The morning fog gradually lifted as the Athena sailed deeper into the waters of Paradise.
Unlike the islands they had visited before, the sea ahead was anything but quiet. Dozens of ships crossed the glittering water in every direction. Merchant vessels laden with enormous barrels passed alongside luxury cruise liners filled with wealthy tourists. Fishing boats returned from their nightly harvest while elegant yachts departed for destinations unknown.
It was far busier than any harbor they had encountered since entering the Grand Line, and beyond the crowded sea stretched an immense archipelago.
Not a single island. But dozens.
Large islands.
Small islands.
Artificial canals linked many of them together, allowing ships to travel between districts without ever returning to the open sea. From a distance, the entire archipelago resembled a kingdom floating upon endless water. An intoxicating aroma drifted across the wind.
Fresh grapes.
Oak barrels.
Sweet liquor.
Fermented fruit.
Even before anyone spoke... the scent alone revealed the island's identity.
"...It smells sweet." Bepo sniffed the air repeatedly.
"Wine." Baby-5 smiled.
"We've arrived." Robin lowered the book she had been reading.
"The Drunken Sea." Hancock unfolded the Eternal Pose they had purchased on the previous island before comparing it with the Log Pose.
"...That's an actual place?" Sugar tilted her head.
"It is. The entire archipelago is famous throughout Paradise." Robin stepped beside her. She looked toward the countless islands stretching across the horizon.
"Some call it the city that never sleeps."
As the Athena drew closer, the scale of the archipelago became increasingly apparent. Massive vineyards blanketed entire hillsides, their endless rows stretching toward the horizon like emerald waves beneath the morning sun.
Nearby, enormous breweries towered over the waterfront, their towering copper vats releasing clouds of fragrant steam into the sky. Dozens of warehouses stood shoulder to shoulder, each stacked high with countless barrels awaiting shipment.
Further inland... music echoed through the streets. Bright banners fluttered from rooftop to rooftop. Towering casinos glittered beneath crystal chandeliers visible even from the harbor. Theaters advertised performances beginning every hour. Restaurants overflowed with customers despite it being barely midmorning.
Nothing seemed to rest.
Nothing slowed.
Everything moved.
Always.
The Athena finally entered one of the main commercial harbors. Even docking proved surprisingly difficult.
Ships arrived. Ships departed.
Crates were loaded. Cargo was unloaded.
Workers shouted across the piers with astonishing coordination. Yet despite the apparent chaos... everything functioned perfectly.
"First time visiting?" A middle-aged dockmaster approached as Arthur stepped ashore.
"It shows." Arthur nodded.
The dockmaster laughed before gesturing toward the bustling harbor.
"Welcome to the Drunken Sea."
"The only place in Paradise where time doesn't matter." He spread both arms proudly.
"...What does that mean?" Sugar blinked.
"Look around." The old man chuckled.
She did. One restaurant served breakfast. Another served lunch. A nearby tavern was already crowded with customers drinking ale.
Across the street... a bakery had begun preparing tomorrow morning's bread.
Street performers entertained tourists while merchants loudly auctioned imported liquor. No one seemed concerned whether it was morning or evening.
"Here... everything keeps moving." The dockmaster grinned.
"No difference between day and night." He tapped the wooden pier beneath his feet.
"A city that never sleeps..." Robin quietly observed the endless flow of people.
"Exactly." The old man nodded proudly.
Arthur's gaze wandered across the harbor. Merchants. Travelers. Pirates. Bounty hunters. Gamblers. Musicians. Brewers. Workers. People from every sea imaginable walked the same streets. No one appeared surprised by anyone else's presence.
The city welcomed everyone. As long as they had money. Or something worth trading.
"...I think we'd get lost." Bepo leaned closer to Sugar.
"You definitely will."
"You're oddly confident."
"I usually am." Sugar answered with complete confidence.
"That's exactly what worries me." Law sighed quietly.
The crew laughed.
Just as Hancock finished arranging their supply list, an elderly merchant overheard part of their conversation.
"If you're planning to stay for more than a day... there's one story everyone eventually hears." He lowered his voice conspiratorially.
"What story?" Arthur looked toward him.
"They say there's a pirate somewhere in these islands... who can turn an entire lake into alcohol." The old merchant glanced around before speaking.
Silence followed. Even the surrounding workers seemed to pause for a brief moment.
"Some say it's wine."
"Others swear it's rum."
"I've even heard someone claim the sea itself tasted like whiskey after passing through his territory."
"...That's impossible." The merchant crossed his arms.
Sugar frowned.
"No." Robin's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Everyone turned toward her.
"If the rumors are even partially accurate... it's most likely the power of a Logia." She closed her book.
