On the residential island of the Kingdom of Eryoku, Raleigh and Cleveland arrived, and were immediately coated in a fine layer of dust and grime.
"Damn," Cleveland coughed, his voice already hoarse.
"The pollution here is way too severe, isn't it? I feel like I'm chewing the air." He took two simple gas masks from his backpack and handed one to Raleigh.
"Rea... Boss." Cleveland almost called Raleigh by the wrong name again.
After receiving a fierce, "get-it-together-you-idiot" glare from Raleigh, he quickly corrected himself.
After putting on the gas mask, Raleigh carefully observed the city.
This place, the residential port, was slightly more "prosperous" and crowded than the desolate mining city where Dragon had landed.
"Young man... you're from out of town, aren't you?" a person wearing a gas mask that resembled a disturbing, long-beaked plague crow approached them, his voice a dry rasp.
"Yes," Raleigh replied calmly, his voice muffled by the mask. "We're tourists, just passing through. Decided to take a look around the famous Kingdom of Eryoku."
In his perception, the man in front of him was pathetically weak, clearly just a low-level lookout.
"Alright, alright. Tourists, eh?" The crow-man chuckled, a wheezing sound.
"Not much to see here. If you need... anything... feel free to come find me. I'd be happy to help."
After saying this, the man gave a little wave and shuffled away into the smog.
"Ra... Raleigh Boss, what's going on?" Cleveland muttered.
"What's going on? We're being watched, that's what," Raleigh replied, his voice bored. "This place has its local bosses. That was just the welcome wagon."
Although neither Raleigh nor Cleveland feared these so-called local bosses, they remained vigilant.
Within just a few minutes of stepping onto the island, Raleigh had already received his first warning.
It had to be said, the Kingdom of Eryoku was quite interesting.
"What do we do next, Boss?" Cleveland asked.
Raleigh thought for a moment before replying. "Ask the locals if there's a tavern or something nearby. My throat's a bit dry."
....
After some inquiries, they finally found a small tavern.
The worn wooden door had paint peeling off in long, sad strips, and the soot-caked sign was completely unreadable.
"Finally found one," Raleigh complained verbally, though his movements were swift as he pushed open the old door.
"I was starting to worry we wouldn't find one at all."
CREEEEEEEEEAAAAAK.
The hinges of the wooden door emitted an agonizing, grating sound.
The atmosphere in the tavern, which had been loud and lively, went dead silent.
What met Raleigh's eyes were no longer the gaunt, malnourished miners.
The room was dim, but he could make out tough, burly men, some bearing the distinctive tattoo marks of pirate crews, while others had steel whips—the symbols of overseers—hanging from their waists or behind their chairs.
When Raleigh and Cleveland entered, the lively atmosphere paused for a solid, uncomfortable five seconds.
Then, just as quickly, it returned to its previous state, only now it felt forced and even more animated, filled with low whispers.
Ignoring the stares, Raleigh and Cleveland walked straight to the bar and ordered two glasses of rum.
After sitting down, they removed their masks, revealing two surprisingly clean and, in this grime-coated hellhole, offensively handsome faces.
Looking at the two unfamiliar men, some people in the tavern began to harbor ill intentions.
"Generally," Raleigh said quietly to Cleveland, as if giving a lecture, "it's people with middle to high incomes who come to taverns to drink. The miners are all still working at this hour. Only the overseers who've finished their shifts can come here for a drink."
Raleigh was sharing his insights, because he genuinely believed in Cleveland's potential.
Although Cleveland didn't trust him as completely as Momonga did, to be honest, Raleigh needed more capable subordinates.
"Boss, we came here to gather information, right?" Cleveland lowered his voice, speaking in a tone only the two of them could hear.
"Sometimes, even if you intend to inquire, you might not necessarily find out anything," Raleigh patiently explained, taking a sip of his rum and wincing.
"Ugh. Tastes like paint thinner." He continued, "But there are times when people bragging in a tavern, trying to impress each other, might let slip a crucial piece of information you're looking for."
Raleigh smiled, his eyes scanning the room.
"Of course, this method also requires the strength to handle... trouble."
Because out of the corner of his eye, Raleigh spotted a very large, very drunk man, who was now staring at them with clear, malicious intent.
"Those two guys... hic... they don't look like good people at all," the drunkard, Joseph, muttered under his breath to his table.
His companions glanced at each other and burst into laughter.
"Joseph, you're really drunk! We're not good people either, what are you talking about?"
"I think Joseph is truly drunk," another one cackled. "He probably won't even remember where he lives later."
The mockery from his companions made Joseph furious, his face flushing a deep red.
"No... no! They're definitely not the same kind of people as us!"
Although he wasn't particularly strong, years of working in the mines had sharpened his discerning eye.
"Alright, Joseph," one of his friends teased, "I thought you just had your eyes on those two pretty boys."
The teasing from his companions left Joseph feeling humiliated, his face flushed with anger.
At that moment, the boss sitting among them—a man with cold, calculating eyes—spoke up.
"You know, I also feel there's something off about those two. Joseph... go test them out."
Hearing the boss's order, Joseph immediately perked up with a vicious grin spreading across his face.
He had thought about messing with the two outsiders for fun, but without the boss's permission, he didn't dare.
Now that the boss had given the go-ahead, he could proceed without worry.
Even if the two outsiders were strong, they would have to obediently comply in front of their boss.
"Trouble's coming," Raleigh said quietly to Cleveland.
He didn't even turn around.
He just raised the rum in front of him and downed it in one gulp.
"Ah, refreshing," he said, loud enough for the bar to hear, and slammed his glass down.
"Bartender, another round!"
"Sure thing, sir!" the tavern keeper called back. "The last bottle of rum on the shelf, all yours!"
BANG!
A greasy, massive hand slammed onto Raleigh's table with a loud crash.
The others in the tavern jumped at the sound.
Turning and seeing it was Joseph, the drunken fool, they quieted down, ready to watch the farce.
"You bastard!" Joseph shouted boisterously, spraying spittle. "You drank all the rum? What am I supposed to drink then?"
Raleigh glanced discreetly at Cleveland, then lowered his head, picked up his new glass, and remained completely silent.
"If you don't say anything," Joseph growled, enraged by the disrespect, "I'll take it as you giving this bottle of rum to me."
With that, Joseph's grimy hand reached for the rum bottle.
SHHH-THUNK!
Joseph's hand stop frozen in mid-air.
Another hand—Cleveland's—had moved faster.
Before Joseph could even react, a polished, silver dinner fork from their table was stabbed directly through the back of his hand, pinning his entire palm to the wooden table.
Cleveland's face remained utterly expressionless.
His left hand was still wrapped around his own rum glass.
His right hand, however, now gripped the fork, which was vibrating slightly from the force of the impact.
"Ahhhhhh! You bastard!" The pain-stricken Joseph tried to pull the fork out of his hand, but it was embedded deep.
He couldn't manage it, so he could only howl and look pleadingly toward his boss.
"Enough. Stop embarrassing yourself. Get back to your seat."
The boss sighed, stood up helplessly, and walked to Joseph's side.
He reached out a hand, grabbed the fork, and with one brutal, forceful yank, pulled it out of the table
. "Let me introduce myself," the boss said, tossing the bloody fork onto the bar.
"I'm Carlos Barena. The local... well, let's just say I'm the 'Mafia' boss."
After exchanging a quick glance with Cleveland, Raleigh finally turned, his face was full of boredom and calm.
"A pleasure," Raleigh said.
"We're in the business of human resource redistribution."