Chapter 292: The Youth
Nisibi scanned Les from head to toe, a sneer tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Look at yourself. What kind of charm do you think you have to pull a young girl? Your looks? Your wealth? Your status? To be completely honest, you just look creepy. If you were even halfway decent-looking, would you still be a bachelor in your thirties? As for wealth and status—those have nothing to do with Bounty Hunters like us. To put it nicely, our line of work gives us freedom and lets us act independently. To put it bluntly, it's a dead-end job. Even if it's technically legal, the Marines still restrict and look down on us every chance they get. And then there's the most important thing: strength. Do you honestly think you have any? You're on the exact same level as me. The only thing you've got going for you is your marksmanship, but what good is marksmanship in the Grand Line?"
Nisibi tore into him without holding back, and Les just took it in silence. As much as he hated to admit it, Nisibi wasn't wrong. In fact, he hit the nail right on the head.
"I'm still better off than you," Les muttered, unable to completely swallow his pride. He quickly shifted the subject. "Besides, what does any of this have to do with that girl?"
Nisibi repeated his gesture, rubbing his fingers together with a sly grin.
Les gritted his teeth, reached into his pocket, and painfully pulled out a few Berries, shoving them into Nisibi's palm.
Nisibi looked down at the small stack of coins and scowled. "Just these? That's a bit cheap, isn't it?"
Les glared at him. "I don't have money for you to throw away. Either take it and spill it, or give it back and get lost."
"Tsk, tsk..." Nisibi clicked his tongue, his smirk returning. "You know, there's a pretty boy right next to Miss Wednesday right now. Looks to be about her age, too. Can you really just stand by and watch that?"
"Tch. A pretty boy won't last in a place like this," Les said, trying to sound indifferent. "Give it a few pirate raids, and he'll be six feet under. There's no reason to waste time worrying about him."
Despite his dismissive words, his twitching eye betrayed his frustration. Nisibi saw right through him and didn't panic. He knew Les was hooked. Pushing the coins back into Les's hands, Nisibi turned to leave.
"Since you don't care, I guess I'll just stick around and watch them. Who knows? Spend enough time together, and sparks might fly. Give it a year or half, and they might even have a kid running around. Quite a picture, isn't it?"
He made a show of taking a step toward the door.
"Wait!" Les called out, raising a hand to stop him.
Nisibi paused, turned back, and smiled knowingly. "Changed your mind?"
Les frowned. "Tell me what the connection is first. Otherwise, you're no different from those greedy merchants."
"Are you saying I have a noble air to me?" Nisibi chuckled.
"You don't have a shred of noble air—you're a thug through and through. I'm talking about your bloodsucking nature. Once money lands in your hands, it never comes back."
Nisibi let out a low laugh. "Look, do you really think you have anything that would make a girl like her fall for you naturally?"
"A sense of security?"
"Try again."
Les grumbled, "Fine. Nothing."
"Then there you go. If the soft approach doesn't work, you take what you want by force."
Les stared at him, startled. "By force? You mean... use strength?"
"Are you a man or not?" Nisibi countered. "How do you think most families around here got started? This town was never a place for saints."
"But... even if Miss Wednesday looks like a weak girl, she's an Intermediate Agent in Baroque Works. Do you really think an agent can be a nobody?"
Les wasn't hesitating out of morality; he was terrified that Miss Wednesday possessed strength he couldn't handle.
"I've already thought of that," Nisibi said, leaning closer. "If the price is right, I can hire some people for you. They'll help you take care of her, and I'll personally keep watch outside. Hehe..." He flashed a crude, knowing smile.
Les hesitated, weighing the risk before finally giving a tight nod. "Fine... How many Berries is this going to cost me?"
"That's easy to negotiate."
Nisibi slid closer, his arm slipping into Les's heavy coat. Before Les could react, Nisibi snatched a pouch bound with silk thread from his inner pocket and yanked it free.
"Instead of making you bleed cash piece by piece, I'll just take the whole thing and save us both the headache."
Nisibi had noticed Les keeping his hand inside his coat the entire time. It looked like a nervous habit, but Nisibi knew better—Les was clutching his savings, torn between his greed and his desire.
Les closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, silently resigning himself to the deal. "When do we move?"
"Tonight. Another group of pirates is supposed to dock, and everyone will be busy dealing with them. That's our window. I'll lure her companions away, and you take the crew I hired to finish the job."
Les nodded slowly. "You better not double-cross me, Nisibi. You know my gun isn't just for show."
Beneath his coat, the muzzle of Les's pistol was pressed directly against Nisibi's ribs. At the same time, Nisibi's free hand rested on the hilt of a hidden dagger, ready to strike if the atmosphere turned sour.
After a tense second, both men relaxed. Les lowered his gun, and Nisibi let go of his blade.
"Relax," Nisibi said, pocketing the pouch. "I might be greedy, but I always deliver on a deal."
On the other side of town, inside a weathered wooden hut.
The structure was small, built from aging planks whose visible cracks made it seem as though a strong wind might blow it apart. The interior was sparse—just a few basic necessities and a single bed. Yet, despite the worn surroundings, the room was spotless and neatly arranged.
This was Miss Wednesday's bedroom.
At the moment, however, the person lying on the bed was not her, but a young man with snow-white hair.
He lay with his eyes closed, his breathing faint and shallow. His pale, bloodless skin gave him the appearance of a corpse. Across his face ran a jagged scar, tracking from his chin across his left cheek and stopping barely a centimeter short of his eye.
Heavy footsteps hurried toward the cabin from outside.
"Princess!" Igaram called out in a rushed whisper, trying frantically to keep his voice down.
Inside, Princess Vivi—known to the town as Miss Wednesday—couldn't help but softy laugh. "Igaram, you're acting strange."
"This isn't about being strange!" Igaram huffed, stepping through the doorway with a worried frown. "Princess, you cannot simply let a young man stay in your personal quarters! If word gets out, it will ruin your reputation!"
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