"No, I don't know." Just as I expected—this guy knows nothing or chose to not meddle to much. It makes it all the easier for him to wash his hands clean when things inevitably go bad. Not that I mind; that's just how most people survive here—by pretending not to see what they shouldn't, and by refusing to hear what they can't afford to.
It just makes it hard to get close to this guy, even though he really is a good one.
"That so." We walked side by side toward the appointed place, saying nothing along the way. Silence was our usual company, born out of habit, born from trust issues.
During the walk, my thoughts drifted to everything that had happened over the past two years—
the acquaintances I had made, the connections I had built, the choices I had taken, and the actions I carried out. Sometimes I wondered if some of those decisions were mistakes, leaving me with a faint trace of regret. But in the end, I always grabbed at the opportunities that came my way, no matter how dangerous, even if a few of them left me bleeding.
Like this job I'm doing right now—I can't help but slightly regret ever taking it. On paper, it looked like a blessing: less time on the labor, better food, and a few scraps of freedom. But every passing day, the worry keeps piling up, like the growing mound of powder I'd been shuffling in secret and moving piece by piece to customers. Sure, At first, it was easy—I never had to meet the customers, just leave the packages behind the marked stash and walk away , and even that still making me scared a bit— But this time was different, this will be the first time I meet the customer face-to-face. A so called VIP too—every step I take carries the risk of being caught.
Yes, I had some kind of "backing"—one of the Celestial Dragons had taken an interest in me. But that didn't matter much. It wasn't my life I feared losing. It was the thought of others getting dragged down with me.
At first, I thought it would only be me who suffered if this gig went wrong. But slowly, reality sank in. Darius could be punished for my mistakes. The Boa sisters too. Even Zyanya—and Jamie, though I suspected he was already planning a way out. Still, the truth was plain: anyone tied to me could be burn for my mistakes.
As we neared the destination, my mind snapped back to the present. The woods behind Pangaea Castle stretched ahead—our destination. Jamie stopped short. He didn't follow me further, instead leaning against a cargo container. With a flick of his lighter, he lit a cigarette, smoke curling lazily into the air. "I'll wait here," he said, exhaling slowly, smoke curling from his lips.
"Of course." I stepped forward alone, toward the meeting with a mysterious stranger.
The forest felt eerie. Huge trees towered overhead, their branches swallowing most of the light, plunging the place into shadows that made it feel much darker than it should have been. The EX markings carved into several trees pierced the darkness like lamps lighting the way—even though the markings themselves did not glow, they guided me to an open space. The EX markings were my logo, my hidden trail—but now those markings led me straight into the arms of whoever was waiting.
And there he was waiting. Under a large tree in the middle of an open field stood a man I recognized immediately—the same Cipher Pol who had once taken me to meet that spoiled "astronaut." He was still wearing his clean white suit, still hiding behind a faceless mask with only a silly mustache painted on it.
I crouched in the bushes, observing, weighing my options. Was he really my contact, or was this a trap disguised as business? Or was he here for something else entirely?
"Get out, brat." His voice cut through the silence like a blade. He already knew I was there. Haki, no doubt. Every CP0 agent had it drilled into them.
I trained my Haki too—I'd sensed someone waiting before I even saw him. But that was the difference. I couldn't tell who. Meanwhile, he pegged me as a kid instantly. His Haki dwarfed mine without effort, which only proved his Haki was sharper than mine.
So I stepped out, raising both hands to show I meant no harm. There was no point hiding anymore. He already had me.
Face-to-face, just a few meters apart, I stayed silent. Better to let him speak first, let him reveal his purpose here. But reading a CP agent wasn't easy—they were government hounds, trained to bury their identities deeper than corpses and guard secrets tighter than iron chains.
"You brought the thing?" His voice was flat.
The thing? Drugs? Or something else entirely?
"You mean elixirs, right?" I asked. Elixirs—that's the name I use to tag the drugs. The reason behind the EX I carved in the stash for the customer. Oliver knew that code. And if he had even half a brain, he'd have told his contact.
"Yeah, whatever elixir you're talking about." His tone was lazy, careless almost. His posture stayed sharp as a blade, but his voice didn't match. That mask gave me nothing to work with—no twitch, no expression, just that ridiculous painted mustache grinning at me.
"Need to know. Otherwise, I might get busted, you know. So, who told you about the elixirs?" Two-step verification, ever heard of it? That's what this was. Every account has it—social media, games, banks, you name it. Sure, it's a hassle, but it keeps you safe. Yet there are always people who think it's too much trouble, treat it like a nuisance … like this guy, apparently.
With just a blink, he was already in front of me— One moment distant, the next—his chest almost pressed against my face. I had to tilt my head upward just to meet the empty gaze of that mask. He leaned down, so close I could feel his breath by my ear, his voice low like a whisper but every word clear as glass.
"A slave. You are just a slave. Do what your master tells you and don't ask questions, understand? And why doubt me, huh? Oliver said you were a wild one, but I didn't think you'd be this wild— Questioning myself so casually without even throwing yourself to the ground."
Then, without warning, he slammed me down. My face smashed into the dirt, his hand pressing hard against the back of my head, grinding me into the ground like trash.
