2 chapters today, cause why not?
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I munched on the final bit of the snack Klahadore had brought, savoring it with exaggerated delight. It wasn't even that good—slightly stale, too crisp at the edges—but eating it slowly, with theatrical joy, made it taste better. Or maybe it was just the look on Merry's face that sweetened it.
He stood nearby, arms crossed, lips in a tight line, eyes saying one clear message: Please don't tease him too much. He might actually snap today.
I grinned like a child caught mid-prank. A small shrug followed, my way of saying I understand… but I won't stop.
Merry sighed the sigh of a man who knew this was going to be his life for a while. Honestly, I admired the man's patience.
The kids had dozed off after their energetic gift-giving and Usopp's dramatic storytelling. They were piled near the stone edge of the garden—heads tilted awkwardly, mouths open, limbs flopped across each other like discarded puppets. Not the most graceful image, but adorable all the same.
So, naturally, I looked to our dearest butler.
"Klahadore." I called out casually, as though this was the most natural thing in the world. "Karera no tame no mattoresu?" I ordered mattress for the kids.
Ahh the perks of being the boss favorite. I could order others to do my work.
He turned to me slowly, face blank, eyebrows just slightly raised, the way someone might look at a mosquito that had the audacity to speak. But he didn't argue. He simply blinked once, fixed his glasses then turned and disappeared into the mansion.
I caught Merry pinching the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. Probably debating whether I was more trouble than I was worth. Spoiler: I was.
The sun had hit its peak by then, casting a heavy warmth across the courtyard. Not uncomfortable, just the kind that makes your skin feel heavy and your limbs slow. The light painted long shadows across the flowers, and the buzzing of cicadas in the trees added a lazy rhythm to the stillness.
Merry returned to Kaya's side, carrying a small tray with a cup and a familiar bottle.
Kaya saw it, and her smile faltered.
She eyed the medicine like it had personally insulted her in a past life. But she was disciplined. She didn't whine. She didn't argue. She just took it in one swift gulp, grimacing like it was lava.
Usopp's eyes followed the movement, subtle but unmistakable concern written all over his face. He didn't speak—probably knew it wasn't his place—but the way his fingers curled slightly at his side said enough. He hated seeing her like that.
And we noticed.
Of course we did.
The three of us—me, Merry, Klahadore—had all been there once. Young. Stupid. Helpless in the face of someone else's pain. We knew that urge to fix something we couldn't understand.
I let it linger for a while. It was their moment. I and others had no place to disturb them.
Then I sighed.
"Usopp." I said gently. "Kaya wa kyūsoku ga hitsuyōdesu." She needed rest. She wasn't fit yet.
His shoulders slumped. Not because he was annoyed—but because he knew I was right. She needed rest. Not more excitement.
He nodded, then turned and gently gathered the kids, one under each arm and one awkwardly draped over his back like a knapsack. Somehow, he managed to carry all three at once, legs wobbling a bit, but his determination was firm.
He paused at the gate.
Glanced back.
Kaya looked at him, her fingers lightly touching the necklace still resting against her collarbone.
Usopp smiled faintly.
Then walked.
And every few steps, he turned to look again, like he wanted to memorize the scene. As if turning too fast would make the moment vanish. Kaya watched him the entire way, eyes quiet, lips pressed in a line. There was no drama. No tears. Just the ache of parting. The kind that lingers.
Merry placed a hand on the back of Kaya's wheelchair. He leaned down, whispering something soft—too low for me to hear. Maybe words of comfort. Maybe just a reminder to rest. Either way, Kaya nodded.
Klahadore stood nearby, the ever-polite shadow. He watched the entire thing with the poise of a theater actor waiting for his scene to end. On the surface, he was calm. Polished. A model servant.
But I knew better.
Beneath that polished veneer, his frustration simmered. Not just at Usopp—but at the fact that he couldn't stop any of this. That the world he'd so carefully constructed was slipping through his fingers, and all he could do was play the role.
He could have been an actor, really. A good one.
Instead, fate tossed him into piracy, then shoved him into this performance. A performance I wasn't buying.
Usopp had disappeared down the road now, his figure shrinking until it became just a moving dot against the winding path.
