Moses' eyelids drooped as he stared fixedly at Bogart, his lips silently forming two words:
"Traitor."
Instantly, Bogart gritted his teeth in anger and retorted:
"Wait, how am I a traitor, little Moses?
You're the one who exchanged gold doubloons for money at the Gold Exchange and bought clothes outside. When your grandpa asked if I bought them, I said no. Then he asked where you got the money, so I told him the truth. That's not my fault."
"I should've never taken you out that day. Could've asked anyone else to show me around. Treated you to a meal afterward too, and you promised to keep it secret. Never thought you'd sell me out the moment my back was turned."
Listening to Moses' rapid-fire complaints, Bogart felt awkward. He had to admit he'd messed up this time. With a sigh, he offered:
"How about I treat you to something later as an apology? Don't be mad. Your grandpa's practically family anyway."
"I'm not angry. You serious about that?" Moses squinted at him. "I've got a big appetite, you sure you want to feed me?"
Bogart rolled his eyes and exhaled in resignation.
"Positive. I keep my word."
"Tch. Last time you said you'd keep it secret too, but sold me out immediately."
"Honestly, you're terrible at keeping secrets. Maybe you should quit being a marine. If you ever go broke, I might reluctantly hire you as a house guard."
Bogart's face turned green. Garp watched the exchange with amusement, and when Bogart shot him a pleading look, the vice admiral chuckled: "Treat me to something too then."
Bogart sighed, patting his suit pocket to check if he had enough Belly left.
He understood Garp's freeloading habits all too well—his superior's pockets were probably emptier than his conscience. For years, Garp had spent his entire salary and allowances on medicinal herbs for the kid before them, with Bogart handling the purchases personally.
Every year, the supplies were shipped to Drum Island.
What a pain!
After more dawdling, when the trio finally reached the deck, the battleship was nearly deserted except for the watch crew.
Garp grumbled:
"Bunch of brats can't hold onto their spare change. Dreaming of marrying Tsuru's female sailors? Pure fantasy."
"Those women have plenty of suitors. Our money-burning crew should stick to daydreaming."
"Bogart, don't follow their example. If you want to marry one of Tsuru's girls, better start saving properly. With your current finances, I'd be embarrassed to put in a good word for you."
Bogart's face turned green again, his mouth twitching violently. "Please don't. I prefer the gentle type anyway. Vice Admiral Tsuru's soldiers are too... formidable for my tastes."
"Ohhh~ So you like them soft and cute," Moses teased lightly. "Makes sense. Fragile little things that trigger your protective instincts, huh uncle?"
Bogart's expression darkened as he glared at the grandfather-grandson duo, fists clenching involuntarily.
But here's the rub:
Couldn't beat the grandfather.
Dared not hit the grandson.
One word described them perfectly: Shameless!
Storming off the battleship with a black expression, Bogart quickened his pace, desperate to escape these two.
Yet within seconds, Moses' voice trailed after him.
"Uncle Bogart, why are you running so fast? Did you forget you promised to treat us to a big meal?"
"Yeah, Bogart, slow down. You youngsters these days have no respect for your elders."
"I really appreciate you two," Bogart sighed, slowing his pace with a sense of life's bleakness weighing on him. "This old man and this kid are absolute devils."
The three of them left the port and walked through the bustling streets, filled with dazzling lights, lively shouts of vendors, and stalls lining both sides.
Before long, Moses was already holding a variety of delicious snacks in his hands.
It had to be said—this was the Gourmet Capital, after all. The sheer variety of classic street food was enough to make one want to devour their own tongue.
It was a completely different experience from the meals served on the warship.
On the ship, meals prioritized nutritional balance first, with taste and presentation as secondary considerations.
But here, everything revolved around flavor—endless variety, vibrant colors, and mouthwatering aromas.
Moses' eyes sparkled as he sampled one dish after another. Garp was no slouch either, happily eating his way through the street without worrying about the bill.
Bogart trailed behind them, looking like he was on the verge of tears. He should have known—like grandfather, like grandson. He had clearly underestimated these two.
Moses devoured a skewer of octopus legs, chewing enthusiastically before swallowing. Taking a deep breath, he focused on the churning of his stomach and intestines, accelerating his breathing to enhance his digestion.
Thanks to the Breath Endowment, his control over his own body had improved dramatically. Now, Moses could naturally fine-tune the functions of his internal organs.
