Chapter 130: Tea Party!
The venue for the Tea Party was not merely a banquet hall; it was a hallucinogenic nightmare draped in the guise of a fairy tale.
Located atop the Whole Cake Chateau, the open-air venue was a bizarre fusion of imperial luxury and childlike wonder, a testament to the fractured psyche of its ruler, Charlotte Linlin. The floor was checkered with tiles made of compressed white chocolate and dark licorice. The pillars that held up the open sky were intertwined with living ivy that whispered gossip to the guests, and the chandeliers were not crystal, but glowing sugar-glass orbs filled with fireflies.
A gigantic dining table, long enough to seat a giant, dominated the center. It was covered with a velvet-like cream tablecloth that felt impossibly soft to the touch. Towering stacks of cakes—wedding cakes, sponge cakes, chiffon cakes—reached for the sky like edible skyscrapers, their frosting glistening under the sun. Rivers of colorful juices flowed in fountains carved from ice, filling the air with a sickly sweet humidity that stuck to the skin.
Waiters from the Longarm Tribe and Longleg Tribe, dressed in immaculate tuxedos that struggled to contain their unique anatomies, weaved through the guests like nervous shadows. They served rare and exotic delicacies: roasted lizards from the South Blue, wine aged in sea-king stomachs, and fruits that only grew on islands that didn't appear on any map.
The air was filled with the boisterous, chaotic noise of the New World's elite. The clinking of glasses, the roar of drunken laughter, and the shrill singing of the "Homies"—the animated flowers and furniture—created a cacophony of madness.
Until he stepped in.
The moment Suzaku led his group across the threshold of the venue, the atmosphere shifted violently.
It was as if an invisible hand had reached out and choked the very air in the room.
The singing teacups clamped their ceramic mouths shut. The dancing flowers froze in mid-sway. The boisterous chatter of the Underworld Emperors was severed instantly, replaced by a suffocating silence that pressed down on the eardrums.
Scraaaape...!
The harsh, jarring sound of a hundred chairs being pushed back against the floor echoed like a gunshot in the sudden quiet.
It wasn't a coordinated ceremony; it was a collective instinct. Like a herd of gazelles sensing a lion entering the clearing, all the seated guests stood up in unison.
"He's here..."
Morgans, the "Big News" President and King of the Underworld's information network, felt his feathers tremble. The albatross-man, who had been sitting upright trying to regain his dignity after yesterday's encounter, shot up from his seat so fast his chair nearly toppled over.
From a distance, Morgans bowed low. His posture was so humble, his head lowered so deeply, that it was completely unlike his usual arrogant demeanor. The memory of Suzaku's hand on his shoulder—the weight of that silent threat—was still burning into his mind. He wasn't looking at a news story; he was looking at a natural disaster in human form.
"That's him? The man who suppressed Cracker?"
Du Feld, known as the "God of Fortune" and the Godfather of Usury, swallowed hard. He was a middle-aged man with a body as round as a watermelon and a face that usually wore a mask of greedy calculation. But now, that greedy smile was replaced with a look of pale solemnity. His hands, usually steady when counting billions of Berries, were gripping the edge of the table to stop them from shaking.
"Don't make eye contact... don't provoke him..."
Umit, the "Deep Sea Current" and tycoon of the shipping industry, smoothed his clothes nervously. His beard, usually as messy as a haystack from days at sea, was hastily groomed. His eyes, which had seen the horrors of the Grand Line's depths, were now filled with a different kind of gravity. He knew the sea better than anyone, and looking at Suzaku felt like staring into a whirlpool that could swallow his entire fleet.
And Giberson, the "Concealer" and big boss of the warehousing industry, hid his hands behind his back.
These titans of the Underworld—men who could cause an economic earthquake by just stomping their feet, men who funded wars and toppled kingdoms—had all learned the truth. Through their respective intelligence channels, the details of the "small conflict" that occurred in Cake Island Plaza yesterday had reached them.
The Suzaku Pirates had not just fought; they had dominated.
With just one executive, they had repelled the Yonko BIG MOM.
This news carried more weight than any threat or bounty poster. They knew exactly how terrifying Charlotte Linlin was. If this young man could stand toe-to-toe with that monster, then he was a monster of an even higher caliber.
Therefore, when this legendary man walked into the hall, standing up was not just etiquette. It was a biological imperative. It was the most basic, instinctive reverence for absolute power.
