East Blue, Loguetown, Headquarters of the Goldglint Trading Company.
Candlelight flickered within a luxuriously appointed dining room. Two striking beauties sat at the table, savoring wine just delivered from the vineyard while chatting softly.
"Based on your description, Big Sis Anna..." The sweet young girl wearing goggles spoke with a hint of uncertainty. "Sherlock was most likely releasing [Conqueror's Haki] unconsciously at that time."
"He really is impressive, Sherlock. To think he's actually a chosen one, born with the disposition of a king!"
"Hehe. If you stay by his side long enough, Koala, you'll find that nothing is surprising about such things happening to him." President Anna took a light sip of her wine, her tone laced with a faint hint of pride.
"But what's so scary about that...?" Slumped over the table, Koala stared at the clear, blood-red liquid in her goblet and muttered with disappointment, "I thought he'd go wild after drinking, maybe get completely out of control and sexually harass every woman on the ship."
"..." Anna rolled her eyes, clearly defeated by the orange-haired girl's terrifying imagination. Then, subconsciously, she pictured it herself...
"Ahem." She coughed lightly to mask her embarrassment, her cheeks flushed crimson. The scene she had just imagined was indeed far too inappropriate.
"Although his aura at the time was terrifying and felt completely alien—like he was possessed by a demon king—Sherlock's consciousness was incredibly clear. So clear that he didn't seem like a drunk person at all."
"Furthermore, we soon discovered that Sherlock was in a state where he would unconsciously speak the truth. No matter what we asked, even if it was a very private question, he would answer us."
"Oh?" Koala was immediately interested. She pushed herself up from the table with both hands, her face filled with excitement. "Wasn't that a godsend? You guys must have asked a lot of weird questions, right?"
Nodding, Anna revealed a charming smile. "Yes. Since Sherlock is usually so mysterious, we asked many excessive questions that time. Until..."
Here, President Anna paused, a look of lingering fear appearing on her face. Koala inexplicably felt a wave of pressure and swallowed hard.
"...We asked a question that shouldn't have been asked."
With that, Anna raised her goblet and drained it in one gulp.
"Since then, we have never tried to get Sherlock to drink again. We also warned him that terrible things happen when he gets drunk."
Exhaling a breath of heavy air, Anna's cheeks flushed slightly from the alcohol. She stared at Koala with somewhat glazed eyes and articulated every word:
"That man... actually hides a [Demon] deep within his heart."
Sherlock looked Robin up and down, examining her with meticulous care. It was such a focused gaze that even someone as composed as Robin felt a bit creeped out.
After a long while, the glasses-wearing man with the poker face pushed up his frames and spoke faintly:
"B:99 W:59 H:89. The figure isn't bad..."
Pfft...
Hearing this, Nami and the others instantly collapsed onto the beach, nearly coughing up blood. They truly hadn't expected that Sherlock had been visually calculating Robin's three sizes the entire time.
"(⊙-⊙)!" Robin was dumbfounded. She stared blankly at Sherlock, who had calmly uttered such explosive remarks. Her small mouth parted slightly, her brain completely short-circuiting.
A moment later...
"What a sexy figure, Robin-chwan! You are simply a gift from God..."
A certain pervy cook was the first to snap out of it. After fawning for a moment, he looked at Sherlock: "Oi, oi, oi, Sherlock, you can figure that out just by looking?!"
Finished speaking, Sanji rushed excitedly in front of Sherlock and prostrated himself with a face full of piety.
"Please teach me this divine skill! Master!"
Bonk!!! Demon King Nami, face darkened, KO'd the fawning pervy cook with a single strike. Then, wearing an extremely "kind" expression, she looked at the still-calm Warlock...
"Sherlock, can you give me a reasonable explanation?"
The navigator smiled as beautifully as a flower, though the corner of her mouth twitched slightly. "Why is it that in my evaluation, you didn't mention a single word about my sexy figure, but with Robin, her figure is all you talked about?"
"..." Sherlock didn't answer immediately. He seemed to realize his previous answer was slightly inaccurate, so he looked once more at Nico Robin, whose brain was still rebooting, and said indifferently:
"Possesses a significant amount of useful intelligence. Although somewhat foolish, she still holds usage value. An older leftover woman of twenty-eight who still can't get married..."
(What the hell is 'older leftover woman who can't get married'?! You can't just roast people like that! Also, Sherlock, your observation points are way too bizarre!)
Crack~ The Straw Hat crew petrified collectively.
(Although I assumed it wouldn't be anything nice, I didn't expect his evaluation of me to be so...)
A tick mark popped up on her smooth forehead. Having come to her senses, Robin opened her mouth but truly didn't know what to say. The intellectual beauty, face ashen, sighed lightly and slowly crossed her arms in front of her chest.
