To call scholars defenseless was nothing more than Marine arrogance. In truth, when scholars set sail on ventures that could very well cost them their lives, how could they possibly go without weapons?
After all, the World Government was hardly their only threat at sea. Pirates, for instance, would never show mercy just because their targets were scholars.
That was why any expedition team of scholars had to be equipped with weapons and ammunition to guard against the many dangers of the seas.
Nico Olvia's trip to Chichicris Island this time was precisely for that purpose—to replenish their stock of arms. As one of the first scholars to sail with the expedition fleet, she had already conducted many such deals in the underworld and was well-seasoned in the trade.
She understood the unspoken rules here: never show even the slightest hint of fear. If these wolves caught even the faintest whiff of weakness, they would become predators in the truest sense, tearing you apart without hesitation.
On the other hand, the more at ease and domineering you appeared, the more likely they were to see you as one of them—a hunter, not prey.
And the more beautiful the woman, the more convincing her performance had to be. With that experience and acting ability, Olvia had learned to move through the underworld without revealing the tiniest flaw.
Like now, as she strolled down Market Street. She stopped by stalls, struck up casual conversations, sometimes even bantering or exchanging a few sharp words with the vendors before buying their goods. After each purchase, she would curse and grumble as though she'd been ripped off.
The act was flawless. Her practiced demeanor blended seamlessly into the environment, enough that the wolves of the underworld treated her as one of their own, never once thinking of targeting her.
Indeed, open conflict between predators here was rare. The logic was simple: in a world ruled by survival of the fittest, a predator injured in a fight would soon become prey.
So long as they judged someone as "one of their own," predators were generally courteous, saving their appetites for outsiders—the lambs.
Only men like Ortoren, strong enough to dominate the field, would dare strike down their so-called "kindred."
...
Once Ortoren fixed his eyes on her, he stood, shoving his table aside without a second thought, and strode toward Olvia.
At that moment, Olvia was still browsing miscellaneous goods. Though she had come mainly for weapons and ammunition, the markets of the underworld sold everything imaginable. One could sometimes stumble upon treasures: Eternal Poses from strange islands, ancient treasure maps, or... the artifacts of history she longed for most.
She was haggling over the price of a Log Pose with a stall owner when Ortoren stepped up beside her.
The stall owner fell silent the instant he arrived, shrinking back without a word.
Olvia immediately sensed it—trouble had come her way.
She turned her head to look at the towering figure now at her side. Over three meters tall, muscles straining against his black vest, arms inked with vicious tattoos, half his face hidden behind oversized black sunglasses, a rough, scruffy beard, and even horn-like ornaments crowning his head.
This was clearly not a man to cross.
Ortoren stroked his chin as his eyes swept over her. Then, his lips curled into what he must have thought was a friendly smile.
"Miss, first time on Chichicris Island? Need a guide? I know this place like the back of my hand. It's dangerous here—plenty of bad people around. I think you might need my help."
As she studied him, Olvia also took note of the others around them. The feral jackals who had been prowling the market dared not even glance their way.
That alone told her all she needed to know: this man was likely the most ruthless predator on the entire street.
Looking at him, one thought crossed her mind—on this island, there couldn't possibly be anyone more vicious than him. If she stuck with him, she wouldn't have to worry about other bad people. After all, she'd already found the worst of the lot.
But Olvia was no amateur. She had prepared for situations like this long before. Which was why she neither rejected him outright nor moved to clash with him.
Instead, she let out a playful laugh, reached out, and brushed her hand across Ortoren's broad chest. Her eyes gleamed as she said,
"Hey, you're just my type. How about I treat you to dinner? We can get to know each other first."
Olvia had a large dose of hallucinogens on her—enough to bring down an elephant. With dinner as an excuse, she planned to slip him the drug, take him out, maybe even walk away with some ill-gotten gains, then pack up and vanish before trouble found her.
Not only that, she had prepared several backup plans for just such situations, ready to adapt depending on how things played out.
"Ahahaha! It's been ages since a pretty woman invited me to dinner! Sure, let's go!" Ortoren threw his head back in laughter, feigning joy. He bent slightly, wrapped an arm around Nico Olvia's shoulders, and pulled her tight into his chest, dragging her along like a thug who'd just claimed his prize.
Olvia knew he was taking advantage, but she kept a satisfied smile plastered on her face. Leaning against him, she let herself be half-dragged, half-carried off the street.
Only after they left did the stall owners stir again.
"Damn it, he got to her first!"
"That woman was something else. That wheat-colored skin… I really liked it!"
"Like hell you stood a chance. She didn't look easy to mess with. Only Horn Boss would dare move on her that openly."
"Shut your mouth. If Horn Boss hears you, how many heads do you think you've got to spare?"
The memory of what they had just witnessed was enough to silence them. Clicking their tongues, the vendors went back to business, unwilling to gossip further about Ortoren.
...
Soon, Ortoren brought Olvia to a high-end restaurant.
The underworld might have been filled with chaos and crime, but powerful figures still thrived here. Mafia leaders, syndicate bosses, and pirate captains demanded fine dining and expensive drink, so the island's luxury services were well in place.
In a private room, Ortoren and Olvia sat across from each other at the table. By now, Olvia was already sensing something strange. The reckless thug from before seemed to vanish the moment they stepped in. Suddenly, he was sitting there almost… proper.
What, was he trying to act like a gentleman? With that image of his? Please—no way he could pull that off.
Confusion swirled in her mind as she quietly complained to herself.
After the waiter left with their order, Ortoren lifted his hand, removed his fake mustache and sunglasses, and set them on the table.
Olvia's heart skipped a beat. Without the disguise, the more she looked at him, the more familiar he became.
A few breaths later, her eyes widened.
"Benn Ortoren!?"
Ortoren picked up a glass of juice, downed a mouthful, and chuckled.
"Oh? Didn't think I was famous enough for strangers to recognize me so easily."
Olvia's mood sank like a stone. Still clinging to a last shred of hope, she forced a smile.
"As partners of the Marines, we pirate hunters naturally make it our business to know the famous officers, don't we?"
"Pirate hunters?" Ortoren snorted. "Didn't expect you to have a side job like that. I thought people like you—cultured types—weren't fond of bloodshed."
Olvia's expression stiffened. She feigned ignorance.
"Cultured? What are you talking about?"
"At this point, you don't really think your cover is still intact, do you? Scholar Nico Olvia?" Ortoren's gaze locked firmly on her, his tone heavy.
Olvia opened her mouth, wanting to deny it, but faced with that look in his eyes, she swallowed her words.
Silence fell between them. Neither spoke.
Ten minutes passed before a waiter knocked, wheeled in their food, and departed with a respectful bow.
Olvia didn't move. Ortoren, on the other hand, dug right in. A boxed meal never filled his stomach, so now he ate heartily, without restraint.
Watching him eat so casually, Olvia grew restless. Finally, as Ortoren raised his glass of juice again, she asked,
"How did you find me? Where did I slip up? What mistake did I make?"
"The World Government has the most powerful and far-reaching intelligence network and surveillance system in existence. Once we put effort into it, there's nothing we can't uncover—it's only a matter of time. You might not believe it, but everything you've done has always been within our grasp," Ortoren said with a casual, almost boastful tone.