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Chapter 6: Reflection
🕑 Added 2024-12-16 07:01:36 +0000 UTCIt wasn’t that Mobin was deliberately playing dumb; it was mostly because Sunny’s timing for her question was just plain odd.
Seeing Mobin’s look of confusion, Sunny added, “Arthur’s hand.”
“Oh, that…”
Mobin gave her a strange look.
After a brief pause, he put down the mop bucket and slowly re-enacted the dodging motion he had made earlier.
Once he finished, he looked at Sunny and asked uncertainly, “Like this?”
Sunny remained silent.
A few seconds later, a thudding noise came from under the counter.
Mobin instinctively glanced toward the source and noticed the butt of a pistol protruding from beneath the counter’s edge. His eyelid twitched.
Sunny spoke casually, “It’s just a gun falling accidentally. Don’t mind it.”
She bent down to retrieve the gun and placed it carelessly on the counter.
“Your demonstration just now—I didn’t quite catch it. Could you show me again?”
“…”
Mobin glanced at the flintlock pistol lying horizontally on the counter, its barrel subtly but unmistakably pointing toward him.
After a moment of thought, he decided against repeating the motion. Though he didn’t know why Sunny was so fixated on this, it seemed unwise to brush her off further.
“I didn’t use any special technique,” Mobin said after some hesitation. “I was just on guard, so I dodged in time. It’s not a big deal, is it?”
Sunny stared at him quietly for a moment before nodding. “It’s really no big deal. Carry on.”
“…”
Mobin fell silent, mentally labeling Sunny as “peculiar.”
He then put the mop bucket away in the storage room.
When he returned to the shop, Sunny was still seated in the same spot. The flintlock pistol that had been on the counter had disappeared, replaced by a piece of rough paper pinned down by a pencil.
Mobin gave the paper and pencil a fleeting glance before asking, “Can I go back to my room now?”
Sunny nodded and slid the piece of paper toward him, gesturing for him to take it.
Understanding her intent, Mobin approached the counter and accepted the paper. It contained several lines of handwriting.
A quick skim revealed it to be a list of instructions.
Did she really need to write this down for such a short list? Mobin wondered.
Putting the paper away, Mobin’s eyes drifted toward the pencil. He hesitated briefly.
“Sunny, can I take this pencil to my room?”
“Do as you like.”
“Thanks.”
Mobin took the pencil and turned to leave.
Sunny watched him walk away before pulling a notebook and a newspaper from a drawer beneath the counter.
She placed both items on the counter, setting the newspaper aside while flipping the notebook open to the middle.
The page she turned to was filled with notes, many of them interspersed with names.
After scanning it briefly, she flipped to another page.
This one was also filled with text, and near the top was the name Kid.
Without lingering, Sunny flipped through a few more pages until she reached a blank one.
Then, she retrieved a pencil from the drawer, glanced at the newspaper, and began jotting down notes in the notebook.
Minutes later, she stopped writing.
The previously blank page was now half-filled with text.
At the bottom of the page was Mobin’s full name, followed by a large question mark.
Sunny stared at Mobin’s name for a moment before closing the notebook and placing it, along with the pencil, back into the drawer.
“Time to talk to Sol,” she murmured to herself.
Mobin returned to the room where he had first woken up.
The ease with which he had been accepted surprised him.
From what he could tell, Sol was quite casual about such matters.
The reason Sol brought him here was probably to make him a future laborer for the shop.
“Well, if I’m here, I might as well settle in,” Mobin muttered, locking the door behind him. He then sat down on a dusty chair and examined the piece of paper Sunny had given him.
Instructions:
Stay inside the house at all times, day or night.
Don’t touch the merchandise on the shelves.
The basement is off-limits.
There are food supplies in the kitchen fridge.
We’ll discuss other matters tomorrow.
Mobin sighed, feeling a mix of emotions as he read through the list.
Wasn’t all this easier to just say aloud?
Shaking his head slightly, Mobin placed the paper on the equally dusty desk and picked up the pencil he had brought along.
Meanwhile, Sunny retrieved a book of notes from her drawer and began jotting observations and speculations about Mobin, making sure to add his name with a significant question mark.
Back in his room, Mobin summoned his Hunter's Notebook and began transcribing his fragmented memories of the One Piece world, determined to organize and solidify the details for future use.
The feather quill paired with the Hunter's Journal, though inkless, was the only tool capable of leaving permanent marks in the journal.
As for other writing instruments, like the pencil in Morin’s hand, he could scribble or draw freely on any page of the Hunter's Journal. However, as soon as the journal was dismissed, the words and doodles left on the pages would crumble into graphite dust and fall to the ground.
This unique feature allowed Morin to freely use the journal to solidify his memory.
After all, the intelligence distilled from these memories might become a valuable resource for him in the future.
“The one that left the strongest impression is definitely the Straw Hat Pirates…”
“After all, they’re the main protagonist group, so there’s a lot of information available about them.”
“But their true strength doesn’t emerge until two years after the storyline begins.”
“That’s so far away…”
“Judging by Kidd’s current age, there are still a few years left before the storyline kicks off, right?”
“Besides, there are far more suitable targets than them. There’s no need to focus on them.”
“Oh, and the Arlong Pirates. I wonder if the Hunter's Journal works on Fish-Men... or even Giants!”
“If it does, the possibilities are unbelievable.”
“By the way, the Arlong Pirates are in the East Blue, but this is the West Blue. Can I even get to the East Blue by regular sailing?”
“If I remember correctly, Kid is from the South Blue. If he can make it to the West Blue, then traveling from the West Blue to the East Blue shouldn’t be an issue either.”
“Thinking about this now seems kind of pointless.”
Morin continued sorting through his memories while scribbling on the pages.
Though he knew nothing about navigation, it didn’t stop him from letting his thoughts wander.
Immersed in his musings, time ticked by.
Sol's Room.
Several lit candles were scattered around the room—on the windowsill, beside the bed, and on the desk—providing ample light for the spacious room.
Despite having access to more convenient electric lighting, Sol stubbornly avoided using it.
This was one of the many things Sunny could never understand.
“You came to me specifically to tell me that Morin is acting strange?”
Sol was sitting cross-legged on a large double bed, holding a long, gilded pipe in his right hand.
Smoke swirled in the air, carrying a slightly choking scent.
Through the haze, Sol’s gaze, slightly scrutinizing, fell on Sunny, who stood before him.
“But you know I’ve never cared about things like that.”
“Sol, Morin is… different from the others.”
“How so?”
“…”
Sunny found herself unable to explain it clearly.
Sol lightly rubbed the stem of his pipe.
“You’re right—he is very different.”
