The mayor of Flame Town led Rody and his crew to a bustling meat market. He pointed at a tall, pink-haired woman in a red dress and said solemnly, "Lord Slayer, that's the woman who claims to be the best chef in the East Blue."
At those words, the woman turned around and began to dance—her red skirt twirling like fire. When she stopped, two men suddenly jumped out from behind her. One was short, with a face longer than a winter melon, and the other was a fat man whose nostrils were somehow larger than his eyes.
"Lord Carmen is the best chef in the East Blue! That's not just talk!"
"I'm her first apprentice, Leo!" said the short man with the winter-melon face, puffing his chest proudly.
"And I'm her second apprentice, Jose!" said the big-nosed man, holding up a stack of photos of defeated chefs. "Lord Carmen has beaten countless chefs across the East Blue!"
Then, the pink-haired woman raised a fan marked with the word "food" and struck a dramatic pose. "I am the one they call the greatest chef of the East Blue—Flame Carmen! Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho!"
As she laughed, she twirled gracefully and jumped into the air… only to get dizzy and fall flat.
Leo and Jose rushed forward to catch her with practiced ease—clearly not their first time saving their master from her own theatrics.
The crowd stood silent, unsure how to react to this strange performance.
Rody rubbed his temples, speechless. What kind of oddballs were these? Still, he had to admit—someone who could defeat so many chefs had to possess real skill, no matter how eccentric she seemed.
He glanced at the fainted Carmen and waved to Mike. "Take her and her disciples aboard the ship."
"As for you, mayor," Rody said to the trembling man, "we'll leave once we've stocked up."
…
Nami and Rody spent the afternoon buying supplies—fresh food, and the town's specialty, heart-shaped mangoes the size of grapefruits. Nami also found paper and ink for her sea charts. When their errands were done, they returned to the ship.
…
On the first deck's conference room, Rody leaned back in a large chair, waiting for Carmen. A moment later, she stepped through the door, her face serious and composed.
"So, you've learned who I am?" Rody asked casually.
Carmen nodded. "Yes. The man with a fifty-million berries bounty—Rody the Slayer."
"Then you should also know why I brought you aboard."
"I do. Your butler explained everything. You're heading to the Grand Line. I'll agree to cook for you… but only on two conditions."
"Let's hear them," Rody said, voice still light but his gaze sharp.
"First, before we leave the East Blue, I want to challenge one chef to a culinary duel. Second, once we reach the Grand Line, I wish to seek the legendary All Blue—a sea where every ingredient from around the world gathers. It's the dream of every chef."
Rody gave a lazy smile. "Hmm. Reasonable requests. But I refuse."
Carmen's expression hardened. "Then even if you kill me, I won't be your ship's cook."
"Those who don't understand the weight of death," Rody murmured, "shouldn't toss the word around so easily." His voice grew colder. "Still, if you want me to agree, I'll give you a chance. Step toward me—just one step. Do that, and I'll say yes."
Carmen's eyes blazed with resolve. She lifted her foot to step forward—but the instant she moved, her skin split open with hundreds of fine wounds. Pain flared through her body as blood trickled down her arms. She realized what had happened—this was his power.
Every nerve screamed for her to stop. One more step would mean death.
Rody's expression didn't waver. His eyes were cold, indifferent—testing her spirit.
Carmen closed her eyes. Her mind filled with memories of the past ten years—days and nights spent perfecting her craft, the countless failures and burnt dishes, the relentless drive that had long since become part of her soul.
Then, with a shaky breath, she took that step.
The expected agony never came. Her foot touched the ground, and her knees gave out—she collapsed before him.
"I accept your terms," Rody said softly, looking down at her.
Carmen let out a long breath. Relief washed through her—but when she saw her body covered in small bleeding cuts, her heart sank.
Her eyes glistened. No woman loved beauty more than Carmen. She loved dancing, admired her reflection, and took pride in her elegance. To have her body marred by scars—it was unbearable. What kind of dancer could she be then? What kind of woman?
Tears welled up as despair set in.
Rody watched her quietly, then reached out and pressed his hand against the wound on her waist. A faint red glow pulsed beneath his palm—Reversed Cursed Technique activated.
The wounds across Carmen's body began to heal rapidly. Her smooth, pale skin returned to perfection.
Carmen blinked, stunned, then touched the spot where the wound had been. Her fingertips brushed against soft, flawless skin. "It's… it's gone. Not even a scar…" she whispered, and tears of relief streamed down her cheeks as she laughed through them.
But then, she suddenly realized Rody's hand was still resting on her bare waist. The fabric of her dress had been cut open during the test, and in her joy she'd forgotten.
Her face flushed crimson. She pushed his hand away and stumbled to her feet. Rody simply flicked his coat toward her, draping it over her shoulders as she bolted for the door.
"Now," Rody called after her, voice low and teasing, "let me see what the 'Flame Chef' can really cook."
Outside, Mike stood holding a tray of juice. When Carmen dashed past him, wrapped in Rody's coat, he smiled knowingly.
…
Night fell.
Rody sat at the grand dining table, the room filled with the warmth of light and the mouthwatering aroma of food. Steam rose from a pot in the center of the table, carrying the scent of rich broth and sizzling spices.
Nami took a piece of sea beast meat from the pot and offered it to Rody. "Rody, this meat is amazing!" she said cheerfully.
Rody accepted it, chewing slowly. The meat melted in his mouth—tender yet full-bodied, every bite bursting with flavor. It was pure satisfaction.
Next, he picked up a sushi roll and took a bite. The ocean's freshness and the sweetness of the rice blended together perfectly, layer upon layer of taste and texture. It was beyond anything the real world could offer.
After washing it down with a swig of wine, Rody leaned back, smiling faintly. For the first time, he truly looked forward to visiting the floating restaurant, Baratie—to taste what kind of flavor Sanji and his mentor, Red-Leg Zeff, could create.