Something was seriously wrong with this tavern.
Donquixote Doflamingo could feel it — every instinct screamed danger the moment he'd tried to get angry.
Just as his temper flared, a flicker of motion caught his eye.
Across the bar, a pair of twin girls were working in quiet precision.
The blue-haired one held a small knife — and under a burst of blinding light, the fish in front of her was expertly filleted. Bone and flesh separated in one smooth motion; each slice of meat perfectly even, paper-thin.
And yet… the fish was still alive.
Its eyes blinked, gills opening and closing rhythmically, as if unaware that its body was now a neatly stacked platter of sashimi.
Even among the Donquixote Family, none of his swordsmen could pull off such skill.
Then, the pink-haired twin stepped forward. Her fair hands shimmered with Armament Haki as she grabbed a bundle of thick steel rods — and bent them with her bare hands into a perfectly balanced grill.
A flick of her wrist dispelled the Haki, and her palms burst into gentle flame. With effortless grace, she lit the coals beneath the rack.
Doflamingo's pupils constricted sharply.
Then his gaze drifted behind the bar — and froze again.
Hanging on the back wall, treated like simple decoration, was a blade that radiated pure, suffocating dominance.
Its broad, flawless steel reflected the light like moonwater.
He recognized it instantly.
That sword — one of the Supreme Grade Blades — had once belonged to none other than Gol D. Roger, the Pirate King himself.
His brain stalled.
Why does that little girl wield a flame power identical to Ace's Mera Mera no Mi?
Why is Roger's blade hanging in this bar like a souvenir?
What the hell is this place?
Without another word, Doflamingo quietly turned and… closed the door.
Then, like a proper guest, he walked to the bar and sat down.
Diamante watched the scene unfold in disbelief.
Seeing his captain — Donquixote Doflamingo, Warlord of the Sea, King of Dressrosa — obediently close a door… it was surreal.
He said nothing, choosing instead to stand silently behind him.
"Gentlemen," Rayleigh said with a chuckle, rising from his stool. He dropped a wad of Berries onto the counter, then gave Doflamingo a firm pat on the shoulder.
"You've got potential, kid. But take my advice — don't stir up trouble. If you do, not even God will save you."
A reminder.
And a threat.
Not just about keeping the peace inside the tavern — but also a warning to stay away from Ace.
After all, Shakky had already caught wind that Doflamingo's men were tailing the boy.
Doflamingo's grin widened, though his eyes behind the sunglasses gleamed with madness.
"Fufufufu… Old relic of the past. If you've retired, stay retired — and keep your nose out of the new age."
Rayleigh only smiled — and the hand still resting on Doflamingo's shoulder suddenly tightened.
Crunch.
Agonizing pain shot through Doflamingo's arm. His entire face twisted crimson.
Diamante reached for his sword, but before he could act, Rayleigh released his grip.
Without another word, the Dark King vanished from sight, his silhouette dissolving like mist.
"Now then," Ron said cheerfully, breaking the tension. "What'll you two have to drink?"
The last thing he needed was Doflamingo chasing after Rayleigh and ruining business.
This customer was rich — too rich to waste.
And Ron firmly believed in his tavern's founding philosophy:
Never let a rich man leave without lightening his wallet.
"Anything good," Doflamingo said casually, his right hand bursting with thin white strings to repair his shattered shoulder.
Rayleigh's single squeeze had crushed it to pulp — if not for the String-String Fruit's ability to stitch flesh, he'd be halfway to the hospital by now.
Moments later, at Ron's signal, Ram appeared carrying a massive black wine jar.
"Your drink, sir," she said politely, setting it down.
Three bold characters were etched on the surface: Bamboo Leaf Green.
Ron smiled.
"This one's called Zhuyeqing. It's a fine white liquor infused with rare medicinal herbs. Very popular with seasoned drinkers."
He pulled off the red cloth sealing the jar — pop! — and at once, a thick aroma of herbs and alcohol filled the air.
