After You Tanzhi left, silence lingered in the tavern.
Rayleigh rose slowly, still looking half-troubled and half-amused.
"After hearing that poor guy's story, I think I'm afraid of women now."
Ron didn't even look up.
"Afraid? Then put down that bottle of tiger-whip liquor you just hid. Planning another 'late-night training session,' are you?"
Rayleigh coughed, clutching the bottle tighter.
"You don't get it, kid. Protein addiction has no cure. We're all prisoners of our own vices."
He tossed a bundle of Berries onto the counter and hurried out.
Bang! — the door closed behind him.
Almost immediately, the familiar electronic tone chimed in Ron's head.
[Ding] Guest You Tanzhi has finished his confession.
Reward: Choice between 'Yi Jin Jing' and 'Ice-Silkworm Palm.'
Note: The five guests with 'Devoted-Lover' traits have all visited. A new set of special guests will now be matched.
Ron rubbed his temples.
"Why are the names always so dramatic?"
He sighed.
"Store the 'Yi Jin Jing' as a skill book."
Strong as it was, he had no time for the endless meditating it required. Better to sell it later or trade it for something more useful.
Still… who would the next "special" guests be? The system had been full of surprises lately.
The Next Day
Morning drifted by quietly; not a single customer showed. Even Rayleigh had vanished somewhere, probably into trouble.
After lunch, Rem and Ram carried Yoruichi—currently in cat form—out to the courtyard for a nap, leaving Ron alone behind the bar.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes growing heavy. Maybe a quick nap…
Then—something soft and heavy landed on his lap.
He opened his eyes… and saw a delicate, smiling face staring down at him.
Momousagi—Vice Admiral Gion.
"Awake already?" she asked playfully.
Ron blinked.
Her expression was far too pleased with itself.
"Comfortable?"
"Very," Ron said honestly, and then, realizing how close she was, added dryly, "But, uh, could you move a little? You're… sitting on my head."
Gion's smile froze for half a second before she straightened up and sat gracefully at the bar instead. Most people would have turned crimson and fled. Gion, however, was anything but ordinary.
Her tone softened, but her eyes carried that familiar sharpness.
"Bring me something good. Fleet Admiral Sengoku told me not to come back sober—and the bill's on him."
Ron raised an eyebrow. So that's the game, huh?
"A beauty trap? Cliché…" He smirked. "…but I like it."
He pulled a pale-gold bottle from the shelf.
"Try this—Osmanthus Wine. New batch."
The fragrance filled the room the instant he unsealed it. Gion lifted the cup and took a slow sip.
"Sweet, soft, and just a little strong. Not bad," she murmured, licking the last drop from her lip unconsciously.
Ron leaned on the counter.
"Careful. That's the kind that sneaks up on you."
She smiled.
"That's the point, isn't it?"
The air between them thickened—half teasing, half challenge.
Before Ron could answer, she reached out, brushing her fingertips lightly along his cheek.
"This might be the last time I invite you to join the Navy," she said quietly. "And maybe the last time I come here at all."
Ron's expression softened.
"What do you mean?"
"Soon, Kaido, Shanks, and Whitebeard will all reach Sabaody. When they do, even an Admiral won't be safe. I'm… just a Vice Admiral." She exhaled slowly. "I was ordered to recruit you—whatever it takes. But if I can't… I'll be sent to the G-14 branch until it's over."
Ron stayed silent. He could already see it—the coming chaos, the war that would tear the seas apart.
"So?" she teased suddenly. "Worried I'll die out there?"
"No," Ron muttered. "Worried you'll drink all my stock before you leave."
She laughed, low and warm.
For a moment the noise outside faded—the two of them caught between tension and amusement, duty and danger.
Finally, she downed the rest of her glass, stood, and adjusted her uniform.
"If you change your mind, you know where to find me. Join the Navy, and the world opens to you."
Ron smirked.
"Tempting offer. But I've met women before, Vice Admiral. You're not the first to promise adventure."
Gion narrowed her eyes, half-irritated, half-amused.
"Suit yourself, tavern keeper."
As she turned to leave, Ron's voice followed lazily behind her:
"Next time, try something stronger than a beauty trap. I'm immune to clichés… most of the time."
She glanced back with a knowing smile.
"Then maybe next time, I'll just use handcuffs."
The door swung shut, leaving only the faint scent of osmanthus in the air.
Ron sighed, rubbing his face.
"Crazy woman… and yet somehow, I almost said yes."
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