Echo Harp Island
Departure Town, Old Violin Tavern
Dim yellow light filled the tavern, while lazy jazz drifted through the air like a haze of old cigarette smoke.
Two groups of men in black suits stood on opposite sides of the room, clearly divided as they gathered around the central booth.
The atmosphere was tense and suffocating.
Seated on one side was a middle-aged man with a carefully trimmed goatee.
Across from him sat a hulking bald man whose neck was almost as thick as his head.
The two were in the middle of negotiating a deal involving weapons and Berries.
“What?
Thirty million Berries?” Lorenzo tapped his fingers lightly against the table, displeasure obvious in his voice.
“Falcone, you’re cutting the price way too hard.
Most of these weapons are still at least eighty percent new—”
“Hmph.
Let’s be straight with each other, Lorenzo.” Falcone cut him off in a deep, booming voice, gesturing with his thick fingers.
“This isn’t our first deal together.
You know damn well the price I’m offering is fair-”
His words abruptly stopped.
BOOM!!!
The tavern’s flimsy wooden door suddenly exploded inward as though it had been struck by a cannonball, spraying splinters across the floor.
CLICK!
CLICK!
CLICK!
CLICK!
Almost the instant the door was kicked open, every suited man around the booth instinctively drew a pistol.
The metallic sounds of more than twenty guns being cocked rang through the tavern.
But the black muzzles weren’t pointed toward the entrance.
They were aimed at the supposed business partners sitting across the table.
“You trying to screw me over, Falcone?!” Lorenzo barked, his finger already resting on the trigger.
“I should be asking YOU that, Lorenzo!”
Falcone slammed both hands onto the table and rose to his feet.
His massive frame towered over the booth, while his men raised their weapons without hesitation.
“Your men?”
“Your men?”
Both gang leaders spoke almost simultaneously.
The two sides glared at each other, weapons raised, the tension stretched as tight as a drawn bowstring.
The slightest spark could turn the tavern into a bloody battlefield.
And the cause of all this chaos?
The shattered wooden door still swaying on its hinges…
And the three figures standing in the entrance, silhouetted against the daylight outside.
Sammy casually swept his gaze over the dozens of guns inside the tavern.
He didn’t look worried in the slightest.
In fact, he even took a moment to admire the place.
Old, but surprisingly stylish.
Though judging by the situation, it’ll probably need renovating soon.
“Tch.
Quite the welcome.”
Sammy walked across the broken pieces of wood as casually as if he were strolling through his own backyard.
The floor creaked beneath his boots as he headed straight for the bar and gave the trembling bartender a friendly smile.
“Hey!
Business looks lively today.”
He leaned against the counter.
“Boss, three bottles of rum.
We’re drinking here.”
Lorenzo and Falcone both turned murderous gazes toward the uninvited guest.
Nobody enjoyed having an important deal interrupted—especially when the interruption could easily be mistaken for an ambush arranged by the other side.
Falcone forced down his anger and spoke through clenched teeth.
“Who the hell are you?
Can’t you see this place is reserved?
Get out!”
“Don’t mind me.”
Sammy casually dragged over a chair.
CLANG!
He planted it directly in front of the two gang bosses’ booth, dropped into the seat, and shamelessly propped his boots on the table between them.
“You two keep talking.”
He leaned back comfortably.
“We’ll finish our drinks and leave.”
Isaac and Aldo stood behind him, one on each side, like a pair of towering gatekeepers.
Their expressions made it clear they weren’t impressed by anyone in the room.
“You’ve got a death wish!”
One hot-tempered thug beside Falcone finally snapped and raised his pistol toward Sammy at point-blank range.
But before his finger could tighten around the trigger, Falcone slapped the weapon downward.
“STOP!” Falcone growled.
“Lower your guns!” Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
The bright light from outside had hidden Sammy’s face when he first entered.
Now that Sammy was sitting only a few meters away, Falcone could finally see him clearly.
That young face carrying a strange mixture of laziness and arrogance…
It quickly overlapped with a wanted poster buried in Falcone’s memory.
The fury on his face vanished.
Shock replaced it.
Then, almost painfully, Falcone forced a stiff smile onto his face, his attitude changing so quickly it was almost comical.
“Well, well!
I was wondering who had enough nerve to make an entrance like that!”
His voice suddenly became remarkably polite.
“So it’s Captain Ribera Sammy of the Jellyfish Pirates!
You should’ve told me you were coming, Captain Sammy.
I would’ve personally prepared a proper welcome for you!”
“Huh?”
This time, Sammy was the one caught off guard.
Even the hand he had been using to brush back his hair froze halfway through the motion.
He had deliberately barged in like an arrogant bastard because he expected these people to attack him.
Then he could stretch his muscles a little and, while he was at it…
Well…
Replenish the crew’s operating funds.
