The Hunter of Pirates

The Snake Paths and Mouse Roads were teeming with people who thrived on information.

These informants, active in Mad Hat Town, might not rival the intelligence networks of the Navy or the Revolutionary Army, but they could still offer certain conveniences.

To track down the murderer who had killed his companion, Raglen had no choice but to pay for their services.

The Ratsnout, it was said, was someone with a keener nose than a dog.

And that keen nose belonged to the cold, sharp-faced man before him.

Sitting on the sofa, Raglen struggled to calm himself.

The mere thought of the Ratsnout sneaking up behind him without his notice sent a chill down his spine.

This guy clearly had strength, yet chose to linger in the stench of the gutters, doing this kind of work.

Raglen couldn't comprehend it.

As soon as they sat down, the silent bartender arrived with two glasses of liquor, then returned to the bar without a word.

The Ratsnout extended his long, slender right hand, lightly twirling the glass.

Before Raglen could state his purpose, the man spoke on his own. "Raglen, an officer of the Sharp Horn Pirates, right? Last night's incident may seem minor, but I did hear about it. So, you want to hire me to find the killer?"

Raglen wasn't surprised the Ratsnout recognized him and guessed his intentions.

In the intelligence business, how could one survive without some skill?

What did surprise him was the strength the Ratsnout had displayed earlier.

"Yes."

Raglen didn't bother with excessive words. He placed a pouch of money on the table.

The Ratsnout picked up the pouch, weighed it, and then opened it to glance inside.

With his years of experience dealing with money, he didn't need to count to estimate the amount accurately.

"Shall we start now?"

He pocketed the money with satisfaction and looked at Raglen.

"That would be best."

Raglen nodded heavily.

The Ratsnout smirked, downed the liquor in one gulp, and stood.

Raglen, on the other hand, never touched the drink the bartender had served.

The two left the bar, one after the other.

Before long, they arrived at the bloodstain in the alleyway.

The Ratsnout squatted down, scrutinizing the dried blood. "Word is the killer shot two in one go. First, a shot pierced the neck—where bullets penetrate more easily—then a perfectly placed one to the forehead. Clearly, the person responsible is a sniper with deadly precision."

Raglen's expression remained blank.

He wasn't in the mood to listen to the Ratsnout's analysis, but he couldn't rush someone with such undeniable strength.

Unbothered by Raglen's silence, the Ratsnout continued coldly, "You know, the most troublesome kind of person is one who takes a shot at you out of nowhere, leaving you no chance to fight back. But then again…"

The Ratsnout's nose twitched, transforming in an instant into a sleek, black rodent-like snout.

"They're the reason my business thrives."

He sniffed the air, processing the scent into information in his mind.

From thousands, he narrowed to hundreds, from hundreds to ten, and finally, to one.

Once he locked onto the scent, the Ratsnout rose and looked upward.

"Follow me."

He leapt lightly toward the rooftop.

Raglen followed closely behind.

Turns out, the Ratsnout had eaten a Zoan-type Devil Fruit of the rodent variety. No wonder he excelled in this field.

With his abilities, finding the sniper was as good as done.

The two darted across rooftops and soon arrived at the spot where the sniper had fired last night.

The Ratsnout scanned the scene. The scent he had traced formed an invisible path in his mind, stretching away from this point.

Following the trail, he headed toward Sol's Weapons Shop.

Raglen trailed behind him.

The Ratsnout moved with purpose, but as they approached within twenty meters of the shop, he suddenly halted.

"Found them?"

Raglen's gaze turned icy, assuming the Ratsnout had identified the target.

The Ratsnout didn't respond to the question but instead glanced down at a spot in the alley.

The scent trail had split—one part led to Sol's Weapons Shop, while the other extended from the shop to this alley.

But that wasn't why he had stopped.

Even with the split, the final destination was still Sol's Weapons Shop, so the divergence didn't affect the result.

The real issue was…

The Ratsnout's expression grew serious as he looked toward the shop. The entrance was barely visible from this distance.

"This scent doesn't belong to the old man, but it's definitely related to him."

He thought quietly.

Raglen frowned and pressed, "Have you found the target or not?"

"Yes, I've found them."

The Ratsnout turned back to glance at Raglen. "But, considering you've paid me, I'd advise you to drop this."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing much, just a friendly suggestion."

Raglen sneered. "That's none of your concern. Your job is to lead me to the target."

The Ratsnout shrugged and said no more.

Following the scent, he led Raglen to the front of Sol's Weapons Shop.

"The killer is inside. My job here is done."

"Ratsnout, our deal was to find the target, not just point to a random place and leave."

Raglen's tone grew harsher as he saw the Ratsnout about to leave.

The Ratsnout glanced nervously at the shop's door before sneering at Raglen.

"Fine. The shop's owner is an old man, and the clerk is a scar-faced woman."

"Which one is the killer?"

"Neither."

Raglen restrained his urge to draw his blade.

The Ratsnout spread his hands. "The killer isn't the old man or the woman, but there's a third person in the shop. Got it?"

Raglen snorted.

He couldn't understand why the Ratsnout didn't outright name the third person, but at least the target was confirmed.

What Raglen didn't know was that the Ratsnout wasn't withholding information—he genuinely knew nothing about the third person.

Sol's Weapons Shop was one of the few places the Ratsnout dared not touch. Had he known the killer was connected to it, he would've refused the job outright.

But since he had taken the job, he had no choice but to see it through.

Thus, he carefully avoided mentioning Sol or Sunny by name, only implying the existence of the third person based on scent elimination.

In truth, he had no idea when this third person had appeared.

Still, being part of the weapons shop…

Once the transaction was complete, the Ratsnout wasted no time retreating to the bar.

Raglen watched him leave, then turned his gaze to the shop's slightly ajar door.

After pondering briefly, Raglen also walked away.

Later that evening…

A shifty-eyed customer entered Sol's Weapons Shop.

He walked directly to the three shelves, pretending to inspect the weapons while sneaking glances at the three people inside.

A diminutive old man.

A scarred young woman.

A rather handsome young man.

Perfect.

The customer's mind was set. He casually picked up a second-hand machete with a small notch on the blade—nothing impressive—and walked to the counter.

"How much?"

"Fifty thousand Beli."

Sol didn't even look up.

The man had expected the poorly kept weapon to cost no more than ten thousand. He cursed inwardly at the outrageous price but paid without hesitation and left.

Once the customer was gone, Sol finally raised his head toward the door.

"Hmm…"

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