Chapter 3
Loguetown in the East Blue… They call it the town of beginnings and endings, perched near the entrance to the Grand Line. It’s famous because the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger, was born here—and executed here.
Right now, I’m in a modest little bar in Loguetown, packed with dozens of pirates and bounty hunters, all drinking hard and laughing loud. The noise is deafening—you can hear it from miles away. Honestly, it’s not just this bar; the whole street’s a chaotic mess of revelry.
This street’s a gray zone in Loguetown, and that’s no surprise. In this so-called Great Pirate Era, every island, every town, has a lawless corner like this. Loguetown, being the birthplace and deathplace of the Pirate King, is practically a “holy land” for some pirates. Ironic, isn’t it?
The bosses here, aside from serving a few regular folks, mostly cater to pirates and bounty hunters passing through for supplies or “business.” It’s an unspoken gathering spot for outlaws. Even the local enforcer, Smoker, turns a blind eye to this place most of the time.
Though, when he’s in a bad mood, he’ll storm in and nab a few pirates to blow off steam.
Creak…
The bar’s double doors swing open as I step inside. In this rowdy chaos, one guy walking in doesn’t draw much attention—unless I decided to make a scene just to show off. I’m not that bored. I head straight for the counter.
The bar owner, Wendell, is busy polishing glasses and plates. When he sees me, his hands slow, and he swallows hard, a mix of fear and respect in his eyes. “M-Morgan, sir… You’re back.”
His voice isn’t loud, but it’s enough to turn a few heads. John Morgan! That name echoes through the East Blue. Pirates glance my way—some with fear, some with admiration, others with calculating looks, and a few itching for a fight, their eyes gleaming with reckless ambition.
I catch their stares and shoot back a challenging look of my own. That’s enough to make them turn away. The hotheads who were ready to try something get yanked back by their buddies. They’re cocky, but not stupid. Nobody wants to be the first to challenge me, not here. This isn’t the place for a brawl, and even if it was, they’re not sure they’d win.
Seeing them back off, I shift my attention to Wendell behind the counter and flash a grin. “Business is booming, huh, Wendell?”
“Haha, yeah,” Wendell chuckles, his honest smile breaking through as he keeps working. “You know how it is. Ever since this Great Pirate Era started, places like ours have been in high season. Especially here, where the Pirate King was born and died.”
“Fair point,” I say with a shrug, agreeing with him. Roger’s final words before his execution turned the world upside down. Hordes of pirates flooded the seas, their numbers growing at a terrifying rate every year. With that kind of clientele, it’s no wonder business is good.
“Here you go, Mr. Morgan, your usual.” Wendell slides a mug, bigger than a pint glass, across the counter with a smile. “Got some fresh fruit in this morning—your favorites. I’ll plate them up and bring ‘em over.”
“Thanks for the trouble,” I reply, grabbing the mug and heading to my spot—a cleaner, tidier corner by the window, like a private booth. Wendell keeps this seat reserved for me, no matter how packed the place gets. It’s my own little slice of peace in this madhouse.
Truth be told, Wendell’s top-notch service isn’t just because he’s scared of my skills—though that’s part of it. The real reason? I tip well. East Blue’s top bounty hunter doesn’t exactly hurt for cash. Every job nets me millions at minimum.
Not long after I sit, Wendell comes over with a fruit plate, all smiles. “Your fruit, Mr. Morgan.”
“Just set it there,” I say casually.
“Uh… right.” Wendell places the plate on the table, then adds, “By the way, Mr. Morgan, Smoker stopped by yesterday. Said he can’t meet you today.”
“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. “What’s up?” Loguetown’s my regular haunt, so I’ve dealt with Smoker, the local Marine captain, plenty of times. We’ve teamed up on a few pirate hunts, and we get along decently. Plus, he’s my go-to for the latest intel on bounties. This job with the Scarface Pirates? Smoker asked me to handle it. Word is, they massacred a village on a nearby island, and it pissed him off. He wanted to take them down himself but got tied up with official business, so he passed it to me. We agreed to meet here to settle the bounty, but now Wendell’s saying Smoker’s a no-show.
Seeing my expression shift, Wendell breaks into a nervous sweat and hurries to explain. “It’s like this, Mr. Morgan. Smoker said a friend from Marine Headquarters is visiting, so he’s swamped. But… he dropped off the bounty last night and asked me to pass it to you.” He darts behind the counter, grabs a black case, and sets it in front of me.
“Headquarters, huh?” I mutter, popping open the case. Inside, exactly twelve million Berries, no more, no less. “Whatever. Money’s in hand, that’s what counts.”
The moment the bounty hits my hands, it happens—my golden finger, the Hunter’s Shop, finally activates.