"A naturally occurring substance produced on that scale... would fit the characteristics of a Logia-type Devil Fruit." Law nodded in agreement.
Arthur remained silent.
Instead... a faint smile slowly appeared on his face.
"...You're interested." Robin noticed immediately.
"I am." Arthur gave a small nod.
Nobody asked why. After traveling together for so long... they had learned to recognize that expression. Whenever Arthur smiled like that... something extraordinary usually followed. Not long afterward, the crew naturally split into smaller groups.
Robin and Law headed toward the largest library in the central district, hoping to learn more about the mysterious pirate and the history of the archipelago.
Hancock and Monet disappeared into the bustling shopping streets, where boutiques and jewelers lined every corner.
Baby-5 and Sugar volunteered to replenish the Athena's food supplies, though everyone suspected Sugar's definition of "supplies" included far too many sweets.
Kuina made her way toward the eastern shoreline, where the long beaches offered ample space to practice.
Sabo and Bepo wandered off together after spotting an outdoor arena hosting friendly competitions.
Meanwhile, back aboard the Athena...
Ikaros, Nymph, and Astrea remained behind to guard the ship while looking after Arthur's children, whose cheerful laughter soon echoed across the quiet deck.
Within minutes... the bustling harbor had scattered the crew across the city. Only two people remained standing at the end of the pier.
Arthur and Baccarat.
"...Captain?" She looked around in mild confusion before turning back toward him.
"Let's take a walk." Arthur adjusted the strap of the satchel slung over his shoulder.
"Just the two of us?" Baccarat blinked.
"Yes."
"...Why me?" She tilted her head.
Arthur looked toward the endless streets of the city, where music and laughter blended into a single living rhythm.
"Because... the Devil Fruit I've looking for..." He glanced at her.
"...is for you."
"...For me?"
Baccarat froze. For a brief moment... the noise of the bustling city seemed to disappear. She stared at Arthur, unable to hide the surprise in her emerald eyes.
"I've had you in mind ever since you joined the crew." Arthur simply nodded.
The streets of the Drunken Sea were unlike anywhere Baccarat had ever visited. Every corner seemed alive. Vendors enthusiastically called out to passing travelers, advertising everything from imported wines to handcrafted crystal glasses. Street musicians performed cheerful melodies beside bubbling fountains while performers entertained children with dazzling tricks involving cards, juggling, and harmless bursts of colored fire.
No matter where she looked... Someone was smiling. Someone was celebrating. Someone was drinking. The city never seemed to pause.
Arthur walked at an unhurried pace, his hands tucked casually into his coat pockets. Baccarat matched his stride, though her thoughts remained elsewhere. She glanced sideways at him.
"...Captain."
"Hm?"
" You really meant it?"
"When?" Arthur looked ahead.
"About the Devil Fruit."
"I was."
"...For me?"
He nodded without hesitation. Baccarat fell silent once more.
The bustling streets suddenly felt distant. She had expected many things when Arthur asked her to accompany him. A conversation. A simple walk. Perhaps a request for information.
But not this. Not a Devil Fruit. Not one chosen specifically for her.
After several moments, she finally spoke.
"...Since when?"
" Ever since Gran Tesoro." Arthur smiled faintly.
"That long?" Baccarat's eyes widened.
"You joined us because you trusted me." Arthur stepped aside to allow a group of laughing children to run past before continuing.
"So I felt responsible for you."
"For what?"
"For helping you become strong enough that you'd never have to rely on luck alone."
Those words struck her harder than she expected.
Luck.
For most of her life... people had associated her with nothing else.
Fortunate. Unfortunate.
Blessed. Cursed.
Everything revolved around chance. Arthur, however... had never once described her that way.
Instead... he always treated her as another member of the crew. Someone capable of growing through her own efforts.
"...You really think I can become stronger?" She lowered her gaze.
Arthur stopped walking.
He turned toward a small canal where countless boats drifted peacefully beneath an old stone bridge.
"You don't think you can?"
"I don't think so." Baccarat blinked.
"...You don't? Not maybe, but I know you will." Arthur looked at her with a calm smile.
She stared at him. His voice carried no dramatic conviction. No attempt to encourage her. No empty reassurance. He simply stated it as though it were an undeniable fact.
And somehow... that made her believe it.
They resumed walking. The streets gradually became less crowded as they entered one of the older districts. The architecture changed noticeably. The luxurious casinos gave way to weathered stone buildings covered in creeping ivy. Centuries-old wine cellars disappeared beneath narrow streets paved with worn cobblestones. The lively music faded into the distance, replaced by the quieter rhythm of daily life.
