"Oh, I forgot to mention—when Sanji was making it, Usopp happened to be mixing up some chili stars right beside him, and he accidentally got a bit of chili on the lemon pie."
Sherlock gazed at Miss. Valentine, who was banging her head against the table in agony from the spiciness, pushed up his glasses, and spouted nonsense with a perfectly straight face.
"W-water…" The assassin gasped urgently at Sherlock, panting heavily.
Yet Sherlock remained utterly calm as he explained, "This chili is no joke. I remember Usopp telling me he once took down a cadre from a fish-man pirate crew with this stuff…"
"G-give… me… water…" Miss. Valentine glared with wide eyes, her face twisted in pain as she weakly demanded from Sherlock.
"I was going to throw that piece away, but who knew you had such unique tastes? You actually like spicy lemon pie." Sherlock said to Miss. Valentine with utmost seriousness, as if the chili on that pie hadn't been sprinkled by him at all.
"I said…!" Miss. Valentine, pushed beyond endurance, propped herself up with her hands and roared hoarsely at Sherlock, "Give! Me! Water!!"
"Alright, here you go. You should—" Without another word, Sherlock pulled a glass from his Mirror Space. The assassin snatched it and chugged it down in one gulp…
Crack. The sound of glass shattering, followed by thud thud thud as she slammed her head against the table.
Sherlock watched with a helpless expression as Miss. Valentine banged her head in pain from scalding hot water, pushed up his glasses, and said mildly:
"I was going to say wait for it to cool down first. Really, what's the rush…"
Though his mouth said that, his expression clearly screamed: I did it on purpose. Come bite me if you're mad.
Miss. Valentine stopped banging. She collapsed onto the table, clutching her head with both hands, and began sobbing…
This poor woman had been utterly broken by Sherlock's antics.
Sherlock reached out and gently stroked the assassin's slightly disheveled pale golden short hair, comforting her in a warm voice:
"There, there, good girl, no more crying…"
Miss. Valentine's sobs only grew louder, her body trembling uncontrollably.
"How about this—I'll ask you a few questions. You can choose to answer or not…"
At that, Miss. Valentine cried even harder.
Outside the cabin, the weather was clear, the sea calm—a rare perfect day on the Grand Line.
Three people and one duck lounged idly on the deck, basking in the sun. Judging by their relaxed demeanor, you'd never guess they were being hunted by over a thousand bounty hunters.
Zoro stretched lazily, squinting as he murmured, "Nothing beats napping in the sun!"
"Quack quack!" Carue quacked in enthusiastic agreement.
Luffy was probably amused by the human-like duck, giggling before suddenly remembering something. He turned excitedly to the long-nosed guy beside him:
"Hey! Hey! Usopp, make me some fishing rods! I wanna go fishing!"
"Sure thing, no problem." Usopp agreed without hesitation, puffing out his long nose and bragging to Luffy as usual:
"Back in the East Blue, they called me the Fishing King! I once reeled in a goldfish the size of a small bird with a rod I made myself!"
"Whoa~ Fishing King! That's awesome!" Luffy's eyes sparkled with stars as he looked at him in awe. "If we run into a goldfish the size of a small island, you gotta show me!"
"Hmph, naturally!"
Usopp closed his eyes and agreed with smug confidence, as if it were no big deal. In his head, though: Idiot, I can promise all I want—there's no way a goldfish that big exists. (PS: Flag planted…)
At that moment, Sanji burst out of the kitchen like a whirlwind, carrying a tray of drinks.
"Hey, guys, wanna try the new juice I whipped up?" Sanji beamed at everyone, the lovestruck cook clearly in high spirits.
No wonder—two beauties had suddenly joined the ship. Even if one was currently locked in the storage room, Sanji still felt like spring had arrived.
The three plus one duck all cheered in unison.
Vivi leaned against the railing, watching the group below freaking out over "a duck using a straw to drink," and asked Nami uncertainly:
"Are they… really okay like this??"
"Isn't this just fine?" The navigator handed Vivi a glass of juice with a matter-of-fact look. "Don't let their antics fool you—they're reliable when it counts."
"And…" Nami took a sip, flashing Vivi a bright smile. "We've got Sherlock, who's always dependable, right?"
"Mr. Glasses?"
At the mention of Sherlock, Princess Vivi couldn't help but recall the utterly humiliating turtle-shell bondage and the sorcerer's unexpectedly warm embrace. Even now, she could still remember the steady, powerful thump of his heartbeat. Her face flushed unnaturally as she turned away.
