After two days of rest, Law's injuries hadn't fully healed, but he could move around without difficulty.
The conspicuous hat, at Abel's insistence, was wrapped in cloth and stuffed inside his shirt.
And it wasn't just the hat. Abel had gone so far as to wrap bandages from other parts of the man's body around his entire face, leaving only his eyes visible.
Then he draped a black cloth over him like a cloak.
It was an odd disguise, but better than letting anyone see the white patches on his face.
As they entered the city, Abel noticed a significant increase in patrolling soldiers.
The atmosphere was tense, likely due to the chaotic battle at the harbor the previous day.
But this was actually a good thing. With everyone's attention focused on such a major incident, few would still care about the deaths of those few vagrants...
Inside the clothing store, Pink was trying on a new suit.
The female store manager and a noblewoman accompanying her husband both wore infatuated expressions, clearly captivated by Pink's raw masculinity.
"Wrap up all these suits," Pink said.
"Sir, may I ask your name?"
"Forgive me, but I'm destined to be a fleeting presence in your life. So... forget me."
Pink, his face still swollen from the fight, placed the money on the counter, lit a cigarette, and strode out under the adoring gazes of the women.
He was truly... truly too charming!
The female shopkeeper's face flushed crimson before she fainted outright.
Pink hadn't walked far when he suddenly stopped. He realized he'd been so focused on politely rejecting the woman that he'd forgotten to pick up his newly purchased suit.
"Ah, well. I guess I should just head back."
Señor wanted to retrieve the suit, but he couldn't bear the thought of causing more women to fall in love with him. Reluctantly, he decided to let it go.
Meanwhile, the port was a scene of frantic activity.
Workers were rushing to repair and rebuild the structures destroyed the previous day. Every day of delay meant significant financial losses, something no merchant could tolerate.
Moreover, the Donquixote Family's smuggling ship had used up all its remaining armaments during the battle. With no goods left to trade, Señor had no choice but to return home.
Forced by the Donquixote Family's notorious reputation, the remaining supplies that hadn't been fully procured were delivered at breakneck speed and piled up at the port.
As a result, other ships wanting to depart had no choice but to wait silently.
This chaotic situation undoubtedly provided Abel and Law with a significant advantage for their upcoming plan.
"Are all the supplies accounted for?"
"Most have been delivered, but we haven't received any word about the originally ordered liquor."
"Then hurry up and chase it down!"
"Yes, sir!"
Moments later, the crew member who had gone to inquire returned with grim news.
"What? It's gone?"
"Yes... The supplier claims his cellar was raided yesterday, leaving him without a single barrel of wheat ale. He says it's impossible to fulfill our order now."
"And you just believed him?"
"I..."
"Do you see this flag? In the North Blue, no one dares to withhold goods from the Donquixote Family. I don't care if his story is true or false. By noon, I want at least a hundred barrels of liquor here. Understood?"
"Yes, sir! Mission guaranteed!"
"Move it! Get all the liquor out of here!"
At the command of a short, stout man, a dozen menacing pirates stormed into the tavern.
"Gurraga! What do you think you're doing? There are soldiers patrolling everywhere! Do you have a death wish?!"
"Heh, Old Drunkard, you don't need to scare me. If I don't deliver the goods to the Donquixote Family today, I'm dead anyway. Since I'm going to die either way, why not take a few more down with me?!"
The Old Drunkard was both shocked and furious. His men tried to resist but were quickly beaten to the ground.
He had heard about the theft from Gurraga's cellar earlier and even gloated over it, never imagining his schadenfreude would backfire so spectacularly.
Gurraga's crew didn't have this many thugs. These must be men sent by the Donquixote Family.
Remembering the two pirate groups that had been wiped out, the Old Drunkard suddenly lost his nerve. He lowered his voice and said, "What do you want? Tell me plainly. I'll help if I can, but if you push too far, I'd rather smash every bottle in this place and take you down with me!"
Hearing this, Gurraga finally relaxed, a smile spreading across his face.
"Don't worry, I won't make things difficult for you, brother. Just let me take half the liquor here today... Hold on, let me finish."
"I won't take your wine for free. I'll give you a half-percent profit on top of the wholesale price."
"Don't complain about the small margin. The next buyer won't offer this much. Think carefully."
The Old Drunkard immediately understood the implication of a "next buyer" and realized what the man was getting at.
"Really?"
"What's real can't be faked. Don't you think there are too many taverns near the port these days?"
"Alright! Just for that, I'll help you out."
In an instant, the two old foxes had struck a silent, mutually beneficial deal.
The result was disastrous for the other taverns.
The luckier ones were merely extorted for a hefty sum. Those who didn't recognize the situation or refused to cooperate had their entire liquor stocks emptied at best, or faced a brutal beating that nearly cost them their lives at worst.
What had initially been a major crisis was miraculously turned into an opportunity by the fat Gurraga. By waving the Donquixote Family's banner, he brazenly used their reputation to eliminate his competitors in broad daylight.
Even the soldiers patrolling the area, upon hearing that the Donquixote Family was handling matters, immediately pretended not to see anything and quickly withdrew their men.
Seeing this, Gurraga's fat face beamed with smug satisfaction.
Unbeknownst to him, two children had quietly slipped into one of the empty wooden barrels right under his nose.
The pirates, focused on moving the alcohol, didn't notice the slight weight difference. As long as a barrel wasn't completely empty, they hauled it away without a second thought.
This oversight proved to be an unexpected stroke of luck.
Even Abel himself likely couldn't have imagined that his Zero-Yen Purchase spree the previous day would trigger such a massive chain reaction.
Finally, before noon, over two hundred barrels of alcohol were loaded onto the ship.
Señor, unaware of the alcohol's origins, promptly settled the payment with Gurraga and boarded the ship, preparing to depart.
Gurraga's plump face bloomed into a chrysanthemum-like grin, a stroke of good fortune born from disaster