"Grandson?"
Hearing the dry, shriveled old man named Jonathan speak, the gamblers around the table all looked in the direction he pointed with his bony arm.
At the tavern entrance, a tall, silver-haired young man walked in.
His ethereal and refined aura seemed completely out of place in the dim, grimy tavern.
The burly man Ramon saw the boy's flawless appearance and presence, and couldn't help but feel a deep surge of jealousy.
Tch, another spoiled rich kid.
There were so many wealthy folks in the royal capital—why was it never Ramon's turn to be one?
Still, at least tonight he'd stumbled upon a blind old fool who loved to gamble. A real sucker.
"Grandson? That old bastard—he dares call me his grandson?"
Rorschach's mouth twitched, and for a moment, he almost fired off a 100-million-volt Thunder Dragon straight into Jonathan's aged face.
"Hey! You, kid! Your grandpa's asking you to watch the dice for him—are you coming over or what?"
Ramon's coarse voice snapped Rorschach out of his thoughts.
He looked at the burly, wide-shouldered Ramon with a darkened expression.
Is this guy trying to die?
Not only did he not realize that the two "old men" sitting here were actually top-tier monsters in disguise, living life like retired legends, but now he had the nerve to provoke him?
Rorschach looked at the two elderly men who gave off absolutely zero sense of power and couldn't help but twitch inside.
You two trying to live like mortals or what?
The scrawny, shriveled old man who looked like he might keel over at any second—he had to be Jonathan Barnett, president of the bounty hunter guild.
And that blind old man? If he wasn't Issho, then who was?
No wonder his Observation Haki had picked up two Grand Admiral–level energy signatures in here.
But now, standing this close, he realized that Issho's life energy far outclassed Jonathan's.
Looks like the so-called King of Hunters really was getting old.
Rorschach smirked slightly, then let a warm smile appear on his face as he stepped forward.
"Old man, I'll help you keep an eye on the dice."
He scratched his head a bit sheepishly and nodded to the gamblers around the table, his eyes darting away like he was trying to keep calm but failing at it.
The gamblers glanced at each other and nodded in understanding, placing their Beli on the "small" side.
"I'm betting small!"
"Same here!"
"Roll it, roll it, hurry up!"
Ramon noticed the nervous expression on Rorschach's face and couldn't hide the mockery that rose in his heart. He casually tossed the dice out onto the table.
The dice rolled across the surface.
Clack.
They came to a stop, showing: 1, 3, 3.
"Small!"
"Hahaha, looks like your luck's no good tonight. Ramon, split the pot! Split it up!"
The gamblers got excited.
"Uh."
Rorschach froze mid-motion as he was just about to roll up his sleeves and throw hands.
The dice result really was "small."
There was no cheating, and no one had tried to scam them openly.
This round... Issho lost.
"Ahhh, I don't buy it! Another 20,000 Beli! This time I'm betting big!"
Issho's scarred eyes twitched, and a stubborn, unwilling-to-lose look appeared on his face as he slapped two bills down on the table.
Ramon tossed the dice onto the table.
Clack.
The numbers: 1, 2, 3.
"Small! You lost."
"Again! I'm betting small this time!"
"666, that's 18 points! You lost! Pay up, pay up!"
A few minutes later.
Rorschach and the two old men stared at each other in a daze, looking completely dumbfounded.
Issho blinked his scarred eyes, rubbing the last few Beli between his thumb and forefinger, forcing an ugly smile.
"This can't be right… Lost seventeen rounds in a row? Is my luck really this bad?"
Rorschach's cheek twitched. He looked at the dice on the table, then at the smug Ramon and the gamblers who were grinning from ear to ear.
He was now 100% sure… these people weren't cheating.
Under the all-encompassing, flawless perception of his powerful Observation Haki, Rorschach confirmed: the dice on the table were made of normal material, no iron fillings inside, and there was no magnet hidden under the table.
The gamblers were all ordinary people—there didn't seem to be any Devil Fruit users hiding among them.
The burly Ramon's way of throwing the dice was completely random too—just tossing them out carelessly. He didn't seem like some kind of gambling master at all.
Which meant…
"Are you kidding me? How can your luck be this bad? You really lost seventeen rounds in a row?"
Rorschach was baffled.
If he hadn't triple-checked and confirmed that there weren't any strong life energy signatures nearby,he would've sworn these gamblers were somehow luck-enhanced.
And in this world, absurd powers like that do exist.
Back on the Golden Emperor's ship, there was a Lucky-Lucky Fruit user named Baccarat.
"Kid, I think you're the unlucky one. Ever since you came over, we've lost seventeen rounds straight. Before that, we actually won two, you know," Jonathan grumbled, eyeing Rorschach.
How is that my problem?
Who dragged me over here in the first place?
Rorschach rolled his eyes and didn't bother responding.
Originally, he had planned to play the role of a justice-enforcing hero standing up for the weak, giving some local thugs a righteous beatdown, earning a little goodwill from two hidden top dogs in the process, and maybe even sneak in an early invitation to Issho.
But never did he expect… these guys didn't even cheat—and still won everything.
"Forget it, forget it. With luck this bad, what's the point of playing anymore? If you keep going, Uncle, even your underwear's gonna be cleaned out. Let's go home."
Rorschach patted Issho's shoulder sympathetically.
Issho gave a bitter smile and nodded. "Sigh… you're right. Let's call it a day. We're heading back."
With that, the two old men and one young man got ready to leave.
But as Ramon counted a fat stack of bills, he and the surrounding gamblers started to panic.
Ramon reached out his thick palm and grabbed Jonathan's bony arm.
Rorschach's eyes flicked toward the motion.
Oh?Are we about to throw hands?
"Hey hey hey, no rush! Gambling is all about luck, right? Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. No one loses every time. Who knows—maybe you'll win the next round? Right, sirs? Let's go one more round. Just one more! We're all still getting into it."
Ramon grinned wide, putting on a fake-friendly face.
Inside though, he was ecstatic.
He couldn't believe how ridiculously lucky he was tonight.
He had even been planning to cheat a little if he had to.
But then, boom—seventeen straight wins!
If he'd had this kind of luck in the past, he'd be rich enough to rival kingdoms by now.
Issho still had over 100,000 Beli in his hands—there was no way Ramon was letting them walk out of here before he got every last bit.
"Yeah yeah! Ramon's right! Who knows—you might win the next one!"
"Go all in! Maybe you'll make it all back in one go!"
"Exactly! You've lost seventeen in a row—what are the odds you'll lose again?"
Issho clutched the Beli in his hand, gritted his teeth—
SMACK!
"Fine! I'm going all in! I'm betting small! Roll it, quick!"
One minute later.
The group of gamblers—nothing but ruffians and street punks from the royal capital—cheered and scattered in all directions, laughing and hollering.
They left behind two old men and one young guy, sitting at the round table, staring blankly at each other.
"You cursed or something, kid?"
"It's your trash luck. Don't pin it on me."
Thanks for the end-of-month votes, brothers!
(End of Chapter)
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