Sherlock sat on an ornately styled chair with his legs crossed, casually playing with the double-edged sword that had been resting against his neck just moments ago.
He lightly flicked the spine of the blade with his finger. The bright silver body of the double-edged sword vibrated slightly, emitting a faint and melodious hum.
"Truly a fine sword."
Sherlock praised it with admiration. Although his experience with blades couldn't compare to that of a true named-sword fanatic like Tashigi, a certain pair of glasses could still clearly recognize how superb the forging technique of this double-edged sword was.
"Interesting. It seems your hometown possesses exceptionally exquisite forging craftsmanship."
Maya did not reply. By this time, her bonds had already been undone by the Sorcerer. She was kneeling on the carpet, looking at her nominal "master" with a pitiful expression that made her appear incredibly easy to bully.
Glancing at the blue-haired girl, Sherlock placed the sword on the table and gently adjusted his glasses.
After the interrogation just now, a certain pair of glasses realized that the frail display Maya had shown on the auction stage earlier wasn't actually an act; her everyday personality was simply just like this.
Only when she held a sword in her hand would the blue-haired girl reveal her strong and brave side.
And just as Sherlock had learned earlier at the Carlo Auction House, Maya came from a kingdom named Asuka. That country was not affiliated with the World Government and was extremely isolated. People like her who dared to venture out to sea on an adventure were practically few and far between.
Sherlock didn't feel the slightest bit of surprise at this. After all, this ocean was far too vast, and the islands upon the sea were as numerous as the stars in the sky. Even though the World Government had been established for over eight hundred years, there was no telling how many nations like the Asuka Kingdom still existed.
(But none of that is the main point. I only want to know exactly where that bizarre sensation from earlier came from!)
Sherlock felt a bit depressed right now because he discovered to his astonishment that he could no longer feel that sensation from Maya at all.
"Are these really all the items inside your pocket dimension?"
Sherlock pointed to the mountain-like pile of miscellaneous goods behind Maya. According to his theory, the space inside Maya's body should have contained some strange "little gadget" that was attracting him. However, that pile of miscellaneous items consisted entirely of food required for going to sea and various daily necessities, which left a certain curious pair of glasses greatly disappointed.
(Could it be... that the bizarre sensation from earlier was truly just my illusion?)
Sherlock had always trusted his intuition implicitly, but this time he couldn't help but waver slightly.
"Yes, it is everything..."
Maya nodded like a chick pecking at grain, but she truly wasn't very good at lying. Those large, watery eyes completely exposed the true thoughts deep within her heart.
"You are lying."
Sherlock said in a chilly tone. He gently adjusted his glasses, and the pristine lenses reflected two streaks of pale white light, causing the blue-haired girl to shudder subconsciously.
"Take out the item you are hiding."
"But..." Maya's expression became extremely unnatural. "But that item is extremely important to me..."
"Take it out," a certain pair of glasses repeated in a flat tone, extending his hand forward at the same time.
Seeing this, Maya was so anxious she was on the verge of tears. But under the pressure of Sherlock's unyielding attitude, she could only grit her teeth and comply.
Whish—
The familiar white light flashed once again, and an item suddenly appeared in Maya's hand. With a flushed face, she forcefully slapped the item into a certain pair of glasses' hand, then covered her face with both hands as a faint wisp of blue smoke seemed to rise from the top of her head.
Sherlock was initially puzzled by Maya's strange reaction, but when he shifted his gaze to the item in his hand with great anticipation, his expression instantly turned incredibly bizarre.
It was a piece of intimate apparel made from a small strip of white fabric, triangular in shape. The soft material should have felt very comfortable to the touch, but Sherlock felt as if he were holding a bunch of needles right now.
(This...)
A certain pair of glasses withdrew his gaze and looked up somewhat stiffly, watching Maya's appearance as though she had suffered a monumental humiliation. In his heart, it felt as if a hundred thousand Sea Kings were roaring past.
As the saying goes, the greater the expectation, the greater the disappointment. Even a person of Sherlock's cultivation felt a sudden urge to curse out loud at this moment!
"This under... This item is the absolute last thing left inside your dimension?!" The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched slightly.
The blue-haired girl nodded while keeping her face covered.
After repeatedly confirming that Maya was indeed not lying this time, Sherlock tossed the girl's intimate garment onto the table, helplessly pressing a hand to his forehead, his eyes filled with a disappointment that was difficult to conceal.
(Well, I suppose I must have experienced an illusion at that time.)
Sherlock let out a long sigh. After all, not too long ago, he had blindly mirrored a Devil Fruit, and even a chunk of his memory had become blurred. It was within the realm of forgiveness if some error had occurred in his perception as well.
Since he couldn't obtain the result he wanted, there was naturally no need for Sherlock to remain in this room filled with the fragrance of roses any longer.
(This is truly foolish...)
A certain pair of glasses pinched his slightly throbbing brow. He was about to stand up and leave, but he glanced at Maya, his nominal female slave, and pulled a stack of Berries out from his Mirror Space, placing it on the table.
"You may leave. Take this money."
"I hope you won't be captured by others to become a slave again next time..."
After saying that, Sherlock didn't wait for Maya to give any sort of response. He activated his fruit ability, and his entire figure slowly faded from view.
"?"
