17 A Truly Vile Woman

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Shanks quietly approached and seized the opportunity to suggest, “How about considering joining the Red Hair Pirates?”

Sallya gave him a knowing look. “Huh? You want me to join your crew just so you can freeload off my money?”

She firmly rejected him. “No way!”

“Well, I was only thinking about it a little,” Shanks chuckled softly, tilting his body slightly as he casually leaned against Sallya. “If you join, I’ll teach you Haki, how’s that?”

“And—” he held his wine glass, stroked his chin, “I don’t need your money. I can actually support myself.”

Maybe even nurture a flower or two.

It’s rare to find such an interesting flower.

If the Redforce had a flower like this onboard, everyday would definitely be lively.

I suppose Beckman wouldn’t mind if I spent some money on a flower.

Sallya rolled her eyes, grabbed Shanks by the shoulder, and straightened him up.

She tapped on Hawkeye’s wine glass, trying to stir the pot. “Mi-hawk, listen to what Shanks just said. He’s got money, aren’t you going to make him pay you back?”

“This redhead not only scams naive girls but also you, the future world’s greatest swordsman. That’s utterly despicable!” Sallya slammed the table in anger, as if she were defending Hawkeye’s honor.

Hawkeye said nothing, only letting out a cryptic chuckle. “Shanks doesn’t owe me anything.”

What he wanted to know was something else.

“You seem to be certain I’ll become the world’s greatest swordsman?”

Which swordsman wouldn’t want to stand at the pinnacle of swordsmanship?

Yet this woman before him wasn’t just any woman.

The moment she saw him, she seemed absolutely convinced he would become the world’s best.

Sallya didn’t hesitate. “Because you’re handsome.”

In the story, Hawkeye is indeed the world’s greatest swordsman, who even forged his sword “Yoru” into a black blade.

She knew the story well enough to say that with certainty.

Still, considering Hawkeye’s serious nature, she explained, “Because I want you to guide my swordsmanship, so I’ve been praising you and treating you well.”

In the story, Hawkeye was the man who taught Zoro.

His teaching skills must be excellent.

“I see.” Hawkeye accepted her explanation.

Mi-hawk’s life pursuit was to become the world’s greatest swordsman, and he was confident in his ability to achieve it.

“Boss, ice cubes.” Sallya turned to the tavern owner and called out.

Svalbard Island was in its snowy half-year, so ice cubes were naturally abundant.

The owner, Viry, was directing people to move wine when he heard the request from a VIP guest. He immediately sent over some ice cubes.

“Psychokinesis—control.”

Delicate fingers lifted slightly, tapping on the table a few times. Sallya manipulated the ice cubes, carving them into smooth, rounded shapes: spheres, stars, and moons.

These little sculptures, controlled invisibly by her psychokinesis, gracefully hovered in midair, drifting slowly before Hawkeye’s eyes.

“What a convenient Devil Fruit power.” Shanks’s gaze was instantly drawn to the ice sculptures, a childlike curiosity and excitement lighting his face.

Without hesitation, Shanks reached out, trying to catch the star-shaped ice sculpture.

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Of course, Sallya wouldn’t let Shanks succeed.

She curved her lips slightly. The cute, delicate ice sculptures, under her psychic control, seemed alive, darting nimbly up and down, rising and falling.

Naturally, Shanks grasped at empty air.

At that moment, Shanks resembled a cat fascinated by a laser pointer, playing with the ice sculptures with a dogged determination to catch them.

Inside the tavern, the eyes of patrons and diners were drawn to the strange spectacle unfolding before them, their faces full of surprise and curiosity.

At the same time, a subtle fear began to grow in their hearts.

Ordinary people were utterly unaware of the existence of Devil Fruits. When encountering someone extraordinary, their instinct was to feel fear and rejection.

Even those who knew about Devil Fruit abilities feared their bizarre powers, worried they might be killed by a capricious user.

Sallya’s table remained calm and undisturbed, save for the tavern owner occasionally calling over someone to serve drinks.

Hawkeye was long accustomed to Shanks’s occasional foolishness.

“What a terrible woman,” Mi-hawk observed, commenting on Sallya’s antics.

Sallya shot him a glare, retorting confidently, “I’m just protecting my little ice sculptures. What’s wrong with that?”

As she spoke, she carved another row of spheres, stars, moons, and a line of tiny yellow duck-shaped ice sculptures, each about the size of a marble.

“Want some ice, Mi-hawk?” Sallya asked.

Mi-hawk nodded. “Yes.”

