**Chapter 137 **
—
Arthur could not hide his surprise as he looked at the newspaper Hajin had handed him.
*Seven years… have passed?*
Imperial Year 777.
He had been seventeen in the year 770. If the date written in the newspaper was to be believed, then it meant he had been trapped under Whitebeard’s curse for seven long years.
Arthur was staring blankly at the paper in a daze when Hajin’s carriage came to a halt.
“Well then, take care. If fate allows, we’ll meet again.”
With those parting words, Hajin entered the gates of Arcane first.
Arthur remained where he stood, then slowly lifted his gaze.
At that moment, he saw the flag fluttering atop the city walls.
*A rose crest… the banner of Dormund.*
And that banner was flying above Arcane’s walls, where no family had ever been permitted to place their standard.
Arthur let out a hollow laugh.
“Wow… I really didn’t see this one coming.”
Since its founding, Arcane—the planned city—had never allowed anyone’s flag to fly upon its walls.
Yet unbelievably, Dormund had conquered it.
—
—
Arthur passed safely through Arcane’s gates and entered District B.
Immediately, beggars and vagrants sitting along the roadside stretched out their hands.
“P-please, just a coin!”
“Spare us some alms!”
Arthur could not hide his astonishment.
This was District B—home to Arcane’s middle class citizens—not District D where vagrants gathered.
*Beggars in the heart of the middle-class quarter?*
Normally, if beggars tried such a thing here, the patrol police would not tolerate it.
Yet when Arthur turned his head, he saw patrolmen marked with pirate insignias smoking among the vagrants.
In front of them, a shabby woman was prostrating herself.
“M-my lords… my daughter has not eaten for three days. If you would only delay the collection of the tax for just a little longer…”
At her words, one of the patrolmen erupted in anger.
“You stupid wench! If I make an exception for you, then I have to make an exception for every beggar here! How the hell am I supposed to manage that!?”
“M-my lord…”
“It’s the nation that demands it! Do you think we do this because we want to!?”
The woman, kneeling, burst into tears and clutched at their trousers.
“My lord! If I pay the tax today, my daughter will starve! She’s skin and bones already, she hasn’t eaten—urk!”
Her cry turned into a groan as she collapsed to the ground.
She had been kicked in the stomach by the patrolman’s boot.
But even that wasn’t enough. He drew out a whip.
“You bitch! With those hands you dare to touch me?”
“Kh-khak…”
“Perfect timing. I needed to make an example out of you filthy beggars anyway. You’ll do nicely!”
The savage lashing began, and it wasn’t long before the woman fainted.
The beggars lined up nearby trembled in fear.
Those who were not in line begged even more desperately.
“Mercy, my lords!”
“P-please, a single coin!”
“I’ll die if I’m whipped again! Please, just one coin…”
Watching the scene from a distance, Arthur murmured to himself.
“Hm… so they even collect taxes from beggars in Arcane now?”
That explained why beggars had spread into District B.
Meanwhile, the woman who had fainted coughed up blood from the whipping.
The patrolmen burst into cruel laughter.
No one helped her.
The beggars only struggled to survive. The residents of District B looked away.
Arthur calmly observed the sight, troubled.
*Should I help them?*
But he shook his head.
*Not now. I have to head for the Imperial Capital first.*
The future had changed. That meant something must have happened to House Bayern too. Considering that, he decided it was right to ignore this for now.
Having made his decision, Arthur turned toward Arcane’s train station.
And there, he saw the enormous crowd gathered before it.
“Why aren’t the trains running again today!?”
“This has gone on for days! I need to get back to the Empire!”
“I’m a baron of the Sebu Kingdom! Do you realize what a mistake you’re making!?”
The mob shouted in fury.
But Arcane Station remained tightly sealed.
Arthur sighed.
“Huh… so we can’t take the train from Arcane right now?”
Judging from the crowd, that seemed to be the case.
Otherwise, why would so many people be gathered here?
*So… should I leave Arcane, head to another town, and board a train there?*
But he shook his head.
*No… if trains aren’t running here, they won’t be running anywhere. All lines begin at Arcane Station.*
Clicking his tongue, Arthur muttered,
“…This is troublesome.”
He couldn’t possibly walk all the way to the capital, nor did he have money for another means of travel.
Worse yet, he had too little information to understand what was happening.
*Why are pirates now serving as patrolmen? And how did Dormund seize Arcane?*
Without knowing the flow of events, he couldn’t make a sound judgment.
After a moment’s thought, Arthur reached a conclusion.
*First, I need information. Only then can I act.*
As he decided, a face naturally came to mind—
The middle-aged man who sat every day in the tailor shop, drinking coffee and reading the paper.
*If it’s him… surely he can help me.*
Arthur smiled faintly and headed toward the tailor shop in District A.
—
—
By the time he reached District A, the sun was setting.
