Laffitte's voice was soft, almost polite, but the words themselves were ice cold.
"Heh heh. Since you pointed a gun at me, and your brother had his legs crippled by my hand, it's only fair I cripple your hands in return."
His smile was gentle, refined even, as he lifted his foot off the man's shattered leg. His polished shoes tapped the ground with the rhythm of an elegant waltz as he bent down, every movement theatrical and calm.
The man's kneecap was already gone. Without immediate treatment, the leg would never work again. Even with treatment, it might already be too late.
Laffitte lifted his cane-sword and pressed the tip against the man's left wrist.
Then he flicked upward.
A scream tore through the street.
"Ah!"
Blood burst out in a violent spray, tendons snapped, and the man writhed like a trapped animal. Strained veins bloomed across his forehead, his face twisted into a grotesque mask of agony.
A wide circle of onlookers had formed around them. Humans never turned away from spectacle. Some residents squeezed their eyes shut, others covered their children's faces, and many simply stared in horror, frozen.
"Don't squirm. My punishment isn't finished. There's still another hand."
His smile never wavered. In the eyes of the crowd, that smile alone branded him a devil in human form. The title whispered throughout the kingdom—Devil Sheriff—felt suddenly inevitable.
Laffitte planted his heel on the man's shoulder, pinning him in place. With perfect precision, he drove the cane-sword down through the second wrist. The blade pierced straight through, severing arteries. Blood surged out like a ruptured fountain.
The man's previous pain hadn't even faded; now a fresh wave crashed over him. His body bucked and convulsed, but Laffitte's foot held him effortlessly.
The stones beneath them darkened as blood pooled around the man. If no one stopped the bleeding soon, he would die right there in the street.
Laffitte's eyes narrowed, satisfied. He nodded as though admiring a completed painting.
Only after the man's screams faded into weak trembling did Laffitte finally withdraw his foot. He slid the sword back into the cane with a crisp click, tapped the ground lightly, and walked away—gliding with that unsettling, puppet-like gait.
The moment he approached, the crowd panicked and scattered, scrambling to clear a path.
Not until Laffitte's figure vanished down the street did the tension break. People rushed to the injured man.
"Hurry! Get him to a doctor!"
"If you wait any longer, all his limbs will be ruined!"
"It's too cruel… someone his age…"
Several residents lifted him and sprinted toward the nearest clinic.
None of this was new. Incidents involving Laffitte had become frighteningly common.
As he strolled through the busy commercial street, the whispers surrounding him spread like wildfire. Every step he took left ripples of fear.
Then a new presence appeared from the opposite end of the road.
People saw him and immediately bolted, clearing away as though a tidal wave were coming.
"That's… Teach?!"
"How did he come to the Kingdom of Nonook?!"
"That means the Nightfall Pirates are all here!"
"We should go home. Lock the doors. Pray they leave soon."
Walking toward Laffitte was Marshall D. Teach himself, broad-shouldered and imposing, his coat trimmed with gold, twin gold-and-silver pistols strapped at his waist. Jewelry glittered across his hands and neck. His eyes shone with a power that sent a chill through anyone who met them.
Both men sensed the other the instant they appeared.
Step by step, they approached, drawn together by the inevitable pull of fate.
When they stopped three meters apart, the street felt empty—everything else sinking into silence.
Laffitte bent one knee in a graceful bow, cane touching the ground.
"Mr. Teach," he said with a smile, "to what do I owe the honor?"
His cane spun behind his back, black shoes tapping the ground in a playful rhythm like a tap dancer mid-performance.
Teach grinned.
"Zehahaha! Laffitte, I'm here to invite you to join us. Come aboard my ship, the Nightfall Pirates."
Laffitte blinked, amused. "For a no-name wanderer like me, receiving an invitation from a pirate of your renown… it is quite the honor."
"We're all villains of the sea," Teach said. "A man like you shouldn't rot away in the West Blue. Sail with me. Let's turn this world upside down."
Laffitte lowered his head in thought for only a second.
Then his smile widened.
"Then please take care of me, Captain."
No hesitation. Not even a moment of doubt.
"I had some fun as a security officer," Laffitte admitted, "but the job lacked… flavor. I was bound to leave eventually."
Teach laughed, pleased. "Welcome aboard, Laffitte."
Their conversation was not subtle. Dozens of citizens heard it. Fear mixed with relief—if Laffitte joined the Nightfall Pirates, he would leave the kingdom soon. For many residents, that was the most comforting news they could imagine.
At Laffitte's security office, Teach raised an eyebrow.
"Don't you have anything to pack?"
"What would I have?" Laffitte shrugged. "A few clothes, some Berries, a gold watch, my cane."
His belongings fit into a tiny bundle.
Teach leaned back on the table, one foot on a stool. "Since I personally invited you, you'll face pressure. To be accepted as an executive, you need to prove your strength. Without that, you won't secure a position."
"Oh?" Laffitte smiled, unbothered. "Then I'll have to work hard. Becoming an executive the moment I join… I don't have much confidence."
His tone suggested the opposite. Laffitte knew his own abilities. While he wasn't yet equal to the monsters at the very top, he could easily reach executive level.
"You haven't eaten a Devil Fruit yet, right?" Teach asked.
"No. But I do know of one." Laffitte twirled his cane thoughtfully. "In a noble's manor, there's a Devil Fruit—Bird-Bird Fruit, Swan Model. A flying Zoan. I think it suits me. I can retrieve it quietly. No one will ever know."
"Then retrieve it," Teach said, "but don't eat it."
Laffitte tilted his head. "No?"
"I have a better one for you," Teach said with a grin. "A Devil Fruit I've kept for a very long time. Earn your place as an executive, and it's yours."
Laffitte lowered the brim of his hat. "The captain's private collection? Then I will look forward to it."
That night, the Nightfall Pirates occupied the entire street for a grand banquet celebrating their new member.
Bars overflowed with meat and booze. Residents stayed hidden inside their homes, but the bar owners were thrilled, Teach had paid in advance, and the payment alone equaled a month's earnings.
At the center of the street, a temporary stage had been erected. Executives gathered there, along with the newly recruited Laffitte. Performances filled the street—Pouf's bizarre dances, Baccara's melodious singing, and drunken pirates challenging each other to friendly duels.
When the time came, Baccara raised her hand.
"Next, our newest comrade...Laffitte. Please come forward."
Applause swept the crowd.
Laffitte bowed like a gentleman and stepped up lightly.
"As a newcomer," he said warmly, "I shall perform a tap dance."
He lifted his cane. His leather shoes tapped rapidly, echoing in a strange, almost hypnotic rhythm. Many pirates stared, unsure what they were watching.
To them, it was just… stomping.
But Pouf's eyes widened.
"That footwork… such rhythm… very few people can achieve that level," he murmured, impressed.
The dance ended in under a minute. The crowd blinked, confused. Laffitte didn't seem bothered in the slightest.
"Heh heh. Thank you for watching."
"Oi! What was that?! Fight me instead!" a pirate shouted, vaulting onto the stage.
Here it was—the real test.
Teach didn't interfere. None of the executives did. They all watched with anticipation.
The challenger was a high-ranking member beneath the executives—perfect for evaluating Laffitte's power.
Laffitte smiled and drew his cane-sword.
"I apologize in advance," he said politely.
He would end this quickly.
To earn his place among the Nightfall Pirates, he would show them exactly what he could do.