Chapter Seventy-Four: Speaking

During this period, Modde would go into town every day to hunt for prey. Over the course of five days, he hunted a total of fifteen targets, averaging three per day. The improvements to his physique were slow, creeping forward like a snail, and there was still a long way to go before he could fill the second star frame. On the other hand, his swordsmanship had made significant progress, largely because Modde specifically targeted those prey who wielded blades. He estimated that it wouldn’t be long before he could gather enough skill for the first star frame in swordsmanship.

As for the intelligence fee of 4.5 million, Modde managed to raise it in just three days and went straight to the Nightfall Tavern to have Tatam start gathering information. In the following two days, Modde earned another 1.5 million or so berries. It could only be said that those pirates with bounties had money in their pockets, more or less.

On this day, Saul returned to the shop, filling the basement once again with barrels of fine wine. In the short term, the Red-haired would not be coming back to “snatch” Saul’s liquor, and this stock would be enough for Saul to drink through the New Year.

Returning to the shop with Saul was Arthur, whose presence had been missed for some time.

“I’m off duty today.” Arthur, having shed his mask and dressed in casual clothes, offered this explanation for his visit, though no one had actually asked him the question.

Arthur leaned against the counter and awkwardly chatted with Sunny. Sunny’s attention was clearly on the newspaper, but Arthur didn’t mind in the least; even if she responded only every few sentences, it did not deter his self-directed conversation.

Meanwhile, Modde carefully observed Arthur’s face, preparing himself for any eventuality. This was a rare opportunity, as the undertaker usually wore a mask, making it difficult to see his true appearance.

“Oh, right.” Arthur suddenly flashed a mysterious smile.

Sunny paused and looked up at Arthur, her brows slightly furrowed.

Arthur lowered his voice and said, “Something interesting happened at the pig farm last night. Want to hear about it?”

“Not interested.” Sunny’s gaze turned icy.

Arthur shrugged and replied earnestly, “Sunny, if you want to grow stronger, you have to face your past head-on. Only then can you look toward the future. But every time I mention the pig farm, your reaction is so obvious—it’s a weakness.”

“It’s none of your business.” Sunny’s expression was cold.

Arthur sighed softly. “I’m only doing this to help you overcome that weakness.”

Having her wounds exposed so freely, Sunny no longer responded, but her gaze toward Arthur grew even colder.

Arthur could only lament, “These days, it’s really hard to be a good person.”

At that moment, Modde quietly approached Arthur, wearing an utterly harmless smile.

“Brother Arthur, I’ve always admired you.”

“Oh?” Arthur turned his head to look at Modde, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Kid, you’ve got good taste.”

Behind the counter, Sunny looked on in confusion at Modde suddenly praising Arthur.

Modde gazed at Arthur and said seriously, “Not really, it’s mainly because your profession commands deep respect.”

“Hmm? Is that so?”

Arthur sensed something was off.

Modde continued respectfully, “Yes, so I’ve always been curious—what made you decide to become such a respectable cleaner?”

“……”

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

The undertaker was a common profession in Mad Hatter Town. The more polite pirates called them ‘sweepers,’ while the less polite called them ‘cleaners.’ In essence, the undertaker’s work was indeed similar to that of a cleaner, but it was a rather skewed comparison.

No undertaker liked being called a cleaner to their face—Arthur was no exception.

However, looking at Modde’s sincere admiration, it was hard to detect any hint of mockery.

Arthur could never have guessed that the profession of cleaner truly was worthy of respect.

Seeing Arthur’s silence, Modde didn’t let the topic drop.

“And also, isn’t sewing usually something women are good at? But last time, I saw you, Brother Arthur, your skills with the needle and thread were extraordinary. I was truly impressed.”

“Heh.” Arthur forced a smile.

Just then, Saul emerged with a jug of wine.

Arthur immediately went over and took the wine from Saul’s hands.

The reason he had come to the shop was to buy a jug of wine from Saul. Now that he got what he wanted, he left the weapons shop without looking back.

Sunny watched Arthur leave, then turned to Modde, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

Leaning on the counter, Modde wondered aloud, “Sunny, you’re usually quite sharp-tongued. Why do you go silent with Arthur?”

“Sharp-tongued? Am I?” Sunny asked, genuinely unaware.

“You are!” Modde replied with certainty.

Beside them, Bailey couldn’t help but nod, then quickly realized his mistake and looked toward Sunny, relieved to find she hadn’t noticed.

“Oh.” Sunny didn’t care, responding offhandedly as she picked up her newspaper.

Modde smiled helplessly.

He could guess the reason. It must have been past experiences that made Sunny so disgusted by Arthur’s deliberate mention of the pig farm.

Modde wanted to know more, but probing deeper would only reopen Sunny’s wounds, so he let it go.

That night, at dinner, Saul generously brought out a barrel of wine.

Having just restocked, he drank without a care.

The wine was indeed excellent—after all, it was something the Red-haired had come especially to fetch.

An old man, two youngsters, and a fat weasel, swapping cups and laughter, soon polished off a whole barrel.

“You little rascal, your tolerance is impressive,” Saul marveled at Bailey, who lay lazily on the table.

“It’s alright, it’s alright—hiccup~~” Bailey said, letting out a burp.

For a moment, the scent of wine grew even richer around the table.

Sunny poured Bailey another large bowl and watched with anticipation as his swimming ring grew plumper.

“Haha!” Saul laughed heartily, preparing to fetch another barrel.

“Tonight, we’ll drink till we drop!”

“Yes!” Hearing Saul’s words, Bailey sat up abruptly, looking ready for three hundred more rounds.

Caught up in the atmosphere, Modde couldn’t help but drink a few more cups himself.

This time, he really did get a little drunk.

He decided to simply let himself go.

After all, he wasn’t planning to sneak out tonight.

……….

A week later.

Modde made a trip to the Nightfall Tavern and received information from Tatam about the syndicate’s officers.

He also learned when the syndicate might come to Mad Hatter Town.

“The auction in ten days?”

Modde pondered.

Returning to the weapons shop, he went straight to his room and summoned the Hunter’s Notebook, writing down all the information about the syndicate officers.

There were three officers with detailed profiles, and below them, eleven captains.

Without exception, Modde wrote all their names in the notebook.

After finishing, he went downstairs to the shop.

Saul and Sunny were both there.

The former sat with legs crossed, engrossed in a risqué novel.

The latter was in the counter, modifying a flintlock pistol.

“Saul.”

Modde called Saul’s name in a heavy tone.

Perhaps sensing the difference in Modde’s voice, Saul and Sunny both put down what they were doing and looked at him almost simultaneously.

Meeting their gaze, Modde’s expression was grave.

“I’ve found out the identity of the culprit who attacked my family’s merchant ship.”

“Hmm!?” Sunny’s expression shifted.

Saul, however, remained impassive.