No fancy double-barreled shotgun, no rapid-fire rate—nothing compared to the simple joy of burning everything down.
"This is just—amazing! I can't wait to throw a barbecue party with the Fish-Men!"
Ren looked down at the blue-and-white painted shotgun in his hands, a delighted smile unconsciously spreading across his face.
The lottery had also given him a thick firearm manual and a crystal scope. The former would certainly boost his familiarity with hot weapons.
Even if he had to figure things out by himself, that was still better than knowing nothing at all.
Still, he would eventually need to restock ammo for the Silver Desert Eagle and the Dragon's Breath shells. As powerful as these weapons were, their bullet consumption was terrifying.
And the only way to get more… was through the lottery.
After all, in the One Piece world, trying to manufacture bullets without a proper production line was basically impossible—unless the lottery itself gifted him one.
"Another fruitful haul. Once that thirty million Beli comes in, I'll go for another big draw."
Stretching lazily, Ren packed away both weapons.
Then, with two bottles of Erguotou in hand, he headed for the treasure room where Zoro was standing guard.
Perfect timing—for a drink.
Leaving Zagu's quarters, Ren carried two crates of liquor straight toward the treasure room.
Naturally, he was greeted by Zoro's look of surprise and excitement.
"Coming here this late just to drink? Won't that mess up what we're doing next?"
Normally, Zoro was quite responsible—but the moment he caught sight of the bottles, his composure cracked.
"Oh! Sake!"
His eyes practically sparkled. In an instant, his tone shifted. "Actually, my alcohol tolerance is amazing. A little won't hurt."
"Go ahead. You're the one getting drunk, not me—I don't drink."
Ren chuckled, opening a bottle of Erguotou and handing it to Zoro, watching him gulp it down.
"Ha—! What good wine!"
Zoro took another deep swig, and half the bottle was gone in seconds.
"Of course—it's Erguotou," Ren said with satisfaction.
Every transmigrator had that faint sense of homeland pride. Seeing something from his world so well-received in another always made him smile.
"I don't know how famous this 'Erguotou' is where you're from," Zoro said, admiring the clear liquor, "but it's definitely fine wine. It's a pity I can't visit your homeland and drink to my heart's content. But—could you at least tell me its name? Maybe someday, if fate allows, I'll pass through and have a taste myself."
Though Ren had brought two full crates, it would take far more than that to truly get Zoro drunk.
Besides, he'd rather travel there himself than have someone conjure the liquor with Devil Fruit powers.
"Sorry. Even if I told you, it wouldn't matter. The wine you seek doesn't exist there anymore."
Ren sighed softly.
His real homeland… was far beyond anyone's reach.
"I see." Zoro nodded slowly, as if understanding something. "Then I should treasure it while it lasts."
Zoro probably assumed Ren had once been a brewer—hence his comment that good liquor no longer came from his homeland.
Despite his pride and carelessness, the green-haired swordsman could be surprisingly thoughtful at times.
"Not entirely true," Ren said with a small grin. "If I use a Devil Fruit's power, anything can be made—so long as I can pay the price."
"Well then."
Zoro sat cross-legged, back against a treasure chest, and looked at him calmly. "We've had the wine—where's the story?"
When the situation was unclear, Zoro's approach was always to stay calm and analyze. It might seem cold, but it was an effective principle.
So, he sat there, waiting to hear Ren's story.
After all, Ren was his employer. Zoro needed to know the man's past—and just how far he might go.
If Ren turned out to be the kind of scum who preyed on civilians, Zoro would walk away without hesitation. Repaying debts didn't mean losing one's moral bottom line. If his employer demanded he harm innocents, Zoro would rather return his life than do it.
"A story, huh? There's not much to say—just the death of a pitiful man."
Ren spoke evenly, narrating his former self's tale.
A modest but happy family. A peaceful childhood. A boy who grew up laughing, occasionally teased by the orange-haired girl he liked and her sister.
It was a good childhood—until the Fish-Men came.
Violence destroyed everything Keya once loved. His parents worked themselves to death trying to pay off their oppressors.
Still a child, Keya risked everything and stole a small boat, relying on sheer luck to reach the island where the 16th Marine Branch was stationed.
With his cousin's help, he eventually settled down, even prospered a little.
But when his cousin died, the Fish-Men tracked him down again. The shadows of the past returned, suffocating him.
Desperate, with no one willing to help, he borrowed from loan sharks.
When he couldn't repay, despair consumed him—and he took his own life.
"So, that night—he died. But from the pool of blood, another man rose."
Ren's expression remained calm, detached, as if recounting a tale of someone else's life.
"In the end, he killed the loan shark who came to collect—and every bastard who had helped him.
And thus, he was rewarded with a bounty worth… one hundred Beli."
"I see."
Zoro tipped the bottle up, draining the last drop, then stared at Ren with a complex gaze.
He could finally understand why Ren always called himself a good man. It wasn't arrogance—it was self-restraint. A vow to never again be the helpless, trampled weakling he once was, yet without sinking into the cruelty he despised.
Of course—
If Ren had heard that thought, he'd probably laugh first, then fall silent, then nod in quiet agreement.
Because aside from "cutting off the past," Zoro's reasoning was spot-on.
Ren didn't consider himself a good man—but neither did he want to become a piece of trash like Nezuro.
"So what now? Or rather, what do we do next?"
Zoro opened another bottle of Erguotou, took a light sip, and asked.
Now that he understood his employer's past—and confirmed he wasn't an enemy—Zoro could fulfill his duty without hesitation.
A promise made was a promise kept. That was Zoro's way—barring acts of God, of course.(And everyone knew what that meant.)
"I'm simple to understand," Ren said. "I'm a fair man. I believe in an eye for an eye, blood for blood. And just like in that story—every tragedy has a root cause."
His eyes hardened, sharp as blades.
"And that cause was the Fish-Men. Since they killed him—then to be fair, I'll kill them."
"Got it." Zoro nodded with a small grin. "Those Fish-Men who enslave humans—I'd like to see what they're made of."
He drained another bottle dry, placing it in the chest with a clink. "By the way—Fish-Men… are they anything like mermaids? The ones from stories?"
It was a question anyone in the human world would ask—curiosity about the legendary mermaids.
"No," Ren said coldly. "They're just humans with fish traits. Ugly ones. You'll want to cut them down the moment you see them."
And just like that, Ren shattered Zoro's fantasy without mercy.
(End of Chapter)