"Dos Fleurs..." Actually, Robin was a woman who detested violence, but that depended on the situation. After all, women could be quite petty, especially the scheming ones.
Accompanied by drifting petals, several slender arms sprouted from Sherlock's back. Yet, the glasses-wearing man showed no reaction and simply continued to talk to himself:
"However, she smells very nice, and her personality isn't bad..."
Several open palms grabbed ruthlessly toward Sherlock's neck. It seemed that in the next second, Sherlock would get a good taste of the joint-lock skills Robin had immersed herself in for years.
"...Actually, she is my type."
She is my type.
My type.
Type......
The arms that were about to touch the skin of Sherlock's neck froze instantly. They trembled slightly, then dissolved into scattering petals.
"..." Robin's breath hitched. Her expression suddenly became very colorful, shifting between red and pale.
Nami, Zoro, Sanji, Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper looked at each other, their faces all wearing a "did I just suffer an auditory hallucination" expression.
The Straw Hat crew had made peace with the fact that Sherlock wouldn't stop until he had shocked everyone to death with his words.
At this moment, Nico Robin gave a light cough, her expression very calm. "Let's change to a different question..." Even someone as composed as she was clearly flustered by Sherlock's words, which were practically a confession.
"Right, right! We should take this opportunity to ask some interesting questions," Sanji laughed awkwardly. "This guy hides way too many things."
"That makes sense." The dork of a captain nodded solemnly and asked Sherlock, "Hey, Sherlock, what's your favorite food?"
"Alabasta roast rabbit..."
"Shishishi, that really is delicious! It just doesn't have enough meat." Luffy grinned, looking like a foodie who had found a kindred spirit.
(Is this what you consider an interesting question? As expected, we just don't understand the world of gluttons...) The others all had black lines over their heads.
"Idiot... The question needs to have depth." Nami pinched the bridge of her nose helplessly, frowning.
After speaking, Nami pondered for a moment. Her eyes suddenly lit up, and she walked over to Sherlock, grinning.
"Sherlock, what is your sister's name?"
"Lisanna. Sarsalian Lisanna..." The Warlock answered without hesitation.
"Lisanna? That's a really cute name." Nami revealed a charming smile. "So, can you tell us about your sister, Lisanna? I'm very curious about this."
Women are creatures with intense curiosity. Ever since finding out in Nanohana that Sherlock had a sister, the orange-haired navigator had been deeply interested in the glasses-wearing man's sibling.
Sherlock suddenly fell into a mysterious silence. His eyes went blank, the muscles on his usually unchanging poker face began to twitch slightly, and his breathing gradually became rapid.
At the same time, the terrifying aura Sherlock had been unconsciously releasing intensified. That heart-palpitating sensation washed over Nami and the others once again.
The moon was bright and the stars were few. The bonfire in the distance burned vigorously. A salty sea breeze blew past, causing Usopp and the others to shiver subconsciously.
Luffy dropped his usual happy-go-lucky demeanor, his expression beneath the straw hat becoming extremely serious. Zoro narrowed his eyes and placed his hand on his sword hilt again. Sanji crushed the burning cigarette in his fingers and loosened his suit tie.
The three of them realized almost simultaneously that something was suddenly very wrong with Sherlock. He was like an active volcano about to erupt.
Nami felt a sense of foreboding in her heart. She frowned slightly. "Hey, Sherlock, what's wrong? You look really strange. If you don't want to talk about it, you can..."
"Nami! Get away from Sherlock!" the dork of a captain shouted loudly. "You guys, get out of there fast! Sherlock is dangerous right now!"
"He... he seems to be in a drunken rage!"
Boom! Everyone's heart skipped a beat!
"Li... San... Na..."
As if to prove Luffy's words, Sherlock swayed as he stood up. The corners of his mouth curled into a smile so twisted it could be called sick, shedding his usual elegance and composure. The eyes behind his lenses were filled with madness and bloodlust, like an Asura descending upon the world!
As Sherlock rose, that terrifying aura suddenly surged to a new height. Aside from Luffy, Zoro, and Sanji, the weaker members stumbled and fell onto the sandy beach.
Rage, madness, chaos, death...
———— [Unlimited Gun Works]!
Shua! Shua! Shua! The sky was instantly filled with long-barreled flintlocks. Nearly a thousand guns aimed their dark muzzles at the Straw Hat crew on the beach. Bullets were chambered, the uniform sound of clashing metal particularly chilling in the silent night.
"Ahhh! Sherlock, what are you doing?! Aren't we crewmates?!" The long-nosed brother and the little reindeer, scared out of their wits, hugged each other tightly.
Sherlock turned a deaf ear to his companions' cries of alarm. To be precise, the current Sherlock had completely lost his reason.
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