Robin's emotions churned violently. All her life, she had been the one to ask others if she could join them. Even when she eventually boarded Luffy's ship, it had been by her own request. This… this was the first time someone had ever invited her.
Rogers, ignoring the stares around them, pressed again:
"So, what's your answer, Miss Waitress?"
Robin's eyes locked on him, searching desperately for any cracks, any sign of deceit. But all she saw was the earnest face of a captain offering a place to someone he truly wanted as a crewmate. The stares of the people around them—hungry, suspicious, mocking—made her lower her gaze. She bit her lip, then forced the words out:
"Sorry. I'm fine with my life here. I don't want to be a pirate."
"I see… what a pity." Rogers said lightly. His words sounded disappointed, but his eyes betrayed a small smile. She's too kind…
And sure enough, as soon as Robin turned him down, the watching crowd lost interest and turned away. They weren't here to see her get recruited—they were here to make sure their bar's business wasn't undermined.
Recruiting staff in public was as good as a slap to the bar's backers. And judging by the dangerous faces around them, this was no ordinary tavern.
"Another idiot pirate."
"Of course she rejected him—pirates are nothing but fools with empty dreams."
"Doesn't even know whose territory this is…"
"Ha! The girl knows too much. That bar runs on information. You think they'd ever let her walk away with an outsider?"
Rogers' sharp hearing caught their muttered comments, and a shiver ran down his spine. So this bar really has an organization behind it. And Robin… she's definitely not just a waitress.
Robin hesitated for a long moment before murmuring softly:
"If you really are a pirate, then you'd better not come here again. That's a warning."
"What a kind girl," Rogers chuckled. "Makes me want to recruit you even more!"
"Don't joke. I can't go with you. I know too much about this place… and once you know, there's no leaving." Her voice was low, heavy with both resignation and a strange, buried longing.
Rogers' eyes narrowed. In the original timeline, every group Robin joined had been destroyed. This place would be no different. When it fell, she would survive and flee again.
"It's fine," he said casually. "I'm not asking you to decide right now. My invitation stands—forever. Think about it. When you're ready, come find me." His voice held a quiet authority, as though his words were final.
Robin's eyes flickered, her voice trembling faintly as if speaking to herself
"Why… why are you so certain I'd ever join you? Don't make assumptions… you don't even know my past…"
"I know," Rogers cut her off. He drained his cup in one gulp, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and declared: "I know everything. What happened in Ohara ten years ago—I know it all."
Robin froze. Her face drained of color, her voice shaking.
"No… that's impossible… impossible…"
"I've made my offer," Rogers said with a grin. "Take your time to think. The choice will always be yours."
Of course, he didn't have the power yet to confront whatever organization controlled this bar. Forcing Robin now would be foolish. Better to wait—her path would soon change, one way or another.
Robin's heart was in turmoil. For years she had run from her past, never daring to face it. Now, a stranger stood before her claiming to know everything—and still inviting her. She didn't know what to feel.
"Now hurry up and serve my food, Robin—ah, no, I mean, Miss Waitress!" Rogers urged, waving her away. He didn't expect her to agree today. He had no ship, no money, no real strength. How could he drag her into starving alongside him?
"…Alright." Robin gave him one last long, searching look, then turned and walked away.
Soon, Rogers' dishes arrived, carried by another server. A male server. What, they think I'll harass the women? Rogers fumed silently. Clearly, the bar's management had noticed his exchange with Robin. Next time he tried to speak with her, he'd have to be careful.
But all of that irritation evaporated the moment the food hit the table. He wasn't exactly a foodie, but this body—oh, this body was always starving. The instinct took over instantly.
As Rogers devoured his meal, a towering brute swaggered up, shaking a bottle of liquor. He leaned on the counter and growled:
"Hey, brat."
"Mmm… so good! This one's great too…" Rogers mumbled, still chewing, ignoring him completely.
The man slammed his bottle down with a crash. "Listen when someone talks to you, brat! You got a death wish?"
Rogers sighed, reluctantly setting his chopsticks down. He glanced once at the man, then calmly returned to eating—just a little slower now. Between bites, he muttered through a full mouth:
"What do you want, old man?"
The brute's face darkened. "You little punk…!" He yanked out a pistol and leveled it straight at Rogers' forehead. "You're a pirate, aren't you?"
The bar erupted with energy. Patrons whistled, cheered, eyes gleaming with bloodlust. To them, this was better than live entertainment.
Rogers' heart skipped. Damn, people here are way too trigger-happy. He forced himself to stay calm, facing the barrel squarely. "Yeah, I'm a pirate. What's it to you, big guy? You got a grudge?"
The man sneered. "No. But I'm a bounty hunter. And you—a pirate—walking in here all cocky? Tell me, brat. What's your bounty?"
Rogers froze for half a second. Then, shrugging with a sheepish grin, he spread his hands.
"None. Zero. Haven't even been posted yet."
Dead pig, boiling water—he put on his best shameless face. Inside, he breathed a sigh of relief. Good. A bounty hunter won't waste his bullets on a man who's worth nothing.
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