One Piece: Dungeon Shop. Scamming Garp, Reward: Eight-Tails Jinchuriki-Chapter 199: Moving into a Luxury Apartment

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Chapter 199: Moving into a Luxury Apartment

Beika Town, Central Garden Apartments.

In front of the French windows on the twenty-fifth floor, sunlight poured down without obstruction, illuminating the entire spacious living room until it shone brightly.

The cool air blown from the central air conditioning was quiet and powerful, completely isolating the monster named "Midsummer" outside the window.

"Mr. Blake, you have excellent taste."

A middle-aged fat man in a tight suit was constantly wiping sweat from his forehead, the fat on his face squeezing together from his smiling.

He was Tanaka, the gold medal salesman of this real estate agency.

"This large flat was just released last month. Three hundred square meters, exquisite decoration, fully furnished, even the bedding is brand new silk products."

Tanaka pointed out the window, his tone exaggerated.

"Look at this view. To the left, you can see the Beika City Hall, and to the right is Tokyo Tower. It is absolutely the top luxury residence in Beika Town."

Blake stood by the window, holding a bottle of ice-cold cola.

Condensation beads on the surface of the aluminum can slid down his fingertips, bringing a trace of long-lost coolness.

This feeling of industrial sweetener mixed with carbonated bubbles bursting on the tip of the tongue made him narrow his eyes comfortably.

Much more exciting than the juice in the Pirate World that only tasted sweet.

This was life.

"How much?"

Blake turned around, casually tossing the empty can into the trash bin several meters away.

Clang. Accurate basket.

Tanaka froze for a moment, seemingly not expecting this young international student, who looked no more than twenty, to be so direct.

He rubbed his hands together, tentatively quoting a number.

"Because it’s an urgent sale, the landlord only wants 350 million yen. If you sincerely want it, I can go help you negotiate..."

"No need to negotiate."

Blake pulled a black bank card from his pocket, clipping it between two fingers and handing it over.

"Swipe the card. I want the key now."

Tanaka’s eyes, squeezed small by fat, instantly widened into circles.

350 million!

This was Japanese Yen, not Zimbabwean currency!

Even the young masters of those financial groups would have to hesitate for a few days or let lawyers review the contract before buying this level of luxury house, right?

"You... are you sure?"

Tanaka took the black card, which had no bank logo but only a golden pattern, with both hands, his voice trembling.

"Password is six eights."

Blake walked to the leather sofa and sat down, sinking into the soft backrest.

For the current him, money really was just a number.

The moment he entered this world, the system had already taken over the global financial network.

As long as he wanted, he could buy the entire Tokyo instantly.

The identity given to him in this world was "a mysterious rich second-generation international student," which was very reasonable.

Ten minutes later.

Tanaka held the POS machine, looking at the printed receipt, his whole person still dazed.

Transaction successful.

"Mr. Blake... oh no, Young Master Blake!"

Tanaka bent his waist to ninety degrees, holding a bunch of keys and access cards with both hands, respectfully placing them on the tea table.

"I will handle the procedures for you at the fastest speed. You can move in today!"

"Mn, you can go."

Blake waved his hand.

Tanaka retreated to the door as if granted a great pardon and gently closed it.

The room finally quieted down.

Blake stretched, his whole body’s bones making a crisp sound.

"System, although the air quality in this world is a bit poor, this sofa is really soft."

He rolled over on the sofa, then picked up the remote control and turned on the 85-inch LCD TV.

The screen lit up.

The morning news was playing.

"Last night, an explosion occurred in Nishitama City. The police initially determined it to be an accident..."

"The Suzuki Zaibatsu announced that it will hold a jewelry exhibition next week..."

"Famous Detective Mori Kogoro has solved another locked-room murder case..."

Watching the big smiling face with a small mustache and a long tongue on the screen, the corner of Blake’s mouth twitched.

Sure enough, it’s here.

The home court of the Death God Elementary Schooler.

In this world, there were only two types of people.

One type was suspects, and the other type was victims.

Of course, there was also a type that was the Death God responsible for identifying the murderer.

Growl...

His stomach growled at the appropriate time.

Although the God Tree body allowed him to not need food, directly absorbing natural energy to maintain life.

But the desire for food was an instinct carved into human genes.

Especially after returning to modern society.

Not eating a good meal would simply be a disservice to this mouth.

Blake turned off the TV, grabbed the keys on the table, changed into a pair of casual shoes, and pushed the door open to leave.

