Chapter 6: The Art of Secrecy and Progress

The sunlight filtering through the cracked shutters painted the room in uneven stripes. I stood in the center of my new workshop, surrounded by the stacks of wood, metal sheets, and tools I'd purchased.

The cobbler's shop-turned-workspace still smelled faintly of old leather and dust, but the clatter of metal and the rhythmic scraping of wood gave it a new purpose. Livia leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and eyes sharp, watching me work. Her presence was always a reminder that while she was an asset, she wasn't someone to fully trust.

"So, what's this one going to be?" she asked, nodding to the jumble of gears and metal rods on the workbench.

I glanced up, taking in her tall, lean frame and deep brown eyes that were always trying to read me. "A prototype," I said vaguely, assembling the pieces into a compact framework that would eventually become a hand-cranked fruit peeler. "Something simple to gauge interest."

Livia raised an eyebrow, the corners of her lips twitching with amusement. "You keep your cards close to your chest, don't you, Orion?"

"Can't be too careful," I replied, turning my attention back to my work. The truth was, while Livia had proved helpful with introductions and information, I knew partnerships in this world were often a game of who could outmaneuver whom. And I had no intention of being outplayed.

As I worked, I mentally tracked the dwindling number of berries left. After buying the workshop, metal, wood, and tools, I was down to a mere 10,000 berries. It was enough to keep me afloat for a week, but if my first sales didn't come through, I'd be back to relying on thef, and that was a gamble I wanted to avoid.

"Look, I have to make some rounds in town," Livia said, pushing off the doorframe. She adjusted her silver pendant, catching the light before letting it fall back against her chest. "I'll see if I can get the word out that someone's selling 'new and interesting tools.'"

"Thanks," I said, not looking up. I heard the door click shut behind her and exhaled slowly. Finally alone. I straightened, rolling my shoulders to loosen the tension that had settled there.

With Livia gone, I could work freely, no eyes to track my every move. I pulled out a blueprint I hadn't shown her yet: a basic design for a sturdy, two-wheeled vehicle. Not quite a bicycle as back home, but similar enough to intrigue buyers looking for faster, easier transport through town. I laid the blueprint beside the half-finished fruit peeler and began constructing a prototype frame. Each piece clicked into place under my hands, the task almost meditative.

My mind wandered as I worked, replaying bits of conversations and observations I'd gathered over the past few days. The town had an air of both opportunity and danger, a mix of merchants looking to capitalize on the post-war chaos and marines trying to keep a lid on it. It still wasn't clear if I was truly in the Grand Line, but one sight had confirmed my suspicion.

Two days ago, as I walked through the market, I'd seen a ship docked with a familiar Jolly Roge, a red sun with a stylized bird's wing. The symbol of the famed pirate Marco the Phoenix. Even though the ship had been in poor condition, the emblem was unmistakable. I was in the Grand Line, a sea where only the strongest and smartest survived.

I snapped the last bolt into place, stepping back to inspect the nearly complete prototype. The bicycle frame glinted under the slant of light, a testament to careful craftsmanship and hours of stolen glances at metal scraps and gears. It wouldn't draw immediate attention, and that was exactly how I wanted it. Selling inconspicuous yet useful items was key to avoiding unwanted questions.

....

As evening set in, the workshop grew quiet, the only sounds the creak of wood and the occasional whisper of wind through a crack in the window. I decided it was time to train. If I was going to stay ahead of everyone, Livia included, I needed to hone my physical abilities as much as my mind. The strength I'd discovered in this body was unlike anything I'd had before, and I needed to understand its limits.

I grabbed a strip of cloth and tied it tightly around my eyes, plunging the room into darkness. I took a deep breath, letting the silence fill me before stepping into the maze of obstacles I'd set up. Wooden crates, metal rods leaning against the wall, and other scattered items made up the path. I focused on my hearing, the shift of air around me, the faint creak of wood as I moved.

The first few steps were cautious, slow, but then I picked up the pace. I ducked under a hanging rod, sidestepped a crate, and reached out to touch the table's edge, using it to guide me to the next spot. My senses sharpened as I moved, every slight sound and vibration registering in my mind. When my foot brushed against a fallen tool, I adjusted, shifting my weight to avoid a stumble.

This training wasn't just about agility; it was about awareness. In a place where danger could come from anyone, pirates, marines, or supposed allies, I needed to rely on more than just sight.

After an hour, I pulled off the blindfold, chest heaving with deep breaths. The room spun for a moment before settling, and I felt a rush of satisfaction. I was getting better, faster, more attuned to my surroundings.

....

The next morning, I pushed open the creaky shutters and let the sunlight flood the workshop. Livia arrived not long after, a smirk playing on her lips as she sauntered in. She was dressed in a fitted blouse and dark trousers, her hair tied back and her brown skin glowing in the morning light.

"Word's out," she said, dropping a small satchel on the table. It clinked with the sound of coinsì, about 5,000 berries' worth. "I spread the news around the market. People are curious."

"Good," I said, glancing at the satchel. It wasn't much, but it was a start. I'd need to invest carefully. "The first product is ready," I added, gesturing to the fruit peeler.

Livia picked it up, examining it with a practiced eye. "Simple, but clever," she said, spinning the hand-crank. The blades moved smoothly, catching the morning light. "This will sell."

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. She didn't need to know about the other prototypes I had in mind or the blueprint for the two-wheeled vehicle hidden under my workbench. Information was power, and I intended to keep the upper hand.

"You'll need to set up a stall at the market," she continued. "The more people see you and the product, the faster word will spread."

"Agreed. I'll do it this afternoon."

She leaned against the table, her eyes searching mine. "You're cautious, Orion. I like that. But don't forget, in this world, those who take risks reap the rewards."

I met her gaze, a half-smile tugging at my lips. "I'll take risks when I know the odds."

"Fair enough," she said, pushing off the table. "I'll come by later to check on your progress."

When she left, the workshop fell silent again. I walked over to the window and watched her disappear into the crowded street. Livia was smart, sharp, and undoubtedly useful, but I wasn't naive enough to believe she didn't have her own agenda.

'Trust no one fully,' I reminded myself. Not in a place like this.

I turned back to the workshop, the morning light catching the glint of the bicycle frame. I ran my hand over the cool metal, feeling the potential it held. Today, I'd take my first step into the market, selling simple items, laying the groundwork. Tomorrow, who knew?

But one thing was certain: whatever happened next, I'd be prepared.