Upon hearing news of the Straw Hat boy, Smoker—that "Old Smoker"—departed immediately. Likewise, the guardian deity of Alabasta transformed into a sandstorm and hurtled toward the distance.
In a room that felt somewhat hollow, Nico Robin glanced at the Banana Gators swimming freely in the aquarium. She let out a long sigh before looking back down at the book in her hand, which she had already read more times than she could count.
Ever since the World Government had turned its gaze toward this kingdom, Robin—a woman of captivating charm and a highly sensitive identity—had been forced to stay cooped up in this casino basement. She lived the life of a "homebody," never setting foot outside the door.
In truth, this wasn't so bad. Robin was naturally fond of peace and quiet and loved to read. Give this elegant woman a good book and a cup of fragrant tea, and she could sit quietly for an entire day.
However, "quiet" didn't necessarily mean she enjoyed being a shut-in. Furthermore, you couldn't expect a man as dull as Crocodile—whose only hobby aside from raising Banana Gators was... nothing—to have much of a personal library.
Simply put: Robin was currently extremely bored.
(There is nearly a day left before Mr. 0's plan officially goes into full motion... Will I find what I'm looking for there?)
For a moment, Robin's gaze grew distant. Countless images flashed through her mind, finally settling on a towering tree burning in a pitiless, raging inferno.
Even though twenty years had passed, the scene felt as though it had happened only yesterday. She couldn't help but let out a soft, melancholy sigh.
"There are truly too many obstacles on the road ahead of me..."
Just as Robin was lost in her grief, the Transponder Snail rang. The "brulu-brulu" sound was exceptionally jarring in the silent room.
"This is the casino's private line." Surprised, Robin answered the call. An anxious voice immediately came through from the other end.
"Manager! It's bad! Someone came to crash the place today! That bastard in the glasses seems to be a master of cheating—he's already won nearly 1 billion Berries! Our people are no match for him! You—"
"Glasses? Interesting..." Without listening to the rest of the manager's report, Robin gently placed her book on the table. A strange light sparkled in her beautiful eyes.
Though she hadn't confirmed it with her own eyes, her intuition already told her who the visitor was.
"Have him go to the VIP room," Robin said, her expression settling. Her lips curved into a heart-stoppingly perfect smile. "I will personally attend to this 'distinguished guest.'"
People have always debated whether gambling is a skill or an art.
In truth, if the goal is winning and losing, it counts as a skill. But if the goal is entertainment, gambling becomes an art used to cultivate one's temperament.
So the question arose: Between this man and woman, were they playing at art or skill?
The answer: Cheating!
In the VIP room of Rain Dinners.
The room was vast and decorated with extreme luxury. In the center stood a gambling table. A man and a woman sat at opposite ends, looking at each other in silence. The mysterious smiles on their faces were strikingly similar.
A beautiful dealer in a revealing outfit stood by, silently shuffling the cards. Her movements were smooth and fluid, a spectacle in themselves as her long fingers flipped the deck with a pleasant swish-swish sound.
As she shuffled, her eyes drifted to the mountains of chips on the table. Even after working at Rainbase's largest casino for years and seeing many high rollers, she still felt lightheaded.
4 billion Berries! Not 400,000—4 billion! This was almost equal to the entire operating revenue of Rain Dinners for half a year.
Yet, facing an astronomical sum that would make anyone else's knees weak, the two parties remained calm and composed, as if this stake was beneath their notice.
Moreover, the atmosphere between them wasn't the tense standoff expected when two people are gambling away their life savings; instead, it felt intimate, like two old friends catching up.
The black-suited bodyguards standing nearby swallowed hard, looking toward their beautiful manager with expectation.
(No matter what, you can't lose to that four-eyed bastard, Manager!)
The dealer placed the shuffled deck in the center and gestured toward Robin.
—Previous winner cuts the deck—
Robin's face was full of a charming smile. Then, without any apparent movement from her, a slender arm sprouted from the gambling table like a blossoming flower. Five fingers spread slightly, splitting the neat stack of cards in two.
The dealer was about to distribute the cards when she was interrupted by a clear, male voice.
"Wait a moment, my beautiful dealer." Sherlock gently pushed up his glasses, then spoke calmly to the intellectual woman smiling before him. "If we keep playing like this, Miss All Sunday, I doubt we'll finish within our lifetimes."
Gambling is a game that heavily relies on intellect. People say it's about character, luck, and thrill, but in the eyes of true masters, luck is the least important factor.
Robin and Sherlock were both individuals of transcendent intelligence. Worse, they both possessed Devil Fruit abilities that were perfectly suited for cheating. Consequently, the struggle between these two "hacker-tier" players lacked the intensity of a clash between titans; instead, it was exceptionally boring.
It made sense—the two of them were essentially playing with their hands revealed the entire time. What was left to gamble on?
This was another form of "The Loneliness of the Master."
"You're right, Sherlock." Robin nodded in agreement. She elegantly crossed her legs and rested her chin in her hand, her long fingers tapping rhythmically against her smooth cheek. "So, what do you propose?"
"Also, I forgot to ask last time—why are your glasses non-prescription?" At this, the woman's smiling eyes curved into crescent moons. "Could it be that they're just for decoration?"
"Decoration? No, no, no... this is my treasure." Sherlock pushed his glasses, reflecting two dazzling beams of light. He then looked at the two split stacks of cards and suggested:
"Let's play something primitive: High Card Wins. No tricks, just pure luck. How about it?"