The blue-haired girl, whose brain was a chaotic mess due to extreme shame, was stunned at first upon hearing those words. Then, she hurriedly raised her head, only to discover to her astonishment that the glasses-wearing man with the wicked sense of humor had already vanished without a trace.
"Does he mean... I am free?"
Maya blinked her eyes blankly. Things had developed far too suddenly, to the point where it gave her an unrealistic sensation.
She wiped the tear stains from her face, stood up, picked up the sword from the table, and cautiously surveyed this luxuriously decorated room while remaining on high alert, deeply afraid that the glasses-wearing man would leave and then immediately return.
But after a long while, Sherlock still hadn't returned, and Maya couldn't help but breathe a long sigh of relief.
Only now did she truly believe that she had regained her freedom.
"What a strange fellow..."
Maya looked at the stack of Berries on the table, her expression becoming extremely complex.
After leaving the hotel, Sherlock pulled out his pocket watch to check the time and found that there was still a considerable amount of time left before the beef party Luffy intended to hold.
Therefore, he found a quiet café, sat at a seat near the window, and ordered a cup of coffee.
Unlike Robin, Sherlock wasn't particularly fond of coffee; he actually preferred to drink black tea on regular days.
However, when he wasn't in a very good mood, Sherlock liked to hold a cup of rich, fragrant coffee all by himself. He felt that this was very effective for adjusting his emotions and relieving stress.
While relaxing, a certain pair of glasses also kept his focus on listening intently to the conversations of the other customers in the café, silently gathering information.
Much like a certain black-bellied woman, this could be considered one of the habits Sherlock had formed over many years.
"Hey! Regarding this Dead End Race, which pirate crew did you guys bet on to win?"
At a table sitting behind a certain pair of glasses, a well-dressed merchant asked his two companions, "It wouldn't happen to be the Gasparde Pirates as well, would it?"
Sherlock, who was currently holding his coffee cup and blowing on the hot steam, paused his movements. A sharp glint flashed across the eyes beneath his lenses.
"That goes without saying."
Another merchant spread his hands and said, "After all, General Gasparde is recognized as the strongest pirate among the many registered pirates in Hannabal. His bounty is a whopping 95 million Berries!"
"I bet that even if those fish-man captains from the Fish-Man Coalition fought him together, they'd probably only manage to gain a slight upper hand at most."
(The Gasparde Pirates... that should be the gang of pirates who captured Maya and sold her as a slave, right?)
Sherlock's expression was somewhat subtle. This sea area was so vast, yet that girl had managed to plunge headfirst straight into the hands of the strongest pirate crew here. Her luck was truly unmatched!
"Tsk, the two of you, your information is a bit outdated."
A merchant with a large beard curled his lips in disdain. "Gasparde might indeed be the strongest pirate from Hannabal, but who told you that all the pirates participating in this race come from Hannabal?"
"Oh?" x2
The other two merchants froze in unison, then spoke with a mix of surprise and doubt, "Are you implying that perhaps..."
"I wonder if you've heard of the Straw Hat Pirates who have been making quite a splash recently?"
The bearded merchant stroked his beard with a look of profound mystery. "Although their captain 'Straw Hat's' bounty can't compare to Gasparde's, it has still broken past a hundred million. Furthermore, among his subordinates, there is also a 'Sorcerer' whose bounty is close to breaking past a hundred million."
"According to the latest information I've obtained, the Straw Hat Pirates signed up to participate in the race not too long ago as well!"
The bearded man spoke with flying eyebrows and a dancing expression, completely unaware that right nearby, the very "Sorcerer whose bounty is close to breaking past a hundred million" he spoke of was nearly choked by his coffee.
(This is truly foolish...)
In fact, before going to the auction, Sherlock had learned that there was a traditional event here called the Dead End Race. He had also felt that, given the stubborn nature of his own foolish captain, the guy would ten to one go to join in on the fun.
However, Sherlock had never expected that things would develop so suddenly. That idiot captain had actually signed up blindly just like that!
(It seems that when it comes to this sort of thing, I really shouldn't hold any expectations for Luffy whatsoever.) Sherlock closed his eyes, letting out a bitter smile as he shook his head.
At this moment, Sherlock suddenly felt something. He looked through the pristine glass of the café toward the street and instantly locked eyes with two men.
One of these two individuals possessed short, deep blue hair and wore crisp, capable white martial arts attire. A sword was fastened at his waist, and he was currently waving his hand forcefully at a certain pair of glasses with overwhelming joy.
Meanwhile, the other mustache-wearing man, who wore spotted jeans, carried a long sword over his shoulder. The expression on his slightly gloomy face was very indifferent.
Beneath the brim of his fluffy hat, a pair of eyes with heavy dark bags narrowed slightly. His gaze appeared lazy, yet when he looked toward the Sorcerer, it was filled with an air of scrutiny.
"Rovick?" Sherlock said in surprise.
Since parting ways at Mock Town, he truly hadn't expected to encounter this blue-haired traveler again in this place.
(But who is that stranger wearing the furry hat next to him?)
Separated by a layer of glass, Sherlock silently took in the opponent.
Following that, a certain pair of glasses keenly perceived that the gloomy-faced man wearing the furry hat was unexpectedly...
Completely hostile toward him for some inexplicable reason!
--
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