Hidden behind the trees, Usopp never imagined he'd overhear something so terrifying. He even pinched his own thigh several times, hoping this was all just a nightmare.

But the pain told him—it was all real.

No, I have to warn Kaya! And everyone in the village too! I have to tell them that Butler Klahadore… is actually an incredibly dangerous man!

He quietly slipped away from behind the tree, retreating a safe distance before breaking into a full sprint.

But as Usopp ran out onto Syrup Village's main road under the moonlight, he stopped in his tracks—reality dawning on him.

Will the villagers even believe me? More importantly... will Kaya believe me?

Because of his father being a pirate, and his mother falling ill, Usopp used to run around the village shouting "Pirates are coming!" just to bring a flicker of hope to his bedridden mother.

But even so, she passed away without ever seeing her husband again.

Still, Usopp never resented his father. In fact, he kept up the habit—yelling about pirates, day after day, year after year—until eventually, no one believed a word he said anymore.

He had become the living embodiment of the story "The Boy Who Cried Wolf."

Usopp's heart sank.

He never thought he'd actually run into real danger like this—and he never imagined that all his lies in the past might now keep people from escaping in time.

What should I do?

SLAP!

He smacked both cheeks hard, reddening them instantly.

"Even if Kaya and the others won't believe me—I still have to try my hardest to convince them to leave!"

Muttering to himself, he straightened up and marched determinedly toward Syrup Village.

---

Meanwhile, back on the western beach of the village—

Kuro, now wearing his clawed gloves, had become like an entirely different person under the moonless sky. The murderous aura radiating off him made even Alvida and Buggy's hair stand on end.

He moved with shifting, rhythmic footwork—almost like a deadly tap dance.

Before long, his entire body seemed to blur into ghostly afterimages.

Davy Jones watched with interest, stowing away his pipe.

Kuro adjusted his glasses, thinking carefully.

There were three people before him—and who knows how many still aboard the black ship. Judging from Buggy's presence, these people weren't weak. Using Silent Steps would be too risky. He had to go all in—with Shakushi.

A single decisive blow to end it!

Shakushi—the evolved form of Silent Steps—allowed Kuro to reach blinding speeds.

The downside, however, was that even Kuro himself couldn't fully control where he would end up—or what his claws might strike.

In other words, it was a berserk, indiscriminate flurry of high-speed attacks.

But in a situation like this, Shakushi was perfect. Everyone except himself was an enemy.

He bent slightly, swaying like a pendulum.

Whoosh—

In the blink of an eye, Kuro vanished.

Alvida and Buggy gasped, glancing around wildly but seeing nothing—sweat pouring down their faces.

CRACK.

Out of nowhere, the rock Kuro had been sitting on split cleanly in half.

SHHHK.

The sand was carved with several deep gouges.

Both Alvida and Buggy stood stunned—until Davy Jones stepped forward.

"Captain?" Alvida called, alarmed.

Davy Jones didn't respond. His steely gray-blue eyes were locked onto something that neither of them could see—Kuro, moving faster than the eye could track.

When Kuro first revealed his Silent Steps, the experienced Davy Jones had already guessed that this was some kind of high-speed technique. So he had used his "Locked Perspective" ability in advance to mark Kuro's movements.

With this ability, as long as the target didn't vanish completely from his view, he could follow their movements precisely—no matter how erratic or fast.

Davy Jones calmly positioned himself at the edge of Kuro's attack radius—at the very edge of his blind spot.

He knew full well that with such an uncontrollable technique, Kuro would eventually attack him.

SWOOSH!

Sure enough—there he was. Kuro hurtled toward Davy Jones at lightning speed, his eyes unfocused and rabid, claws slashing toward his face!

Now!

Davy Jones's tentacle whipped out a pistol.

BANG!

Gun Reversal!

The bullet hit Kuro mid-motion, halting him instantly. His body went rigid, and his mind reeled in disarray.

Before he could even process what had happened, Davy Jones's crab claw thrust straight into his left chest.

Squelch!

Blood sprayed.

Davy Jones withdrew his claw, flinging the blood off into the sand.

Kuro clutched the wound with trembling hands, slowly collapsing to one knee, eyes wide in disbelief.

He could… see my movements?

If Davy Jones had merely anticipated Shakushi, that would've been one thing—but to stop it mid-execution?

What baffled Kuro even more was that the strike hadn't been lethal. Davy Jones had stabbed his chest, not his heart, nor his throat. He should have died instantly… so why hadn't he?

