With a sullen face, Ochoku forced out through his teeth: “You really are an unpleasant guy.”
Whitebeard ignored him entirely, turning around and walking back inside the ship.
Ochoku stood quietly where he was, watching Whitebeard leave.
Having no other choice—unable to beat him in a fight—he could only swallow the bitter pill.
Time always slipped by in a flash.
In the blink of an eye, two more days had passed.
The rest of the Rocks Pirates still had not arrived to regroup.
The sea remained wide and empty.
By the time Ron woke up, it was already past ten in the morning.
Sunlight angled through the porthole, casting a bright trapezoid across the wooden floor.
Yawning, Ron sat up.
As he walked out, he spotted a sticky note left outside his bedroom door by Annika.
[Lord Ron, I went out to buy groceries.
Be back soon.
The hostage didn’t run away.]
After reading it, Ron casually slipped it into his pocket.
Writing “the hostage didn’t run away” was completely unnecessary.
If he didn’t trust Annika, he wouldn’t have given her the freedom to move around in the first place.
After freshening up, Ron entered the ship’s lounge and immediately saw Stussy curled up on the sofa flipping through a newspaper.
“Oh, you’re up?” Without looking up, Stussy turned a page, her voice lazy.
“Newgate said to find him at the tavern in town for a drink once you woke up.”
“You’re not going?” Ron asked casually.
Only then did Stussy lift her eyelids, cast a glance at him, quickly look back down, and speak in a flat tone: “A thief came back.
I wouldn’t dare turn my back on him.”
She was naturally referring to Ochoku.
Right now, Stussy only hoped that crowd of bastards with Rocks would return sooner, so she wouldn’t have to worry about that “thief” pulling tricks behind her back.
“Oh.” Ron nodded gently, saying no more as he walked outside.
To be honest, he couldn’t quite understand these money-obsessed pirates.
Now that they were pirates, why bother obsessing over treasure so much?
Couldn’t they just snatch whatever they wanted?
What proper pirate would give up what they wanted just because they didn’t have enough money?
“Hey, Ron,” Stussy’s voice called after him from behind.
“Bring some back for me too.”
“Got it.”
The distance from the coast to the town wasn’t far—a normal walk took around thirty minutes to arrive.
Ron was in no rush.
His pace was neither fast nor slow.
Along a slightly winding stretch of the path, he came to a stop.
It wasn’t because he was tired, but because his Malice Perception had picked up the scent of danger.
That perception was proven right in the very next moment.
“Ron, found you at last.”
A light, casual voice drifted from ahead to his side.
Ron turned sideways, looking toward the source of the voice.
Three familiar figures reflected in his eyes.
“Roger?
Rayleigh?
Gaban?” Ron was slightly surprised.
“What a coincidence.”
Yet very quickly, the expressions on the trio’s faces told him this was no chance encounter.
Roger pushed his straw hat up slightly.
Across that usually hearty face of his, there wasn’t a trace of a smile.
“Something on your mind?” Ron spoke first.
Roger didn’t answer immediately.
He stared at Ron for two seconds before speaking in a heavy voice: “Why?
Why did you completely disregard Shakky’s terms after agreeing to them?
You didn’t have to save them, but why did you drag them down with you?”
Seeing expressions on their faces that looked as if someone in their family had died, Ron already knew nothing good was coming.
Now…
it was confirmed.
Yet he still hadn’t expected Roger’s group to have come for Shakky.
Thinking it through carefully, it actually made sense.
In the original story, the entire Roger Pirates were captivated by Shakky.
For “love,” for their so-called “righteousness,” coming to demand justice from him…
was completely normal.
Though…
wait.
Ron felt something was off.
He had acted together with Kaido, Whitebeard, and Stussy—so why look only for him?
Or was he just that unlucky to run into them by chance?
“Them?” Ron’s tone remained flat.
“Are you referring to…
the group of slaves captured by the World Government?”
“Judging by this…
you came to hold me accountable because none of them survived, right?”
Ron felt a bit of pity in his heart.
You should’ve said so earlier.
If they had told him beforehand that every single one of those slaves was someone Shakky wanted, he would have brought them all aboard the auxiliary boat along the way.
Then he could have squeezed a hefty reward out of Shakky.
After all, kidnapping one was a kidnapping; kidnapping a whole group was still a kidnapping.
Roger kept his eyes fixed on Ron’s expression, searching for a hint of guilt, a trace of unease, or even an excuse—anything at all.
Yet there was nothing.
On Ron’s face, there was only indifference—that detached, irritating calm of “this has nothing to do with me” that made one want to punch him right in the face.
Roger’s anger finally surged like a bursting dam: “Ron, you bastard, is honor and trust completely worthless in your eyes?”
Ron didn’t argue back immediately, feeling there was little point in debating Roger.
From Roger’s perspective: if you didn’t save everyone, you were in the wrong.
From his own perspective: Shakky had only asked to “request a certain amount of help under special circumstances.” Ron felt he had already fulfilled that request.
He had saved Annika.
Furthermore, because he had acted on his own while the Kuja Pirates didn’t lift a finger, asking for a double reward was completely reasonable.
“Across the seas, they call me the ‘Demon Butcher,’ saying I, Ron, am a demon who treats human life like trash.
Didn’t you already know that long ago?
Heh…
Is there really any need to be this furious?”
Roger lowered his gaze.
The storm churning within his eyes finally settled into cold resolve.
His hand moved slowly onto his sword hilt, gripping it tight.
“Phew…” Roger exhaled a long breath.
“Since that’s the case…”
Roger was deeply disappointed.
If Ron had shown even a slightly better attitude and said, “It was an accident,” Roger might have shown some leniency.
Even if it were a lie, it would at least show this person still cared about something.
But there was nothing.
Ron didn’t care.
He didn’t care about those who died, nor did he care about “honor.”
“I am beyond glad I refused your request to board my ship back then,” Roger said in a heavy voice.
“After saying all that,” Ron’s voice remained calm, carrying a faint hint of amusement, “I thought you came here to talk reason with me.”
“Wake up to reality, bastard,” Gaban suddenly cut in with a sneer, resting his hand on the weapons at his waist.
“We’re pirates.
Whether we talk reason or not depends entirely on our mood.”