Luck Worth a Fortune

The crystal lights in the Twin Snake Island casino shone on the 1.05 billion in chips on the gambling table.

Conrad's fall had been comical, but everyone knew he was the last one standing.

Conrad didn't try to get up. He simply lay there, to avoid falling over and over again.

Baccarat walked over to him, her figure so stunning that the view seemed to stretch on forever.

"Two billion for a smile. Give me one hundred million in cash, and release our fellow marines from the Aokiji Buster Force."

"Do you think the boss will agree?" Baccarat asked with interest. She squatted down, removed her sunglasses, and smiled.

"Winners don't need to consider the losers' opinions." Conrad braced himself against the floor and tried to sit up, but slipped and fell right back down. His hand had landed on a bar of soap.

"You don't look much like a winner." Baccarat giggled and helped him up by the shoulder.

Conrad stood straight, but the top of his head still didn't reach Baccarat's chest. His gaze only came level with her lower breasts and waist.

He understood. That woman was helping him up just to humiliate him—to mock him for not being able to stand steady, to mock him for being short!

He clenched his fists, gathering his Haki, but the Lucky-Lucky Fruit didn't change the shape of its targets. It stole their luck.

The only defense was to protect yourself before your luck was taken. And Conrad's luck had already been stolen. He was now a poor bastard with negative luck.

But Conrad didn't believe in luck. He was going to defy it!

"My fate is mine to command, not Heaven's!" Conrad's Haki surged as he activated the Imperial Classic of World Governance, seeking to absorb the fortune of Heaven and Earth and make it his own, becoming an embodiment of the greater destiny.

His surging aura made the lights in the casino flicker.

He raised his head and met Baccarat's gaze with sharp eyes, as if facing destiny itself, determined to break free of its cage.

Baccarat found herself unable to meet his gaze and put her sunglasses back on.

At that moment, their auras drew together.

Seeing her back down, Conrad took a step forward, cautiously.

He would use his Haki to crush that ridiculous luck and show the world that man could triumph over Heaven!

Smack—

His foot slipped, and he plunged headfirst into Baccarat's arms.

A cleaning lady had appeared at some point and knocked over a bucket of soapy water with her mop.

The tiles were slippery. He hit them hard, and the dark, boundless sea of soapy water swallowed Conrad's face completely, like the merciless reality of life.

Baccarat was startled at first. She hadn't expected Conrad to get close enough to touch her despite having lost all his luck.

Then she broke into a broad, toothy smile, caught him in her arms, and patted his back with tender affection.

"Let go of Sir Conrad."

Issho was blind and relied on sound and Observation Haki to sense his surroundings. To him, Conrad's entire body seemed to be held captive by Baccarat.

Leaning on his sword, he stepped forward. He was no longer dazed. The dejected air of someone who had bowed his head beneath the eaves was gone, and his scar and hands now radiated a sharp, imposing presence.

Conrad was struggling, actually, and at those words, he struggled even harder.

But fate seemed determined to make him endure the cruelest, most humiliating torment. He flailed like a drowning man who couldn't swim, but his face and body kept sinking forward.

When Baccarat helped him upright, his face was black as iron, and a large patch between her enormous olive-shaped breasts had been rubbed red.

"Little brother, you seem starved for affection." Baccarat crossed her long legs and leaned an elbow on the gambling table. Resting her chin in her hand, she took a sip of juice.

Conrad fell silent.

This was his second trial, even more pathetic than the helplessness he'd felt when the Black Cage had once bound him. This time, he could fight with all his strength and still not win. He was being toyed with like a baby in the palm of a breast.

But he knew that when Heaven was about to entrust someone with a great mission, it first tested their resolve and wore out their body... This was simply a necessary step on the road to becoming strong.

Today, his eyes had reddened, but he hadn't cried.

He had shed his tears yesterday. A man wouldn't cry over the same thing twice. Even if this torment happened a hundred times, a thousand times, he wouldn't shed another tear!

Conrad raised his proud, unyielding head again. Anthony, leaning on his cane, walked up to face him.

The old man wasn't furious. Calmly, he adjusted his tie, straightened the rose on his suit, and took out a sheet of parchment.

"Issho, have you decided to buy your freedom? Have I ever mistreated you all these years?"

"Never." Issho shook his head, his sightless eyes turned toward Conrad's back. "But I really have been wallowing in despair here for too long. It seems I made hiding in the filth a refuge from facing reality."

Anthony took a draw on his cigar. Exhaling smoke, he glanced at the parchment one last time. "The contract clearly states that you can regain your freedom whenever you pay off your gambling debt. If you've made up your mind, take it and burn it."

"Thank you, boss." Issho drew his sword.

The contract split into four pieces. Apart from the corner Anthony held, they pressed against the floor and crumbled to ash.

No flash of blade appeared, only a gentle breeze.

What had bound him was never the Mafia casino's power. It was the contract he had made with himself.

Anthony waved his hand, and a bodyguard came out carrying a black leather briefcase, which he set down and opened in front of Conrad.

"One hundred million Beli. Do you want me to count it out in front of you? The money was prepared in advance, so there shouldn't be any mistakes."

"No need!" Conrad declared boldly.

Footsteps sounded, and forty marines were brought out of the basement. Prince and Drake were both wearing Seastone Handcuffs.

Click—

The bodyguard unlocked their handcuffs.

Prince glanced at Conrad, lowered his head in defeat, and gritted out, "Why did he have to come..."

"Conrad!" Drake flung his arms wide and ran over joyfully.

Conrad opened his arms too, ready to give his friend a hearty hug. But his smile immediately vanished when Drake stepped on the soapy tiles.

"Stop!"

Bang!

Drake hurriedly tried to brake with his heels, but couldn't stop. In his panic, he transformed into an Allosaurus instead.

He slammed into Conrad, and the two of them rolled over and over seven or eight times.

Conrad got to his feet first, wanting to get away.

But Drake, panicking and trying to apologize, caught Conrad's trouser leg with one claw and nearly pulled him down again.

"Let go!"

"I-I'm sorry!" Drake abruptly transformed back into human form, his claw retracting.

Conrad was still being pulled forward. His momentum carried him onward, and his foot stepped on a mysterious banana peel. He stumbled, fell into the soapy water again, and, as he lifted his head, plunged face-first into Baccarat's chest once more.

The difference in their heights made the whole thing unbearably pathetic.

"Little brother, did you miss me already?" Baccarat arched her back and brushed her long, wavy, bright-red hair with irresistible charm.

She couldn't quite understand it, either. Her luck hadn't run out yet; she was still having a lucky streak. And yet Conrad kept managing to get close to her.

Could this be good luck?

She had accidentally eaten the fruit at twelve and been ostracized as a cursed woman who sucked away people's luck. As she grew up, her striking looks and figure had drawn the attention of more than a few men.

But thanks to her good luck, no one had ever managed to get close enough to take advantage of her.

Yet in such a short time, Conrad had somehow managed to get close to her twice, despite one unlucky accident after another.

And the Lucky-Lucky Fruit told Baccarat that she still had plenty of luck left.

That could only mean one thing: coming into contact with Conrad was good luck.