Ren—
Was a good man.
At least, that's what Vivi thought. Or rather, what she'd seen and heard through her time with him.
During the voyage to Alabasta aboard the Enlightenment, the crew consisted of Bonney, Nami, and Nojiko.They were all girls around the same age, so they naturally had more to talk about.
Someone like Igaram could never join those conversations the way Vivi could.
Because of her unique background and experiences, Vivi often noticed something—A flicker of pity or compassion in Nami's and Nojiko's eyes when they looked at her.
To be honest,She didn't like being looked at that way—like she was fragile, helpless, a girl who could only rely on others.
It made her feel small, as if all her efforts meant nothing.But in truth, Vivi had been doing her best, and she didn't want her hard work quietly dismissed by sympathy.
Still, she understood.Nami and Nojiko didn't look down on her. Their pity came from kindness, not contempt.
She knew her discomfort was her own insecurity speaking—her inferiority born from weakness.And in the grand scheme of things, that didn't matter. Her pride was less important than her nation's survival.
So, She adjusted her mindset and blended naturally into their group of four.
It was worth mentioning that—Bonney had never pitied her. On the contrary, because of Bonney's peculiar circumstances, there was a certain mutual empathy between them.
Perhaps that was why—When Bonney reverted into her child form, Nami and Nojiko's guards would drop instantly.
Their conversations became easier, more candid—sometimes even useful.
Vivi noticed.Bonney was doing that on purpose—she wanted to understand Ren, just as Vivi did. After all, at the time, Bonney's situation was barely better than that of a prisoner.
Vivi shared that same feeling of wary curiosity.
Together, without words, the two quietly pieced together what kind of man Ren truly was—And although they couldn't make full sense of him, one thing became clear:
Ren was not a good man.
A truly good man couldn't do the kinds of things only villains dared to do. But he wasn't a bad man either. Because bad men didn't help the weak, nor did they stop once they'd taken what they felt they deserved.
He existed in a hazy gray zone between black and white.
"Ren isn't the kind of person you can define as good or evil," Nojiko had once said.
"He's a shade of gray—one that answers only to himself."
Bonney, in her childlike form, had asked bluntly: "He clearly had better ways to handle things—so why do it like that?"
It was Nami who answered her. The girl who might as well have been the captain's woman understood Ren better than most.
She said, "Ren's a man full of contradictions. He likes to do what aligns with his beliefs—that's why he does good things. But he hates being guilt-tripped by other people's so-called kindness."
"What he loves most," Nami continued, "is standing on the high ground. Whether that's moral high ground, power, or something else entirely—he always places himself there before he acts."
According to Ren himself, He liked to "armor up his conscience" before making decisions—So that moral saints and hypocrites couldn't trap him with their double-edged words.
At the time, Nami and Nojiko hadn't quite understood what he meant. It was complicated logic—but with an example, it became clear.
"When you're starving and hopeless, and someone offers to help you...He gives you money, but the price is cruel: you must become his slave. You don't want to die, so you accept. Then, surprisingly, he doesn't treat you cruelly. He gives you work, food, even teaches you how to earn your own way. Eventually, you realize he never truly wanted a slave. He just believed good deeds should be repaid fairly. And if one day you find your freedom—he won't stop you. You'd even thank him for his kindness and think him noble. But if you mistake his mercy for weakness and try to abuse it...He'll show you, through lawful and justified means, what it truly means to be a slave."
That was the story Nami told them—her understanding of Ren after watching his actions up close.
Ren was a good man—The kind who, upon seeing you starve, would hand you a piece of bread but never money.
If you had no means to survive, he'd give you work, a path, or at least a chance—But never more than he believed was right.
If you pushed your luck and tried to steal from him, If you answered his goodwill with cruelty, Ren would pull the trigger without hesitation, Blowing open your skull to remind you exactly how a man like him had survived this long.
And he had the strength to do it.
After coming to that conclusion, Vivi understood exactly what she had to do.
Trying to force Ren to compromise through strength would be suicide—nine lives wouldn't be enough to save her. Throwing tantrums or pleading wouldn't work either.
