One Piece: Dungeon Shop. Scamming Garp, Reward: Eight-Tails Jinchuriki-Chapter 311: Marine Big Shots Turned into Quails, Doffy: Young Master, the Ice is Ready!

If audio player doesn't work, press Reset or reload the page.
Chapter 311: Chapter 311: Marine Big Shots Turned into Quails, Doffy: Young Master, the Ice is Ready!

Want to read ahead? Join my Patreon for just $7 to get early access to all upcoming Chapters!

> Patreon.com/NegativeTranslations

________________________________________

Chapter 311: Marine Big Shots Turned into Quails, Doffy: Young Master, the Ice is Ready!

Inside Makino’s tavern, the silence was eerie. The only sound echoing through the modest space was the swish-swish of grinding coffee beans. The sound was rhythmic—once, twice. Unhurried and gentle, it exuded a sense of tranquility that calmed the mind.

Ordinarily, this would just be a typical afternoon. But if you looked at the row of people sitting in front of the bar, you probably wouldn’t think so.

Sitting on the far left was Fleet Admiral Sengoku, with his white hair and round glasses. His hands were placed properly on his knees, his back perfectly straight, looking just like an elementary school student waiting for the teacher to award him a little red flower.

Next to him was Garp. This normally lawless Marine Hero didn’t even dare to open the bag of rice crackers he always held in his hand. He merely stole glances behind the bar from the corner of his eye, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped down saliva.

Further to the right was Sakazuki. This Marine Admiral, who believed in "Absolute Justice" and had a temper as explosive as a volcano, had his cap pulled extremely low. He had even buttoned that dark red suit—symbolizing an Admiral’s authority—all the way to the top button. He sat rigid and upright, not daring to breathe too loudly.

As for Borsalino? This guy was even more extreme. With both hands propping up his chin, his wretched little eyes behind those sunglasses stared unblinkingly at Blake’s movements, a fawning smile plastered all over his face. These big shots, who decided the fate of the seas, were currently acting like scolded quails—so well-behaved it was heartbreaking.

Behind the bar, the silver-haired Blake had his head slightly lowered, his expression focused. His fingers were long and fair, gripping an antique bronze hand-crank coffee grinder. His movements were so elegant they didn’t look like he was grinding coffee; it looked more like he was playing an instrument. This was a skill he had specially learned at Café Poirot in Beika Town during his time in the Detective Conan world. Although he mainly did it to tease Conan back then, the skill he developed was genuine.

"Add a little deep-roast beans from Colombia..." Blake muttered to himself, his voice lazy but clearly drilling into everyone’s ears. "Water temperature must be controlled at 92 degrees. Extraction time cannot exceed two minutes."

As he moved, a rich, mellow coffee aroma instantly exploded in this space filled with the smell of gunpowder. It was a scent carrying notes of caramel and nuts. For these rough men who spent their days in the sea breeze, drinking cheap rum or instant coffee, this exquisite aroma was simply a dimensional strike.

Gulp...

Someone swallowed loudly. In this environment where you could hear a pin drop, the sound was like a clap of thunder. Sengoku glared fiercely at Garp beside him. Garp blinked innocently, his meaning obvious: It really wasn’t me, that smell is just too good!

"Doffy," Blake suddenly spoke. He didn’t look up, nor did he stop his hand movements. He just called out casually. Like calling a well-trained dog.

"I’m here! Young Master~"

A sharp voice, tinged with a bit of wickedness yet full of flattery, immediately rang out from the corner of the bar. Immediately after, a tall figure, walking with that extremely arrogant splay-footed gait but maintaining an extremely humble posture, walked over quickly.

The moment they saw this person, the great pirates sitting at the tables in the back nearly popped their eyes out. Short blonde hair, signature sunglasses. Even though he had changed his clothes, that evil and arrogance seeping from his bones couldn’t be hidden.

Donquixote Doflamingo! One of the Seven Warlords of the Sea! King of Dressrosa! The King of the Underworld, "Joker"!

However, at this moment, this ambitious hero—who usually wore a pink feather coat and laughed like a maniac—was wearing a slim-fitting black vest with a delicate black bowtie around his neck. And draped over his arm was a pure white polishing cloth!