Kuro slowly looked up at Davy Jones's face, tentacles gently writhing.

"Kuro, let me ask you something," Davy Jones said, a tentacle winding around his neck.

"Are you afraid of death?"

Afraid of death? What kind of question is that?

In the eyes of most, pirates were ruthless scoundrels who feared nothing—not even death.

But Kuro was different.

If he truly didn't fear death, he wouldn't have spent three years pretending to be a butler, building a peaceful life in a quiet village.

Then again, knowing his nature, even if his plan succeeded, he'd likely one day give in to the urge to hunt those very villagers.

Kuro's silence said everything.

"I can make you a deal," Davy Jones said slowly. "Or as you called it—a contract. I respect your obsession with schemes. Perhaps that might be useful… against my enemies."

"If you serve under me for one year, I'll grant you the freedom to indulge your darker nature—your need for cunning and bloodshed. In return, I offer you protection. What do you say?"

One year…

Kuro's vision dimmed. His shoulder still poured blood.

He had two options:

One: Raise his claws and fight back—only to die under Davy Jones's bizarre powers.

Two: Accept the deal.

Either way, the three years he spent building his new life were gone. His plan had collapsed. His shame was complete.

For a moment, Kuro was tempted to go out fighting—to die at the hands of this monster.

But in the end, he slowly lowered his claws, plunging them into the sand. He bowed his head in submission.

I'll bide my time… If I endure long enough, I'll find a weakness—and take my revenge!

A flicker of murderous intent flashed in Kuro's eyes.

Davy Jones sensed it.

But he didn't kill him.

Truth be told, in both his previous life and this one, every crew member who ever boarded his ship began with hatred and fear. Every single one had plotted betrayal in secret, dreaming of reclaiming their freedom.

But how many succeeded?

How many escaped his grasp in the end?

Still, one disappointment lingered—tonight's harvest of fear had only rated as "panic-stricken." This was the first time Davy Jones had received such a low emotional yield.

As a result, neither he nor the Terror Ghost gained any significant enhancements tonight.

But it couldn't be helped. After all, the only people nearby were Kuro, Alvida, Buggy, and that long-nosed boy who ran away earlier.

That was all Davy Jones had managed to collect tonight.

---

Thirty minutes later.

Usopp, after much pleading and shouting, had finally roused Merry and several villagers from their sleep and led them to the beach.

"You have to believe me! I'm not lying this time!" Usopp shouted, standing at the front, slingshot in hand, full of conviction.

But most of the villagers, wielding pitchforks and hoes, were skeptical.

"Usopp, this is the last time we'll put up with your nonsense! If you're lying again, we'll run you out of the village!"

"How could someone as kind as Butler Klahadore be dangerous? Quit making up stories!"

"You even tried to bother Miss Kaya. Thankfully, Merry stopped you!"

However, when Merry knocked on Klahadore's door and received no reply, it did confirm one thing—the butler had indeed left the mansion in the dead of night, for unknown reasons.

That alone had convinced the villagers to come check it out.

For someone like Klahadore, who always kept to a strict routine, this behavior was suspicious.

But when they arrived at the beach, they saw… nothing.

No fog.

No black ship.

No Klahadore.

No Davy Jones.

Usopp stood frozen, scanning the area in disbelief.

How could this be?! I swear I saw them here!

The villagers, half-asleep and already cranky, exploded with fury once they saw the empty scene. To them, it was just another of Usopp's lies.

"Usopp! I'm gonna kill you!"

"Klahadore probably just went for a walk! You're really asking for it this time!"

"I've had enough! You're getting a beating tonight!"

The crowd surged forward, surrounding Usopp—though, interestingly, none of them mentioned driving him out of the village.

"Wait!" Merry's voice rang out.

Everyone turned.

The butler pointed at a pool of dark red in the sand—a bloodstain!

"Usopp… might not be lying," Merry said with a furrowed brow. "Either way, we should return to the village, rally more people, and search the entire island. I also need to go back and ensure Miss Kaya's safety."

The villagers stared at the blood, then at Usopp—who was squatting with his hands over his head, ready to be pummeled.

They weren't fools. A glance between them confirmed: something strange had definitely happened tonight.

They pulled Usopp to his feet and followed Merry's instructions.

But even after searching until well into the morning, the only clue they found was that single pool of blood.

Butler Klahadore… vanished without a trace.

This bizarre incident would later become a local legend—a bedtime tale to scare naughty children:

"If you don't go to sleep, the ghost ship will take you away… just like Butler Klahadore."

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