But this bald bastard actually recognized him.
And worse…
He was being obedient?
“You know me?”
“Captain, come on!” Falcone’s smile somehow became even more ‘sincere.’ “You’ve got a sixty-nine million berry bounty.
In the West Blue, who DOESN’T know Ribera Sammy?”
He immediately turned toward the bar and shouted in the politest voice his men had probably ever heard from him.
“Bartender!
What are you standing there for?
Bring Captain Sammy and his brothers some drinks!
Your best rum!”
Falcone slapped his chest.
“It’s on me!”
“…”
Sammy stared at him blankly.
This isn’t how the script is supposed to go!
I’m supposed to make an arrogant entrance, one of his underlings gets pissed off and attacks me, and then I beat the hell out of everyone!
If you’re going to act this friendly, how am I supposed to start the fight?!
Still wearing his overly enthusiastic smile, Falcone turned toward the grim-faced Lorenzo.
“Looks like we won’t be finishing our deal today.
Something unexpected came up.
You understand, right?”
Lorenzo gave a cold snort.
His gloomy gaze moved from Sammy to Falcone and back again.
In the end, he said nothing.
He simply waved his hand, gathered his men, and quickly left the tavern.
“Hmph.”
Sammy crossed one leg over the other and casually watched Lorenzo leave.
“Who’s that guy?
He walks around like he owns half the damn West Blue.”
“Oh, him?” Falcone turned back, his smile becoming even warmer.
“Just a second-rate arms dealer.
Nobody worth mentioning.”
He gestured eagerly toward the table.
“Come, Captain Sammy!
Running into you today is an honor.
Please, let me treat you and your brothers to a drink!”
The bartender hurriedly brought over three unopened bottles of rum.
Falcone personally picked one up.
With an exaggerated flourish, he wiped around the mouth of the bottle before offering it to Sammy with both hands.
“A drink?”
Sammy looked at him with a mocking smile that was almost pitying.
“Hey, Baldy.”
Falcone’s smile didn’t change as he leaned closer.
“Yes, Captain?”
“Your acting sucks.”
Before Falcone could react, Sammy’s hand shot out and clamped around the wrist holding the bottle.
He twisted.
“GAAH!”
Falcone cried out in pain.
“You seem to like this rum so much…”
Sammy’s grin widened.
“Why don’t YOU have the first drink?”
He raised his wrist.
The bottle turned almost completely vertical.
Amber liquor poured violently down Falcone’s throat.
“GULP—GULP—COUGH!
COUGH!
COUGH!”
Falcone’s eyes bulged as he struggled desperately, but Sammy’s grip held him like an iron vise.
Rum flooded into his mouth and down the wrong pipe, turning his face a dark, ugly red as he choked.
“BOSS!”
“You bastards dare attack our boss?!
I’LL KILL YOU!”
BANG!
Sammy moved faster.
The bottle came down with a vicious whistle and smashed directly across Falcone’s bald head.
Glass exploded everywhere.
Amber liquor and glittering shards sprayed through the air.
“AAARGH!
COUGH!
COUGH!”
Falcone screamed and staggered backward, stars flashing across his vision.
He clutched the swelling, bleeding lump on his head and roared through furious coughs.
“RIBERA SAMMY!
COUGH!
YOU FUCKING LUNATIC!
I OFFERED YOU A DRINK AND YOU—”
“Offered me a drink?”
Sammy cut him off.
He flicked the liquor from his hand, his voice dripping with mockery.
“There was powder all over the mouth of that bottle.
What, did you think I was blind?”
His expression turned cold.
“And besides…”
Sammy stepped forward.
A murderous pressure rolled off him.
“I’ve been sailing the West Blue for SIX YEARS.”
His voice grew colder with every word.
“And do you know who I’ve spent those six years robbing?”
He pointed at Falcone.
“GANGSTERS LIKE YOU.”
The room went silent.
“When the hell have people like you EVER greeted me with a smile?”
Sammy sneered.
“Then suddenly you come crawling over like some obedient little lapdog, offering me your best rum and acting like we’re old friends?”
He cracked his knuckles.
“If you weren’t trying to screw me over, what other reason could there possibly be?!”
“DAMN IT!
HE SAW THROUGH US!”
Falcone’s false friendliness vanished completely.
His face twisted with rage as he ripped the pistol from his waist.
“BOYS!
TAKE THEM DOWN!”
He aimed at Sammy and roared.
“Sixty-nine million berries!
THAT HEAD IS MINE!”
“MOVE!” Sammy ordered at almost the exact same moment.
Behind him, Isaac and Aldo exploded into action like two tigers released from their cages, charging straight toward the enemies on either side.
The tavern’s brief peace shattered instantly.
And the battle erupted.
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