I watched Kaya as Merry gently rolled her wheelchair back inside. She didn't protest. She just kept looking over her shoulder until the doorway swallowed her.
That look stuck with me.
A kind of sadness too light to break you, but heavy enough to stay.
Young love. Sweet and fragile like the stem of a new flower. You don't touch it too much. You don't force it to bloom.
You just let it grow.
And hope no bug lands on it. No storm comes too early. No shadow blocks the light.
Because in a world like this, where pirates roam and dreams drift like sails on the wind, even a quiet afternoon can be the most precious thing in the world.
So I stood there, hands in my pockets, feeling the warmth of the stone against my legs, watching the sky slowly shift shades as afternoon turned to something else.
And I smiled.
Because deep in their hearts, two young hearts had taken a small step closer.
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I carried the envelope with me as I exited through the mansion gate. The guards gave me their usual nods. One of them even tried to glance at the envelope, probably guessing what it was. I didn't hide it. What was there to hide? It wasn't a secret.
132,000 berries.
Not a fortune. But not pocket change either.
I gave the mansion one last look—its white walls warm in the midday sun, windows gleaming, vines curling neatly around the outer pillars. Somewhere behind those windows, Kaya was resting, likely with Merry reading some medical article out loud to her while she looked out the window thinking of a certain long nosed boy who told tales that were untrue yet just as fascinating. Somewhere in those halls, Klahadore was probably gritting his teeth while preparing a tray, mentally rewriting the script to his advantage.
And me? I was just a temporary worker. A guest to this mansion and this world. A nuisance to the favorite Klahadore. But somehow, in just 137 days, I'd made something of a home there.
I walked down the path slowly. The trees lining the road rustled gently. A bird squawked lazily overhead. Kids were laughing somewhere near the village square. One of them shouted Usopp's catch phrase- Pirates are coming. Classic.
The envelope felt heavier than it should have in my hand. It wasn't about the weight of money—it was everything it represented. Time. Work. Conversations over tea. Late-night walks around the garden. Morning talks with Merry about everything and nothing. Klahadore and his little schemes.
137 days. That's all it had been. But it felt longer. Like I'd left a version of myself behind on day one and become someone new in the middle of it all.
Not a better person. Just… someone more real and fake.
I had annoyed Merry to the point of visible frown lines. Teased Klahadore like it was a competitive sport. Became Usopp's older brother in spirit. Sabotaged a fake butler's control over a sick girl's heart.
Still… it wasn't home.
The shop wasn't far. Just past Meshi Diner and across from the old supply shed where the village boys gathered to trade beetles and stolen food. The shopkeeper was already outside sweeping his steps. He gave me a glance when he saw me approach.
"Anata wa hayaidesu." he said, then motioned to the crate beside the door. I was a bit early than the proposed time.
I didn't say much. Just walked over, opened the crate to double-check. Everything was as I ordered and placed the envelope on the counter.
"Anata wa kore ni tsuite kakushin shite imasu?" he asked, picking up the envelope with both hands.
I nodded once. I was more than sure.
He gave me a small grunt and disappeared inside. A few minutes later, he came out with a flat box and a cloth bag. Set them both gently on the counter in front of me.
The bag was heavy. I opened it slowly. Inside: a full pouch of fine black gunpowder. About five kilograms, just as I'd asked. I dipped my fingers into the powder and rubbed the grains between my fingers.
Perfect.
Next was the small case of lead bullets. Thirty of them. Handmade. Heavy.
And then came the gun.
An old flintlock pistol. Not new, but not rusted either. Clean, well-oiled, trigger snappy, barrel straight. A pirate's gun. Or maybe an outlaw's.
I held it up, tilted it toward the sun. Checked the sights, spun it once in my palm, and then nodded to myself. It was good. Old, but good.
The shopkeeper said anything. This village didn't deal in weapons, not really. This wasn't a town of violence. But even here, people understood—sometimes, you prepared for what you hoped never came.
I thanked the shopkeeper, tied the pouch shut, holstered the pistol, and picked up the crate.
The sun was higher now. The heat settled on my shoulders. My feet moved slowly over the stone path as I left the shop behind.
I was walking a path I could never return from.