"Yeah, he really is dependable."
Princess Vivi murmured, holding her juice and gazing at the vast blue sea. The gentle sea breeze tousled her water-blue hair—refreshing, comforting, gradually calming her anxious heart.
"What're you two chatting about?" A familiar figure suddenly appeared behind the two beauties.
Nami, mid-sip, nearly choked in surprise. She wiped her mouth, turned around, and scolded lightly:
"Seriously, Sherlock, stop sneaking around the ship like that~"
"My apologies." Sherlock said sincerely. "But frequent ability use really helps develop Devil Fruit powers…"
"Hey, Sherlock!" Sanji suddenly popped up from below, asking urgently, "How'd it go? Did Miss. Valentine try my lemon pie??"
"Yeah, she ate it." Sherlock nodded.
"Oooh hehehe~" Sanji grinned triumphantly, pressing further: "Did you tell her it was my secret lemon pie filled with my love? Was she moved?"
"Yeah, I told her." Sherlock answered seriously. "She was so 'moved' she cried! Bawling her eyes out."
"Ahahaha… Does that mean she's fallen for me?" The lovestruck cook, IQ fully offline, wiggled excitedly before turning to Nami and Vivi with a perverted grin: "Nami-swan, Vivi-chan, are you two jealous?~~~"
"Absolutely not!" The two women answered in unison, deadpan with sweat drops.
Then, as if suddenly remembering, Sherlock said to Sanji, "Oh, right—after eating your lemon pie, Miss. Valentine got a bit overheated. Why don't you make her something light?"
"Roger that!" Sanji dashed to the kitchen without a second thought, his exaggerated speed leaving the three stunned.
Snapping out of it, Nami frowned delicately, looking at Sherlock suspiciously. "How does lemon pie give someone heatstroke?"
"Well, maybe Sanji's love was just too fiery…" Sherlock pushed up his glasses and spouted nonsense with a straight face.
Nami and Vivi exchanged weird looks and sighed in unison.
(Dependable, huh?)
Somewhere on the Grand Line.
A battered massive warship sailed across the calm sea, its black flag with a wolf skull marking its owner's identity.
Any informed pirate would recognize it as the flagship of the infamous Hungry Wolf Pirates, notorious throughout the Grand Line.
But strangely, the fleet that once boasted over a dozen ships was now reduced to this single dilapidated main vessel.
On the main deck, a sinister deal was unfolding.
"Who'd have thought the once-unstoppable Blood Wolf Hasker would fall this low." A sleazy man in a blue-and-white striped shirt sipped red tea and said casually to the tall, rugged man with a red coxcomb haircut across from him:
"What kind of enemy did you run into? I'm curious."
Hasker instinctively recalled the bearded man with black sideburns, that terrifying ability that swallowed everything like a black hole, and his extraordinarily capable subordinates. His proud fleet had been crushed in an instant.
Even he, known as the "War Demon," paled with fear at the memory, falling silent.
The sleazy man glanced at Hasker's shifting expression, pushed up his light blue glasses, and said nonchalantly: "If you'd known this would happen, you should've joined Baroque Works with me back then."
"Hmph!" The coxcomb-haired man snorted disdainfully. "I've got no interest in being a lapdog for some shadowy coward!"
The sleazy man raised an eyebrow. Then—poof!—a flame sparked at the tip of his "3"-shaped hairstyle.
"So what? This proud lone wolf is still tucking tail and fleeing back to the East Blue, isn't he?"
Hasker's forehead popped with tic marks—the words struck his sore spot. He grabbed the long spear beside him and growled darkly:
"If you came just to spout garbage, then get lost! Gal Dino."
The blood-red lance in Hasker's hand was over two meters long, radiating murderous intent. Its razor-sharp tip looked painful even to the naked eye; Gal Dino felt chills from afar.
No doubt—this was a weapon drenched in blood, a true instrument of slaughter!
"If possible, I'd prefer you use my codename: Mr. 3." Mr. 3 glanced at the hostile Hungry Wolf Pirates crew around them and said with forced calm: "After all, Baroque Works' motto is mystery…"
The man with the bizarre hairstyle set down his teacup, pulled several wanted posters from his coat, and handed them to Hasker. The latter took them irritably, looked closely—and his expression changed drastically.
"I came to make a deal…" Mr. 3 stared at the coxcomb-haired man whose eyes glowed red, flashing a deeply sinister smile.
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