The fortieth day.
Inside the temporary command post, the atmosphere was heavy.
"Tatsuki... it seems our money is almost gone."
Kuzan handed Tatsuki the latest financial report.
The glaring red deficit on the report was shocking to see.
"At this rate of spending, we'll be completely bankrupt in at most half a month." Borsalino added gleefully from the side, his tone as annoying as ever.
"By then, we might have to delay paying the wages of those thousands of workers. How terrifying."
Sakazuki remained silent, but his furrowed brow said it all.
"Delay wages?"
Hearing this, Tatsuki burst out laughing.
He crumpled the report into a ball and casually tossed it into a brazier, watching it turn to ashes.
"Those two words don't exist in my dictionary."
He stood up and stretched, his joints cracking. His face showed no trace of anxiety.
"If we're out of money, we'll go get more. Do I really need to teach you such a simple principle?"
"How?" Kuzan asked curiously. "Go cry to the Fleet Admiral again?"
"Think bigger, Kuzan." Tatsuki shot him a disdainful glance.
"The Fleet Admiral's wool has already been plucked bare by me. If we pluck any more, we'll be plucking the Gorosei's heads. We need to set our sights farther."
His gaze fell on a figure sitting alone in a corner of the room, meditating with closed eyes.
Patrick Redfield.
Since arriving on this island, this legendary pirate had been in a state of "self-isolation." He neither participated in the construction nor communicated with anyone, as if he were an outsider.
A playful smile curled at the corner of Tatsuki's lips as he slowly sauntered over.
"Redfield, how's the recovery going? Settling into your new home?"
Redfield didn't even open his eyes, his voice icy. "Thanks to you, I'm not dead."
"As long as you're not dead."
Tatsuki sat down beside him and extended his hand. "Where's what I asked for?"
Redfield finally opened his crimson eyes, a flicker of helplessness in them, then pulled out a neatly folded paper from his chest and tossed it to Tatsuki.
"Here's the list you wanted." He snorted coldly.
"The wealthiest figures in the New World, both legitimate and Underworld, are all on it."
Tatsuki took the list and quickly unfolded it. On the paper were densely written names, each one thunderously famous in the New World.
There were Captains of notorious pirate crews, Underworld kings with wealth rivaling nations, and even a few kings of affiliated nations known for their extravagance and brutality.
"Tsk tsk, your skills are impressive, Redfield."
Tatsuki nodded in satisfaction, then pulled out a pen and swiftly wrote a series of numbers next to those names.
After finishing, he slapped the paper back onto Redfield's chest.
"Go on. Your first task after joining—collect every single one."
Redfield picked up the paper, looking at the numbers that started in 1 billion, his brow furrowed tightly.
"What are these numbers?"
"The amounts owed."
Tatsuki grinned, revealing a row of white teeth.
"Since they're on the list, these people all owe our G-5 a 'Justice Maintenance Tax.' Depending on their net worth, it ranges from one billion to ten billion."
"I don't care how you do it—rob them, steal from them—just get every last Berry back to me."
Redfield's fingers tightened slightly on the paper, his lips twitching violently.
In all his years of living and half a lifetime as a pirate, this was the first time he'd heard someone describe "robbery" so euphemistically.
A damn "Justice Maintenance Tax"?
"You want me to go alone?" Redfield's voice lowered, his crimson eyes fixed intently on Tatsuki.
"Why not?" Tatsuki retorted as if it were obvious.
"We're proper Marines now. How can we do dirty work like looting and plundering? It would tarnish the Marines' glorious image if word got out."
"You're different. You're a pirate by nature. If you collect, it's just Underworld rivalry—perfectly justified."
"Don't worry." Tatsuki patted his shoulder.
"Your old ship is gone, but I've already had Gion prepare a new one for you. It's a bit small, but definitely fast enough."
"Also, you can keep ten percent of the money you collect as your operating funds. See? I'm a generous boss, aren't I?"
Redfield: "..."
Looking at Tatsuki's face, filled with "obviousness," a surge of rage shot straight to the top of his head.
He, a legend on par with Roger and Whitebeard, was now reduced to being a thug for some Marine brat, going around the world collecting protection money?
If word of this got out, would he have any dignity left?
"What? Not willing?" Tatsuki's eyes instantly turned cold.
"Don't forget our deal. You're my man now. Isn't it only right for you to do some work?"
"Or are you no longer interested in that 'Immortality' fruit?"
The word "Immortality" was like a bucket of cold water, instantly dousing Redfield's anger.
He took a deep breath, clutching the shameful "debt list" tightly in his hand.
"...I understand."
He squeezed the words out through gritted teeth.
"That's more like it." Tatsuki's smile brightened again.
"Go quickly and come back soon. The base is counting on your money for meals."
With that, he hummed an unknown tune and left with Kuzan and the other two, leaving only Redfield behind, his expression shifting uncertainly.
After a long while, he stood up and stepped outside. He glanced at the bustling construction site, then looked at the list in his hand.
Finally, he transformed into a red streak and vanished into the sky.
On this day.
All the great pirates, Underworld kings, and greedy monarchs of the New World were still unaware.
A "Blood-colored Debt Collector" who would make them tremble in fear had officially started work.