In the West Blue, where mafia forces were deeply entrenched and tangled together, becoming a pirate actually seemed somewhat unconventional.
But in Sami's view, there was little difference between the mafia and pirates. At their core, both were evil forces that operated under the law of the jungle—the strong devouring the weak. The only real difference was their territory: one mainly ruled the land, while the other dominated the sea.
Still, identity could change a person dramatically.
Sami watched the companions who had once suffered oppression alongside him. Back then, they had seemed honest and timid. But once they tied pirate bandanas around their heads, one by one they began to grow fierce, greedy, and eager for battle—completely different from their former selves.
"Captain Sami, everything's been moved onto our ship. What about this one? Sink it like usual?"
The question from one of the sailors interrupted Sami's train of thought.
"Sink it," Sami replied without hesitation.
"Why not tow it back to port and sell it? This ship looks like it could fetch a good price."
A sailor muttered quietly, regret written across his face. It was obvious he was a newcomer.
Sami glanced at him and explained,
"This is a ship from the Octopus Gang. See the figurehead? Those massive octopus tentacles—and the hull design, low and shaped like a charging assault vessel. In these waters, that's the Octopus Gang's signature. You can't just take down the flag and pretend it's a normal merchant ship.
Dragging a pirate ship like that into any port is basically announcing to everyone that we robbed the Octopus Gang. We're not stupid enough to invite that kind of trouble."
Although Sami needed money to feed this large crew, he wasn't foolish enough to value money over his own life.
So ships like this were always dealt with the same way.
They were sunk.
The gold and jewels piled on the deck formed a small hill, their reflected light dazzling to the eye.
But Sami knew very well that these shiny trinkets were only part of the income—and not even the main portion.
What truly sustained his crew were the weapons that could be wiped clean of blood and resold, and the prisoners slumped inside the ship's hold. Once shackled, they would become commodities to be sold to slave traders.
Of course, he would never sell these gang members directly to slave traders within the West Blue.
He had nearly paid dearly for that mistake once.
In the beginning, when he had first started dabbling in the slave trade, he had tried to dispose of captured gang members locally.
The news had spread with frightening speed.
Not only had he nearly been trapped in a harbor by local power brokers who rushed to intercept him, his ship had also taken several cannon hits. He had barely managed to break through and escape.
A painful lesson learned.
Sami had fully realized that in the West Blue—where mafia forces were intertwined everywhere—selling stolen goods locally was practically the same as walking into a trap.
So he abandoned the idea of slave trading altogether.
That changed six months ago.
By sheer chance, Sami had managed to establish a connection with the Sabaody Archipelago.
Now he positioned himself at the very top of the dark supply chain—the producer.
Although middlemen shaved off a portion of the profits, the arrangement was far safer and more discreet, greatly reducing the risk of retaliation from West Blue gangs.
After all, it was essentially profit made from nothing.
He couldn't afford to be too picky.
His current strength still wasn't enough.
But if his forces grew in the future, he might be able to cut out the middlemen entirely and deliver goods directly to the Sabaody Archipelago.
Still, that was a matter for later.
For now, his attention returned to the deck piled high with spoils.
Looking at the crew lined up in front of him, staring eagerly at the treasure, Sami took a deep breath.
It was time for the most important part after every battle—
Distributing the spoils.
As someone whose soul came from a modern high school student, Sami still carried a certain sense of brotherhood and loyalty in his heart.
My brothers risk their lives fighting beside me. How could I treat them poorly?
This had always been his guiding principle.
Because of that, Riberra Sami's reputation in both the West Blue underworld and among pirates was exceptionally well known.
Not because he was cruel.
But because he was famous for being generous and fair.
As a result, whenever he needed to recruit new members, there were always crowds of people eager for wealth and a worthy captain, scrambling to join his pirate crew.
Sami picked up the merit ledger prepared by his subordinates.
"Time to split the money! Rewards based on merit—everyone gets their share!"
"LONG LIVE CAPTAIN SAMI!!!"
Amid the crew's thunderous cheers, treasures were handed out piece by piece. The deck filled with the kind of joy that only pirates could understand.
Gradually the crowd dispersed.
Each man began calculating how he would squander his generous reward when they reached the next island.
"Hans!" Sami called out loudly.
A small, thin man immediately squeezed out of the crowd and ran over.
He was the ship's navigator, nicknamed Sea Weasel. He knew every route, island, and hidden reef in the West Blue like the back of his hand.
"Captain, you called for me?"
"Which island is closest," Sami asked while stroking his chin, "that's suitable for us to dock? We need to rest for a while."
Hans answered almost instantly.
"Barrel Island, Captain! At our current wind speed and course, we'll reach it by noon the day after tomorrow at the latest."
He grinned, revealing a gold tooth.
