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Now reading: Chapter 311: Marine Big Shots Turned into Quails, Doffy: You from One Piece: Dungeon Shop. Scamming Garp, Reward: Eight-Tails Jinchuriki, a Fantasy novel by Negative29.

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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 cald 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 elentary 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 rely 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 extrely 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 extre. With both hands propping up his chin, his wretched little eyes behind those sunglasses stared unblinkingly at Blake’s movents, 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 movents were so elegant they didn’t look like he was grinding coffee; it looked more like he was playing an instrunt. This was a skill he had specially learned at Café Poirot in Beika Town during his ti 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 ti cannot exceed two minutes."

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

Gulp...

Soone swallowed loudly. In this environnt 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 aning obvious: It really wasn’t , that sll is just too good!

"Doffy," Blake suddenly spoke. He didn’t look up, nor did he stop his hand movents. 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, imdiately rang out from the corner of the bar. Imdiately after, a tall figure, walking with that extrely arrogant splay-footed gait but maintaining an extrely humble posture, walked over quickly.

The mont 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 mont, 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 movents 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 movent. 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.

Sizzle—

Hot t 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 imdiately 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 comrce in the North Blue imdiately 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 at 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 soone 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 n 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 resud that humble and enthusiastic smile. "Young Master, would you like so 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 seed to possess so 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 overwheld handling it alone."

"Yes, Young Master, you’ve worked hard," Doflamingo chid in imdiately, 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."

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