Chapter 8: The Weight of Chains
"A slave, huh?"
Charlotte murmured as he stared at the girl kneeling in front of him.
Even caked in ash and filth, her delicate features and soft blue eyes remained striking. Beneath the grime, beauty still showed through—a beauty that had become her curse.
"No wonder they kept you locked up," Charlotte said quietly.
The girl flushed as he looked her over. His golden hair shimmered even in the dim light, and his battle-worn clothes exposed hardened muscle sculpted by years of training and struggle. For a moment, she forgot her terror and simply stared.
Charlotte leaned down and wrapped his fingers around the thick iron lock binding the cell door. With a simple tug, the metal snapped apart.
The door creaked open.
The girl stumbled out—but she wasn't alone. One by one, four more girls followed: all young, all beautiful, all dressed in rags. Their hollow eyes flickered with disbelief.
"I killed the pirates," Charlotte said, eyes sweeping across the five girls. "You're free now."
A stunned silence filled the air. For the first time in what must have been weeks—or months—their faces lit up with hope.
Charlotte didn't linger.
He moved from cell to cell, breaking every lock with his bare hands. The other prisoners emerged slowly, blinking at the light, unsure if this was truly real.
Only when the last lock was destroyed did Charlotte finally emerge from the dim, rotting hold.
He took a deep breath as he stepped onto the deck again.
The air outside felt cleaner, freer. But the despair he'd felt in that cabin still clung to his mind. It had been thick—almost tangible. Even without touching them, he'd felt their pain like a second skin.
So this is what it's like, he thought, to have Observation Haki so strong it borders on empathy.
No wonder Redfield liked that ability so much.
Charlotte exhaled slowly and hoisted a chest of Beli—loot from the pirate ship—onto his shoulder.
Just as he turned to disembark, a voice called out behind him.
"M-My lord, wait!"
Charlotte sighed and turned, frowning. The same girl as before stood behind him, the other four flanking her.
"What now?" he asked, tone edged with impatience. "You're free. Why are you still calling me that?"
The girls exchanged a glance. Then, as one, they fell to their knees.
"Please, take us with you!" the first girl begged. "We're willing to serve as maids, servants, anything—so long as we can stay with you!"
Charlotte blinked, stunned by the intensity in their eyes. He could feel it—raw, desperate sincerity.
He clenched his jaw. "Why?"
The question hung heavy in the air. The silence that followed wasn't hesitation—it was grief. The kind of grief that had nowhere left to go.
At last, the girl answered, voice trembling.
"Our homeland… the Kingdom of Kakna… it was destroyed."
Her words struck deep.
"We couldn't pay the Heavenly Tribute to the World Government. So the pirates came. The Bear Pirates ravaged everything—our towns, our people… everything. The only reason we're alive is because they thought they could sell us. That's all we were to them."
She bowed low, her forehead pressed to the deck.
"So please, my lord… let us serve you. We have no home left. We're not asking for comfort—only for a place where we're not prey."
Charlotte stared down at them, the storm in his chest growing louder.
"Get up," he said at last, his voice low.
He helped them to their feet, one by one.
"What are your names?"
The girl in front straightened. Her posture, even after all this, held a flicker of grace.
"My name is Martha Bruce," she said, her voice calm despite the pain behind it.
The others followed.
"Kenneth Janney."
"Louise Alice."
"Hebrew Nell."
"Janice Gillian."
Charlotte nodded slowly. "Martha. Janney. Alice. Nell. Gillian."
He looked at each of them in turn, then gave a faint smirk.
"From now on, you'll follow me. You'll be my maids. My name is Rockefeller Charlotte—you can call me 'Young Master.'"
The five girls dropped into a practiced curtsy. "Yes, Young Master!"
Charlotte turned away, satisfied.
Better they follow me than fall back into chains. Besides, he thought, they're not bad to look at…
He stepped off the ship, the five girls following close behind.
As for the other freed prisoners?
Charlotte didn't even glance back.
I'm not their father. I saved their lives. That's enough.
Down at the pier, Ivan was still lying unconscious along with dozens of others. The sheer range of Charlotte's Conqueror's Haki surprised even him.
He kicked Ivan in the ribs, not gently.
"Hey! Wake up!"
Ivan groaned, blinking his eyes open.
"Boss…?"
He sat up, then panicked. "Wait! Where are the pirates?!"
Charlotte jabbed a thumb toward the mast.
Ivan looked up.
His eyes widened.
Hanging from the mast like a war trophy was the severed head of Alex Jesse.
"Y-You… Boss, did you do that?!"
Charlotte nodded casually.
Ivan looked like he was about to pass out again.
"Hurry up," Charlotte ordered. "These five are my new maids. I want them trained properly. That's your job."
He turned and walked off without waiting for a response.
Three years of training, Charlotte thought bitterly. And he still collapsed from a single Haki burst. What a waste.
Frustrated, he headed back to the mansion.
By the time he arrived, the sun was sinking low.
The streets were eerily silent.
Then it struck him—they're all unconscious.
His Haki hadn't just knocked out pirates. It had swept through the entire damn town.
Everywhere he looked, civilians were passed out cold in doorways and alleys.
Even his own house was empty—no food, no servants, just silence.
A short time later, Ivan arrived at the mansion with the five girls in tow.
Charlotte, slouched on the couch, looked up.
"Ivan. Perfect timing. Go make dinner. I'm starving."
"Yes, Boss!" Ivan saluted, then shuffled the five maids toward the kitchen.
Charlotte closed his eyes and leaned back.
Ivan was weak, sure—but he was dependable.
That's why he'd stayed at Charlotte's side for four years.
And today?
Today had been a turning point.
So this is Conqueror's Haki…
Charlotte recalled the surge of energy, the exhilarating clarity, the feeling of absolute domination.
It had felt… good.
Too good.
His eyes opened slowly.
"…Is this what it means to enjoy killing?" he muttered.
He rubbed his chin, unsettled.
"When did I become so twisted?"
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