Sanji's Obsession

Suddenly, Sanji, who was pouring wine, froze.

As if sensing the call of some "peerless treasure," he sharply turned his head, his gaze sweeping across the hall like radar.

Finally, his attention precisely locked onto Ronan's table... more accurately, onto Nami.

In that instant, Ronan felt as if a raging fire of love had ignited behind Sanji, and the background music had transformed into an impassioned symphony.

"This... what kind of beauty is this..."

Sanji muttered, nearly dropping the wine bottle in his hand.

"Whoosh--!!"

Without any warning, Ronan couldn't even see his starting movement.

He just saw a blur before his eyes; Sanji, who had been over ten meters away, had suddenly appeared at the dining table in a single, swift stride!

This speed was three times faster than when he kicked Harpody away earlier! Was this the power of love?!

"Huh?" Nami, who was eating dessert, was startled by the sudden figure, her fork freezing in mid-air.

Under Nami's surprised gaze, Sanji performed an extremely standard, opera-singer-like gesture.

He knelt on one knee, placed his left hand on his chest, and produced a vibrant, dewy red rose from somewhere in his right hand, presenting it to Nami with deep affection.

His eyes were no longer their usual cool demeanor but had transformed into two beating pink hearts. His voice was deep and magnetic, as if reciting the most ancient of poems:

"Oh, great sea... thank you for bestowing upon me this miraculous encounter today!"

"This beautiful young lady..."

Sanji looked up, his gaze burning into Nami, so intensely that it felt like it could melt her:

"Love, you may freely mock me for being unable to endure this pain!"

"As long as I can be with you, even if I become a pirate scorned by the world, or fall into a demon of hell... I am ready for it now!!"

"For you, I am willing to offer every beat of my heart!!"

Silence.

A deathly silence.

Ronan's teacup froze in mid-air, the corner of his mouth twitching uncontrollably.

He already knew Sanji was a perverted cook, but witnessing this shameless behavior of "immediately eloping with any beautiful woman" firsthand was still too much of a shock.

Luffy, with a meat bone in his mouth, looked bewildered: "What's he doing? Is he doing magic?"

Zoro's forehead was covered in black lines, his hand resting on his sword hilt, as if contemplating whether to cut this guy down: "Is this curly eyebrow... an idiot?"

Usopp was dumbfounded: "This... this transition is too fast! He was a cold-blooded killer just now, and now he's a lovesick puppy?!"

As for the person being confessed to, Nami, she looked at the man before her with red hearts in his eyes, radiating pink bubbles, a huge drop of cold sweat trickling down her forehead.

But as a professional "cat burglar," she only paused for a second before a professional sweet smile appeared on her face (though her eyes held a hint of pity for the mentally challenged):

"Um... is this flower for me?"

"Yes! This is the flower of love that bloomed for you!" Sanji trembled with excitement.

Sanji knelt on one knee before Nami, the rose in his hand dewy and vibrant. His eyes were melancholic and affectionate, like a prince performing a Shakespearean tragedy.

"However..."

Sanji sighed deeply, even squeezing out two crystal tears: "This is truly tragic, Miss Nami."

"Although my heart already belongs to you, there lies a vast, insurmountable obstacle between us..."

"You're talking about me, aren't you! Brat!"

A rough, hoarse voice, thick with gunpowder, exploded behind Sanji like muffled thunder.

Before Sanji could finish his cheesy line, a hard wooden prosthetic leg stomped heavily on the floor, emitting a dull "thud."

The newcomer was none other than the master of the Sea Restaurant, "Red-Foot" Zeff.

He wore a tall chef's hat, his beard braided into two pigtails. With his arms crossed, his eyes, sharp as a falcon's, coldly stared at the still-acting Sanji.

"You old geezer!"

Sanji's affectionate expression vanished instantly, replaced by one of annoyance and rebellion. He stood up abruptly, his change of expression so rapid it was astonishing.

Zeff snorted, showing no respect for Sanji, and roared, pointing towards the door:

"Why don't you go be a pirate with these brats? This restaurant doesn't need you anymore!"

This statement, like a sharp knife, instantly pierced the slightly comical atmosphere.

"You old geezer..."

Veins bulged on Sanji's forehead, and he gritted his teeth: "I'm the vice-chef here! What do you mean you don't need me?!"

Zeff's eyes were icy as he began to list Sanji's "crimes," each one hitting a sore spot:

"You're always getting into conflicts with customers, breaking tables and chairs in the restaurant, or when you see a woman, you get horny and go fawn over them! Most importantly..."

Zeff paused, a flicker of unreadable complexity crossing his eyes before he resumed his harsh scolding with even greater severity:

"Your cooking skills have also stagnated, you can't make anything delicious! You're nothing but a complete burden to this restaurant!"

"What... did... you... say?!"

Sanji's fists clenched instantly, his knuckles turning white with exertion.

He could tolerate Zeff calling him a pervert or violent, but he absolutely could not stand his cooking being belittled.

That was his soul, the meaning of his existence.

The surrounding chefs who had come to watch the spectacle—especially Patty, who had just thrown Gin out—erupted in gloating laughter:

"Heh heh, the boss finally said it!"

"Get lost, you violent cook!"

"We don't need you here!"

These jeers were like pouring oil on a fire.

"None of the chefs here like you anyway!"

Zeff's voice rose an octave, as if delivering a final judgment:

"Just go be a pirate or something, fend for yourself on this sea! Get out of this restaurant immediately!"

"Bastard!!"

Sanji finally exploded.

"You're just as full of crap! You old geezer!"

Sanji advanced on Zeff step by step, his aura surprisingly no weaker than that of the former Pirate.

He suddenly reached out and fiercely grabbed the collar of Zeff's pristine chef's uniform, his eyes red as he roared:

"Putting everything else aside... I absolutely will not allow you to belittle my cooking!"

"No matter what you say, I will never leave! I'm going to be a chef here! You're not allowed to have an opinion!"

This was Sanji's obsession.

To repay his debt, for the man who saved him by sacrificing a leg, he was willing to protect this restaurant with his life, refusing to leave even if driven away.