The Going Merry sailed into Syrup Village under a clear morning sky, and I immediately knew this place was going to bore me to tears.
Quaint. That's the word people use when they want to be polite about "small and irrelevant." Neat little houses with neat little gardens, probably full of neat little people living neat little lives. The kind of place where the most exciting thing that happens all year is when someone's chicken lays an egg with two yolks.
"We need supplies," Nami announced, already calculating costs in her head. I could practically see the Berry signs in her eyes.
"And a proper ship," I added, eyeing the pathetic dinghy we'd been using. "Something that won't sink if someone sneezes on it."
Luffy was already halfway off the boat, drawn by the smell of food like a particularly stupid moth to a flame. Zoro followed with his usual scowl, three swords clanking at his hip like the world's most dangerous wind chimes.
We made our way into the village proper, and that's when we heard it.
"PIRATES! PIRATES ARE ATTACKING!"
A kid came tearing down the main street, maybe seventeen or eighteen, with a long nose that would make Pinocchio jealous and a ratty bandana tied around his head. He was waving his arms like he was trying to flag down a rescue ship, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"EVERYONE RUN! PIRATES ARE COMING! THEY'RE GOING TO DESTROY THE VILLAGE!"
The villagers didn't run. They didn't even look up from what they were doing.
An old woman sweeping her porch just sighed. "Usopp's at it again."
A shopkeeper rolled his eyes. "Third time this week."
The kid—Usopp, apparently—kept running, kept shouting, completely undeterred by the fact that literally no one was listening to him. He ran right past us, still screaming about the imminent pirate invasion, and disappeared around a corner.
"Huh," Luffy said, tilting his head. "That was weird."
"That was pathetic," I corrected. I'd seen a lot of things in my previous life—con artists, liars, politicians (same thing, really)—but this was amateur hour. "Let me guess. Village idiot who lies for attention?"
A passing villager overheard me and snorted. "That's Usopp for you. Been telling tall tales since he could talk. His father was a pirate, supposedly, so he makes up stories about pirates and adventures. None of it true, of course."
I filed that information away. A liar. A chronic, compulsive liar who'd burned through whatever credibility he might have had with these people years ago. The kind of person who could scream about a real emergency and have everyone ignore him because they'd learned to tune him out.
Dangerous. Not because of what he was, but because of what he represented—a vulnerability. A blind spot.
But that wasn't my problem. We were here for supplies and a ship, not to psychoanalyze the local entertainment.
"Let's split up," Nami suggested. "Cover more ground. Luffy, try not to eat everything in sight. Zoro, try not to get lost. Gil—"
"I'll manage," I said dryly. "Try not to steal anything too obvious."
She glared at me, but didn't deny it.
We separated, and I found myself wandering the village with my hands in my pockets, observing. Always observing. It's what I did best—watching people, reading them, finding the angles and the weaknesses and the little tells that gave away what they were really thinking.
Syrup Village was exactly what it looked like: boring, peaceful, and completely unprepared for anything resembling actual danger. The kind of place that would get steamrolled by anyone with half a brain and bad intentions.
I was contemplating whether to find a tavern or just sit somewhere and wait for the others when I heard voices coming from up ahead. One of them was that Usopp kid.
"—and then I fought off fifty pirates with just my slingshot! They were terrified of the great Captain Usopp!"
I rounded the corner and found him standing at the bottom of a hill, talking to three little kids who were hanging on his every word with wide, adoring eyes. At least someone believed his bullshit.
"Wow, Captain Usopp!" one of them breathed.
"You're so cool!" another added.
Usopp puffed out his chest, grinning. "Of course! I've got eight thousand followers, you know. They'd do anything I—"
"You're full of shit," I said.
All four of them jumped. The kids looked at me with a mixture of confusion and fear. Usopp's face went through several interesting colors before settling on indignant red.
"Wh-what?! Who are you?!"
"Someone with functioning brain cells," I replied. "Eight thousand followers? Really? In this village? Did you count the chickens?"
"I—you—that's not—" Usopp sputtered, trying to find his footing. "I'll have you know I'm a great pirate captain! I've sailed the seven seas! I've—"
"You've never left this island," I interrupted. "You make up stories to impress children because the adults stopped listening to you years ago. You're a liar, and not even a good one."
One of the kids tugged on Usopp's sleeve. "Captain Usopp, who is this mean man?"