Merchants carefully inspected rows of aging barrels. Craftsmen repaired cracked casks by hand. The rich scent of oak and fermented grapes lingered in the air.
Arthur paused in front of a cooper's workshop. An elderly craftsman was carefully shaping a wooden barrel with practiced hands. Each movement was slow.
Measured.
Patient.
Arthur watched in silence. Baccarat noticed the old man replacing only a single damaged stave rather than rebuilding the entire barrel.
"...Wouldn't it be easier to make a new one?"
"Easier. Yes. But not better." Arthur smiled.
The cooper gently tightened the iron hoops around the repaired barrel before filling it with water. Not a single drop leaked. Satisfied, the old craftsman nodded to himself.
"People aren't so different." Arthur quietly continued walking. Baccarat looked toward him.
"We don't always need to become someone else."
"Sometimes... Sometimes we only need the missing piece." He glanced back toward the workshop.
"The Devil Fruit won't change who you are. It'll complete something that's already there."
She immediately understood. For the first time since joining the Art Pirates... Baccarat realized something. Arthur never chose Devil Fruits based solely on power. He chose them based on people. Every ability reflected its owner.
Robin. Hancock. Baby-5. Monet. Law. Sugar. Even Koala.
None of their powers felt random. They complemented the person wielding them.
Had he really... thought that carefully about everyone?
"...Captain." Her chest tightened.
"Hm?"
"...Thank you."
"You should thank me after we actually find it." Arthur chuckled softly.
"I suppose that's true." She laughed despite herself.
The two continued through the winding streets until they reached one of the oldest marketplaces in the archipelago. Unlike the bustling commercial district near the harbor, this place catered to collectors.
Ancient Log Pose. Broken Den Den Mushi. Centuries-old navigational charts. Rare minerals. Weather instruments. Curious relics from every sea.
Arthur slowed his pace. His crimson eyes calmly surveyed every stall. Not searching randomly. Searching with purpose.
"...You already know where to look." Baccarat noticed.
"I have an idea."
"Based on what?"
"People." Arthur looked toward the crowded marketplace.
"People?" She tilted her head.
"The rarer the item... the less likely it'll be sold openly." He pointed toward the busiest streets.
"Tourists buy souvenirs. But collectors buy information." His gaze shifted toward the narrow alleys beyond. Baccarat followed his eyes.
The atmosphere changed immediately. The cheerful laughter disappeared. The crowds became thinner. Shops displayed no signs. Doors remained half-closed. Every passerby quietly observed one another.
"We're getting close." Arthur smiled.
Before Baccarat could respond—
A drunken man stumbled from a nearby tavern, laughing loudly as he carried an enormous bottle over one shoulder.
"I told you!" he shouted to his companions.
"I saw it with my own eyes!"
"Here he goes again." His friends burst into laughter.
"No, listen!"
The man pointed dramatically toward the distant hills beyond the city.
"An entire lake!"
"Turned into liquor!"
"Enough to drown a Sea King!"
"You were drunk!" His companions laughed even harder.
"I am drunk! But I wasn't imagining that!"
Arthur's expression remained calm. Baccarat, however, noticed something different. He wasn't listening to the man's words. He was watching everyone else's reactions. Most people laughed. Some ignored the story entirely.
But... one elderly merchant standing near the alleyway quietly lowered his head and walked away the moment the rumor was mentioned.
Arthur noticed. So did Baccarat.
Neither of them spoke.
"There." Arthur simply smiled.
Baccarat followed his gaze. The old merchant had already disappeared into one of the narrow stone alleys leading deeper into the oldest district of the city.
"I think... we've just found our first lead." Arthur adjusted the strap of his satchel.
Arthur and Baccarat followed at a comfortable distance, careful not to attract attention. The elderly merchant never once looked back. He crossed one narrow alley after another, passing districts that grew progressively older with every turn. The lively music of the entertainment quarter gradually faded until only the distant cries of seagulls and the soft creaking of weathered wooden buildings remained.
The bustling city felt impossibly far away. Eventually... the old man stopped before a modest tavern standing alone at the end of a quiet street. Its weathered wooden sign had long since faded beneath years of rain and sea wind.
No name. No decorations. No customers. Only silence.
The merchant pushed open the door and disappeared inside.
"...This doesn't look like the kind of place tourists visit." Baccarat lowered her voice.
"It isn't." Arthur's eyes lingered on the old tavern.
Without hesitation, he stepped inside. A small brass bell above the door rang softly. The tavern was dimly lit. Several round tables stood empty beneath old lanterns whose flames flickered gently against the wooden walls. Shelves lined with dusty bottles stretched from floor to ceiling, each containing liquor of every imaginable color.