"Oh? A game of luck?" After a moment of thought, Robin accepted with a smile.
The dealer dealt the cards—one each.
Sherlock pressed his card onto the table without looking at it, staring calmly at the beautiful woman opposite him instead.
"Your turn to bet." Likewise, without checking her card, Nico Robin met Sherlock's gaze without flinching.
With a soft laugh, Sherlock didn't rush to place a bet. He turned his head toward the beautiful dealer standing by the table and asked in a warm tone:
"Beautiful lady, do you think I can win this time?"
The dealer had been unnerved by the massive stakes. When the "Sorcerer" suddenly addressed her, her face flushed red. She answered nervously:
"You... you should be able to win." This was her honest thought; after all, in the previous rounds, her manager had lost more often than she had won.
"Is that so? I think so too. My luck has always been quite good."
Sherlock chuckled. He then gestured to the mountain of chips before him and said casually:
"There are about 2 billion Berries here. I'm all in."
Hiss— Hearing this, the bodyguards in the distance all sucked in a breath of cold air.
Was this guy with the glasses incredibly bold, or did he just not value money at all?
Even someone as composed as Robin changed expression slightly. She stared intently into Sherlock's eyes behind the lenses. Those black pupils shone like midnight stars, manifesting the immense confidence of their owner.
Regaining her composure, Nico Robin said softly, "But my chips seem to be lacking a little."
"You don't need to worry about that. You can use yourself as the stake..." Sherlock revealed a smile that suggested his scheme had succeeded. "I remember your bounty is 79 million Berries. Rounding up, that's 100 million. It's plenty."
"You bastard!"
The others in the room erupted into an uproar. Several hot-headed bodyguards drew their weapons and surrounded him indignantly. It seemed that as soon as their beautiful manager gave the order, they would execute this disrespectful bastard on the spot.
Raising a hand to signal her subordinates not to act rashly, Robin looked at the Sorcerer again.
(What are you thinking, Sassarian?)
Robin suddenly felt that the man before her could see her deepest secrets at any time, yet she could never get close to his heart.
"Fine. I'll take that bet!" As if possessed, Robin actually agreed to this ridiculous wager quite decisively. She rose slowly and sat atop the gambling table, remaining with her chips as if she were truly making herself the stake.
Robin flipped her card: The King of Spades.
"I forgot to tell you, my luck is also quite good..." This woman, radiating a mesmerizing charm, leaned lazily against the table with one arm. With the other hand, she held up the King of Spades and let out a giggle. "There are only four cards higher than this. Do you really believe your luck is that good?"
Sherlock remained unmoved, slowly reaching for his card.
"I see. A shame you met me..." With that, he flipped his card.
Everyone held their breath instantly, their eyes fixed on the face of the card.
"This—" "No way!" "How?!"
The card showed only a single, large black heart—very, very black, black like Sherlock's captivating eyes.
"As I said, my luck has always been very good." Sherlock held up his Ace of Spades, pushing up his glasses with a face of total calm, as if this were only natural.
Thud— The dealer's legs went weak, and she collapsed to the floor in a daze. 2 billion Berries had changed hands in an instant! This staggering, world-shaking gamble was more than her heart could handle.
Rising and walking over to Nico Robin, who was still sitting on the table in a daze, Sherlock spoke softly but firmly:
"Now, you are mine."
Hearing this, Robin finally snapped out of her daze. However, just as she planned to move, she felt a slight prickling sensation on her neck. A wave of drowsiness hit her, her vision went black, and her body fell forward. Sherlock, prepared, caught her in his arms.
Due to the angle, in the eyes of the bodyguards, it looked as though their beautiful manager had thrown herself into his arms. They exchanged confused looks.
At the entrance of Rain Dinners.
After listening to the Sorcerer's serious-sounding nonsense, the casino manager gave Sherlock a thumbs-up as he carried Robin away. Sherlock left, swaggering away from the building.
A bodyguard hurried over, puzzled. "Boss, the manager was just kidnapped! Why didn't you let us stop him?"
"Kidnapped? You don't know shit!" the manager said, frustrated by his subordinate's stupidity. "Didn't you see the way they were making eyes at each other just now? Honestly, those two were already together long ago! They're just going on a date..."
"What?!"
The bodyguards were shocked. Upon thinking it over, they realized there was indeed an ambiguous air between the pair. Furthermore, the man was handsome and the woman beautiful; they seemed like a match made in heaven.
"Oh, no wonder that guy in the glasses left all the money he won behind. It was because of that," one bodyguard realized.
"Exactly. They're family now, who cares about the money?" The others nodded in agreement.
"Then... then why did the manager look like she fainted?"
The manager sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Idiot, the manager was faking it. It's a roleplay thing, don't you get it? Sigh~"
"Oh, I see..." The other bodyguards narrowed their eyes, looking at the manager as if he were a veteran of the "love games."
"Should we tell Boss Crocodile about this?" the slow-witted bodyguard asked again.
"Of course not for something this minor!" the manager shook his head solemnly. "The manager is such a good person; she deserves her own happiness. As her subordinates, we should protect her happiness!"
"Yes! Protect the manager's happiness!" the bodyguards shouted in unison.
If Sherlock knew that a few random lies could lead the kind-hearted casino manager to come up with such a massive delusion, who knows what he would think?
And nobody noticed that after Sherlock left, the surface of that "miraculous" Ace of Spades rippled like a reflection in water before turning back into a Seven of Diamonds.
It seemed the promise of "relying entirely on luck" was a joke in and of itself...