This was... a waiter?!

With that trademark grin on his face, Doflamingo scurried to Blake’s side in a few steps. His movements were so practiced it was heartbreaking. "The ice is chiseled, Young Master. It’s the thousand-year ice Admiral Aokiji froze just yesterday. Absolutely pure, no impurities."

As he spoke, he pulled a crystal-clear old-fashioned whiskey glass from out of nowhere. With nimble fingers, he spun the glass and gently placed a spherical ice chunk, cut as perfectly as a diamond, inside. The entire process was smooth and flowing, without a single superfluous movement. It was simply textbook-level bartending technique.

"Mm, not bad." Blake nodded faintly and slowly poured the freshly brewed pour-over coffee over the ice. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

Sizzle—

Hot met cold. Blake picked up the glass, swirled it gently, and took a sip. "The roast level on these coffee beans is still a bit too light." He frowned slightly, giving a less-than-perfect evaluation.

"It is my negligence!" Doflamingo immediately bowed, his tall body bending almost ninety degrees. A layer of fine cold sweat even seeped out on his forehead. "I will contact the chamber of commerce in the North Blue immediately and have them send the best batch of ’Geisha’ over! It will take about three days... no, one day! It will be here by tomorrow morning!"

Watching this scene, Marco, sitting in the corner, nearly dropped the pineapple in his hand.

"Oi, oi, oi... am I seeing things?" The First Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates had eyes full of shock. "That’s Doflamingo? The ’Heavenly Yaksha’ who values his pride more than his life? He’s actually serving tea and water here? And apologizing over a batch of coffee beans?"

Vista, beside him, also looked constipated. He stroked his mustache but accidentally plucked out a few hairs. "He’s completely thrown away the face of the Seven Warlords! Look at him. Where is the bearing of an Underworld King? He’s just like... just like a pug wagging its tail for pity!"

Not far away, at the Red Hair Pirates’ table, Benn Beckman took a deep drag of his cigarette, his deep gaze fixed on Doflamingo’s obsequious back. "Truly unsightly."

Lucky Roux laughed indistinctly while gnawing on a meat bone. "A dignified King of a nation, actually fallen to this level. If that lunatic Kaido saw this, he’d probably be so angry he’d tear the tavern down—oh wait, Kaido is still hanging at the entrance."

The pirate camp was filled with an air of cheerfulness. Mockery, sneers, and disdain rose and fell. In their view, the strong should have the dignity of the strong. Even in death, one should die standing. For someone like Doflamingo to lower himself to do a servant’s work just to curry favor with a shopkeeper... He had simply lost all face for the men of the sea!

"Fuffuffuffu..."

Hearing the undisguised mockery behind him, Doflamingo’s hand wiping the table paused slightly. But only for a split second. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes flashed with a cold, mad glint. The signature vein on his forehead throbbed twice.

But very quickly, he resumed that humble and enthusiastic smile. "Young Master, would you like some syrup?" He pulled a delicate small silver pot from his pocket and bowed slightly as he asked.

"No need." Blake set down the glass, his fingers gently tapping the wooden countertop.

Tap, tap.

The crisp sound wasn’t loud, but it seemed to possess some kind of magic. The pirates who were whispering and mocking each other instantly shut their mouths. Even Sengoku and Garp subconsciously straightened their backs.

"Doffy," Blake looked out the window at the densely packed crowd queuing up and spoke suddenly. "Business has been a bit too good these past few days. I’m a little overwhelmed handling it alone."

"Yes, Young Master, you’ve worked hard," Doflamingo chimed in immediately, his tone so sincere it made one want to vomit.

"So..." Blake turned his head, his eyes deep as the starry sky falling lightly onto Doflamingo. "I’ll reserve a spot for you in this week’s ’Special Dungeon’. You still pay, but you don’t have to queue."

________________________________________

Support this fanfict by leaving Positive Review, Comments, and Power Stones.

For Advance Chapters:

> Patreon.com/NegativeTranslations

RECENTLY UPDATES
Read Overwhelming Firepower
FantasyActionComedyReincarnation