"Yeah!" another piped up. "You should teach him a lesson!"
Usopp looked torn between maintaining his image in front of his tiny fan club and not getting his ass kicked by a stranger. I could see the calculation happening behind his eyes.
"I... I'll let it slide this time!" he declared, pointing at me dramatically. "Because the great Captain Usopp is merciful! But you'd better watch yourself!"
"Sure," I said. "I'm terrified."
I walked past them, already bored with the interaction. Behind me, I could hear Usopp trying to salvage his reputation with the kids, spinning some new tale about how he was being strategic, how he could have totally destroyed me but chose not to.
Pathetic.
But again—not my problem.
I continued up the hill, more out of curiosity than any real purpose, and found myself approaching a large mansion. Easily the biggest building in the village, probably belonging to whoever passed for wealthy around here.
There was a girl sitting in the garden. Pale, delicate-looking, with blonde hair and a gentle smile. She was talking to a man in a black suit—butler, by the look of him—who stood with perfect posture and adjusted his glasses with the palm of his hand.
Something about him made me stop.
I've always had good instincts. In my previous life, they'd kept me alive more than once. And right now, those instincts were screaming at me that something was wrong with this picture.
The butler was too perfect. Too controlled. Every movement precise, every word measured. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He was solicitous toward the girl, but there was something underneath it. Something cold.
I'd seen men like him before. Men who wore masks so well that most people never saw what was underneath. Men who were very, very dangerous.
"—really should rest, Miss Kaya," the butler was saying. "You've been out here for quite some time."
"I'm fine, Klahadore," the girl—Kaya—replied softly. "The fresh air helps."
Klahadore. I committed the name to memory.
"Nevertheless," he continued, "your health is my primary concern. If anything were to happen to you—"
"I know," Kaya said, and there was something sad in her voice. "You've been so good to me, especially after my parents..."
She trailed off, and Klahadore placed a hand on her shoulder. Comforting. Protective.
Bullshit.
I couldn't explain how I knew, but I knew. This man was playing a long game, and this girl was the mark. Everything about him screamed "con artist"—the patience, the positioning, the way he'd made himself indispensable.
I'd run enough cons myself to recognize one when I saw it.
"Excuse me," I called out, stepping into the garden. "Sorry to intrude."
Both of them turned to look at me. Kaya's expression was curious and welcoming. Klahadore's was polite but guarded, his eyes assessing me in a fraction of a second.
"Can I help you?" Klahadore asked, his tone perfectly courteous and completely devoid of warmth.
"Just passing through," I said easily. "Saw the garden, thought I'd take a look. Beautiful place."
"Thank you," Kaya said, smiling. "Are you visiting the village?"
"Something like that. I'm with a crew that just sailed in. We're looking for supplies, maybe a ship."
Klahadore's expression didn't change, but I saw something flicker in his eyes. Calculation.
"A ship?" Kaya said. "Are you pirates?"
"Depends on who's asking," I replied. "We're more... independent contractors."
That made her laugh, a soft, genuine sound. "That's a diplomatic way to put it."
"I try."
Klahadore cleared his throat. "Miss Kaya, perhaps we should head inside. You've had enough excitement for one day."
"I'm fine, Klahadore," she said, but there was a note of resignation in her voice. Like she was used to being managed, controlled, kept in a comfortable cage.
"I insist," Klahadore said, and this time there was steel underneath the politeness.
I watched the dynamic play out. Kaya reluctantly agreeing, Klahadore helping her to her feet with exaggerated care, the way he positioned himself between her and me as they walked back toward the mansion.
Yeah. Definitely a con.
The question was: what kind? Money, obviously—she was clearly wealthy. But there was more to it. The way he'd reacted when I mentioned being with a crew, the way he'd been so quick to remove her from the conversation...
This was going to be interesting.
I found Nami at a tavern near the docks, already nursing a drink and chatting up the bartender. She had that look on her face—the one that meant she was gathering information while pretending to be a harmless, pretty girl just passing through.
"Learn anything useful?" I asked, sliding onto the stool next to her.
"Plenty," she said. "This village is boring, the supplies are overpriced, and there's a rich girl up on the hill who owns a nice ship."
"Kaya," I said.
She raised an eyebrow. "You've been busy."
"I met her. And her butler." I signaled the bartender for a drink. "Guy named Klahadore. Something's off about him."
