Chapter 143: Lafayette

“If one merely follows in the footsteps of predecessors, is it truly impossible to create something of one’s own?”

Yuta Echizen lifted his head and looked at Roland. A fleeting spark of inspiration gleamed in his eyes.

Roland’s words seemed to awaken something within him, though fully grasping their meaning would require more time.

“Mr. Roland, you can put it away now. I’ve already memorized this Nara blade. I won’t even need three days before I can display a replica here,” Yuta declared confidently, suddenly sitting up straighter.

Compared to the scruffy, disheveled man from before, he now appeared as if transformed.

“In that case, Zoro, would you mind showing him your swords?” Roland asked with a smile.

“Just by looking, he can remember them? You must be quite skilled then,” Zoro said, amused but unconcerned—especially since it was the third generation Onikiri and Yukimura.

If it required close contact, he might hesitate, particularly with the Doichimonji sword, a symbol of Koina’s legacy, which he never allowed anyone to touch.

But simply a glance was no problem at all. After all, even if he didn’t show it to Yuta, Yuta could still sneak a look on his own.

If he were to fret too much over this, how could he even fight?

“Thank you, Mr. Roland. Now my collection has suddenly grown by four swords. I truly don’t know how to thank you. If you don’t mind, I…”

After carefully noting the details of Zoro’s three famed blades, Yuta looked at Roland with excitement.

In the past few years, only two groups of visitors had come, and his collection had grown by just a few replicas.

But today, it had increased by four at once—how could he not be thrilled?

Just as he was about to offer his own prized Ryosai sword to Roland as a gift, a discordant voice suddenly echoed from outside the door.

“Well, Yuta, you worthless fool, you’re actually planning to give away that famous sword for free while I’m not home?”

With the voice came a large, rough woman dressed plainly, unlike the other women on this island who were more flamboyant and bold.

She stormed into the room, her face flushed with anger.

Approaching Yuta, she scolded him harshly and spat in his face.

Blushing deeply, Yuta did not dare to retort.

Listening to her berating, Roland seemed to understand the relationship between the two and why she was so furious.

Apparently, this woman was Yuta’s wife, who had accompanied him to this island of Salvador.

At the beginning of establishing the famous sword museum, she had supported him, believing it could bring in money to support the family.

But gradually she realized that Yuta hadn’t collected tickets from the few visitors, and had even secretly spent their savings on advertising.

As a result, their savings were exhausted, and life grew increasingly difficult.

To help make ends meet, the woman had no choice but to take on tailoring work.

She had come home early today because a major buyer had approached her, hoping to visit the sword museum and possibly order a batch of replicas, as he himself was a collector.

Hearing this, she was overjoyed, for the swords her husband forged were not suitable for battle but perfect for collectors, indistinguishable from the real thing.

With hopes of finally living well, she eagerly brought the man home.

But as soon as she stepped into the courtyard, she overheard Yuta’s voice and realized he was planning to give the genuine sword away for free.

How could she possibly tolerate that?

And so the scene Roland witnessed unfolded.

Yuta knew he was at fault and dared not argue.

It was true he hadn’t earned money, had spent all their savings, and needed his wife to work tailoring.

“Hmph, I’ll deal with you again tonight. The guests are still waiting outside. You’d better put away your pathetic pride and dreams for now. If this deal goes through, you can expand your museum however you want,” the woman scolded as she finally remembered the matter at hand, shot Yuta a glare, gave Roland and the others an apologetic look, then turned and left.

Shortly after, she returned with a strange man.

Black suspenders, a floral shirt, and a tall top hat.

“Is that him?”

Roland frowned at the man but the expression quickly vanished.

He recognized him clearly as Lafitte, a crew member from Blackbeard’s ship. Once a sheriff, he had been expelled for excessive violence and turned pirate.

But why was he here? Could he be the big client Yuta’s wife mentioned?

If so, Roland was skeptical. This man looked far from trustworthy, and deep down remained a violent man.

“This is the big client I told you about, Yuta. He wants to see your replica swords. If he likes them, he’ll order a batch for his collection. If you come across other famed swords later, he might buy those as well,” the woman said, pointing to Lafitte.

Lafitte paid no attention to her words at first but was visibly surprised to see Roland.

Still, as a man who remained unfazed even in the presence of formidable foes like Sengoku and Tsuru, he showed no outward reaction to encountering the so-called demon Roland.

The Blackbeard Pirates had yet to gain any reputation, so the Navy had no idea who he was. He could easily conceal his identity.

He gave a slight nod to Roland and the others, then turned his serious gaze to Yuta.

“Hello, Mr. Echizen. My name is Lafitte. I am a collector. I saw the news about your sword museum in the paper and came here because of its reputation.”

For some reason, despite Lafitte’s refined demeanor, Yuta felt a deep dislike for him, sensing his attitude was insincere, as if dismissive.

Still, thinking of the big deal his wife mentioned, he suppressed his unease and forced a smile.

“Mr. Lafitte, are you interested in purchasing some replica swords?”

Lafitte nodded.

“Yes, Mr. Echizen. My father was a swordsman, and I longed to see those famous blades. Sadly, he perished in an accident, so that dream died with him.

“But as his son, I wish to fulfill his wish. I saw your sword museum in the paper and want to commission a batch of replicas as burial offerings for my father.”

“If you accept, I’m willing to pay one million Beli for a replica.”

“Is this price acceptable, Mr. Echizen?”

Lafitte hadn’t planned to reveal this, but with Roland here, he had to adjust his strategy.

Originally, he intended to forcibly seize the real sword once he found the museum, thinking the death of a down-and-out owner and his wife wouldn’t draw attention on this island.

But Roland’s presence disrupted his plan.

Whether or not Roland was his match, the death of a soon-to-be Navy Rear Admiral here would surely spark a thorough investigation by Naval Headquarters, jeopardizing the captain’s plans.

Still, this was not so bad—if money could settle matters, why resort to violence?

No need for unnecessary trouble.

As long as he acquired the famed blade, a bit of money was nothing; a few bounty rewards were trivial for them.