After a few questions, Teach learned that the man called Pouf was something of a legend in the East Blue, a famous actor and dancer from a prestigious family, utterly obsessed with the stage and the spotlight.
At just eighteen, he'd been dubbed the most beautiful man in the Bocaboca Kingdom. Teach found that title odd. Shouldn't it be "most handsome"? Still, curiosity got the better of him. There was a performance by this Pouf scheduled for tonight at the Vitas Opera House.
The Vitas Opera House was the pride of the Bocaboca Kingdom, the largest and only one of its kind. Every show drew an enormous crowd, but tonight, with Pouf performing, the place was overflowing.
Once inside, Teach truly felt the terror of popularity. Even the aisles and corridors were packed tight. Pouf's name alone had brought the entire upper class out to gawk.
Tickets went for thirty thousand Beri apiece, well beyond the reach of commoners. The audience was a sea of silks, jewels, and noble perfumes.
The grand hall itself was a marvel, three tiers of seats, each packed with over two thousand spectators. A single night's performance could easily rake in over two hundred million Beri.
Teach arrived just before the curtain call. Instinctively, he released his Observation Haki, letting it ripple through the crowd...
..and immediately pulled it back.
"I was discovered," he thought, startled. He hadn't even expanded his Haki to full range, yet someone had noticed.
In that instant, he'd sensed something unusual. Countless silvery specks floated unseen through the air, glittering faintly under his microscopic Haki. They weren't dust, they were scales.
So that's it... Teach mused. A clever trick. Using silver powder as a medium to extend Observation Haki, this one's no ordinary human. A Devil Fruit user, most likely.
Backstage, in a lavish dressing room flooded with light, a young man suddenly froze mid-preen. His brows knitted, eyes sweeping across the mirrored wall toward the audience as if to pierce it.
The sensation of being watched—it was faint, fleeting, but unmistakable. He'd never felt it before.
"Who could it be?" he murmured.
Catching his reflection again, he tilted his head slightly. "Quick, fix my hair. It feels off. But don't touch the bangs."
"Ahh! So handsome!" squealed one of the girls nearby, hands clasped under her chin. "Even messy, Lord Pouf is perfection!"
Pouf's smile twitched. He turned his face away, eyes flashing with mild disdain, though none of them noticed. Even his indifference only made them swoon harder.
He couldn't dismiss them outright. They were daughters of nobles, pampered, persistent, and well-connected. Behind his back, they'd even formed a "Pouf Exclusive Fan Club."
"Lord Pouf, we're ready for curtain!" called one of the stagehands.
"What do you think?" Pouf replied, lifting a small mirror and admiring his reflection. "Perfection doesn't need preparation."
Cries of adoration followed immediately:
"Amazing! Lord Pouf, you're divine!"
"I can't take it-my heart's melting!"
Pouf basked in it, radiant and untouchable. Men admired him. Women worshipped him.
Meanwhile, out in the audience, Teach caught sight of someone familiar, Baccarat.
He approached just as she glanced his way, sensing him.
Baccarat's seat was surrounded, but she leaned sideways slightly, flashing a mischievous grin. The man beside her, a pompous noble, noticed and misread the gesture completely.
Could she be flirting with me? he wondered, excitement flickering in his eyes. He leaned closer...
...and instantly paled.
"Ugh—my stomach—!" He clutched his gut, face contorting in pain. The sudden grumble was loud enough to draw attention from the surrounding rows.
Within seconds, humiliation overtook him. He bolted for the exit, both hands over his stomach.
The seat hadn't even cooled before Teach slid into it.
Baccarat smirked. Her handiwork.
Her Lucky-Luck Fruit had evolved, she no longer needed to touch someone directly to siphon their fortune. Within arm's reach was enough, though the range was still short and unpredictable. The worse the effect, the greater the toll on her own stamina.
"Why are you here?" she asked before Teach could speak. "You don't seem like the opera type."
Teach grinned. "That Pouf guy caught my interest. I've got a feeling we came to this island for him. Just now, he noticed my Observation Haki."
"What? Really?" Baccarat blinked. "You think someone like him would join us? He's a noble and one of the most famous men in the East Blue! He's adored everywhere, even in the Grand Line."
Teach's grin widened. "People chase all kinds of dreams. If fate's on our side, he'll come aboard eventually."
Baccarat gave him a look that said, You're ridiculous, then turned back to the stage.
"Shh... the performance is starting."
The lights dimmed. A hush fell.
Teach leaned back, eyes fixed on the curtain. If his hunch was right, this Pouf wasn't just another celebrity, he was special.
Since setting sail, Teach hadn't come across many recruits with true potential. A few of his men were strong, sure, but none on par with his core commanders. He had plenty of Devil Fruits stored, waiting for those ambitious enough to claim them.
But the rare ones, the real powers, like the Elastic Fruit, the Ancient Zoan: Night Blood Bat, and the Ancient Zoan: Emperor Crocodile, he kept reserved for candidates he deemed truly worthy.
A rich incentive system, if nothing else.
The orchestra began to play. Strings, brass, and drums blended into a grand overture that filled the hall with anticipation.
Because it was an opera, there'd be singing, dancing, and acting—a full test of skill and artistry.
Baccarat watched with bright eyes. She'd once dreamed of being a singer herself. Her dancing wasn't bad, but opera required more—discipline, projection, presence.
The curtain rose.
A woman in regal attire appeared, leading a small boy by the hand, fleeing from unseen pursuers. Soon she hid him in a barrel, then turned to face her hunters. She fought, fell, and died in defiance.
It was only the first act, but Teach already guessed the direction, a royal tragedy, something like Hamlet.
Around him, the crowd sniffled. Baccarat dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.
Teach muttered, "Really? All this over one dead noblewoman? Kingdoms fall every few years in this world."
"Captain, you're heartless," Baccarat whispered, teary-eyed but smiling.
Teach's mouth twitched. She says that, but she kills people with a smile.
He shrugged and kept watching.
The story moved on. The prince grew up, trained hard, and swore revenge. His swordsmanship was shockingly precise, Teach could tell the actor had real training. The production's quality impressed him, even if he'd never watched an opera in either life.
Finally, the moment came, the true star's entrance.
The grown prince stepped onto the stage.
Pouf.
The instant he appeared, the atmosphere changed. A subtle, invisible pressure—no, allure—spread through the hall. He glowed under the lights, radiating charisma that made every heartbeat quicken.
Teach's eyes sharpened. It's him.
Even he felt a faint pull toward the man's presence, a whisper of admiration he quickly dismissed. Around them, the audience seemed spellbound.
The charm wasn't deliberate, it emanated naturally, an effect of his power.
Teach compared it to another figure he knew from history: Boa Hancock, the woman whose beauty could enthrall armies. But Hancock's Mero Mero no Mi was a Paramecia. Pouf's... had the feel of a Zoan. The silver scales floating in the air reminded him of powder from butterfly wings, beautiful, dangerous, and far from harmless.
Whatever the fruit was, it clearly enhanced his Observation Haki and charm in equal measure.
Baccarat, beside him, leaned forward slightly, her gaze dazed but still lucid.
Teach folded his arms, smiling faintly.
"Let's see what you really are." he murmured to himself.