"Place your bets — no more bets!"
The gorgeous dealer steadied herself, her clear voice echoing across the casino floor as she prepared to lift the cup.
"Wait! Hold on, let me check that again!"
One gambler shouted suddenly, but his voice was drowned beneath a wave of impatient jeers from the crowd.
The dealer ignored the interruption and lifted the cup with a flourish.
"Four, four, six! That's fourteen — Big!"
The crowd murmured, some cheering, some groaning.
At the table, Issho didn't even blink. He simply gathered his remaining chips in silence and pushed them forward again — this time, one million Berries, all on Small.
The gamblers nearby gasped.
"Is he nuts?"
"He's doubling down?!"
The air around the table thickened with anticipation as the dealer shook the dice again and revealed the result —
"Five, five, four! Fifteen — Big!"
A soft murmur spread again.
Issho's expression didn't change. He calmly slid two million Berries across the felt, setting them firmly on "Small."
The dice rattled once more.
"Six, six, five! Seventeen — Big!"
Three straight losses.
And still, Issho didn't so much as frown. He reached for another pile of chips — four million this time — but before he could push them forward, a strong hand clamped down on his wrist.
"Oi, oi, Issho! You're bleeding money like a lunatic!"
Shiro's tone was half-annoyed, half-desperate.
"Sure, we've got funds now, but that's no excuse to toss 'em into the sea! You've lost three rounds in a row — maybe switch sides, or take a break, yeah?"
Issho slowly turned his head, a faint smile curling his lips.
"Then tell me, Captain… which side do you choose? Big or Small?"
Shiro sighed helplessly. He knew this man — once Issho decided on something, no storm could move him.
He glanced at the dice cup, stretched his Observation Haki just enough to feel the flow of movement, then pointed to "Small."
"Stay with Small. But this time, let's make sure it really is small."
Without moving a muscle, Shiro subtly activated the power of the Paw-Paw Fruit, sending a faint ripple of invisible pressure through the air.
Inside the dice cup, space itself warped — locking the dice in place, fixing their fall to his will.
The dealer, unaware, pressed the small buttons hidden beneath the table's edge — mechanisms meant to control the dice's magnetic bias.
But nothing happened. No sound. No feedback.
Her face went pale. What's going on?
The crowd began to grow restless.
"What's taking so long?!"
"Yeah, open it already!"
"Don't tell me you're trying to cheat us! This place rigged or what?"
Under the weight of their suspicion, the trembling dealer had no choice.
She lifted the cup.
The dice rolled to a stop — one, one, three.
"Five points… Small!"
The crowd erupted.
Issho, as calm as ever, quietly pulled the chips toward himself.
The next few rounds went the same way. Every throw landed on Small. Every hand, Issho won.
Before long, his pile of chips towered over the table — thirty million Berries and counting.
The other gamblers could only stare, murmuring in disbelief.
The dealer, meanwhile, was drenched in cold sweat. Her hands shook so badly she could barely lift the cup.
If this kept up, the casino would go bankrupt — but she had no way to stop it.
When Issho reached for yet another handful of chips, preparing to bet again, the woman finally snapped.
"S-Sir! I'm terribly sorry, but the maximum wager allowed on this floor is twenty million Berries. If you wish to continue, please proceed to our VIP Lounge on the second floor!"
At that moment, a burly man in a black suit at the edge of the room noticed the commotion.
He picked up the Den-Den Mushi on his table and spoke in a low, tense voice:
"Boss… we've got a situation on the main floor."
Shiro took in the scene — the mountains of chips, the trembling dealer, the murmuring crowd. He smirked.
"Guess we've worn out our welcome."
He waved down a nearby attendant.
"Hey, get me a bag."
A moment later, he was handed a sturdy cloth sack. Shiro carefully poured in the chips, slinging the bag over his shoulder before patting Issho's back.
"C'mon, let's see what the high rollers upstairs are playing with."
Issho simply nodded, the faintest grin tugging at his lips as they climbed the velvet-carpeted staircase together.
The second floor was a different world — elegant, quiet, dripping with wealth.
Oil paintings hung on polished walls, and the air smelled faintly of expensive perfume.
Here, only the soft rustle of chips and low murmurs could be heard.
Shiro glanced around. Not bad… but time to cash out soon. We've made enough.
Just as he began to relax, he instinctively stretched out his Observation Haki — and froze.
In one of the rooms nearby, there was a presence.
Strong. Controlled. Dangerous.
Someone powerful was hiding here.
A small smile crept across Shiro's face.
"Well now… looks like this casino's holding more than just money."
A man in a tailored suit approached, bowing politely.
"Gentlemen, welcome to our VIP Lounge. May I ask what you'd like to play tonight? We offer baccarat, blackjack, roulette — whatever your preference."
Shiro thought for a moment, then said casually,
"Let's go with baccarat."
"Excellent choice," the man replied, his smile widening ever so slightly.
"Right this way, gentlemen. I'll take you to a private room."
He led Shiro and Issho down a quiet corridor until they stopped before an ornate door.
With a courteous gesture, he opened it wide.
"Please, sirs — after you."
Chapter 89 — Crocodile
Shiro and Issho stepped into the VIP room. Inside stood a spotless baccarat table, its surface gleaming under soft light. Fine rum and a platter of fresh fruit had already been prepared for them.
Along the side, a plush sofa and a low tea table invited guests to relax in comfort.