...

The streets of Beika Town were very clean.

Although it was a weekday, there were quite a few people on the street.

Blake walked aimlessly on the tree-lined avenue with his hands in his pockets.

Passing a coffee shop named "Poirot", he stopped.

Not because it was Conan’s permanent base.

But because through the floor-to-ceiling window of the high-end French restaurant next door, he saw a very interesting person.

It was a woman.

About thirty years old, wearing a well-tailored dark blue business suit.

Her hair was meticulously coiled behind her head, and she wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.

Even sitting down, her back was straight, exuding an elite aura of "strangers keep away".

Kisaki Eri.

The "Undefeated Queen" of the legal world.

Also Mori Kogoro’s wife, separated for many years.

At this moment, this Queen was frowning, constantly looking at the watch on her wrist, seemingly waiting for someone.

Blake rubbed his chin.

Since he encountered it, let’s choose this one.

He heard the foie gras in this French restaurant was quite good.

Pushing open the heavy glass door of the restaurant, the cool air mixed with soft violin music hit his face.

"Welcome. How many, sir?"

A waiter greeted him.

"One."

Blake pointed to a seat by the window, directly diagonally across from Kisaki Eri.

"That table is reserved..." The waiter was somewhat embarrassed.

Blake didn’t speak, just glanced at him lightly.

A subtle spiritual fluctuation swept over.

The waiter’s eyes instantly became glazed for a moment, then immediately revealed an enthusiastic smile.

"Apologies, I remembered wrong. That spot is empty. Please follow me."

Blake followed the waiter to the window and sat down.

"One Beef Wellington, one foie gras, and a bottle of..."

Blake glanced at the wine list. "A glass of orange juice."

"Okay, please wait a moment."

The waiter turned and left, his steps somewhat hurried.

Blake turned his head, his line of sight crossing the exquisite silver candlestick and landing on the table diagonally across.

Kisaki Eri was looking down at the documents in her hand.

Her brows were tightly locked, and her fingers turned her fountain pen unconsciously; obviously, she was not in a good mood.

"Sorry, I’m late!"

A rough, loud voice suddenly broke the originally elegant and quiet atmosphere of the restaurant.

Many diners frowned and looked sideways.

They saw a middle-aged man with a greasy face and balding hair striding over.

Under his arm was a bulging briefcase, and his suit buttons were almost bursting from his beer belly.

"Mr. Otsuka."

Kisaki Eri closed the document and stood up politely.

"Although I charge by the hour, if you were ten minutes later, I’m afraid you would have had to enjoy this lunch by yourself."

"Oh my, don’t be so serious, Lawyer Kisaki."

Otsuka pulled out the chair and sat down heavily, the chair letting out a squeak of being overwhelmed.

"Traffic jam on the road, plus some urgent matters to deal with at the company... You know, rich people are always busy."

As he spoke, he waved for the waiter.

"Bring me a bottle of the best red wine! Expensive ones!"

Otsuka loosened his tie, his gaze sweeping unscrupulously over Kisaki Eri, revealing two gold-rimmed front teeth.

"About that divorce case, as long as you can make that old hag of mine leave with nothing, money isn’t a problem."

Kisaki Eri pushed up her glasses, a cold light flashing behind the lenses.

"Mr. Otsuka, I accepted this commission because you provided evidence of your wife’s infidelity."

"If the evidence is forged, or if you concealed facts of domestic violence, I will terminate the representation immediately."

"Rest assured, rest assured, the evidence is conclusive!"

Otsuka patted the briefcase, laughing until the fat on his face trembled.

"The photos are all inside... Ouch, my stomach is a bit uncomfortable."

His face suddenly changed, and he stood up clutching his stomach.

"The seafood last night might not have been fresh... I’m going to the restroom. Lawyer Kisaki, you order first, don’t save money for me!"

With that, he grabbed the briefcase and ran hurriedly toward the back of the restaurant.

Blake withdrew his gaze.

At this time, the waiter happened to walk over with a tray.

"Sir, your orange juice, and Beef Wellington."

The golden crispy puff pastry wrapped the tender fillet, the aroma of truffles rising with the heat.

Blake picked up the knife and fork, cut off a piece, and put it in his mouth.

The puff pastry shattered between his teeth, meat juices overflowing.

"Taste is passable."

Blake commented, picking up the orange juice and taking a sip.

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