Sallya tapped the table, psychokinetically floating a bottle of red wine, refilled Mi-hawk’s glass, and then asked, “Which ice sculpture do you prefer?”

Mi-hawk’s gaze slowly swept the area. The marble-sized sculptures fluttered in midair, with a redhead trying to catch them.

“Your Devil Fruit ability is indeed very convenient,” he said lightly. “The moon one.”

Sallya gave Hawkeye an “OK” sign and placed the little yellow duck ice sculpture into his wine glass.

She put the moon-shaped ice sculpture into Shanks’s wine glass.

She vaguely remembered that among the Celestial Dragons, there was a Moon-Head Saint who seemed to be related to Shanks.

Mi-hawk: “...”

What a malicious woman.

“Playing tricks on Shanks isn’t enough, now you want to mess with me too?” Mi-hawk’s eagle-sharp eyes locked on Sallya, his gaze radiating pressure.

Sallya added a little star ice sculpture to her milk and glared back defiantly. “Not tricking you—revenge!”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you laughing at Shanks and me!” she snorted, teasing, “You’re such a quiet type.”

At that, Mi-hawk spat out a mouthful of red wine.

“Psychokinesis—control!”

Quick as a flash, Sallya used her Devil Fruit power to hold the spilled wine suspended in midair, preventing it from staining the table.

With a flick of her finger, she sent the red wine flying out the window onto the snow outside, leaving a crimson stain on the white ground.

“Mi-hawk, watch it!” Sallya growled with shark-like teeth.

Mi-hawk: “...Your Devil Fruit power really is convenient.”

He looked at the little yellow duck ice sculpture in his glass and decided not to pursue the matter further.

Because earlier, he really was just watching the show.

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Sallya blinked, deadpan, imitating Mi-hawk’s words from earlier in a hoarse voice, “Your Devil Fruit power really is convenient.”

Hawkeye pinched the bridge of his nose, sounding exasperated. “No wonder you and Shanks get along so well.”

He hoped her swordsmanship wouldn’t disappoint him as much as Shanks sometimes did.

“Hey, that’s not fair! Why are you so nice to Hawkeye?” Shanks, having finally caught all the little ice sculptures with his Haki, sat back down next to Sallya and complained.

He waved the ice sculptures in his hand, threatening to toss them into the glass of milk in front of Sallya.

Seeing this, Sallya immediately roared, “Bastard, throw them to Mi-hawk! He’s laughing at us!”

Mi-hawk pressed his brow.

He was starting to regret taking Shanks’s pirate ship to this island.

“Oh, really?” Shanks’s eyes widened slightly, as if just realizing that.

A playful smile remained on his face as he stubbornly dropped the ice sculptures into Sallya’s milk glass.

“By the way, Judith, aren’t you drinking?” Shanks asked brightly, as if he’d just discovered something amusing.

“Ah...” Sallya pinched her brow and sighed deeply.

Milk tainted by Shanks’s dirty hands on the ice sculptures was definitely undrinkable.

With a deadpan expression, she said coldly, “I hate drinking alcohol.”

She was underage, after all, and couldn’t drink.

She wanted to grow taller—preferably to two meters.

“Then you should try it even more.” Shanks smiled and pushed his beer toward Sallya, teasing as he urged, “Take a sip.”

Judith’s drunken expressions would surely be adorable.

Shanks winked, raising his glass to her lips. “Come on, have some.”

Sallya was speechless. Using her Devil Fruit power, she flew up instantly, rising above Shanks and looking down on him from a lofty height.

She waved her fist and said exasperatedly, “Don’t keep imposing your will on others, you bastard!”

Hawkeye nodded slightly in agreement. “That’s a fair point.”

Unfortunately, neither Shanks nor this woman were the types to abide by that principle.

“You really afraid of drinking?” Shanks grinned meaningfully, swirling his glass. The little moon ice sculpture floated in the beer, radiating a soft glow under the light.

His fingers traced the rim of the glass gently. With a light chuckle, he tilted his head back and downed the beer in one gulp.

Sallya ignored Shanks and asked the tavern owner for a fresh glass of milk.

She added a little star ice sculpture to the milk, flew up toward the tavern ceiling height, glanced faintly at Shanks, and drank quietly.

Now that she was this high up, the redhead had no chance to disturb her milk drinking.

Just milk. No alcohol!

“Hey—” Shanks sat back down and called up to the hovering Sallya, “My drink’s empty. Won’t you pour me some?”

His tone was slightly plaintive. “Weren’t you just topping off Mi-hawk’s glass? Why not me?”

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