Low prices don't mean Oran sacrifices profit. Conscience doesn't hinder earnings—losing it just earns more.
If the plan succeeds, Oran gains fame and profit, while those needing cybernetics get new lives. Win-win.
"Limbs can be upgraded, customized—but that raises costs. Those who can afford it won't mind. Organs work similarly but need periodic part replacements. For special needs, I can cultivate organs from patient samples."
Cloning organs, not people, is a matter of principle. To Oran, clones with consciousness are distinct lives. The body is secondary.
Even Blitz, his creation, is a unique subordinate, not a disposable tool. Only rigid, logic-bound machines that follow orders blindly are lifeless in Oran's eyes.
"No wonder you want Piecro gone. If your tech spreads across the seas, his business loses half its value. He'll want you dead," Feld said.
Cutting off wealth is like killing kin. In the profit-driven underground world, Oran's actions dismantle Piecro's empire.
No rejection issues, lower costs, legal—organ trafficking can't compete.
It might spawn cybernetic thieves, but that's a later problem.
"Solid plan. Doubling funds is fine. I'll ensure the awards committee knows your work. But Dr. Cidril, what's in it for me if we take down Piecro? You'd take his trade, leaving me nothing," Feld pressed.
No gain, no game—that's the underground's core. Feld's business barely overlaps with Piecro's, whose assassin operations make him more formidable. A clash offers Feld little.
"What you crave most: reputation. You fund MADS for clout. What boosts your name more than crushing a group that assassinates and traffics organs daily? This could lead to bigger things—like a World Government-recognized private bank. Far more lucrative than your current gigs.
We could deepen our partnership. Some want premium cybernetics but lack funds—your bank could offer specialized loans. The market's wide open," Oran said.
The World Government's financial systems cover only member nations. Beyond that, scattered private exchanges dominate. Non-member nations and pirate territories lack stable institutions.
As Oran suggested, if this plan works…
Feld swallowed hard, hooked by the pitch. Already in similar trades, he couldn't resist. If he shied from risks, he'd never have risen to loan shark king.
Standing, Feld offered Oran a cigar—declined. No smoking, minimal drinking: Oran's habits.
Feld didn't care. With enough status and skill, quirks were irrelevant.
"You've convinced me. But a warning: you don't know the underground well. Do this, and we'll have another enemy—the Organ Trafficking Assassination Group."
"Organ Trafficking Assassination Group?" Oran asked.
"You're green to the underground. They clash with Piecro over organ trade conflicts. Our actions could unite them against you. Assassins will come. Need bodyguards?"
"No, I can handle security. But I need your channels for these."
Oran handed Feld two papers detailing two Devil Fruits.
MADS had a Devil Fruit encyclopedia, listing many. Two matched Oran's needs.
"Paramecia-type Swallow-Swallow Fruit and Book-Book Fruit. I'll post bounties on the black market. No charge—call it a friendly gesture," Feld said.
For rare Logia or Mythical Zoan fruits, or something like the Op-Op Fruit, Feld wouldn't be so generous. But Oran's choices weren't too rare, so he played magnanimous.
It was a blank check anyway—named fruits were hard to find, possibly lost in some corner of the seas.
Oran and Feld reached verbal agreements. Feld didn't linger, leaving with his crew. He'd only stopped by MADS en route, now with new plans sparked by Oran.
"Oran, that fat guy's dangerous. Untrustworthy. My instincts," Kate said, emerging from a hidden door with a weapon, having been ready to back Oran.
"I know. I don't trust him either. It's just a temporary alignment of interests."
They planned against Piecro today, but if interests shifted, Feld could turn on Oran. Likewise, Oran wouldn't hesitate when the time came.
That's the underground world—betrayal is routine.
"But partnering with someone like that? He's no good," Kate pressed.
"Temporary, Kate. Where I'm from, a lady followed the gray philosophy—neither black nor white, but an elegant gray. The World Government has centuries of cards to play. We need strength now, to grow new flowers in this gray sea. When they bloom, true white will emerge."
Bang!
The door slammed open. Queen shoved past Judge and Caesar, rushing in with unhinged words.
"Lord Oran! Forgive my past offenses—please don't hold them against me!"
(End of Chapter)
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