"Now this is what I call treatment!" Shiro said with a grin, walking up to the table and sitting down. "Way better than the main floor, huh, Issho?"
He plucked a slice of apple from the fruit tray, wiped the moisture off, and bit into it with a crisp crunch. The sweetness spread across his tongue, and he nodded, satisfied.
Issho, however, took the opposite seat, expression calm as ever. His voice was quiet but edged with faint displeasure.
"It's too quiet here. Lacks the fire and noise of real gambling. Feels… dull."
Shiro leaned back in his chair, poured himself a glass of rum, and chuckled.
"You really don't know how to enjoy life, huh? Peace and quiet, good drinks, a clean table—what's not to like? Beats sweating it out downstairs with those loudmouths."
Just then, the middle-aged dealer—sharp suit, neat hair, professional smile—stepped forward.
"Gentlemen, I hope everything is to your satisfaction. If so, shall we begin?"
Shiro waved his hand, tossing a gleaming 50,000-Berry chip onto the table with a sharp clack.
The sound echoed richly through the room as he flicked the chip toward the attendant who had brought them up.
The man caught it with both hands, bowing almost to the floor.
"Thank you, sirs! Thank you!"
He retreated quickly, leaving the room to the three of them.
The dealer, still smiling, deftly picked up two new decks of cards. His hands moved with elegant precision—shuffling so fast that the cards blurred, whispering through the air with rhythmic shff shff shff sounds. In moments, the cards were stacked neatly in the silver shoe.
He bowed slightly.
"Gentlemen, please place your bets. The minimum stake in this room is five hundred thousand Berries."
"Five hundred thousand?!"
Shiro sucked in a sharp breath, eyes flicking to the small bronze plaque on the corner of the table.
"That's enough to feed a whole family for ten years…" he muttered under his breath.
Issho, however, remained utterly calm. Without a word, he pushed forward a mountain of chips—thirty million Berries in total—onto the "Player" side of the table. The chips clattered together like falling coins.
"Hey—hey! You don't hold back, do you?" Shiro said with a helpless groan, trying to reach out to stop him, but it was already too late.
"No more bets!"
The dealer's voice cut through the room, now cold and commanding.
The cards were dealt swiftly.
Shiro and Issho received a Ten of Spades and a Two of Diamonds—a measly total of two.
The dealer's hand: Nine of Hearts and Five of Clubs—four points.
By the casino's rules, the Player side had to draw a third card if below five.
Just as the dealer prepared to deal again, Shiro's pupils narrowed. His Observation Haki flared silently, painting the near future in vivid detail before his eyes—
—and he saw it.
The dealer's hand was moving too smoothly. A hidden card slid from his sleeve, poised to swap with the next from the shoe. If he pulled it off, their total would hit eight points—guaranteed loss.
Shiro's gaze sharpened.
Not today.
Without hesitation, he activated his Paw-Paw Fruit power. A faint white glow spread from his palm, forming an invisible wall around the dealer's arm.
The man's body jerked violently. His arm froze mid-motion, as if bound by unseen chains. The hidden card refused to budge from his sleeve.
Shiro turned his card over.
Six.
Two plus six—eight points.
A clear win.
"What…?" The dealer's eyes widened in disbelief. Beads of sweat poured down his face, staining his black suit.
Now came his turn to draw a card.
Once again, he tried to cheat—but found his wrist bound tight, locked in space itself.
With no choice, he dealt properly. His trembling fingers turned over the next card—
Eight.
Four plus eight equals twelve—only the last digit counts. Two points.
It was over.
Shiro and Issho had won, clean and absolute.
The next two rounds went the same way. Shiro's Observation Haki and his fruit power easily intercepted the dealer's every attempt at sleight of hand.
Win after win.
By the end, their pile of chips had swelled to over two hundred million Berries.
The dealer's fine suit was drenched in sweat, clinging to his back. His hands trembled so badly he could barely hold the cards.
And then—
Just as he reached for a new deck, a cool, lazy voice drifted in from the door:
"Gentlemen… welcome to my Sand Emperor Casino. You've been having quite the streak down here. How about I join you for the next round?"
Shiro turned.
There, standing in the doorway, was a tall man with slicked-back hair and a half-smoked cigar resting between his teeth.
A faint smirk played on his lips, and in place of his left hand gleamed a golden hook, reflecting the room's light in a cold, deadly arc.
"Well, well… a young Crocodile," Shiro murmured, eyes narrowing with interest.
In that instant, everything clicked.
The "strong presence" he'd sensed earlier—the hidden aura—belonged to none other than Sir Crocodile, future Warlord of the Sea.
No wonder this island remained untouched by the Marines or pirates despite refusing to pay the Heavenly Tribute.
Crocodile was its unseen shield.
"B-Boss, I—"
The dealer shot up from his chair and bowed deeply, his voice shaking. He didn't dare meet the man's gaze.
Crocodile waved his golden hook lazily, cutting the air with a faint metallic hiss.
"You're out of your depth. Get out."
"Yes, sir!"
The man all but fled, wiping sweat from his brow as he hurried to the door, closing it carefully behind him.
The room fell silent.
Only the faint curl of Crocodile's cigar smoke drifted between them—
a silent promise that the real game was about to begin.
T/N: If you would like to read up to 20 chapters ahead for all my works, check out my P@treon: patreon.com/GhidorahWriter
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