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"What's wrong? Already giving in? Weren't you acting tough just a moment ago?"
Aaron stopped his hand the moment he heard Absalom's plea for mercy and sneered coldly.
It had barely been ten minutes, and yet the man had already surrendered. Frankly, it was disappointing.
Absalom didn't dare make a sound. He hung his head low, his eyes full of unwillingness, though far more dominated by sheer terror.
The pain was unbearable. Never in his life had he endured such torment—and what was worse, he wasn't even allowed to faint from it. The man before him, this Aaron, was a demon. His strikes were never particularly forceful, yet each one made Absalom suffer as though his nerves were being torn apart.
He knew he couldn't take it much longer. If Aaron continued torturing him, he would lose his mind.
What made it worse was that Absalom could feel it—this young man probably wouldn't kill him outright. But unless he submitted, Aaron would keep tormenting him until his spirit shattered completely. That cold, merciless look in his eyes left no room for negotiation.
"Speak. Why were you following us?"
Aaron, seeing Absalom's silence, began the interrogation in earnest.
Absalom blurted out immediately:
"I didn't mean much harm! I was just planning to wait until you and Douglas' crew fought it out… then swoop in and pick up the scraps, that's all! I swear I never intended to take your lives!"
But as soon as the words left his mouth, Aaron struck him again, forcing Absalom to taste unbearable agony once more.
"Don't play games with me. 'No harm,' you say? You expect me to believe that? When you pointed your gun at us, your expression was anything but friendly. That's your punishment—for lying."
Aaron then wrapped his hand around Absalom's throat, lifting him—chair and all—off the ground. He sneered as his grip tightened.
As pressure crushed down on his windpipe, Absalom's breathing faltered. His face flushed blue, his lips turned purple, and the searing pain of suffocation clawed through his chest.
Soon his body grew weightless, his head dizzy, his vision blurring as darkness crept in from the edges.
Absalom realized what was happening. These were the signs of death. For the first time in his life, he truly felt himself standing on death's doorstep.
Just as he thought the end had come, the grip on his throat loosened. He collapsed, gasping frantically for air, coughing violently like a drowning man dragged back from the depths.
"That was your last warning. Lie to me again, and I'll kill you on the spot."
Aaron restrained him once more, voice flat and cold as steel, his eyes devoid of even a shred of warmth. This was no bluff.
And Aaron meant it. He detested variables he couldn't control.
If Absalom refused to cooperate and kept scheming, Aaron would rather destroy him than waste more time. Absalom was nothing more than an unexpected catch. If he lost him, so be it—the plan would move forward regardless. After all, Aaron had never counted on acquiring the Suke Suke no Mi's power in the first place.
Absalom, however, was no man of grit. He was someone who cherished life above all else. With the power of the Clear-Clear Fruit, he could still live comfortably, just as he always had.
He was only twenty, still far from having his fill of life. The world was full of beautiful women waiting to be adored by him. To die now—over something as stupid as lying—was absolutely unacceptable.
That near-death suffocation finally broke him. Absalom's mental defenses crumbled, and he collapsed into sobs before Aaron, confessing everything without another ounce of resistance.
Not only did he explain his intentions that night, but he also, without being prompted, revealed every secret he'd gathered in Villia Port thanks to his Clear-Clear Fruit powers—along with the treasures he had stolen.
Aaron listened patiently, even signaling for Shuma—the intelligence officer—to take notes.
The stolen treasures didn't interest him much. But the secrets… those left both Aaron and Shuma stunned.
Absalom, true to his nature as a lecher, had discovered most of these secrets while stalking women or peeping on them as they bathed. Nearly every famed beauty in Villia Port had been spied on by him, some even photographed with his camera Den Den Mushi.
And, of course, beauties tended to draw powerful men with wealth and influence.
Thus, in his voyeuristic pursuits, Absalom often stumbled across many prominent figures of Villia Port—uncovering shocking secrets in the process. Affairs, secret liaisons, unspeakable fetishes… he knew them all.
Aaron, however, wasn't interested in gossip. What truly caught his attention was when Absalom mentioned overhearing a man named Gilbert speaking about Devil Fruits.
Gilbert was no ordinary figure. In Villia Port, his name carried weight—he was a prince of the Drum Kingdom, the uncle of Wapol himself, and the highest authority overseeing the port.
It had been Gilbert, in fact, who orchestrated the cooperation between the kingdom's official forces and the local underworld. A shrewd politician, and a man whose words could not be dismissed as mere fantasy.
According to Absalom, Gilbert had boasted to his mistress one night about personally witnessing Devil Fruits—revealing that they were kept in the greatest auction house in the city: the Donquixote Auction House.
But what shocked Aaron most was Gilbert's description of one particular fruit. Among the two he claimed to have seen, one resembled a giant carnivorous plant's gaping maw. A description eerily similar to the Munch-Munch Fruit.
"At last… a clue to the Munch-Munch Fruit."
Aaron took a deep breath, his face grim.
The very reason he had come to the Drum Kingdom after gaining his freedom was this Devil Fruit. For over three months he had been searching, but his fledgling organization was still too weak. Shuma's intelligence network had barely begun to form—barely ten people, including Shuma himself. With no insiders near Wapol, there had been no way to track the fruit's whereabouts. It was like searching for a needle in the ocean.
The chances had been slim.
And yet, by sheer chance, the first lead had appeared before him through such an unlikely source.
Fate, it seemed, had given him the opportunity.
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