An unavoidable sense of control bloomed in Robin's heart.
The slight pleasure of having everything within her grasp.
She dropped the pretense of being a timid sixteen-year-old girl and returned to the composed, mature demeanor she habitually used as camouflage.
Unhurried, she said to Louis:
"First matter. I need complete information on the surrounding islands — all Marine bases and World Government offices."
Louis blinked.
"There's such a thing? Who could possibly get that kind of information?"
Robin's lips curved faintly as she explained.
And gradually, Louis understood.
When the newly appointed West Blue Governor of the World Government had first taken office, he had made… an ambitious decision.
Some said he patted his backside. Others claimed he patted his head.
Either way, he made a brainless yet strangely brilliant move.
To recover the "gifts" he had spent securing his position — and to ensure long-term stability in West Blue — he publicly announced the locations and personnel configurations of Marine bases.
Every village received a copy.
Naturally, every village also paid a monthly "information maintenance fee."
He encouraged any merchants, towns, or villages attacked by pirates to report directly to the nearest Marine base.
The result?
Pirates who previously left survivors began eliminating witnesses.
However, the governor's goals were achieved.
Mountains of Berries flowed into his pockets.
And the number of reported pirate incidents reaching his desk decreased dramatically.
He couldn't solve the problem.
So he solved the people who reported the problem.
He even proudly announced the "good news" in the newspapers.
Encouraged by his own success, he launched a second initiative.
Under the noble banner of "helping those burdened with injustice," he publicly released the locations of various World Government departments in West Blue.
Again — monthly subscription fee per village.
"Pay us, and we'll resolve your grievances."
For those who actually paid and came seeking justice, the response was:
"We are already handling it. When has the World Government ever deceived you? Believe in the Government. Gugugu."
Eventually, tighter regulations were imposed.
Villages still paid the tax.
But the information was withdrawn.
Now it could only be purchased on the black market.
And every buyer was investigated by Marine intelligence officers.
The reason was simple.
The governor's policies were wildly successful.
Financially — a triumph.
Statistically — pirate incidents appeared reduced.
The only small issue?
The Revolutionary Army also bought copies.
They obtained the World Government department locations as well.
And then, like following a strategy guide in a game, they picked the soft targets.
They left the Marines alone — no point disrupting sea order.
But government departments?
Nearly wiped out.
West Blue never enjoyed the attention the Grand Line received. And at the time, intelligence agencies were busy hunting Nico Robin.
So how the Revolutionary Army had acquired precise government locations remained, internally, an "unsolved mystery."
Everyone knew the answer.
No one said it aloud.
Unwilling to lose his income stream, the governor ordered village copies destroyed — but the information tax remained.
Now the files were sold at higher prices on the black market.
And buyers were investigated thoroughly.
The governor wasn't stupid.
He knew exactly what his orders would cause.
He simply didn't care.
Louis frowned.
For someone evading pursuit, such intelligence was obviously valuable.
The difficulty wasn't obtaining it.
Robin had said clearly — it was openly priced on the black market.
The problem was identity verification.
Marine intelligence conducted background checks personally.
Louis did not want to attract attention.
And then there was the second issue.
Money.
"I don't have the funds," Louis said bluntly.
The crew earned well enough.
He spent some on food and drink.
The rest he saved for emergencies.
Using his own savings to help someone he didn't even like?
He wasn't that stupid.
Robin studied him for a moment, then produced a small pouch.
"My savings. It should cost around three million Berries."
Louis opened it.
Three million… three hundred and fifty thousand.
"You overpaid by five hundred thousand."
He tucked the pouch straight into his coat.
Returning it had never crossed his mind.
Robin watched the motion and smiled faintly.
"I won't let you work for nothing. Mutual benefit is the foundation of cooperation. You can use the extra to buy support from your associates."
She paused deliberately.
"When I disembark, claiming the captain's seat will be easier for you."
She kept emphasizing that she would leave — reducing his motive to kill her.
Louis felt a vein twitch in his forehead.
"How," he growled, "have you convinced yourself of this so completely?"
"I'll say it again. I have never plotted against the captain."
He inhaled sharply.
"I am absolutely loyal to him."
The words tasted… slightly hollow.
Because although Robin claimed she would leave, Louis had already prepared contingency plans.
Extra lifeboats.
Extra rum — which could substitute for fresh water.
Emergency supplies.
He had even prepared escape provisions for the captain.
Still.
Preparing to flee at any time while declaring "absolute loyalty"?
Even a perfectly ordinary transmigrator like Louis felt a trace of guilt.
A faint redness crept up his face.
Robin, of course, had gathered her own information.
He had ordered additional lifeboats and rum.
Rum stored well.
Lifeboats were standard escape equipment.
No food? Irrelevant. Pirates could fish.
If the Tequila Pirates were thriving…
If Captain Medica's name resounded across West Blue…
Why buy escape gear?
Unless one anticipated collapse.
"Of course," Robin said lightly, flicking her long hair over her shoulder. "It was always meant to be your position."
She turned and walked away.
In her mind, he was merely inventing excuses to soothe his conscience.
A perfectly normal human behavior.
They were cooperating now.
There was no need to strip him of dignity.
And thus—
Louis, who had never once considered overthrowing the captain…
Found himself further entrenched in the image of a man meticulously preparing for a coup.