Ren could be cold as iron, and his logic was brutal: He reasoned with people because he chose to—Not because anyone could make him.
And if he ever stopped choosing reason, All that would be left before her would be the executioner's blade of a stronger man.
There was only one path available.
First—Be honest. Openly lay bare her situation.
Like a kitten that knows when to lie down and expose its belly before a tiger. Then—Offer sincerity. Absolute sincerity.
3.9 billion Beli. 6.1 billion less than the Ten billion originally demanded.
It wasn't a small cut.
Vivi's own private savings barely reached five hundred thousand Beli.
But she was lucky—She'd realized Ren's Ten-billion quote was never a fixed price. He had no real grasp of Alabasta's financial state, and even when Pell tried to negotiate, Ren hadn't refused outright. There was room to bargain. It was only Crocodile's sudden move that had cut the talks short.
That became Vivi's starting point.
Her second reference was Bonney's case. When she learned Bonney owed over six hundred million, Vivi had been shocked. Now, she felt grateful to have that precedent—Because it gave her the courage to sit across from Ren now.
"So... this is everything you can offer?"
On the Enlightenment's third deck, Ren sat on the couch, towel over his neck after training, staring at Vivi with a puzzled look.
The third deck was his personal space. It used to be empty, but with the crew's finances flourishing again, Nojiko had bought him some furniture,turning it into a small lounge.
When Vivi first arrived, she'd stammered so much that he'd finally invited her in to talk. He hadn't expected this outcome.
Indeed—That original Ten-billion offer had been open to negotiation. After all, in the original timeline two years later, Alabasta had gone bankrupt.
Even now, Ren knew from Robin's reports that the kingdom's finances were a mess. That's why he hadn't rejected Pell's earlier attempt to negotiate. Forcing the impossible was meaningless, even for him.
Yes, he could have bled Alabasta dry—Forced them to hand over everything, even more than a Ten billion if he'd wanted to use threats. But that would've made him no different from a pirate.
And Ren didn't fly the Jolly Roger for a reason—He didn't see himself as a pirate.
He was—A red-blooded successor of socialism.
Whether he truly had the right to claim that didn't matter. At least, his values were solid. Massacring entire families wasn't something he could do. And men capable of such things never dreamed of changing the world.
As he'd once told Zoro—He hated this world's underlying logic: How it treated the weak like grass to be harvested, like fuel to be burned without thought.
Because once upon a time—Both he and Keya had been weak.
To gain strength and then deny everything you once hoped for as a weakling—That was something Ren refused to do.
"I-I'll work hard!"
Vivi stammered, then straightened her back with resolve.
Her outfit today was... different. Very different from her usual noble style—In fact, there was a hint of wild charm to it.
From bottom to top—A white cowboy hat, a pink fur-lined cloak, a crimson T-shirt cut low at the neck,a skirt fashioned like an apron wrapping around one thigh, leaving the other bare.
It was embarrassing—But she was sure Miss Nami's "crossing-the-river" advice on outfits was right.
Ren's gaze flicked to her, then darted away—then back again.
Yes—Vivi remembered how unforgettable Whiskey Peak had been. So she'd dressed carefully, playing her hand with quiet cunning.
Of course—That was only the surface of her preparation. What truly mattered was her ability.
She raised her hand—Her palm dissolved into swirling golden sand.
"I'll work for you, just like Miss Bonney! Until you believe the debt is repaid! If I'm not good enough, I'll keep trying harder!"
"6.1 billion, huh..." Ren leaned back, rubbing his temples. "That's more than the bounty of most Yonko. You realize that, right?"
He sighed helplessly, watching the princess plead like a drenched kitten."At that price, if we were talking about labor, I could buy your whole life. Actually—your body, heart, and soul all included."
"...Then will you accept it?"
Her voice trembled; anxiety flickered in her eyes. This was the best plan she could come up with—At least it wouldn't bleed her kingdom dry.
"Not enough," Ren said flatly. "You'll have to add something extra."
(End of Chapter)