"There's a decent town on the island. As long as you have money, you can restock fresh water and food. There are also a few taverns.
But the most important thing is that there's no Marine base stationed there. Just a few weak local gangs—they're no threat to us."
"Barrel Island… Not a bad name."
Sami nodded in satisfaction.
"Alright. That's where we're going."
He stood again and clapped his hands.
The noisy crew on deck immediately fell silent.
"Brothers! Our destination is Barrel Island! We'll arrive the day after tomorrow. There are no Marines there, so everyone can relax. Do you all still remember the rules on this ship?"
"YES!!!"
The crew shouted in uneven voices.
"Don't rob civilians!"
"Pay for what you buy!"
"Check the girls carefully and watch your hygiene!"
Someone suddenly howled that last line, sending the deck into roaring laughter.
"Good! Since you've all got money this time, we'll stay on the island for three days! Bring your Beli and enjoy yourselves!"
"LONG LIVE CAPTAIN SAMI!!!"
Sami laughed and waved them off, letting the noise continue.
He knew that even though they shouted enthusiastically now, once they were ashore it would still require several steady senior officers to keep an eye on things.
With the orders given, the pirate ship adjusted its heading, slowly veering off its current route and cutting through the waves toward Barrel Island.
Listening to the cheers behind him, Sami's lips curved upward unconsciously.
A swelling feeling of vanity and excitement filled his chest.
The sensation of being supported by everyone—of responding to a single call—was something the ordinary high school student he once was could never have imagined.
He inhaled deeply, breathing in air filled with salt, sweat, and the smell of the sea.
Yes.
Sometimes power and recognition were even more intoxicating than treasure.
But as captain, enjoyment always came after responsibility.
He turned toward the stern castle and entered his personal captain's cabin.
The room wasn't luxurious, but it was tidy.
Locking the door behind him, he placed his share of the treasure into a hidden compartment beneath the bed.
Then he walked to the desk and took out a notebook carefully wrapped in oilcloth.
Opening it revealed rows of records written in Chinese characters—a script only he could understand.
It served as his diary, the crew's ledger, personnel files, and management manual all in one.
Dipping a quill into ink, he first recorded the battle:
Encountered Octopus Gang supply ship — Victory.
Then he moved to the casualty section.
11 crew members dead.
That number determined how many new recruits he would need to find on the next island.
After a year of experience, he had already figured out the optimal crew size for this three-masted sailing ship.
Too few people reduced combat effectiveness.
Too many wasted supplies and created management chaos.
125 people.
That was the golden number.
With eleven lost, he needed to recruit replacements to return to full strength.
Closing the notebook, Sami rubbed his temples.
Over the past year, the things he had figured out went far beyond crew numbers.
For example—personnel management and health issues.
Thinking about that reminded him of the gunner he had dismissed last quarter.
The man had been quite capable.
But he couldn't control himself and came back infected with a venereal disease.
Sami still remembered the man's desperate pleading.
But what flashed through Sami's mind were those horrifying historical illustrations of people deformed by syphilis.
Because of that, Sami enforced nearly harsh regulations regarding the crew's lifestyle.
The crew could drink, gamble, and enjoy themselves. That was pirate tradition, and he didn't stop them.
But they had to maintain hygiene and use protection.
Sami had even issued each crew member their own personal washing supplies and eating utensils.
If anyone was discovered to have contracted a venereal disease, there was only one outcome—
They had to leave the ship.
Of course, Sami wouldn't cruelly abandon a sick sailor on a deserted island.
According to the rules he set, he would pay the sailor a considerable severance based on their past contributions, then let them disembark at the next inhabited island so they could seek treatment or find another way to survive.
Most crew members followed this rule willingly because the job paid so well.
But there were always a few who couldn't control themselves or who gambled on their luck.
Over the past year, more than ten sailors had been politely dismissed for crossing this red line.
This wasn't because Sami had any moral prejudice or obsession with cleanliness.
It was purely for the safety of himself and the entire crew.
No one understood better than he did how rampant such diseases were during the age of sailing—especially among pirates.
He had no intention of letting his crew collapse due to a massive outbreak.
More importantly, a certain thought often circled in his mind.
I finally transmigrated into the magnificent world of One Piece. My goal is wealth, power, and fame across the seas.
If I ended up dying from something as humiliating as a venereal disease…
I'd become the biggest laughingstock among all transmigrators.
After finishing these matters, Sami leaned back in his chair.
Through the cabin window, he gazed at the faint outline of an island on the distant horizon.
Barrel Island…
He hoped this resupply stop would go smoothly.
He needed to recruit new crew members.
And he also needed to gather information about recent developments in the West Blue—especially news about the Octopus Gang.
After all, they had just sunk one of their ships, stolen its cargo, and taken their people prisoner.