The black market was the filthiest corner of Frans Island, a haven for pirates and criminals where theft, robbery, and violence were commonplace.
It was an old, rundown street. If an innocent-looking person walked in, they'd be lucky to leave with their underwear still intact. The unlucky ones would be dragged out by wild dogs.
As soon as Rosen stepped into the black market, he saw half-open doors revealing stalls selling stolen goods. In addition to basic firearms and blades, some items were stained with fresh blood—treasures looted from others. Luxurious second-hand clothing and jewelry were also everywhere, all sourced through dubious means.
Rosen took a glance but didn't dwell on it. Led by Pitas, the two of them maneuvered through a maze of streets, turning left and right more than ten times before arriving at an unremarkable, dilapidated shop.
People involved in these kinds of trades, no matter how wealthy or powerful, never operated in extravagance. The more secretive, the better.
Yet, the moment Rosen stepped inside, he felt as if he had entered another world. The place was noisy, with countless stalls crammed into a vast indoor space. It resembled the large-scale trading markets he had visited before—except instead of local specialties, this one sold nothing but illicit goods.
"Keep a low profile. If you cause trouble here, no matter how strong you are, you'll probably be carried out. See those security guards? Almost all of them have bounties exceeding ten million." Pitas whispered, pointing at the uniformed guards patrolling the market in squads.
"Slave trade?!" Rosen frowned when he saw a grown man chained to the ground inside a cage, being treated as merchandise. He had never liked the idea of selling people like goods, but he knew he couldn't change anything.
"Yes, Bront made his fortune in the slave trade. This hall only holds the common stock. I've heard that the real high-end goods are upstairs. Supposedly, if you have enough money, you can even buy a Devil Fruit…" Pitas trailed off, momentarily lost in fantasies about those priceless treasures.
"So, he's got some real connections." Rosen nodded. If Bront had access to Devil Fruits, he was no mere third-rate merchant—he had influence and an extensive network.
"Stop. Unauthorized individuals aren't allowed upstairs."
Just as Pitas led Rosen toward the staircase, two heavily armored guards blocked their path.
Pitas quickly adjusted his approach. "Sirs, we're looking for Lord Bront. We want to discuss an opportunity on Lantis Island. Would he be available?"
He spoke with deference, his eyes darting between the guards.
"Pitas, you little rat. Instead of collecting protection money, you're thinking about Lantis Island? You really have the guts for that? Hahaha…" One of the guards laughed, sizing him up.
Frans Island was a small place, and Pitas was well-known for being a coward. Despite being a local, he had never dared set foot on the nearby treasure island of Lantis. Given his knowledge of the island, he would have had a huge advantage.
Before Lantis Island was sealed off, trade between the two islands was frequent. Pitas had visited multiple times and knew the terrain well—even the locations of mineral deposits. Yet, when Bront invited him to join an expedition, he refused outright, even after being offered a full security team.
That decision left an impression on many people here. If not for Bront's reputation as an honorable businessman, he might have forced Pitas into it. After all, Pitas had mingled with various underground circles and was no ordinary nobody.
"Well, actually… it's them who want to go, not me," Pitas said sheepishly, gesturing at Rosen and his companion.
"These two? Hmm? They look familiar… Are you guys pirates?" One of the guards frowned at Rosen, feeling a vague sense of recognition, as if he had seen his face on a wanted poster before.
Then, the other guard's eyes widened in shock. "Shichibukai!"
He instinctively took a few steps back, visibly shaken. The Shichibukai were pirates who had carved out fearsome reputations across the seas. Their bounties were no longer public, nor were they hunted, but as a young recruit, he had once studied wanted posters and memorized the infamous names. He had once dreamed of making a name for himself, after all.
"Shichibukai?!"
Pitas and the other guards were also startled. When had their little island become a place where a Warlord of the Sea would show up?
"Take me to your boss," Rosen said calmly. He was used to reactions like this.
"You… wait here for a moment. I… uh… Please, come in!"
The guard had intended to report to Bront first, but under Rosen's impassive gaze, he felt an overwhelming pressure. It was hard to breathe.
He changed his tone immediately.
Rosen, unaware that he was exuding such an intimidating presence, simply walked forward. He hadn't intentionally used Haki, but at his current level, even his natural demeanor was oppressive to the weak—like creatures on entirely different levels of the food chain.
As Rosen left, one of the guards quickly pulled out a Den Den Mushi and called Bront's office, relaying the situation.
The other guard, still rattled, muttered, "Why didn't you try stopping him? Got cold feet?"
"Screw you! Why didn't you say anything? I don't know what it was, but when he looked at me, it felt like I was drowning. I couldn't control myself…"
Inside, the room was spacious and well-furnished. From outside, one could hear the sounds of laughter and flirtation, but the moment the call ended, the place fell silent.
A small, wiry man—barely 1.6 meters tall—hung up the Den Den Mushi and turned to the visiting merchants with an apologetic smile.
"Apologies, gentlemen. It seems our business discussion will have to wait. I have an important visitor."
"No problem," a plump merchant replied, holding a beautiful woman in his arms. "But I've heard Lantis Island is getting worse. Next month's shipments of iron mother and steel sand won't be short, will they?"
"Of course not. But perhaps you'd like to step out for now?" Bront subtly suggested they leave.
"Who's so important? We only just sat down." The fat merchant frowned. There were very few people on Frans Island who could make them give up their seats.
The other merchants also seemed displeased. Bront had gathered some exceptional women for entertainment tonight, and now it seemed like their fun would be cut short.
"It's a Shichibukai," Bront admitted with a sigh. He had just received the report himself and, fortunately, it didn't seem like the warlord had come to make trouble.
The merchants' faces changed instantly, but they quickly masked their reactions.
"Suddenly remembered something urgent back home. I'll be taking my leave."
"Farewell."
"Goodbye."
"No need to see us out."
Without hesitation, they filed out the back door. They weren't about to get involved with pirates who could destroy them in an instant—legally, at that.
After sending them off, Bront adjusted his collar, signaled to his two bodyguards, and personally opened the door. At the far end of the corridor, he spotted Rosen and his group approaching.
"Lord Bront," Pitas greeted him cautiously.
"I hear you even sell Devil Fruits. I'd like to take a look," Rosen said, keeping his tone casual. With merchants, it was best to ease into business. If Bront was the type to keep secrets, pressing too hard would only complicate things.
And besides, Rosen preferred not to reveal his true objective—at least not until he had a better sense of what kind of man Bront was.
(End of Chapter)
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