Honored guests, we've already prepared lodgings and meals for you. Please feel free to stay on our island without worry. Don't be concerned that we'll fear you—we've long grown accustomed to this. All we ask is that you rest well and relax, so you'll continue your journey in comfort."
Buggy and his crew were unsettled by the old man's arrangements. They hadn't expected the villagers to provide for their every need—food, shelter, everything already prepared.
"Thank you, Chief. And thank you, everyone here. If there's anything we can do to help, don't hesitate to tell us. If it's within our ability, we'll do our best to assist."
Since the villagers were so accommodating, Buggy felt it only right to offer something in return.
"There's no need to be so polite," the village chief replied with a smile. "We're already content with our lives. We do not need your help. As long as you're happy during your stay on our island, we'll be satisfied."
Hearing this, Buggy said no more. Soon, the old man led them to their accommodations.
It was a European-style house with its courtyard—simple, unadorned, much like the other homes. Nothing extravagant, yet spotless and well-kept.
For pirates who spent most of their lives drifting at sea, this was more than enough. A roof over their heads, a chance to rest properly—it was already a luxury.
Meanwhile, elsewhere, a villager leaned close to the chief. His eyes glinted, no longer with joy, but with malice and cruelty.
"Chief… what should we do next? Same as before?"
The chief's expression darkened, and he snapped, "Mind yourself. Don't let them notice anything strange, or we'll lose the life we've worked so hard for."
He could see the villager was getting careless. A sharp warning was necessary. Buggy's crew was far too valuable to risk spooking.
"Reagan, you'll watch them closely. Track their every move. If anything happens—if they even think of leaving—you'll report to me immediately."
"Yes, Chief." Reagan nodded and left to carry out his orders.
"Remember—keep your distance. Don't let them realize they're being watched." The chief added the reminder as Reagan reached the door.
The other villagers dispersed back to their homes after the warnings, leaving the chief alone in the room.
"Heh… It's almost time. Almost time…" He chuckled to himself, a sinister grin twisting his face as if savoring some dark thought.
Buggy's crew settled into the house and were soon overwhelmed by the villagers' hospitality.
At every mealtime, crowds of villagers arrived bearing dishes and fruits, the portions enormous. Buggy guessed that practically the entire village must have contributed.
The food was shockingly lavish. Rare birds of the sky, exotic fish from the sea, even beasts seldom seen in these waters—all prepared and laid before them. The sheer variety was staggering.
At first, the crew accepted some of the offerings, but as more and more villagers arrived, their table was buried under food. They tried refusing, but the villagers insisted, leaving their gifts behind regardless of protest.
Before long, the house was overflowing. Every surface groaned under the weight of untouched meals.
And yet, after each mealtime, villagers would return to collect the dishes, clearing away even the food that hadn't been eaten—only to repeat the ritual at the next meal, delivering more and more.
This relentless "hospitality" made Buggy frown deeply. Something wasn't right. No matter how generous people might be, this was far too much, far too forced.
They weren't family. There was no reason for the villagers to treat them this way. It didn't add up.
Puzzled and uneasy, Buggy resolved to investigate the island himself the next day.
That very night, deep in the mountains behind the village, nearly all the villagers had gathered inside a cavern.
"Did they eat the food from your household?" one asked.
"No. This time, I got nothing."
"Hahaha, unlucky! I was successful tonight. They ate my food."
The cavern echoed with voices, some thrilled, some bitterly disappointed, all speaking of the same thing.
"Quiet!" The chief's voice cut through the noise. Standing beside a strange, massive stone, he silenced the crowd instantly.
"All right, let us begin the ritual. We mustn't delay too long, lest our guests notice something."
The villagers lined up without hesitation. Those at the front brimmed with confidence, while those at the back looked anxious and uncertain.
One by one, they stepped before the stone, speaking aloud their desires. And each time, the space above the boulder split open like a crack in reality—dropping down the very things they had wished for.
Excited voices rose again as villager after villager received their reward.
But for those at the end of the line, their pleas were met with nothing. No crack appeared, no gifts fell. They left empty-handed, their faces pale.
The chief didn't stay to watch them. With a cold smirk, he turned and left.
In his eyes, those unfortunate villagers weren't companions at all—only livestock, to be slaughtered at will.