It was almost like the beginnings of Life Return. As his digestion sped up and nutrients were absorbed, his body warmed pleasantly, and his slightly bloated stomach flattened again.
With a mischievous grin, Moses redoubled his efforts to empty Bogart's wallet.
First came the snacks, then the desserts, followed by various main courses—one after another, Moses and Garp ate to their hearts' content. Meanwhile, Bogart, who was footing the bill, looked increasingly dazed before finally joining in himself.
He had realized—these two were determined to bankrupt him. Resolving not to let them win, Bogart decided he wouldn't be the only one suffering.
Life Return, activate.
And so, a peculiar sight unfolded.
A trio—old, middle-aged, and young—ate their way through the streets like ravenous gourmands, as if they had come specifically to challenge the city's food scene.
Naturally, many people took notice of this unusual group.
They spent money like water, sampling everything from cheap bites to expensive delicacies—anything tasty was fair game before moving on to the next stall.
Unfriendly gazes lingered on them, but the sight of the two adults—one built like a bear, the other in a suit with a sword at his waist—deterred most would-be thieves.
After who knows how long, they strolled down the street, nibbling on candied hawthorns to aid digestion. Bogart awkwardly shuffled closer, hesitating.
"So, uh… little Moses, are you full yet? You've eaten quite a bit. Maybe we should go to the seaside for some fresh air?"
Fresh air—or just the wind?
Seeing this, Garp's lips curled into a smirk, though he remained silent, watching to see how his grandson would respond.
Moses, too, smiled.
"Uncle Bogart, your pockets are empty now, right? Want to spend my money next?"
"You don't want it?"
"Oh, never mind then."
Bogart looked at Moses in confusion. He hadn't even said anything yet, but this kid was already answering his own questions.
Bogart: "I—"
Moses sighed and glared at Bogart. "I know you don't want to spend my money. I know it's your principle as an adult—you care about your pride."
No, I don't. I can ditch that principle. I don't need that pride either, Bogart screamed internally, but then he heard Moses speak again.
"Ah, fine. I'll give you a chance. Follow me quietly later, and how much you earn will depend on your luck."
With that, Moses tugged at Garp's arm and put on a sweet, adorable act. "Grandpa, I need to pee. I saw a restroom earlier. Wait for me here—I'll be right back."
As soon as he finished speaking, Moses let go of Garp's arm and skipped away, disappearing into the crowd behind them.
Garp looked at Bogart with a strange expression, grinning widely. "Hey, brat, was Moses just acting cute with me? That's a first. Pfft—hahaha!"
Bogart looked utterly exasperated. "Did you not hear what that kid just said? I swear, he's definitely up to something. Aren't you worried?"
Garp shrugged indifferently and patted his pockets. "That's what you're here for. Moses is your problem now. I'm off to have fun."
With that, Garp strode away, exuding an air of someone with money to burn. A few seconds later, he waved dismissively at Bogart.
Utterly carefree.
Bogart glared at Garp, grinding his teeth, then activated his Observation Haki to locate Moses' presence.
Taking slow, deep breaths, Moses filled his lungs with oxygen, sending vitality to every corner of his body.
It also helped ease the lingering embarrassment from his earlier forced cuteness.
His Observation Haki picked up on the piercing, undisguised greed in the gazes around him.
One, two, three... ten.
One group, two groups, three groups.
Who was the prey?
And who was the hunter?
There were no cautionary tales in this world about underestimating the elderly or children.
The old and the young naturally represented the weak.
A fair-skinned, good-looking kid from a family that spent money recklessly, now separated from his guardians—everything about him screamed "easy target" to the local thugs.
Whether he had money or not didn't matter.
Valuable things weren't limited to Belly.
A healthy body was enough.
Good looks were even better.
There were plenty of places to sell such "merchandise."
Leading the malicious figures behind him, Moses walked further and further off the main street, finally stopping in an alley slightly removed from the bustling area.
He stood firmly at a corner piled with junk, pulled out his tools with practiced ease, and relieved himself with great satisfaction.
Nearly twenty seconds later.
Moses shook himself off.
"Phew, I wasn't lying."
After putting his "weapon" away, he stepped out from the corner—just as expected, the path ahead was blocked.
One, two, three... ten.
