Chapter Thirty-Nine: Newtman Elbe

Within the notebook were recorded details on over a hundred pirates. Of these, only eight, each with a bounty exceeding thirty million, truly warranted special attention from Mod. Among them were Kazt, captain of the Sharp Snail Pirates and a Zoan-type Devil Fruit user, and the infamous “Devil Sheriff” Lafitte. Kazt, who frequented Mad Hatter Town, had accumulated a wealth of information in Sunny’s notes. Lafitte, on the other hand, rarely visited, resulting in a pitifully brief entry—little more than his name and bounty, which Mod suspected Sunny had gleaned from the newspapers.

Setting these aside, what truly surprised Mod was the presence of the sole female among the eight great pirates: Newtonman Aibe, known as the “Heartbreaker,” with a staggering bounty of thirty-eight million. Such a sum might be unremarkable on the Grand Line, but in the West Sea, it was extraordinary. For comparison, the average bounty in the East Sea hovered around three million—a persuasive contrast indeed.

As for Aibe, Sunny’s notes offered little beyond a spare description: fair skin, beautiful features, lips as red as fire. Her skills, however, focused on her mastery of the flower rapier—a slender sword, designed solely for thrusting, categorized among Western rapiers.

Mod’s gaze swept across the woman: her flaming red lips, the smooth flatness of her exposed abdomen, the flower rapier at her hip. Considering the hush that had descended upon the tavern at her entrance, Mod was nearly certain that this striking presence could be none other than Newtonman Aibe herself.

In the world of pirates, bounty was the measure of both worth and might. The higher the sum, the greater the prestige and renown it brought. It was this very aura that made the likes of Aibe and Lafitte draw every eye the moment they entered a place, shining like rising stars. Such was the effect of bounty and reputation. Of course, on the Grand Line, surrounded by entirely new standards, this treatment would vanish.

Aibe’s arrival plunged the tavern into utter silence. Pirates who had moments before been drinking and chatting now paused, transfixed by her presence. Her long hair, coiled high; skin white as snow; a face as enchanting as peach blossoms; a tall, voluptuous figure; and above all, a bounty of thirty-eight million—each detail was a provocation to their senses.

A perfect woman! The limited horizons of the pirates here led them, unbidden, to this same thought.

Mod, too, was observing Aibe. His gaze, which had lingered on the rapier at her waist, traveled upward and came to rest on the expanse of her pale, flat stomach. There was no sign of muscle nor of exposure to the elements. Yet with a bounty so high, she could not be lacking in strength.

Mod pondered in silence. There was something he could not quite grasp: how could some of the world’s formidable women maintain such flawless skin after long voyages at sea? And even with their slender, seemingly delicate forms, without a trace of muscle, they could unleash power to rival the most muscular of men.

Were it not for the existence of a certain Empress of the Sea, Mod might have felt compelled to delve deeper into the mysteries of the female physique.

Aibe, for her part, seemed to relish the attention. She did not linger at the entrance, but strode directly to the largest table in the tavern, trailed by a dozen able-bodied subordinates and a pristine white skunk in her hand. The group of drinkers occupying the table, upon seeing her approach, immediately rose and vacated their seats. The staff, quick to read the situation, hurried over to clear the table.

In the time it took Aibe to cross a mere dozen meters, a clean and spacious table was made ready. She and her men sat down as a matter of course, ordering the servers to bring food and wine without delay. As for the pirates who had wisely surrendered their seats, they quietly retreated to the side.

In the corner, Mod withdrew his gaze. He’d only dared to watch Aibe so long because everyone else was focused on her as well.

“What an entrance,” Mod murmured under his breath.

Wolf Rat glanced at Mod, lowering his voice as well. “Of course. Don’t you know who she is? That’s Newtonman Aibe. In terms of strength, she just about makes the cut among West Sea pirates, but in popularity, she’s second to none. And don’t be fooled by her looks—she kills without batting an eye.”

“I can see that,” Mod nodded in agreement, noting how the pirates at two nearby tables had nearly popped their eyes out of their heads.

“And—did you know she’s called the Heartbreaker for a reason?” Wolf Rat suddenly leaned in, his tone conspiratorial and even softer.

“I’ve heard the name.”

“But do you know how she got it?”

Mod shook his head.

Wolf Rat grinned wickedly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Aibe has a thing for handsome young men. If she takes a liking to one, she’ll have him dragged onto her ship. And then, well, you know what happens.”

At this, Wolf Rat wore a look every man would understand. His tone then shifted, his expression changing as quickly as a mask in a Sichuan opera.

“But every single one of those young men ends up as a mangled corpse by the next morning. That’s the true reason for her title.”

“So brutal?” Mod was genuinely surprised. It was hard to imagine such a taste lurking beneath such a beautiful façade.

“What did you expect? How do you think she earned that bounty? Pirates like her are all the same—arson, murder, pillage, and plunder are daily fare.”

As he spoke, a cold gleam flickered in Wolf Rat’s eyes.

Mod remained silent, tacitly accepting Wolf Rat’s words.

“This is bad,” Wolf Rat suddenly exclaimed, his expression changing.

“What’s wrong?” Mod looked at him with curiosity. After their brief exchange, he found Wolf Rat rather interesting.

Wolf Rat lowered his voice, nervous. “I was so caught up talking to you, I forgot my own situation is dangerous.”

He quickly pulled out a mirror and checked his reflection. Seeing his own dazzlingly handsome face, he grew even more anxious. The last thing he wanted was for Aibe’s tastes to cost him his chance at getting closer to Usopp.

“Dangerous situation?” Mod was momentarily puzzled, but soon understood, glancing at Wolf Rat as he preened.

“Wolf Rat, are you serious?”

“No kidding—” Wolf Rat began, but was cut off by a sudden voice from behind.

“You, in the corner, come over here.”

It was Aibe’s voice.

At the sound, Wolf Rat’s expression changed. He took a deep breath and shot Mod a look that said, “I told you so,” before slowly rising, as though bracing himself for what was to come.

Turning, he met Aibe’s gaze directly.

So she’s picked me... This is what I get for taking an hour-long bath, Wolf Rat lamented inwardly as he moved toward Aibe’s table, ruing the lost chance to befriend Usopp.

“Hey, you,” Aibe called, frowning and pointing at Wolf Rat.

He nodded instinctively.

“Yes, you—get out of the way!”

“?”

Wolf Rat froze.

Under Aibe’s increasingly sharp glare, he stiffly moved aside, revealing Mod, who stood silent and unassuming behind him.

Aibe’s gaze shifted to Mod, a glimmer of interest in her eyes. Perhaps because of the many faces around, she found Mod’s fair, delicate appearance especially pleasing—exactly to her taste.

Seemingly unwilling to wait any longer, Aibe rose and walked straight toward Mod.

The surrounding pirates all turned to look at the young man in the corner, their expressions a mix of envy and pity.

Feeling Aibe’s attention settle upon him, Mod cursed silently. Of all the things to happen...

As her footsteps drew nearer, Mod began formulating a plan to escape.

Suddenly, a group burst into the tavern, led by none other than Kazt, the captain with the horned helmet.