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Chapter 5: The Undertaker
🕑 Added 2024-12-16 07:01:16 +0000 UTCMad Hatter Town, a chaotic hub of vice and commerce, is a notorious pirate haven in the West Blue.
The town’s unique allure stems not only from its lawless nature but also from its deep connections to the underworld. These roots have allowed a lot of black-market industries to flourish, making Mad Hatter Town a hotbed of activity.
The driving force behind this prosperity traces back to the Pirate King Roger, whose dying words ignited the Great Pirate Era.
Yet the true foundation of Mad Hatter Town’s success lies in human desires, woven into a simple and direct chain of relationships:
Pirates plunder wealth from upstanding citizens.
Underworld bosses devise ways to extract that stolen wealth from the pirates.
Thus, Mad Hatter Town’s lawless status spawns a variety of enterprises.
Slavery,
Organ trade,
Weapons dealing,
Brothels—
Everything that could disturb an ordinary person’s nerves is readily available here.
Among the many shadowy professions in Mad Hatter Town is the role of the undertaker.
Their primary job involves handling corpses, occasionally moonlighting as doctors, and often working directly with organ traders.
The undertaker called in by Sunny to collect the corpse was Arthur, one of Mad Hatter Town's more prominent undertakers.
While not the best in his field, Arthur’s skills were still above average.
When Mobin’s previous self was brought back to town by Sol, it was Arthur who handled his treatment.
Now, as Arthur stood by and saw Mobin awake, he appeared genuinely surprised.
"What do you mean by ‘he actually woke up’?"
Sol, sensing something amiss, glared sharply at Arthur.
At the time, Arthur had confidently assured Sol that there was more than a 50% chance Mobin would wake up after treatment, which had convinced Sol to proceed.
Sol’s thinking had been simple—if Mobin didn’t wake up, he could always sell him on the black market and minimize his losses. That reasoning led to his agreement.
But now, it seemed Mobin’s chances of recovery had been far lower than Arthur had claimed.
Caught by Sol’s piercing look, Arthur shrugged, nonchalantly admitting, “If I hadn’t said that, how else would I have secured the job?”
“You scheming crook! May you die a miserable death!” Sol cursed loudly.
“Right back at you,” Arthur replied calmly, his thick skin showing through the mask he wore.
“Anyway, you made a profit. A human slave’s starting price is 500,000, and you only spent 50,000 on treatment. Be satisfied.”
“Mobin isn’t a slave,” Sunny interjected abruptly.
She refrained from adding the second part of her thought—Mobin was cheap labor.
Arthur glanced at Sunny but said nothing, instead turning and walking toward Mobin.
Seeing Arthur approach, Mobin grew wary.
This guy didn’t look like a good person at all.
Arthur, tall and imposing, towered over Mobin, practically cutting his figure in half.
Staring at the bandage wrapped around Mobin’s forehead, Arthur suddenly reached out, aiming to grab him.
But Mobin was prepared. The instant Arthur moved, Mobin swiftly stepped back, avoiding the grasp.
“Oh?”
A flicker of surprise crossed Arthur’s eyes.
He had moved fast and unexpectedly, yet Mobin had dodged.
Based on his initial diagnosis, Arthur had concluded that even if Mobin woke up, his motor functions would have been impaired, making it impossible to recover this quickly.
Yet here was Mobin, defying expectations.
Arthur’s surprise faded quickly, replaced by a calculating gleam in his eyes.
This was quality merchandise—exactly the kind of "product" that special clients loved. Not only would it sell well, but it could also fetch a price far above market value.
However, as Arthur took a step forward to examine Mobin more closely, he suddenly stopped.
He turned to see Sol leaning against the counter, smoking his pipe with a blank expression, but the gaze directed at Arthur was piercing.
Arthur immediately realized that this seemingly ordinary boy had caught Sol’s interest. Trying to turn him into merchandise was out of the question.
A pang of regret passed through Arthur, but he quickly abandoned the thought of negotiating a deal with Sol.
“My apologies,” Arthur said, fabricating an excuse on the spot. “I got a little excited seeing a patient I treated wake up. I almost forgot I’m just an undertaker right now.”
With that, he returned to the corpse he had been working on, resuming his task.
Sol’s stern gaze finally softened.
Despite being conned by Arthur earlier, Sol didn’t doubt his professional integrity. Every coin spent had indeed gone toward Mobin’s treatment.
If it hadn’t, Sol would have ensured Arthur left the shop horizontally instead of vertically, old friendship notwithstanding.
Mobin, meanwhile, watched Arthur’s retreating back with suspicion.
Arthur, huh...
Beside him, Sunny tilted her head, studying Mobin’s side profile with a puzzled expression.
By the corpse, Arthur examined the wounds, pulling a needle and thread from his collar.
“The heart’s been stabbed several times, so I can only offer you 60% of the market rate.”
“Fine. Finish up and get out,” Sol grumbled, exhaling smoke in irritation.
Arthur said nothing more, his right hand flicking the needle through the wounds with deft precision.
In mere moments, the messy gashes were stitched up neatly.
Watching Arthur’s technique, Mobin couldn’t help but recall a certain formidable woman from his previous life who wielded needles and thread as weapons.
Damn.
This guy, who didn’t even have a name in the original story, had skills like this?
And Sol—though short in stature—was clearly no weakling either.
And this was only the West Blue...
What would the Grand Line or New World look like?
Mobin’s thoughts grew heavier.
Clearly, he would have to be much more cautious in choosing his prey.
One wrong move, and the hunter could easily become the hunted.
In truth, Mobin was overthinking.
As the saying goes, birds of a feather flock together. Anyone associating with Sol was unlikely to be weak.
And how many like Sol, a retired pirate from a bygone era, could be found in an isolated place like Mad Hatter Town?
Once the corpse’s wounds were stitched, Arthur casually tossed a small wad of cash onto the table before leaving with the body.
After Arthur departed, the shop closed early for the day.
As for the bloodstains, naturally, Mobin was tasked with cleaning them.
Though hungry and thirsty, Mobin resigned himself to his situation.
Thankfully, Sunny had started to see him as a colleague and handed him a piece of bread and a cup of water.
After quickly eating and drinking, Mobin picked up the cleaning tools and began scrubbing the floor.
By then, Sol had gone upstairs to his room, leaving Sunny behind.
The counter had two stools—one tall, one short.
The shorter stool was Sol’s stepping stool, while the taller one was for sitting.
Sunny sat on the shorter stool, resting her chin on her hand as she watched Mobin clean the floor.
When Mobin finished, she finally voiced her earlier question.
“How did you dodge that?”
“Huh?”
Mobin looked at Sunny, confused.
