper—twenty million, give or take. As for mermaids…"
He swallowed.
"A mature female mermaid can fetch seventy million Berries—sometimes more, depending on… their condition. A male? Five million at best."
"And the special ones?"
The manager looked like he'd swallowed a cannonball. "Fully matured, certified... qualified? Minimum sixty million."
Argus didn't blink. He'd seen the underbelly of this world enough to know the numbers. He wasn't shocked. He was calculating.
They stopped at a reinforced vault door. Inside was a figure unlike the others.
Female. Late teens. Barefoot, bound, but with eyes that shimmered like gold and skin that reflected light off a sheen of fine, reptilian scales. Her pupils were vertical slits. Her tongue forked slightly.
Snake-Human. Extinct in most of the world. Feared for their venom and hunted for their rarity.
A guard standing nearby had a bite mark bandaged poorly. He muttered under his breath, "Still not healing right. Damn scales got some kind of venom."
[SNAKE-HUMAN PRINCESS - MONOLOGUE]
They wanted a pet. But I am a fang. I've bled stronger men than these. If they think a cage makes me safe, let them sleep with their collars. When the time comes, I won't need mercy. Only one clean strike.
"She's the only one we've ever seen," the manager whispered, almost reverently. "Pure-blooded. No hybridization. A hundred million Berries minimum. Could probably fetch double at auction."
"She clean?"
"Completely. Never touched. Certified. You'll get the paperwork."
Argus's voice was like steel on stone. "Both of them. The princess and the Snake-Human. One hundred million total. Take it or leave it."
The manager blinked. Then nodded so fast his neck cracked. "Deal!"
He nearly collapsed with relief. He knew full well he'd just given away the princess for free—but getting Whitebeard's crew out of his shop without anyone dying was worth any discount.
Within minutes, collar remotes were exchanged, paperwork filed, and the two captives transferred into reinforced mobile cages.
Argus didn't look back once.
---
[SERENA – PRIVATE MONOLOGUE]
New girls. Of course.
They'll look at him with wide eyes, grateful smiles, bruised egos. And I'll be right there, smiling back. Let them play at seduction. I've already won.
I will be his favorite.
Let, them come. I will show them, who the throne belongs too.
(CHAPTER END)
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