Behind the counter stood an elderly bartender quietly polishing a glass. He looked up. For a brief moment... his eyes met Arthur's. Neither spoke.
"You're not here for a drink." Then the bartender smiled faintly.
"No." Arthur returned the smile.
"You're looking for someone." The bartender placed the glass down.
" That's right." Arthur nodded once.
The old man remained silent for several seconds before reaching beneath the counter and placing a single bottle onto the polished wood.
It contained no label. No markings. Only a clear amber liquid that caught the lantern light.
"Drink."
"...Is this some kind of test?" Baccarat frowned.
"No. It's a greeting." The bartender's smile deepened.
Arthur lifted the bottle, examining it for a moment before taking a small sip. His expression remained unchanged.
"...Interesting."
"What does it taste like?" Baccarat asked.
Arthur handed her the bottle. She hesitated only briefly before tasting it herself.
"...It changed." Her emerald eyes widened.
"The flavor." Arthur nodded.
"It wasn't the same. Everyone tastes something different." The bartender chuckled softly.
Silence settled over the tavern.
Arthur slowly returned the bottle to the counter.
"A Devil Fruit."
The bartender neither confirmed nor denied it. Instead, he asked,
"Why are you looking for him?"
"I'm looking for a Devil Fruit." Arthur answered honestly.
"Aren't we all?"
"Not for myself."
The bartender's gaze shifted toward Baccarat. Understanding slowly appeared in his aged eyes.
"...For her."
"Yes." Arthur nodded.
The old man studied Baccarat quietly. She instinctively straightened her posture beneath his gaze. After a long silence... the bartender sighed.
"I suppose it was only a matter of time before someone capable found this place."
He walked toward a shelf at the far end of the tavern. Instead of selecting a bottle... he reached behind the shelves and pressed against the wooden wall. A hidden mechanism clicked. Slowly... part of the wall slid aside. A narrow stone staircase descended into darkness.
"...There's a basement?" Baccarat blinked.
"The tavern came later. The cellar has existed for centuries." The bartender picked up an old lantern.
Without another word, he began descending. Arthur followed immediately. Baccarat hurried after them. The air grew noticeably cooler with every step. The scent of aged oak gradually disappeared, replaced by damp stone and mineral-rich groundwater.
Several minutes later... the staircase opened into an enormous underground cavern.
"...This..." Baccarat stopped walking.
Her voice faded. An immense subterranean lake stretched beyond the reach of the lantern's light. Its perfectly still surface reflected the rocky ceiling like polished glass. The cavern was silent. Almost sacred.
"This lake predates the city above." The bartender raised the lantern.
"No smell. No color. It isn't alcohol." Arthur quietly observed the water.
"Of course not." The old man smiled.
"The rumors were exaggerated. They usually are." He continued walking along the narrow stone path surrounding the lake.
"Then why do you believe them?" Baccarat looked around.
The bartender stopped. He slowly turned toward the lake.
"Because... once every few years... He comes home."
Almost as though responding to those words— A ripple spread across the motionless water.
Then another. Then dozens. The underground lake trembled.
Baccarat instinctively took a step back. Arthur remained perfectly still.
The water began to rise. Not violently. Gracefully. Like a living thing answering an unseen call.
A single figure slowly emerged from the center of the lake. Long black hair framed his weathered face. A weathered dark coat. A large gourd fastened across his back. Bare feet touched the water's surface as though it were solid ground. He appeared no older than fifty. Yet the calmness in his golden eyes spoke of someone who had wandered the seas for far longer.
The man took another step. The instant his foot touched the lake— The crystal-clear water changed.
Beginning beneath his feet... a deep amber color spread across the entire underground lake. The rich aroma of aged whiskey filled the cavern.
Within seconds... The entire lake had become alcohol.
"...Impossible..." Baccarat stood frozen.
Robin had been right. This wasn't illusion. This wasn't chemistry. This wasn't trickery.
Only the overwhelming power of a Logia could transform an entire body of water on such a scale. The mysterious pirate looked quietly toward Arthur. Neither spoke. For several long seconds... the cavern remained silent. Then... a faint smile appeared on the stranger's face.
"So... you're the pirate everyone's been talking about." His calm voice echoed gently across the underground lake.
"And you must be the man who turned a lake into whiskey." Arthur smiled in return.
"I prefer bourbon." The stranger laughed softly.
"I'll remember that." Arthur chuckled.
The bartender quietly lowered his lantern. Without realizing it... he had just witnessed the meeting of two extraordinary pirates.
One pirate walked toward the future.
The other had spent years hiding from it.
Fate, however... had finally brought them to the same shore.
Far above them, the Drunken Sea continued its endless celebration, unaware that deep beneath its streets, destiny had quietly begun to stir.