Among these standing "big bosses," however, one graceful figure stood out like a red rose in a field of weeds.
Stussy.
The Queen of the Pleasure District. An Emperor of the Underworld in her own right.
She stood by her chair, wearing a tight white dress that hugged her curves like a second skin. Her golden hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of silk, and her red lips were painted in a shade of fire. Her mature charm seemed to exude a moisture that made the air around her heavy with allure.
Unlike the sweating, terrified men around her, Stussy maintained her composure. Upon noticing Suzaku's gaze sweeping over the crowd, she didn't look away or bow in submission.
Instead, she elegantly raised a hand to adjust the hair under her hat, tilting her head slightly. Her blue eyes locked with his, and she gave Suzaku a slow, captivating wink.
It was a move practiced to perfection, designed to disarm and intrigue any man.
But Suzaku felt nothing in his heart. In fact, he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud.
Interesting, Suzaku thought, his internal monologue running a mile a minute as he returned her gaze with a calm smile.
Yonko Linlin's 'good friend.'
The Queen of the Pleasure District.
A senior agent of CP0, the Shield of Celestial Dragons.
And... the first successful clone produced by MADS. A clone of Miss Buckingham Stussy.
Vegapunk's undercover agent.
The layers of identity wrapped around this woman were staggering.
This identity nesting is even more intricate than the movie 'Infernal Affairs', Suzaku mused, amused by the theatricality of it all. She thinks she's the hunter playing a game of seduction. She has no idea that I have the script.
To a man like him, who possessed the "God's eye view" of the world's lore, her flirtation felt incredibly hollow.
What's the difference between this level of flirtation and winking at a blind man? Or perhaps, it's more like a magician trying to perform a card trick for someone who is standing behind the curtain.
He subtly shifted his gaze, dismissing her attempt at manipulation without being rude, effectively treating the CP0 agent as part of the furniture.
"Wow... Captain, so many people!"
Nami's voice broke Suzaku's train of thought. She was hiding behind Suzaku's tall back, her hands clutching his coat. She lowered her voice, peeking out with wide, excited eyes like a country girl visiting the metropolis for the first time.
"Are those the Fishman Tribe and Longarm Tribe from the books? I've never seen so many in one place! Oh my goodness, look at that big sister over there! Her legs are so long! Is she from the Longleg Tribe?"
Nami pointed discreetly at a woman whose legs made up two-thirds of her height. The Navigator's fear of the Yonko was slowly being replaced by her innate curiosity and greed for new experiences—mostly because the broad back in front of her made her feel invincible.
"Calm down," Suzaku said, reaching back to pat her head gently. His tone was relaxed, contrasting sharply with the tension in the room.
"Big Mom's dream is to establish a 'Totto Land' where all races can live equally and sit at the same table," Suzaku explained, his voice carrying slightly, causing nearby waiters to flinch. "She is a collector, Nami. How can she call it a collection without gathering a bunch of strange and wonderful races? To her, this isn't diversity; it's a completed sticker album."
As he spoke, he gracefully walked towards the main table.
He didn't wait to be ushered. He walked directly to the table closest to the main seat—the spot of highest honor. It was a spot the Charlotte Family had specially reserved for him, acknowledging his strength.
Suzaku pulled out a chair and sat down.
Only after Suzaku and his companions—Madara, Hashirama, Esdeath, Albedo, and the rest—were seated did the tension in the room break slightly.
Exhale.
A collective sigh seemed to ripple through the Underworld Emperors. Those powerful figures, who could summon storms in the outside world, finally dared to cautiously sit back down, moving slowly as if granted a great pardon by a king.
This silent scene, the choreography of standing and sitting, had already declared who the true protagonist of this Tea Party was. It wasn't the birthday girl. It was the guest of honor.
"Mama mama mama...!"
Suddenly, a booming, high-pitched laughter echoed from the main entrance of the Chateau, shaking the very foundations of the venue.
The air pressure dropped. The clouds above seemed to darken as Prometheus and Zeus floated in.
Charlotte Linlin, BIG MOM, made her entrance. She was massive, a towering figure of pink and floral patterns, radiating an aura of madness and overwhelming power.
"Welcome everyone, to my Tea Party!"
Her voice was like a thunderclap wrapped in sugar.
