Golden Taste Buds

"How should I put this?" Brook thought for a moment. "Actually, it was understandable. Trauma could change a person, especially the kind of deep, unhealable trauma. The moment Stella was taken away, Tesoro's heart died. What survived was merely an empty shell driven by hatred."

"He thought he was taking revenge, demanding justice from this world. But in reality, he was only repeating the pain inflicted upon him, turning others into slaves and making them experience the despair of losing everything as well."

"It was twisted logic," Hermione said, "but it was also real. Pain was contagious, and hatred formed a cycle."

Brook nodded. "He did live in great pain, so someone needed to help free him from it."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "You. You were clearly stealing his Devil Fruit, yet you made it sound like charity."

Brook laughed and took her hand. "Come on, I'm hungry. I used up too much energy last night and still haven't had a proper meal."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him again.

As if she hadn't used up any energy herself.

The two left the café and headed toward the most luxurious-looking restaurant.

A golden sign gleamed beneath the sunlight—"Golden Taste Buds, Three Tires."

At the entrance stood a middle-aged waiter in a gold uniform, his hair combed impeccably.

When he saw Brook and Hermione approach, he immediately bowed at a ninety-degree angle.

"Welcome to Golden Taste Buds, Lord Brook, Miss Hermione."

Brook glanced at him. "You know me?"

"Your great name has long resounded across the seas," the waiter replied respectfully. "Even if I did not recognize Lord Tesoro, I would still have to recognize you."

Brook raised a brow. "You're quite good with words."

"It is the truth. Serving distinguished guests such as yourselves is this restaurant's greatest