"Try it," Ron said with an easy grin. "Though… it's a little pricey."
He poured three cups — one for Doflamingo, one for himself, and a third that sat untouched for show.
The Warlord swirled his glass. The golden liquor shimmered with a faint green hue — clear, enticing, elegant.
Just looking at it made him feel relaxed.
"How much for the jar?" he asked, taking a sip.
Gulp.
The flavor exploded on his tongue — fragrant, smooth, with a trace of bitter sweetness that deepened into warmth.
It was stronger than any red wine he'd ever had, yet refined, like something sacred.
In that instant, he understood why Rayleigh drank here so often.
"Not much," Ron said with a smile. "Just four hundred million Berries."
"Mm… that's a fair pri—"
Doflamingo froze mid-sentence.
His mind short-circuited.
Wait.
Four hundred million?
His grin twitched. A black shop. A damn black shop!
He — the man who extorted entire kingdoms — was being extorted himself?!
"Boss," he said coldly, his voice dropping an octave. "Isn't that price a little… steep?"
Ron only smiled, covering the jar again with its red cloth.
"If you don't think it's worth it, I won't charge you. You're free to leave."
The gesture was calm — but unmistakably dismissive.
Doflamingo stared at him.
No one ever spoke to him like that.
But this tavern owner… was different.
The man radiated the kind of confidence only someone truly terrifying could have.
After a moment of silence, Doflamingo burst out laughing.
"Fufufufu… You're an interesting one, I'll give you that."
He turned his head slightly.
"Diamante. Go get the money. Cash."
The officer hesitated only a moment before rushing out to the nearest bank.
In truth, Doflamingo didn't mind the price.
Four hundred million for a bottle of wine was outrageous, yes — but not if the tavern owner's strength was equal to an Admiral's.
A man like that could be useful.
Of course, had Ron demanded the money forcefully, Doflamingo wouldn't have hesitated to fight.
Fifteen minutes later, Diamante returned, lugging two large black chests.
He set them down with a heavy thud and opened them.
Inside lay neat stacks of Berries — four hundred million, shimmering under the lamplight.
Ron grinned.
"Thank you kindly. Enjoy your drink."
He pushed the jar toward Doflamingo, reopening it.
Just then, the system's chime echoed in Ron's mind.
[Ding! Congratulations, Host — Total Sales Surpassed 500 Million! Tavern upgrade initiated after business hours!]
[Ding! Tavern privilege increased — daily chance to invite a guest from another world!]
[Ding! Universal Tavern Mall unlocked! Host may now purchase items using system points!]
[Ding! Upon reaching 2 Billion in revenue, further upgrades will unlock — eventually allowing dimensional travel!]
Ron blinked. Seriously? How many upgrades is this system planning to dangle in front of me?
He opened the new interface in his mind — and nearly dropped his glass.
An endless list of worlds and their treasures appeared before him:
One Piece, Marvel, Konosuba, Naruto, even… Night Shift Nurses (what the hell?).
Devil Fruits, senzu beans, ninja scrolls, instant doors, the Hulk's underwear — everything was on sale.
But all required points.
"How do I earn points?" Ron asked mentally.
[Ding! Any Devil Fruits or skill books in your inventory can be converted into points.]
Ron's gaze flicked toward Doflamingo, who was happily sipping his drink.
"Can artificial Devil Fruits be exchanged too?"
[Ding! Artificial Zoan Fruits — 300 points. Natural Zoans — 500. Paramecia — 600. Ancient types — 700. Logia and Mythical Zoan — 1,000 points each.]
A slow grin spread across Ron's face.
That was… very interesting.
Especially since the prices for redemption and purchase matched perfectly.
He looked up at Doflamingo again, his eyes gleaming.
"Hey," Ron said casually, resting his chin on one hand. "Give up your deal with Kaido."
Doflamingo raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Ron's smile widened.
"From now on, I'll buy all your artificial Devil Fruits."
Doflamingo stared at him, sunglasses slipping slightly down his nose.
"...What?"
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