The Underworld Emperors immediately stood up again—like trained dogs responding to a whistle. They offered their already prepared rare treasures, bowing and scraping.
"Happy Birthday, Mama!"
"May the BIG MOM Pirates' Tea Party be a great success!"
"I brought the treasure chest of the ancient kingdom!"
They collectively cheered, their voices straining to sound enthusiastic to cover their fear.
Charlotte Linlin looked at all this with satisfaction. Her eyes, wide and terrifying, swept over the crowd before landing briefly on Suzaku. She grinned, a smile that showed too many teeth.
"Totto Land's cuisine is the best in the world!" Big Mom shouted, waving a hand the size of a carriage. "Don't be shy! Eat! Drink! Enjoy yourselves! Or I'll kill you!"
The last part was unspoken, but everyone heard it.
"Yes, Mama!"
The guests sat down and began to eat. Or rather, they began to perform the act of eating.
These underground emperors paid lip service to the food, cutting small pieces of cake and sipping tea with exaggerated elegance. Deep down, they were unimpressed and anxious.
Cuisine? Du Feld thought, poking at a tart. What kind of food haven't we eaten? We are the richest people in the underworld. If it weren't for fear of your strength, who would travel thousands of miles to this insane asylum to give gifts to an old hag like you?
They maintained their aristocratic facade, adhering to strict table manners, wiping the corners of their mouths with silk napkins, acting as if this were a civilized gathering and not a den of pirates.
However, the next second, they witnessed a scene that made their eyes twitch uncontrollably.
Suzaku.
The man who had just used his invisible aura to suppress the entire room, the man who made them unable to lift their heads, now seemed completely oblivious to the undercurrents. He seemed uninterested in any hypocritical socializing or power plays.
He picked up his knife and fork—no, he grabbed a massive turkey leg with his bare hand—and launched a "total attack" on the feast.
"This is good!"
Suzaku took a bite of a lava cake drenched in rich chocolate sauce, not caring if a bit of chocolate stained his lip. He ate with gusto, with genuine enjoyment.
And he wasn't alone.
The girl with black hair and red eyes next to him—Akame—was even more terrifying.
"Meat."
That was the only word she said. Akame was already holding a roasted turkey leg in her left hand and a cream pie in her right. Her cheeks were bulging like a squirrel's, her red eyes focused with laser-like intensity solely on the food. A stack of empty plates was already growing next to her elbow.
Chomp. Swallow. Next.
Her speed was inhuman. She ate as if her life depended on it, bypassing all etiquette, yet somehow remaining oddly cute in her gluttony.
Du Feld, the Godfather of Usury, and Umit, the Sea Lord, exchanged knowing glances across the table. A hint of disdain curled on their lips, replacing their earlier fear.
Just as expected, Du Feld thought, sneering internally. He may be strong, but look at him. No manners. No class. After all, he's just a boorish bumpkin pirate with brute strength but no refinement. He doesn't know how to behave in high society.
What if he's strong? Umit agreed silently. He's still not sophisticated enough to be one of us.
They comforted themselves with this thought, clinging to their etiquette as the one thing they had over this monster.
However, not everyone was so short-sighted.
Morgans, sitting in the corner, saw this scene and felt a fresh wave of chill. He didn't sneer. He shrunk his neck and quickly lowered his head, abandoning his own fork to grab a drumstick and eat vigorously, mimicking Suzaku.
Are you kidding? Morgans thought frantically, watching the other emperors with pity. You fools! Who can fathom this lord's thoughts?
He isn't eating like that because he's a bumpkin. He's eating like that because he doesn't care what you think! He doesn't need your approval!
It's better to enjoy the food like him than to look around and overthink! If I eat like him, maybe he'll think I'm on his side!
Meanwhile, Stussy watched the scene with interest. She didn't touch her food yet. She simply swirled the liquid in her wine glass, a playful curve appearing on her red lips.
She elegantly picked up a glass of juice, took a small sip, her blue eyes deep and analyzing.
How fascinating, she mused.
True powerhouses never need to embellish themselves with false etiquette. The lion doesn't use a fork to eat the gazelle. The dragon doesn't wipe its mouth.
This indifference to the environment, this disregard for the social rules Big Mom has established... that isn't rudeness.
That is the most terrifying form of confidence.
It was a silent declaration: I am safe here. I am the apex predator here. I can do whatever I want.
[Akarin Note:
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