"It's good to be cautious," he said, clapping his hands together as though dusting them clean. "But don't think you can just ask—I'm not Oliver."
A reminder. My place. My worth—is lower than dirt in this place.
"I'm sorry, sir." The words crawled out of me. Humiliation burned hot in my chest as I pressed my forehead into the dirt, forced into a posture I despised. It had been years since I'd last prostrated myself like this. Long enough to forget just how suffocating it felt to be reminded—slaves were nothing. Always nothing.
But what else could I do? A slave in the land of gods—that's my role, to bow low and play along before anyone who isn't a slave.
"Here is the elixir, sir." From a hidden pocket stitched into my ragged clothes, I pulled out the small pouch of white powder and offered it with both hands, still kneeling in the dirt.
He snatched it without hesitation, tore the zipper open, and stared into the pouch. For a long moment, silence. before lifting it toward his face. He raised his mask just slightly—enough to take a whiff—keeping everything else hidden. From where I lay pressed into ground, I couldn't see a thing beneath that mask, no matter how much I strained my eyes.
"Sniff—sniff—kha… tight-tight-tight, yeah." He hunched forward like a maniac after the whiff, muttering nonsense in a feverish tone between breaths. For the first time, I'd seen his perfect posture break, twisting into something unhinged. Watching him unravel like that from a single hit was downright insane.
"Woooo, yeah." With another sniff, he threw his head back and screamed into the sky. The sound echoed loudly and unrestrainedly. Good thing this was a desolate place where no one could hear him— otherwise, the whole world would know. A CP agent, reduced to this. A drug addict.
"Haha, you've got something good, boy." He exhaled long and slow, his body relaxing with it. "From now on, you'll bring me the elixir."
"Yes, sir." I pressed my forehead lower still. Better not to risk provoking him now.
And then—silence.
No footsteps. No rustle of leaves. Nothing.
I couldn't hear him anymore. When I tried sensing his presence with Haki, he was gone. When I lifted my head, the clearing was empty. His presence had already vanished, like smoke. No trace left behind.
I didn't know when he'd left, or how. But that was the reality of Cipher Pol. They came and went like ghosts. One moment there, the next—gone.
After sitting there for a while, steadying my breath and slowing my heartbeat, I finally rose to my feet. The dirt still clung to my palms, the taste of humiliation still bitter on my tongue. I brushed myself off, but no matter how much I wiped, I couldn't shake the feeling of his hand forcing my face into the ground. That image would stay with me for a while.
I retraced my path carefully, following the carved markings I'd left on the trees to make sure I didn't lose my way. My feet moved automatically, but my mind… my mind was racing. That meeting had left me with more than bruises. There were layers to it, threads I could pull, opportunities hiding.
First—the obvious one. A Cipher Pol agent is an addict. That alone is insanity. They're supposed to be the government's perfect hounds, disciplined, faceless, merciless. But to find out one of them is a junkie? That's not just a crack in the wall—it's a goddamn doorway. If I'm smart, I can use this. Who I tell, when I tell them, and how much I let slip could all be weapons in my hands. To some, it's leverage. To others, it's poison. And if I play my cards right, it might be both.
Second—he doesn't remember me. At least, not truly. And why would he? Who remembers a slave they dragged around two years ago? To him, I was just another piece of property shuffled from one place to another, faceless and disposable. That works in my favor. His ignorance is my shield, and with it, I can carve out something new.
And the best part? Convincing him won't even be that hard. I already know what he craves, what little leash I can tug on. The Elixirs. If that's the chain around his neck, then I'll be the one holding it. He may not know it yet, but with every sniff he takes, he's tying himself closer to me.
Still, I can't rush it. That kind of weapon, you don't wave around carelessly—you keep it sharp, polished, hidden until the perfect moment. Right now, it's just a seed, but in time, it could grow into the kind of advantage that changes everything. And in this place, in these rotten places, advantage is the only thing worth living for.
When I stepped out of the woods, the first thing my eyes landed on was Jamie. He was still smoking on the crates, though his posture had shifted since I left him. Now he was sprawled out beneath the shade of the trees, lying across the crates as if they were a bed. The cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth, each lazy puff curling upward, smoke drifting in slow spirals above him. He looked completely at ease, like the whole world outside that little patch of shade wasn't worth a damn to him. His eyes half-lidded, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
"You done?" Jamie asked, his eyes cutting toward me the instant I stepped out of the woods. Maybe he'd caught the rustle of leaves, maybe it was instinct—either way, he didn't look surprised.
"Sort of," I replied with a shrug, rolling my shoulders as if to shake off the weight of what had just happened. "This is a long-term partnership, so maybe I'll be coming back to these woods every now and then."
Jamie didn't say anything right away. He just took another drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing faintly in the shade, and let the smoke drift out in a lazy cloud. His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than usual before he leaned back again, like nothing I said mattered.
"Then let's go back." Jamie flicked away the last of his cigarette and slid off the crate, falling into step beside me.
We walked again, this time with my cell as the destination. Silence wrapped around us like an old cloak. Our footsteps on the dirt path and the faint rustle of leaves above were the only sounds that followed us back.