The Hunter of Pirates

Over the past two weeks, Mobin had been diligent and unassuming. He did more than was required and avoided anything inappropriate.

This flawless performance, demonstrating his value as a laborer, gradually allowed him to integrate into the weapon shop's routine.

Though Sol frequently mentioned his satisfaction with Mobin, he didn't let it go to his head. He remained cautious, speaking and acting carefully to avoid stepping out of line.

Mobin understood that Sol's easygoing nature was genuine. Sol had accepted him without concern for his past or origins, focusing solely on the value he could provide in the present.

However, if he failed to show value or incurred Sol's displeasure, the current state of affairs could change in an instant.

Thus, Mobin stayed vigilant while interacting with Sol.

As for Sunny, after understanding her temperament, Mobin had become well-acquainted with her in just over ten days.

When Mobin set his sights on a second target, the main challenge wasn't how to eliminate the target but rather Sol's attitude toward it.

"Sunny, if I kill that guy next door, do you think Sol would be upset with me?"

Leaning against the half-open shop door, Mobin peered through the crack, observing the alleyway outside.

Sunny looked up at Mobin's side profile and replied flatly, "Which guy?"

"That one named Albert Red. The name came from the intel you gave me—it should be accurate, right?"

"Are you questioning my intelligence skills?"

Sunny raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp as needles stabbing at Mobin.

Mobin thought about how she could spend hours poring over a single newspaper...

But he didn't dare express his thoughts. Instead, he answered earnestly, "How could I ever doubt your skills? Every time I see the information you provide about the neighbors, I can't help but marvel at how exceptionally professional you are."

Sunny snorted coldly, unimpressed by his flattery.

"A lot of people in town use fake names, so I can't guarantee all the details are correct. But when it comes to those next door, I'm certain."

"Did they provoke you?"

"No."

"Then why dig up so much on them?"

"Because they live next to us."

Sunny gave Mobin a look as if to say, What's wrong with you?

"…"

Mobin was momentarily speechless, steering the conversation back. "You still haven't answered my question. If I kill Red, would Sol be upset?"

"How would I know?"

"Fair enough."

"Red has nothing to do with you. Why do you want to kill him?"

"He's too noisy."

Mobin casually fabricated a motive.

In truth, he'd noticed Red because of several occasions when the drunken man would pass by the shop, loudly boasting in the alley about his exploits as a pirate—how he pillaged merchant ships, how many people he killed, and the cruel methods he used on tougher victims.

What stuck in Mobin's mind, though, wasn't Red's drunken boasting but the grotesque smugness on his face when he treated such deeds as points of pride.

Thanks to Red's loud mouth, Mobin realized there were plenty of suitable targets nearby, saving him the trouble of searching far and wide.

Hearing Mobin's supposed motive, Sunny remarked, "Makes sense. That guy is pretty noisy."

"You actually believe me?"

"?"

Everything was ready; all that remained was Sol's approval.

If Sol didn't care, Mobin would immediately grab his gun and ambush Red.

But if Sol disapproved, he'd have to abandon the idea.

If only he had a silencer, it would eliminate the need for all this consideration—he could simply take the shot when the opportunity arose.

The root of the problem, however, was his current weakness.

If he were strong enough, eliminating a chosen target wouldn't require second thoughts about the consequences.

That evening, after dinner, Mobin approached Sol.

After explaining his intent, Sol, puffing on his cigarette, cast a sidelong glance at him.

"Why do you want to kill Red?"

Like Sunny, Sol wanted to know his motive.

This time, Mobin wouldn't use the excuse of Red being noisy.

"To hone my skills."

This was the answer Mobin had prepared in advance—simple and direct.

Sol was somewhat surprised and carefully observed Mobin's expression.

In the world of pirates, using another's life as practice was a common occurrence.

It was the same reasoning behind Sol having Mobin personally deal with Watt when the latter came knocking at their door.

Still, Sol hadn't expected Mobin to initiate the idea. He had intended to give Mobin more time to adapt.

Since it was an inevitable step, Sol didn't object but gave him a word of caution.

"You'll bear the consequences."

Concise and to the point, it was both a warning and tacit approval.

As for Red's fate, it mattered to Sol about as much as deciding what to eat that night.

"Understood."

Mobin felt a surge of joy.

With Sol's approval, he could now proceed without hesitation.

As for any repercussions, he'd prepared himself after reading the intelligence Sunny had provided.

The worst-case scenario would involve Red's pirate crew seeking revenge.

But as long as he handled it cleanly, there'd be no need to worry about such consequences.

Three days later.

It was a dark and windy night.

Mobin crouched in the shadows atop a building, carefully aiming with Usopp, his musket. The faint glow of lamplight illuminated the alley below, where he kept watch on the far end.

From the corner at the alley's end to his position was roughly 100 meters.

Considering accuracy, the smoothbore musket's effective range was far shorter than a rifled musket's but still fell within 100 meters.

Factoring in wear and tear, Mobin planned to wait until Red was within 60 meters before pulling the trigger.

He'd been watching since dusk when Red left the alley, and now eight hours had passed.

At dusk, there had been too many passersby in the alley, making it impossible to find a good moment to shoot.

Now, deep into the night, with hardly anyone around, most of those concerns were gone.

If Red returned at this hour, Mobin would unhesitatingly pull the trigger.

Time dragged on as the moon slipped behind thick clouds.

The alley was dimly lit, visibility low. Without the few lanterns on the walls, it would have been pitch black.

Mobin remained patient.

Several minutes later, Red's voice reached his ears before the man himself appeared.

Mobin tensed, focusing his sight on the alley's end.

A moment later, two figures walked into view, side by side.

"Two of them...!"

Mobin cursed under his breath.

The smoothbore musket only held one shot. After firing, it would take time to reload the second.

This meant that even if he successfully killed Red, the other person would have ample opportunity to take cover and locate his position based on the sound of the gunshot and the spray of blood.

Should he abandon the plan...?

Yet Sunny had mentioned Red's pirate crew would set sail tomorrow at noon. Mobin couldn't act in daylight, as he'd lack the concealment provided by the night.

In other words, missing this chance meant waiting indefinitely for the next opportunity.

Frowning, Mobin deliberated.

As the two figures drew closer, his window of time grew narrower.

At this moment of hesitation, Mobin failed to notice a pair of unseen eyes watching him intently from the shadows.

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