And in the darkening streets, he saw a shocking sight: drunken revelry.
In Arcane’s most expensive district.
“Ha-ha-ha!”
“Hey there, miss! Looking sexy!”
“You idiot, she’s married!”
The drunkards, of course, were patrolmen.
They were drinking right in the middle of Arcane’s priciest avenue, as if it were their own.
But Arthur was no longer surprised.
The Arcane he had once known, the romantic city, was gone.
All that remained was this grotesque city, warped under Dormund’s rule.
Without hesitation, Arthur approached the tailor shop and lifted his head.
*Manners make the man.*
Seeing that familiar sign, Arthur felt strangely at ease.
*So… some things haven’t changed.*
For the first time, the turmoil in his heart eased a little.
Smiling faintly, he opened the door.
“Willet, I—huh?”
Arthur blinked.
The ever-present Willet was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, trash and half-empty bottles littered the floor.
On the walls, instead of suits, bounty posters were plastered.
Arthur stared in shock, then tore one from the wall.
\[Willet Christol]
\[Bounty: 10,000 Gold]
Arthur stared at the familiar middle-aged face drawn on the poster and murmured,
“Hm… either the world’s gone mad, or I have. Which is it, I wonder?”
Given the state of things, the former seemed far more likely.
Just then, loud voices echoed from beyond the wall.
Holding the poster, Arthur opened the basement door and descended.
And there he saw the pub beneath the shop—
Now filled with rowdy men.
“Drink! Drink!”
“Ha-ha, feels great!”
“Empire-grown weed really is the best, heh heh…”
They had turned what was once a refined bar into a drug den.
Bottles strewn everywhere.
Clouds of smoke rising.
Arthur observed quietly, then muttered,
“Always the same crowd wherever you go. Well… this time, it might actually work in my favor.”
At that moment, one patrolman smoking weed noticed Arthur and scowled.
“What the hell are you!?”
All at once, the others turned their eyes on him.
Arthur beamed under their attention.
“Hello, gentlemen.”
“…Hello, gentlemen?”
“Yes. I just have a few questions. Would that be alright?”
One of them spat on the floor and strode toward him, his body covered in grotesque tattoos.
“Fuck. What’s a pampered brat like you doing here, eh? What could you be so curious about?”
The others jeered.
“Look, his eyes lit up again!”
“Kid, you’re unlucky! That bastard’s insane—he gets horny for pretty boys too!”
“Ha, another corpse to clean up tonight. Tsk tsk…”
Arthur raised the poster in his hand.
The tattooed man’s drunken haze cleared instantly as his eyes sharpened.
Arthur asked,
“Would you happen to know this man? He used to run this place, but I couldn’t find him.”
The tattooed man’s lips twisted.
“…Looking for Willet here? That means you’re with the rebels.”
“Rebels?”
“Don’t play dumb, bastard! We’ve been waiting here to catch scum like you!”
He licked his lips.
“You’re not leaving alive tonight!”
Without warning, he swung a punch.
But Arthur merely tilted his head, dodging with ease.
The man froze in shock.
Arthur flicked out a finger, pressing it lightly against his throat.
A jet of blood spurted from the patrolman’s neck.
“…?”
The man blinked, unable to even scream, and collapsed dead.
Silence fell over the rowdy pub.
Arthur scratched his head, looking down at the corpse.
“Hm… killed him. Well, plenty more where that came from.”
He turned and locked the door behind him.
*Clack.*
Facing the stunned patrolmen, Arthur finally smiled brightly.
“Now you look the part. Honestly, it was weird seeing pirates strutting around so arrogantly… but yes, now you finally look like pirates.”
One of them stammered,
“Wh-who the hell are you?”
“Me? Arthur Bayern.”
“…?”
“You don’t know the name Arthur Bayern?”
The patrolmen frowned.
Arthur Bayern?
No criminal with such an odd name came to mind.
Arthur stroked his chin, then snapped his fingers.
“…Huh. Don’t know me? Then how about this—”
“…?”
“Mercenary Donn. Rank C. Does that ring a bell?”
The patrolmen tilted their heads again.
But one of the smaller ones suddenly gasped.
“D-Donn? You mean the Reaper Donn?”
“Reaper Donn? Who’s that?”
“You don’t remember? Seven years ago, the mercenary who killed our first mate.”
“…?”
“His name was Donn. The Reaper Donn.”
The others’ eyes widened.
They, too, began dredging up memories long forgotten.
“C-rank mercenary Donn?”
“Seven years ago… wasn’t that the one who killed our first mate?”
“The one who vanished like a ghost? The legend of the underworld?”
Arthur opened his mouth again.
“Yes. That’s me—Donn.”
“……”
“Pleasure to meet you again, pirates. So, I have a proposal.”
He smiled sweetly.
“Anyone here want to be the last to die? Ideally someone good with words. I’ve got a lot of questions to ask.”
—
