Something's not right.
Alvida peeked around the edge of a damp, narrow alleyway, quietly estimating the time.
The last time she saw a clock was at a pet store in Whiskey Peak—it was just past 6 p.m. That was a while ago. Now, it had to be around 7 in the evening.
Ever since she entered Whiskey Peak around one in the afternoon, Alvida had been aware of someone tailing her.
At first, she'd tried to use her charm and striking beauty to disarm the locals. It worked—for a while. But once those locals caught sight of the people tailing her, their attitudes changed. They either changed the subject or clammed up entirely.
Alvida had nearly caught the stalkers a few times, but they began switching shifts… and then suddenly, they disappeared.
Information gathering became easier after that—but something felt off. It was almost as if someone wanted her to find the intel.
"Cactus Island," "Whiskey Peak," "Mayor Igarappoi"… Alvida didn't buy that the intel ended there.
She was proven right—just moments ago.
The once lively town of Whiskey Peak had suddenly grown quiet.
Shops remained open, pedestrians still walked the streets—but Alvida, ever sharp, noticed that the same few faces kept passing by again and again.
She quickly deduced the reason.
Some portion of the population must have been summoned elsewhere, leaving fewer "actors" to maintain the illusion of a normal town. And that exposed the repetitive cast too clearly.
So the real question was: what were the summoned people doing?
Whatever the answer, it was time to return to the ship and report to the captain.
With that thought, Alvida picked up her pace in the darkness of the alleyway.
BOOM—!
Suddenly, the sound of an explosion echoed nearby.
She frowned, curiosity getting the better of her. Pressing herself against the corner of the wall, she peeked in the direction of the blast.
Thick smoke and flames billowed upward from behind several buildings.
But the townspeople only paused for a moment to look—then continued their activities as if nothing had happened, like well-wound mechanical dolls.
This place really is strange…
Alvida remained at her vantage point.
That's when she saw someone dash out from the alley across the street—a girl, running in sheer panic.
She had long blue hair, disheveled and flying wildly. Her dress was patterned with strange spirals that looked almost dizzying.
Her eyes were full of tears. There was a bloody smear on her cheek, though her body didn't appear wounded.
Behind her came a group of pursuers—armed with swords, batons, pistols. They wore plain clothes, but moved in tight formation with deadly precision.
Clearly professional killers.
"Cut her off!" shouted the leader—a chef in a tall white hat, wielding a sharp long blade, not a kitchen knife. "She's a traitor!"
"We can't let her escape!" shouted another, who looked like a sushi chef as he aimed a pistol. "If she gets away, we're all dead!"
Two gunshots rang out.
The blue-haired girl stumbled slightly but didn't stop—she veered sharply and ducked into a side alley.
The townspeople froze for a moment, then joined the hunt, surging into the alley.
But they had overlooked one thing—the girl had never run that far.
She had pulled a risky trick.
The moment she broke line of sight, she dove into the shadows near a corner, faking a deeper escape. The pursuers had assumed she fled down the alley and rushed past her hiding spot—just a few meters away.
The girl panted heavily, wiping tears from her face, though a sob still escaped her lips.
The scene she had just witnessed had broken her heart. She wanted to turn back and help her comrades.
But she knew… if she turned back, not only would she fail to save them—she'd be throwing their sacrifices away.
Vivi knew Igaram would protect her to the end. That was a given.
But she hadn't expected Miss Monday and Mr. 9—who knew nothing of her true identity—to also stand their ground to protect her.
They were mid-level agents in Baroque Works, far from the organization's inner circle. They didn't know who Mr. 0 really was. Their loyalty was flimsy. What bound them together was trust—and maybe… honor.
But they had all fallen to the same two monsters.
In Baroque Works, agents with numbered or holiday code names held management roles.
The smaller the number, the stronger and more authoritative the agent.
But even Vivi hadn't imagined that Mr. 5 and Miss Valentine would take out Igaram, Miss Monday, and Mr. 9 so quickly.
A few sympathetic underlings had tried to help her—only to fall alongside them. Their fates remained unknown.
They must be Devil Fruit users…
Vivi looked down, uncertain of where to run.
The sea was vast—but nowhere felt safe.
She could no longer see a clear path back to Arabasta. It was as if every road led to death.
Suddenly—a hand landed on her shoulder.
She froze.
Another hand clamped over her mouth, stopping the scream in her throat.
Then a sultry, mature voice whispered behind her:
"Don't scream. Tell me—what happened?"
Vivi's terror slowly faded. She calmed her breath.
If this person had meant her harm, she'd already be dead.
Vivi's mind worked quickly. The voice belonged to a woman—gentle but firm. She must be Alvida, the only woman among Davy Jones' crew.
And Davy Jones' crew were the only ones on the island not under Baroque Works' thumb.
"Speak," Alvida said again, removing her hand. "What happened?"
Vivi turned around—and saw the beautiful, dark-haired woman from the bounty posters.
She took a deep breath. What she said next could save her life… or end it.
So she decided: No tricks. No politics. No seduction. Just truth.
"I'm Princess Vivi of the Arabasta Kingdom. My bodyguard Igaram and I have been investigating the cause of the uprising in our homeland. It led us to Baroque Works—and we discovered that their boss, Mr. 0, is none other than the Warlord Crocodile."
Alvida's eyes widened slightly. She didn't question it—just committed the information to memory.
"Not long ago, Igaram and I were exposed. Crocodile sent Mr. 5 and Miss Valentine, two core agents, to eliminate us. I barely escaped."
Alvida nodded, listening in silence.
Vivi continued:
"We knew you were here. As soon as you landed, word reached Baroque Works. HQ told us to let you leave. But I noticed that Mr. 5 and Miss Valentine were sent here anyway—along with others."
"They were more than enough to deal with Igaram and me. Which means… the others are here for you."
"Crocodile is extremely cautious. He's spent over twenty years hiding his plans inside Alabasta. Everyone thinks he's a hero."
"So the moment you landed, you became a threat he wouldn't tolerate. Allowing you to leave is just a distraction—so he can finish me off, then come for you next."
"Miss Alvida, I know this isn't the time or place, but… please, take me to Davy Jones. I'll tell him everything I know."
Vivi fell silent.
Alvida hesitated. There wasn't enough intel yet. No way to verify Vivi's story.
But before she could decide—someone else made the decision for her.
"Aha! Here you are!"
A man and woman stepped out of the shadows.
The man wore a boxy outfit patterned with the 12 buttons of a telephone dial, holding a hammer shaped like a mic.
The woman wore a sharp women's business suit, clutching a folder—like a corporate lawyer on a mission.
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