Before his soul transmigration, Zephyr could have easily withstood a bullet.
But now...
The black maw of the gun barrel hung like the Grim Reaper's scythe suspended above his head. Once it fell, death would be inevitable.
"I mean no harm."
Facing the barrel, with no room for thought, Zephyr swiftly declared his stance.
The gun had been trained on him the moment it entered the room, indicating the holder had detected his movements before even pushing open the door.
In this situation, Zephyr had no choice but to proclaim his innocence.
At the end of the day, it was still because this body's current state couldn't support any of his coping thoughts.
Outside the door, silence reigned, the gun barrel unmoving.
After several breaths, a slightly raspy female voice came from beyond the door: "Stand in front of me."
"Okay."
Zephyr moved without hesitation to stand directly in front of the door, the gun barrel following him.
Only when he reached the doorway did Zephyr see the gun holder standing outside.
It was a slender girl dressed in coarse clothes.
The girl had short, spiky hair, and three claw-like scars ran diagonally from the left side of her eyebrow down to the right corner of her mouth.
If he hadn't heard the raspy female voice earlier, he would have mistaken her for a boy at first glance.
"I mean no harm."
Zephyr restated his position, then slowly raised both hands, signaling he was unarmed.
At the same time, he glanced at the sack in the girl's left hand, and his eyelid twitched slightly.
Compared to her steady, practiced gun-holding posture, the presence of this sack made Zephyr even more uneasy.
Sunny stared into Zephyr's eyes and said calmly, "Behave. If we wanted to harm you, do you think you'd still have the chance to speak here?"
After this brief warning, Sunny swiftly put away her flintlock.
She understood that Zephyr's small movements were mostly out of self-defense.
Otherwise, she would have pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Seeing the situation wasn't as bad as he thought, Zephyr let out a sigh of relief.
"Since you're awake now, we don't need this anymore."
Without waiting for Zephyr's reaction, Sunny casually tossed aside the sack.
Including the return trip, this guy had been unconscious for exactly seven days.
According to Sol's plan, if he didn't wake up, they would recycle him as waste to recover some of the medical costs spent on Zephyr.
Unexpectedly, the guy had woken up at the last moment.
Zephyr looked at the sack, his lips moving slightly as he asked, "If I hadn't woken up, was this sack... meant to hold me?"
"Right. If you hadn't woken up, I'd have stuffed you in a sack and sold you to the black market. Then, the 'Undertakers' would've dismantled you into a dozen parts, turning you into something anyone could buy with enough money."
Sunny's smile turned sinister.
Zephyr remained silent.
Dismantled. Parts. Sold.
The words were veiled, but he could guess what dark trade they implied.
And the earlier gunshots meant this place probably had nothing to do with peace or order.
He could tell Sunny wasn't joking, but as she said, if they meant him harm, he wouldn't have woken up at all.
In other words, though the future was unclear, at least he was safe for now.
As long as his situation wasn't dire, he had a chance to grow stronger using the Hunter's Notebook.
"How should I address you?" Zephyr asked, turning to the girl.
Sunny narrowed her eyes, her lips curling into a smile. "You're pretty calm. Call me Sunny. As for your name, I should already know it."
Zephyr froze, confused. He watched as Sunny pulled out a bronze pocket watch from her pocket.
Seeing that familiar yet strange watch, Zephyr raised an eyebrow.
It was his.
No, to be precise, it was his predecessor's.
But when his predecessor was transferred to the slave ship, the watch should have been stolen by a man.
Now, the watch was in Sunny's hands.
So the ones who attacked the slave ship were Sunny and her group? Zephyr pondered silently.
If he remembered correctly, the watch contained two photographs. One was a full-length portrait of his predecessor taken during their sixteenth birthday celebration. The lower right corner bore the original owner's handwritten signature—no wonder Sunny had made that remark earlier.
The other photo showed a family of three... wait, no—was it three or four people?
A sharp pain pierced his head again.
Zephyr frowned deeply.
Sunny, still examining the watch, didn't notice his expression.
"This watch is yours, but now it's my 'spoils of war.' Since we might become colleagues later, I'll reluctantly return it to its rightful owner."
With that, she tossed the watch toward Zephyr.
Catching it, Zephyr endured the throbbing pain as he opened the cover. The stopped watch face revealed two embedded photographs.
His gaze swept past his own portrait and settled on the family photo. Four people, all beaming with joy.
Four?
But there should only be three—the original owner and their parents.
Fragments of memory suddenly stirred to life, intensifying the pain in his head.
Zephyr snapped the cover shut, remaining silent.
He was grateful for this body that had given him new life, but he refused to let the lingering memories influence him.
Sunny noticed Zephyr's peculiar behavior but showed no interest in probing further. She advised, "As someone who's been through it, I suggest you destroy that signed photograph and adopt an alias."
Zephyr looked up at Sunny, offering no explanation. "Thank you. I'll consider it carefully."
Sunny nodded, then glanced at the bloodstained bandage on Zephyr's forehead before cutting straight to the chase.
"Come on. Let's go see Sol."
Zephyr had no grounds to refuse. After securing his pocket watch, he obediently followed Sunny.
The pair walked single file down the corridor, descending the stairs to the first floor.
Just as they reached the ground level, a sudden crash echoed from ahead - the unmistakable sound of a wooden door being violently kicked open and slamming against the wall.
Sunny halted at the noise, and Zephyr stopped beside her, both peering toward the commotion.
As the door's reverberations faded, an aged male voice with a duck-like timbre immediately barked:
"Kid! You bastard! Kicking my shop door again? I'll whip your tendons out if you keep this up!"
"Shut it! I brought the money. Hand over Keanu's gun now."
A defiant male voice, equally recognizable, shot back.
"Get lost! I'd dismantle that gun and bury it in the landfill before selling it to you!"
"Oh, then toss it. I'll find it anyway."
"Scram!"
The sound of conversation drifted from the corridor ahead, originating from what appeared to be a small storefront at the end.
Hearing the voices from the front store, Sunny sighed in exasperation.
The conversation continued, its tension growing more palpable by the moment.
"Keep up."
Sunny quickened her pace.
Zephyr followed silently.
The corridor wasn't long, and they soon arrived at the front store.
There was no time to observe the shop's layout or merchandise. Zephyr's attention was immediately drawn to the old man and youth who seemed on the verge of conflict.
Just as the voices had suggested, it was indeed an old man and a young person.
Zephyr guessed that the old man might be Sol, as mentioned by Sunny, while the defiant youth was likely a customer.
"Hm?"
Zephyr's gaze first fell on the youth's distinctive red spiky hair, then swept past the goggles perched on his forehead before settling on that vaguely familiar face.
Memories suddenly flooded his mind.
"Kid?"
Zephyr's heart skipped a beat as he recognized the red-haired youth's origins.
When he'd first heard the name earlier, he hadn't made the connection. But now, seeing the real person before him, he was certain this was the world of One Piece.
Yet compared to the images etched in his memory, this Kid before him appeared noticeably younger and more inexperienced.
Zephyr instinctively categorized Kid as one of his prey.
This was because the Hunter's Notebook's inherent ability was specifically designed to counter characters in the original work who inadvertently revealed crucial intelligence.