**Chapter 4: The Pub Again**

The dimly lit pub was once again filled with rowdy patrons, all gathered to see the enigmatic Esmeralda perform. She stood on stage, her slender figure swathed in a flowing black gown, its intricate lace trim shimmering under the faint light. Her raven hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of night, and her piercing emerald eyes sparkled like gemstones in the dimness. As she began to sing, her voice wove a spell of enchantment over the audience. It was a melancholy melody, one that spoke of sorrow and longing. The patrons were entranced, their faces rapt in attention as they listened to her haunting song. But this time, Esmeralda's performance was tinged with a hint of defiance. She sang with a fire in her eyes, a spark that seemed to ignite the air around her. The audience was captivated, and they cheered and clapped for more. As she took a bow, Esmeralda's eyes scanned the crowd, and her gaze landed on a familiar face - Monkey D. Luffy, the young pirate who had approached her after her last performance. He was sitting at a table with his crew, the Straw Hats, and they were all staring at her with a mixture of admiration and curiosity. Luffy caught her eye and grinned, beckoning her over to their table. Esmeralda's smile never wavered, but she hesitated for a moment before making her way over to them. "Hey, you're that siren from last time, right?" Luffy asked, his eyes shining with excitement. "We wanted to see you perform again. You're really good!" Esmeralda laughed, a throaty sound that sent a shiver down Luffy's spine. "Thank you," she said, her voice husky. "I'm glad you enjoyed the show." Zoro, the Straw Hats' skilled swordsman, eyed her with a more critical gaze. "You're certainly talented," he said, his voice low and smooth. "But what's with the sadness in your eyes? You seem to be carrying a heavy burden." Esmeralda's smile faltered for a moment, and she looked away, her eyes flashing with pain. "Just the usual," she said, her voice light. "The price of being a performer, I suppose." Luffy's face fell, and he looked at her with concern. "Hey, don't be sad," he said, his voice soft. "We're here to enjoy your performance, not to make you feel bad." Esmeralda's eyes met Luffy's, and for a moment, they just stared at each other. She saw something in his eyes, something that gave her hope - a spark of kindness, of genuine concern. But she pushed it aside, her mask of indifference slipping back into place. "Thank you," she said, her voice cool. "But I'm fine. Really." Luffy nodded, but his eyes lingered on her face, searching for something more. Esmeralda knew that she had to be careful, that she couldn't let her guard down, not even for a moment. As she turned to leave, Zoro caught her arm, his grip firm but gentle. "Hey, wait," he said, his voice low. "We'd like to talk to you more, if you're willing." Esmeralda's eyes met Zoro's, and for a moment, they just stared at each other. She saw something in his eyes, something that made her heart skip a beat - a glimmer of understanding, of empathy. But she shook her head, her mask slipping back into place. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice cool. "I have to go." As she walked away, Luffy and Zoro exchanged a look, their faces set with determination. They would see her again, and they would find out what was behind her mask of sadness. The night air was thick with tension, heavy with the promise of violence and seduction. Esmeralda moved through it like a ghost, her footsteps silent on the wooden floorboards. She was a shadow, a specter of death and beauty, and she would do whatever it took to survive. The Collector watched her from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with pleasure. He had no idea what she was planning, no inkling of the danger that lurked beneath her polished exterior. But Esmeralda knew that she had to be careful, that one wrong move could mean her demise. For now, she would play the game, would dance and sing and pretend to be the person The Collector wanted her to be. But in the shadows, she would plan and scheme, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And when she did, she would be ready.