Ten people in total, divided into three groups, all seemingly familiar with one another, standing silently about ten meters away, blocking the alley.
Moses looked at them.
They looked back at him.
Observation Haki pierced through their bodies, revealing no firearms. Moses walked over and stopped three meters away from them.
"Excuse me, could you step aside? I need to pass through."
At this, the previously silent crowd exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.
"I told you, this kid must be an idiot. Who goes this far just to take a piss?"
"Heh heh, look at that soft, fair skin. I've heard noblemen and ladies have a taste for this kind."
"Hey, hey, we agreed—this one belongs to our Usury Syndicate this time. Don't even think about backing out."
The three groups clearly had a competitive yet cooperative relationship, one that had lasted a while. Their tone made it obvious they already saw Moses as their prey.
A middle-aged man stepped forward from the crowd, reaching for Moses' neck as if he were frozen in fear.
The man cursed under his breath, "Tch, you all talk too much. Let's get this over with and sell him for cash. I—ugh!"
Though his eyes held caution, just as his hand was about to grab Moses' neck—
Moses sidestepped the grasp, advanced with his left foot, and delivered a fierce upward kick with his right. A faint whoosh accompanied the brutal impact between the man's legs.
Crack.
As the man howled and doubled over, Moses retracted his left palm and drove an uppercut straight into his chin.
The force, no less than that of a grown man, sent him crashing to the ground in an instant.
His head slammed against the pavement, knocking him unconscious.
Moses calmly surveyed the remaining nine, his serene eyes brimming with indifference.
The brief exchange had them convinced the middle-aged man had simply let his guard down, falling victim to a cheap shot.
Of course, Moses' unassuming appearance played a big part in their misjudgment.
Enraged shouts erupted.
"You little bastard, you're dead!"
"Hah, not bad! That just makes you worth more. Don't mess up his face—wrap this up quick."
"Right, this brat's got skill. His folks must be tough too. Finish this before they show up."
Moses dodged another grasping hand, a scalpel somehow already in his right hand. With precision, he sliced into the crook of the attacker's elbow.
Blood sprayed.
Moses weaved through the crowd, evading strikes as he countered with punches, kicks, and the scalpel's razor edge. Using Observation Haki, he predicted their moves, his small stature allowing him to slip between them effortlessly.
Screams, curses, wails!
Ducking low, he severed tendons in their legs and arms with swift, surgical cuts. Crushing kicks landed with pinpoint accuracy on vulnerable spots. Within seconds, Moses emerged behind them.
The remaining nine now lay strewn across the ground—some unconscious, others writhing in agony, a far cry from their earlier bravado.
Tap.
As the dust settled, a figure dropped from the wall above the alley, eyes wide with astonishment at the carnage and Moses' unruffled demeanor.
"You're late," Moses remarked coolly, glancing at Bogart. "No cut for you on this side job."
Bogart's eye twitched, a lump of unspoken complaints lodged in his throat. Forcing a stiff expression, he managed a single word: "Fine."
Moses ignored Bogart and stepped forward to start looting, beginning with the unconscious men. Stacks of Belly notes of varying denominations were pulled out from their pockets—some loose change, some whole bills.
Then Moses saw the few who were still conscious, their faces filled with terror as they frantically emptied their pockets of anything valuable.
"P-please, don't kill me! I'll give you all my money! Spare me, I beg you!"
"Y-yes! I have money too! Take all my Belly!"
"I have an eighty-year-old mother to care for, and—ugh!"
The one who mentioned his "eighty-year-old mother" was silenced by a kick from Moses, his mouth snapping shut with a crack, teeth and blood spraying out, cutting off the nauseating plea.
"I heard you wanted to sell me?" Moses said, the scalpel in his hand still faintly glinting with traces of blood. "I'm curious—mind telling me where you planned to take me?"
He crouched beside one of the men, clearly part of the same group as the middle-aged man from earlier, the one who had been shouting the loudest at the start.
The scalpel traced a line along the man's eyelid, a thin trickle of blood seeping out. Watching his wide, terrified eyes, Moses smiled.
The man shuddered violently.
"Talk. Your gang isn't just you, is it? Lie to me, and I'll carve out your eyes. One word, one eye. Let's see how many you have to spare."
"The Usury Syndicate, right?"
The man's lips trembled.
"I—I'll talk. Hah…"