"Off how?"
"Con artist off. Maybe worse."
Nami leaned back, studying me. "You sure? Or are you just being paranoid?"
"I'm always paranoid. It's kept me alive this long." I took a sip of the drink the bartender set down—some local swill that tasted like regret and poor life choices. "But yeah, I'm sure. Guy's playing a long game with that girl. Question is what the endgame looks like."
"Why do you care?"
Good question. Why did I care? This wasn't my problem. We were here for supplies and a ship, not to play hero for some naive rich girl who couldn't see the snake in her garden.
But I'd never been good at leaving puzzles unsolved.
"Call it professional curiosity," I said. "Besides, if he's conning her, he might have access to resources we could use."
Nami smirked. "Now you're speaking my language."
We spent the next hour digging. Nami worked the bartender and the other patrons with practiced ease, while I listened and pieced together the story.
Kaya's parents had died a year ago. Sudden illness, both of them, within weeks of each other. Klahadore—who'd been the family butler for three years at that point—had stepped up to manage the estate and care for Kaya, who'd been devastated by the loss.
Convenient.
Too convenient.
Kaya had been sick herself ever since, some vague illness that kept her weak and isolated. Klahadore was her primary caretaker, managing her medicine, her schedule, her entire life.
Even more convenient.
"Let me guess," I said to Nami. "If something happens to Kaya, the estate goes to the loyal butler who's been so devoted to the family."
"That's usually how these things work," Nami agreed. "But you can't prove it."
"Not yet."
"And even if you could, what's the plan? Walk up to her and say 'hey, your butler's probably planning to kill you'? She'll think you're crazy."
She had a point. People didn't want to believe that the person they trusted most was betraying them. It was easier to dismiss the stranger with the wild accusation than to face the truth.
"We need more information," I said. "Find out who this Klahadore really is. People don't just become master manipulators overnight—he's got a history."
"I'll ask around," Nami said. "Discreetly."
"Do that. I'm going to—"
"PIRATES! PIRATES ARE ATTACKING THE NORTH SHORE!"
We both turned to see Usopp running past the tavern, still screaming his warnings to a village that had long since stopped listening.
I watched him go, and something clicked in my head.
"That's the play," I said quietly.
"What?"
"Klahadore's play. He's been here three years, right? Building trust, positioning himself. But he can't just kill Kaya outright—too obvious. He needs it to look like an accident. Or better yet, like someone else did it."
Nami's eyes widened. "Pirates."
"Pirates," I confirmed. "Attack the village, kill the girl in the chaos, tragic accident. And who's going to investigate too closely? It's pirates—they do that kind of thing."
"But how would he get pirates to attack on command?"
"Maybe he doesn't need to. Maybe he is the pirates." I stood up, my mind racing. "Think about it. Butler by day, pirate captain by night. Crew waiting offshore. He gives the signal, they attack, Kaya dies, he 'survives' and inherits everything."
"That's a lot of maybes," Nami pointed out.
"Yeah. But it fits."
I looked out the window, toward where Usopp had disappeared. The kid who lied about pirates so often that no one would believe him when real pirates actually showed up.
When it mattered, when there was actual danger, his warnings would fall on deaf ears. Not because of some fairy tale about wolves, but because he'd spent years training everyone around him to ignore him. He'd made himself irrelevant, and now that irrelevance could get people killed.
Including himself, if he got in the way.
"We need to move fast," I said. "If I'm right, this is happening soon. Maybe tonight."
"And if you're wrong?"
"Then we wasted an evening. But if I'm right and we do nothing..." I shrugged. "People die. Including a girl who doesn't deserve it."
Nami studied me for a long moment. "You're not as cold as you pretend to be."
"Don't spread that around. I have a reputation to maintain."
She smiled, just a little. "So what's the plan?"
"Find Luffy and Zoro. Then we crash a pirate attack and ruin a butler's very elaborate murder plot."
"Sounds like fun."
"Sounds like Tuesday."
We left the tavern and headed back into the village, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place in my mind. Klahadore, whoever he really was, had made one critical mistake: he'd built his plan in a place where a crew of idiots and one cynical bastard had just happened to show up.
Bad luck for him.
Good luck for Kaya.
And for me? Just another day in this strange new life, using my old skills for something that almost resembled a good cause.
Almost.