Rogers took several deep breaths. This was… this was just too shocking! He never expected to see that Devil Fruit here of all places!
The man in black, seeing Rogers's trembling reaction, assumed he was paralyzed with fear. Satisfied, his vanity thoroughly stroked, he gave a smug little snort and said magnanimously, "Just put it on the table and get out. I'm no unreasonable pirate!"
"O-Oh, okay!" Rogers said, his voice shaking as he carefully set the tray on the table and lowered his head, backing out of the room and closing the door. To the man in black, his trembling seemed like pure terror. But what he failed to notice was the fierce gleam in Rogers's eyes—the tremors were not fear, but excitement.
Leaning against the door, Rogers struggled to calm his racing heart. But his emotions now were completely different from before. He couldn't be mistaken—he could never mistake that shape, that color!
Anyone who had seen the entire One Piece series would recognize it. That Devil Fruit! The one whose appearance had triggered the greatest war since the dawn of the Great Pirate Era! The very fruit tied to the fall and rise of the Four Emperors! The target of the most ambitious man in One Piece—Blackbeard! The Logia Yami Yami no Mi!
But this was only the twelfth year of the Great Pirate Era, Sea Circle Calendar 1510. How could a fruit that should appear ten years later be here now? Rogers fell into deep thought.
Back in the room, the conversation continued.
"What just happened?" The voice from the Den Den Mushi carried clear displeasure. He couldn't afford outsiders interfering in the deal.
"Just a clumsy waiter. I'll send the picture now." The man in black instantly lost his earlier arrogance, chuckling nervously as he fiddled with the Den Den Mushi and snapped a picture of the fruit to transmit.
"I've received it. It does look like a Logia. The trade location will be Crohn's Island—the largest trading hub in the West Blue. Once we confirm the fruit's specific ability, we'll notify you of the final price. No objections, I trust?" The tone was stern, the irritation at being interrupted barely concealed. Though worded like a question, it was more like an order.
"Of course, no objections! This ship will arrive at Crohn's Island tomorrow afternoon!" the man in black hurried to assure him.
"Then that's settled." The call abruptly ended.
Rogers finally pushed himself away from the door and walked downstairs, his eyes flashing with restless thoughts. The Yami Yami no Mi… its allure was beyond compare. He hadn't remembered wrong—it was said to be the most fearsome of all Devil Fruits!
To say he wasn't tempted would be a lie. But what could he do? His mind was a whirlpool of confusion and excitement, so much so that during the rest of his work he was completely absent-minded. The kitchen staff noticed, but since he was only serving as a waiter, no real harm came of it.
By afternoon, the kitchen was on break. Dressed in their white uniforms, the chefs sat together, eating either the meals they had prepared or leftovers from guests.
Rogers sat among them, shoveling food into his mouth mechanically, too distracted to savor the flavors. Right now, he was facing what might be the biggest decision of his life since crossing over.
"What's wrong, Rogers? Why're you eating so little?" one chef asked curiously.
"Yeah! Afraid you'll eat away your wages? Hahaha!" Others joined in, having noticed something off about him.
"Don't worry, don't worry. Aren't you planning to be a pirate anyway? Why bother saving money?"
"Hahaha, unlike you, we've got important uses for our savings! Right, fellas?"
"Exactly! Rogers, you're too young to get it!"
Their teasing grew rowdy, until one leaned in and whispered by Rogers's ear: "We're saving up to visit the red-light district on Crohn's Island. Wanna come with us?"
He whispered, but the kitchen wasn't big, and the dining space even smaller. With Rogers's sharpened senses, it might as well have been shouted. The others, of course, heard too.
"Hahaha! Rogers, you've never been, right? The red-light district's a paradise!"
"Come with us! We guarantee you'll die of bliss!"
"Tomorrow we'll reach Crohn's Island—the biggest trading hub in the West Blue. And naturally, its red-light district is the finest in the sea!"
"I hear the women there especially love guys like you, Rogers. You might even get freebies! That's no small savings, hahaha!"
The chefs all grinned with those knowing, sleazy expressions, like a pack of shady uncles up to no good.
A black line practically appeared over Rogers's head. What, are all chefs in this world genetically descended from Sanji? A whole crew of perverts! Not that he could say it—no one here knew who Sanji was anyway.
Finishing his plate in a few quick bites, Rogers set down his knife and fork and sighed at them helplessly. "Sorry, I'm not feeling great today. Nothing serious though, so don't worry."
He knew they were just trying to cheer him up, lighten his mood with jokes. But his dilemma wasn't something they could help with. Best to slip away. He stood and headed out.
The chefs exchanged puzzled looks, but said nothing more. Soon they returned to their meals and chatter.
Rogers stepped back onto the freshly scrubbed deck, leaning against the rail with his arms spread. His whole posture sagged like a salted fish, eyes fixed on the ever-shifting sea. His expression grew solemn as he began to sort through his thoughts.
First—everyone on this ship had been genuinely good to him. Even earlier, they'd tried to ease his worries with teasing. It reminded him that in anime, there were plenty of good-hearted people too. Weren't many villains eventually redeemed in the end?
Second—his own path forward. Becoming a pirate seemed inevitable. After all, it was the dream of his body's original owner. And truthfully, his old self had been just as free-spirited. The life of a pirate suited him well.
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T/N:
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