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Jason flashed a grin, and Trens mirrored it a heartbeat later. Side by side, the two strode toward the island's bustling interior.
Moments later, Rojen leapt lightly from the ship's deck to the harbor below.
"Number Five, you're in charge here. Keep watch over the ship, I'll handle things outside."
From above, a young man leaned over the railing, his voice carrying across the noise of the port.
"Got it, Captain! Leave it to me."
With a casual wave, Rojen vanished into the surge of festival-goers crowding the docks.
It was the Masked Carnival of Water 7, a celebration that, every few years, transformed the city into a sea of masked faces and unrestrained revelry. The streets rippled with laughter, music, and a thousand disguises.
"When in Rome, do as the Romans do."
Rojen ducked to a roadside stall and purchased a mask. He chose one shaped like a monkey: plain in color, refined in design, yet carrying an aura that faintly echoed the legendary Great Sage, Equal to Heaven from his past life.
Sliding it over his face, he blended into the crowd and set off along the route toward the shipyard.
Meanwhile, at Tom's Workers, the atmosphere grew tense. A column of grim men marched in, their boots striking against the workshop's floorboards with a cold, deliberate rhythm.
The shipwrights stiffened, hands tightening around their tools as they glared at the intruders.
"Stand down. Let them pass!"
Iceburg stepped forward quickly, his sharp command halting the crew before they acted rashly. His gaze, however, turned frosty as it locked onto the man at the front.
"Spandam. Teacher said you could come in."
"Hah! And here your peasant grunts thought they could stop me." Spandam sneered as he strode past, his tone saturated with arrogance. "Your old man knows better. Otherwise, every last one of you would already be rotting on Judicial Island!"
His entourage fanned out behind him, and Spandam took his time, throwing scornful looks at the shipwrights.
"A bunch of fools without the faintest clue who they're standing against."
The insult made blood boil in the workers' veins, but under Iceburg's hard stare they kept their fury in check, at least until Spandam and his men disappeared deeper into the workshop.
Only then did the dam break.
"Who the hell does he think he is?!"
"He strutted around like the same bastard yesterday!"
"They want to take Mr. Tom? Over our dead bodies!"
"No matter what, we won't let them!"
"That's right! If he tries one more trick, we'll pound him into the floor until he can't crawl back out!"
But Spandam heard none of it. He was already at Tom's office, where he kicked open the door with exaggerated bravado.
"Old man! Have you made up your mind yet?!"
Inside, Tom sat hunched over his desk, eyes tired as they studied the fragile lines of a half-finished blueprint. He had worked through the night, weaving new concepts into old designs, yet the arrival of these unwelcome guests forced him to abandon it.
With quiet resolve, he slid the blueprint into a drawer and shut it firmly.
"The Pluton blueprints. Are you handing them over or not?!"
Spandam's hand slammed down on the desk, rattling the tools scattered across it. His eyes glared coldly, hunger glinting behind them.
"They're not here."
Tom's reply was flat, unyielding.
"You senile old fool!" Spandam snapped. "With a single word from me, you'll be dragged to Judicial Island where you'll rot and die without even a grave to hold your bones! Do you really think defiance will save you?"
He leaned closer, voice dripping venom.
"Hand over Pluton, and maybe, just maybe, I'll spare your life."
"Do what you want. I've been ready for this for years."
Tom's voice was steady as steel, his eyes calm against Spandam's rage-twisted face.
"You bastard!" Spandam roared, raising his hand to strike.
The office door slammed open with a deafening crash.
Franky burst inside, gasping for breath, his wild eyes blazing as they locked on Spandam's raised hand.
"What the hell are you people doing to Tom Sensei?!"
He roared, fists clenched tight, ready to throw himself forward.
"Franky, don't!" Tom warned, alarm flashing across his face.
But it was too late.
A silent man in a black suit stepped forward from behind Spandam. His leg lashed out, faster than lightning.
Bang!
Franky's body smashed back into the wall, the impact rattling the room until framed pictures dropped to the floor with clattering glass.
"World Government arrest in progress. Civilians will stand down."
The agent's calm, icy voice was a blade sharper than steel.
"Damn you!"
Franky spat, dragging himself upright, fury burning in his eyes.
"I don't care who you are, I won't let you take Tom Sensei!"
Spandam laughed coldly, then gestured. Two men seized Franky by the arms, pinning him with brutal efficiency.
"Release me! Let me go!"
Franky's bravado cracked when another agent approached, his face unreadable, his aura suffocating. For the first time, fear flickered in his eyes.
"Enough."
Tom's deep, steady voice cut through the suffocating tension like a bell tolling.
"I'm the one who built a ship for the Pirate King. No one else has any part in this, don't drag them into it. If you want someone, take me."
Spandam sneered. "Deciding who's involved isn't up to you, it's up to me!"
But then, the man in black who had kicked Franky broke his silence. His tone was calm but unyielding.
"No. You're wrong. Tom is the only one bearing responsibility here."
Spandam froze, his mouth twisting in rage, humiliated at being contradicted by one of his supposed allies.
"You dare talk back to me?! Shut up!" He snapped.
The man didn't flinch. "We're World Government Guards, Eighth Army Division. We're not under your direct command. We're here to support your mission, but we will not obey orders we don't accept."
The words made Spandam's face turn black with fury. His fists curled, his pride dripping away like oil.
"Damn it! I should've called CP5 instead of dealing with you useless trash!"
He spun on Tom, rage making his voice tremble.
"This is your final chance, old man! Hand over Pluton, or you'll be dragged to Judicial Island in chains!"
Tom's face was calm, his eyes unwavering as he answered.
"There's nothing here for you."
Silence pressed down, thick and unyielding.
"I see… I see!" Spandam's shrill voice cracked. His arm swung violently forward. "Arrest him! Take him away to Judicial Island!"
While the storm raged inside, Rojen was just arriving outside Tom's Workers.
He slowed his steps, brow furrowing as he took in the throng of shipwrights standing at the entrance, tools gripped in their callused hands, their faces dark with fury.
"What's going on here? Did something happened inside?"
As he stepped in through the workshop gate, Iceburg immediately spotted him and hurried over, relief flashing in his eyes.
"Rojen San!"
(End of this chapter)