Chapter 51: Contentment
Unable to afford the knives in the shop, and finding the ones on the third shelf unworthy, Mod was further troubled by the uncertain situation with Aibe and Kazte. Thus, he decided to step out for a while.
Before leaving, Mod returned to his room, removed his weights, then gathered his gear and money. He went downstairs to the shop, feigning a leisurely stroll, gradually edging closer to the door.
“Stop right there.”
Sunny cast a cold glance at Mod’s now unburdened legs; she could tell he was planning to slip out again.
Mod halted and looked back at Sunny, his face first puzzled, then suddenly panicked, as if he’d noticed something alarming.
“Sunny, Bailey’s broken free from his chains—catch him quickly!”
“Huh?” Sunny was startled.
Bailey represented a hefty sum of money; if he escaped, it would be a great loss. She spun around to look behind her.
What met her eyes was Bailey’s bewildered face.
“……”
Realizing she’d been tricked, Sunny turned back only to find Mod had vanished.
Bailey, keenly sensing something amiss, crawled away, seeking distance from Sunny.
...
With a small ruse exploiting Sunny’s greed for money, Mod slipped out unimpeded. He planned to first investigate the news about Aibe and Kazte.
He considered spending some money to gather information at the tavern, but suddenly remembered the Nightshade Bar.
“If it’s Tatam, perhaps he’ll know.”
With that thought, Mod decided to head for the Nightshade Bar.
Half an hour later.
Mod arrived at the Nightshade Bar.
Behind the counter, Tatam saw Mod push open the door, a hint of a smile breaking through his usual wooden expression.
“Welcome.”
“I’ll have the same as last time.”
Mod sat at the bar, glanced around the establishment, but saw no sign of Rat Mouse.
Tatam nodded to Mod and began mixing the drink.
Resting his chin on his hand, Mod watched Tatam prepare the cocktail.
Soon, Tatam slid the finished drink in front of Mod.
Mod raised the glass, took a sip, then went straight to the point.
“Tatam, I’d like to buy some information.”
“What sort of information?”
“Do you know Aibe and Kazte?”
“Yes.”
“I want to know their recent situation.”
Tatam seemed unsurprised by Mod’s request. He pulled a sheet of stationery from a drawer, set it on the bar, and slid it across to Mod.
“Rat Mouse left this behind.”
“Hm?” Mod was a bit surprised and picked up the sheet to read.
The content was concise but informative. Mod finished reading quickly, his expression clearing.
“Mutual destruction, eh? No wonder there’s been no news these past few days.”
It turned out that after escaping the tavern that day, Aibe and Kazte fought each other. It seemed tempers flared, and in the end, they went all out.
The result: their crews suffered little, but both captains were severely injured.
To prevent rivals from taking advantage, the pirate officers on both sides decisively called for a ceasefire. They then quickly left the Battle Axe Tavern, each taking their gravely wounded captain.
“A hot temper easily leads to trouble,” Mod said, grinning with schadenfreude, utterly lacking any sense of responsibility as the instigator.
If not for his perfect evasion and the heavy slap that shattered Aibe’s confidence, Aibe would never have sought validation from Kazte. Had he not, none of this would have happened, and the two captains wouldn’t have ended up in mutual ruin.
Tatam watched Mod’s smiling face and said calmly, “The whole town’s talking about it.”
“This matter?” Mod waved the sheet of paper.
Tatam nodded.
“That’s a bit troublesome. Oh well, let them talk.”
Mod’s smile faded. He personally had no desire for fame; it would only hinder his hunting endeavors.
“By the way, how much for the information?”
“No charge.”
“Then I’ll not stand on ceremony.”
Short on money, Mod wasn’t about to refuse, and pocketed his stack of Bailey.
He took another sip from his glass, then set it down.
“Tatam, I’d like to buy a decent blade, but I don’t know which weapon shop is trustworthy. Do you know anything about that?”
“Looking for a blade?”
“Yes.”
“Wait a moment.”
Tatam glanced at Mod in surprise, then stepped out from behind the counter and headed upstairs.
Mod wondered what Tatam was up to, watching curiously as he went up.
After a while, Tatam came down carrying six blades.
Seeing Tatam with the knives, Mod exclaimed, “Tatam, do you moonlight as a weapons dealer here?”
Tatam didn’t bother to explain, simply placed the blades on the bar.
These were left behind by former patrons. Two had been pawned, four abandoned.
The former were used to pay for information, the latter belonged to customers who caused trouble and ended up dead, leaving their weapons behind.
Seeing Tatam’s reluctance to elaborate, Mod didn’t press the issue, focusing instead on the six blades. At first glance, he favored a long sword with alternating red and black.
The hilt was red, the sheath black.
But neither hilt nor sheath bore any pattern, lacking a certain flair.
Mod picked up the sword; it felt weighty.
Clang!
He drew the blade, holding it horizontally before his eyes.
His reflection shone on the sharp, clear blade.
“Tatam, how much is this one?”
“Six hundred thousand.”
Tatam wasn’t sure of its value; that was the original pawn price.
Mod instinctively touched the money in his pocket, hiding his expression. “That’s steep. How about four hundred thousand?”
“Fine.”
Tatam agreed readily.
“……”
Mod suddenly felt he’d been shortchanged.
He suspected Tatam might have accepted even three hundred thousand just as easily.
Nevertheless, he’d finally found a blade to his liking.
Mod took out four hundred thousand and handed it to Tatam.
Tatam accepted the money.
The deal was done.
Tatam took the remaining five blades back upstairs, while Mod, gripping his new sword, swung it around the bar, cutting and slashing with a practiced air.
Watching Mod hack at empty space, Tatam wanted to caution him, but restrained himself.
After a while, Mod finished testing the blade and, satisfied, sheathed it.
“I’ll call you Black Raven,” he said, naming his new sword in an instant.
With information in hand and a new blade acquired, Mod was content and ready to head home.
Just as he was about to bid Tatam farewell, the bar’s door swung open.
The newcomer was Lafayette, wearing a black top hat and wielding a cane.
Seeing Lafayette enter, Mod’s eyes flickered.
Last time, Mod hadn’t expected Lafayette to be in Mad Hatter Town and was taken aback; this time, he was prepared, his reaction less pronounced.
He quickly broke eye contact, treating Lafayette as a stranger.
Lafayette walked straight to the bar, placed a thick stack of Bailey on the counter.
Tatam took the money, then pulled a sheet of paper from the drawer and handed it to Lafayette.
On it was the information Lafayette wanted.
Lafayette glanced over the paper, then slipped it into his pocket.
He had commissioned Tatam to investigate this two days ago; now, money and goods exchanged hands.
Having gotten what he wanted, Lafayette didn’t hurry to leave. He tilted his head, eyeing the sword in Mod’s hand, then looked at Mod’s profile.
After a moment’s scrutiny, Lafayette smiled faintly.
“Mr. Undertaker, we meet again.”