"How much do you need?"
Roldy lounged like a grand lord—though at this point, he truly was one.
Dragon, utterly lacking dignity, hurried behind him and stood on tiptoe, massaging his shoulders with a shameless grin.
"Well, you know how it is," Dragon said with an ingratiating smile. "The Revolutionary Army is still in its infancy. There's recruitment, weapons procurement, base construction, intelligence purchases, civilian relief… the expenses are endless!"
The more he listed, the softer his voice became.
Even he felt embarrassed.
"Uh… would five hundred million Berries be okay?"
He said it cautiously.
That was already the bare minimum required for their first stage of expansion.
The Revolutionary Army wasn't supposed to be this poor—but they weren't the World Government. After liberating a kingdom, they stayed to help stabilize it, ensuring civilians wouldn't starve to death.
Most of their funding came from newly established rulers after liberation—only to be poured into the next campaign.
A vicious cycle.
Dragon, the leader of the Revolutionary Army, hadn't bought new clothes in over three months.
"How much?"
Roldy stared at him.
"…Four hundred fifty million?"
Dragon assumed he had asked for too much. He gritted his teeth, prepared to tighten their belts further. They could hunt for food themselves. Delay new equipment purchases. Installment payments, perhaps…
Roldy sat upright and turned to look at him.
"Do you know how much that sip of wine you just drank cost?"
"…How much?"
"One bottle is worth 666,660,000 Berries."
"WHAT?!"
Dragon's eyes bulged.
"You're telling me someone dares sell a bottle of wine for over six hundred million Berries? Are they insane?!"
He nearly stuck his fingers down his throat to vomit up the sip he had taken.
Even if it tasted good—
That mouthful was worth at least ten million Berries!
Damn these evil rich people!
Watching Dragon's reddened face, Roldy chuckled. He grabbed a sheet of paper, scribbled his name and a string of numbers, then casually tossed it over.
Dragon caught it, confused.
It was just an ordinary sheet of paper—
Signed by Roldy .
And beneath it, a number.
Units… tens… hundreds… thousands… ten-thousands… millions… billions…
His brain short-circuited.
"Take it," Roldy said lazily. "That's my investment in the Revolutionary Army. More accurately—my investment in you, Dragon. With that note, any bank in the Underworld will honor it."
The number written there was inconsequential to Roldy .
To Dragon—
It was incomprehensible.
"Twenty billion Berries?! Roldy ! From today onward, you are my second father!"
Dragon lunged forward as if to hug—or worse.
Did anyone know how he'd been living recently? Stretching a single coin into two uses. The Revolutionary Army couldn't even guarantee daily meat rations anymore. Dragon had forgotten what it felt like to eat a proper feast.
For someone with his appetite—
It was torture.
"Oh? In that case," Roldy teased, "should I start calling Old Man Garp 'big brother'?"
Dragon laughed awkwardly—but his gaze never left the paper.
He didn't doubt its authenticity.
Roldy 's authority in the Underworld was beyond comprehension.
He should have come sooner.
That said—
Dragon could never go as far as Roldy .
Strength was one matter.
Principles were another.
He was still the idealistic youth he once was. He couldn't touch the darker industries of the Underworld. He couldn't profit from suffering elsewhere.
Roldy , on the other hand, never claimed to be a good man.
To overturn this world—
There would be blood and tears.
Dragon's idealism would one day cost him dearly.
"By the way," Roldy said suddenly, "stay for dinner. Spend the night here. I'll show you the true charm of the Sabaody Archipelago."
"…That doesn't sound appropriate," Dragon muttered, blushing slightly. "So… when are we going?"
Roldy nearly choked.
A mischievous grin slowly formed on his face.
"Not yet. We've got another guest arriving soon."
"Oh? Someone I know?"
"You know them very well."
"Good!"
Poor Dragon had no idea what awaited him next.
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