Chapter 18

What are you doing? This is the most precious item from the beloved captain—how could he possibly disdain it!

But...

Even if you have the heart to give it to Shanks, how to take it out from the backpack is a serious and profound problem.

Are you supposed to hand it over barehanded?

Impossible. You don’t even have a tissue or anything to place under your hand.

Poor Shanks, missing out on such a gift from his dear captain! You choked up a little, feeling sorrowful for this guy’s unfulfilled life—he will never know what he missed.

So, what exactly can you give to earn a little more goodwill?

You certainly can’t hand Shanks a small rabbit tail soaked with intestinal fluid.

Speaking of similar things, a sudden idea struck you—you recalled the condoms collected from the inn’s drawer earlier. They have no added effects and are clearly the worst of the worst junk, but maybe you could try giving one.

After all, trial and error requires boldness… If Shanks asks what it is, just lie and say it’s a transparent balloon you can blow up.

Kids definitely like balloons.

With this hopeful thought, you pulled out a plain-brand condom from your backpack and slipped it into the red-haired boy’s arms.

“This is for you.”

“Oh, thank...”

Shanks’ smile suddenly froze, and when he looked down at the small box in his hand, his eyes popped wide open, sweat pouring down his face. Stammering, he said, “Uh? This… you gave me…”

“Forget it, it’s nothing…”

Shanks scratched his cheek with his index finger; his ears gradually reddened but were hidden by his hair and the brim of his straw hat. He quietly said, “I’ll accept it.”

After a while, the system finally chimed in with a notification.

[System: Shanks’ favorability +5.]

“…”

So this guy actually knows what that thing is.

The kid is surprisingly mature. Just as you were about to hand over another one, the game popped up a familiar warning.

[System: You have given too many gifts. Come back tomorrow.]

Alright then.

Looks like today's quota is maxed out.

You took out a mirror and checked your current stats panel. Shanks’ favorability had already reached 59—a pretty good number...

But just one point shy of 60, so close yet so far! You should have stopped giving bananas after the third time.

There’s no regret potion in this world. Once you give a gift—be it lobster or condoms—Shanks tucks it into his vegetable sack like a pocket dimension where everything disappears without a trace. No chance of retrieving them.

Seeing no further plot developments from him, just standing there quietly, you finally found time to check on the grocery store owner’s movements.

“Damn it…”

As you approached the bald man, the downcast shopkeeper reacted. He clenched his fists, a thick glob of phlegm still stubbornly stuck on his scalp.

“I will never forgive you…”

Suddenly, a soft “bang” came from the stall. The bald man slammed his clenched fist onto the wooden board, then slowly pulled out a sturdy wooden club from beneath the counter.

“In that case, don’t blame me for being unkind.”

“I have things to protect too—I’m putting everything on the line to defend them!”

[System: Entering battle mode.]

The label above his head, “Grocery Store Owner,” instantly turned into a bright red name—

Angry Grocery Store Owner, Lv. 12.

???

What the heck? Why is he suddenly fired up?

What is he even protecting? It’s just a wooden sign with a price tag—does it warrant putting everything on the line?

Even more absurdly, the thick glob of phlegm on his head swayed precariously as he moved and charged toward you. You watched in horror as it teetered on his smooth scalp, threatening to fling onto you at any moment.

No, don’t come near me!

“Eh!? What’s happening?”

Shanks, standing nearby like a wooden statue, had an exclamation mark pop up above his head and hurried over to your side.

“What’s going on? He’s not in cahoots with that fruit stand owner from yesterday, is he? Need help?”

[System: Shanks (Lv. 11) has joined the battle. Accept invitation? (Automatically accepted after 10 seconds)]

Shanks, you’re just in time!

You wanted to grab him immediately, pull him in front of you to block the incoming phlegm attack, and sincerely praise him loudly: Shanks, the best partner!

Although he’s only Lv. 11… it doesn’t matter. You still said to Shanks, “Yes, definitely need you.”

From now on, don’t ask me about battle join requests—accept all, okay!?

[System: Settings changed successfully. Teammates will automatically join battle mode.]

Thank you so much.

To be honest, in terms of pure strength, neither the Lv. 11 red-haired boy nor the Lv. 12 buffed grocery store owner pose any threat to your Lv. 16 self—you were just momentarily startled by the nasty chemical attack.

The grocery store owner, now buffed and blinded by rage, “waaah” shook his head wildly and charged at you and Shanks together… Enough! Stop shaking your head!

Without hesitation, you unleashed your Conqueror’s Haki, glaring fiercely the moment he stepped out of his stall.

The grocery store owner immediately stopped, staggered a few steps, and the raised wooden club clattered to the ground. He opened his mouth to shout but ended up rolling his eyes and collapsing.

Good.

The phlegm on his head didn’t fall off—it still clung stubbornly like a moving slime.

[System: Player team defeated the grocery stall vendor! Gained 15 experience points.]

…So weak.

Only 15 experience points? The fruit stand owner at least dropped some equipment.

At least give some money, would be nice.

Just as this thought flashed through your mind, the fallen grocery store owner suddenly sprang up like a boss triggering a last-ditch counterattack.

His label still read “Angry Grocery Store Owner,” probably boosted by the buff. The bald man reached out unexpectedly and grabbed your ankle.

“You brat, I…!”

Before he could finish, Shanks, wearing his straw hat, appeared just in time. Somehow, he had picked up the wooden club that had just dropped. Lowering his hat brim, he struck the hand clutching your ankle with perfect precision.

“Ah~ That hurts!!!”

The bald man screamed, quickly retracting his arm and hopping away like an electrified frog. His movements were so exaggerated that the worst happened.

Yes, the phlegm on his head finally flew off.

You panicked and instinctively reached for your best partner—Shanks! But he suddenly bent down, looking puzzled as he scratched a big mosquito bite on his leg with his pinky finger.

“Hmm, this itches here…”

Your right hand grasped at empty air!

Meanwhile, the phlegm on the owner’s head arced perfectly through the air—

“Splatter.”

Landing squarely on the back of your hand.