A wistful, knowing smile spread across Woop Slap's weathered face as he listened to Jovi's declaration. The young man's words, brimming with unvarnished enthusiasm, were like an echo from his own long-faded youth. He took a long, slow draught of his beer, the foam leaving a faint mustache on his lip which he wiped away with the back of his hand.
"Adventure, eh?" Woop Slap mused, his gaze drifting towards the bar's window, looking out at the calm blue sea. "I remember that feeling. The call of the horizon, the promise of the next island… it's a powerful siren's song." He sighed, a sound tinged with the soft melancholy of age. "I chased it myself, for a time. But this sea, the East Blue, while they call it the most peaceful of the four, still holds monsters in its depths and scoundrels in its ports. A man needs more than just spirit to survive it; he needs true strength. I found mine… was better suited to governing a village than conquering the Grand Line."
He turned his attention back to Jovi, his eyes sharp and pragmatic. "But a dream is a dream. Before you go chasing yours, you need a foundation. A place to rest your head and plan. I take it you don't have a place to stay?"
Jovi shook his head, the reality of his situation settling in. He had the clothes on his back, the mysterious System in his head, and now, the knowledge of this incredible world. But he had no beri, no supplies, and no roof.
"I didn't think so," Woop Slap said, a glint of generosity in his eyes. "I have my old place. It's been sitting empty since I moved into the mayor's quarters. It's small, mind you, nothing fancy. But the roof doesn't leak and it's got a good hearth. It's yours, if you want it. Consider it a welcome to Windmill Village, and an investment in a young adventurer."
The offer was more than generous; it was a lifeline. Jovi didn't need to think for long. Having a base of operations, a place to call his own in this bewildering new world, was invaluable. "Thank you, Mayor Woop. I accept. I'd be grateful for it."
Woop Slap's smile returned, wider this time. He settled the tab with a nod to Makino, who smiled warmly at Jovi once more, and then led him out of the cozy bar. They walked a short way through the quiet village lanes, away from the main street, until they stopped in front of a small, solitary cottage nestled under the shade of a large tree. It was indeed humble, built of worn stone and dark timber, with a single window and a chimney that hinted at cozy nights inside.
"Here it is," Woop Slap said, producing a heavy, iron key from his pocket and handing it over. "It holds a lot of memories. Make some new ones. I've got to see to the afternoon fishing reports. Make yourself at home."
With a final nod, the mayor ambled away, leaving Jovi standing before the threshold of his new life. Jovi fitted the key into the lock, the mechanism turning with a satisfying, solid *clunk*. He pushed the door open, and a puff of dust motes, dancing in the slants of afternoon light, swirled out to greet him.
The inside was exactly as described: small, and very, very messy. It wasn't filthy with grime, but it was cluttered with the ghost of a life once lived. A thin layer of dust coated every surface—a rough-hewn wooden table, a single shelf holding a few tarnished tin cups, a sturdy chair lying on its side. Cobwebs draped like grey veils in the corners of the low ceiling, and old, yellowed charts that might have been nautical maps were piled in a corner. A faint, musty scent hung in the still air.
Jovi let out a long, deep sigh, his shoulders slumping. "Of all the powers the System could have given me, it couldn't have been telekinesis for cleaning?" he muttered to the empty room. Domestic chores were, and always had been, his most detested activity.
But a determined glint entered his eyes. This was *his* space now. He couldn't start his grand adventure from a dusty, chaotic hovel. It was a test of his resolve, the first mundane challenge of his new existence.
Rolling up his sleeves, he got to work. He started by airing the place out, throwing the shutters wide open to let the sea breeze sweep through. He found a relatively clean rag in a cupboard and a bucket outside, which he filled from the well. For the next several hours, Jovi was a whirlwind of uncharacteristic domestic activity. He swept the packed-earth floor until it was smooth, wiped down every surface until the wood grain showed through, cleared out the cobwebs, and righted the furniture. He beat the thin mattress in the small loft sleeping area until no more dust clouds emerged, and arranged the few usable items he found. It was hard, tedious work, and he grumbled throughout, but there was a strange, meditative satisfaction in it.
By the time he stood back to admire his work, the two suns of Dawn Island were dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange, purple, and deep blue. The cottage was transformed. It was clean, orderly, and now felt truly like a sanctuary. The musty smell was gone, replaced by the clean scent of sea air and polished wood. As the first stars began to twinkle in the lavender sky, Jovi stood in the doorway, looking out at the quiet, sleeping village. He was exhausted, but a profound sense of accomplishment filled him. He had a home. Tomorrow, his adventure would truly begin.