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At the Gourmet Paradise plaza—sixteen chefs presented their culinary creations under the watchful eyes of the massive crowd.
Dishes were brought to the judges' table, where Arthur sat alongside the three official critics.
The judges exchanged uneasy glances.
Sitting next to a 500 million Belly Pirate was unnerving. How could they possibly enjoy their meal? They were long past the age of prioritizing food over their lives. They just wanted to live a little longer.
"If you three aren't going to eat, I will," Arthur said, glancing at the apprehensive judges. He was happy to have the feast to himself.
He picked up a plate of seafood fried rice, shoveling it into his mouth. "Not bad," he mumbled, his assessment as casual as if he were eating street food.
He wasn't a food critic.
He couldn't wax poetic about subtle flavors and culinary artistry.
His casual dismissal sent Michelin Clermont, the seventy-year-old veteran chef, into a rage. His finger trembled as he pointed at Arthur, then his eyes rolled back, and he fainted.
"Mr. Clermont has fainted from Mr. Arthur's critique! Could it be—his dish wasn't to Mr. Arthur's liking?" The announcer's well-timed commentary sent the barely conscious Clermont into another swoon.
Arthur finished fifteen plates, each dish receiving a lukewarm assessment: "Average," "Decent," "Alright," "Edible," "Passable."
His nonchalant critiques infuriated the chefs, who had to be restrained by nearby guards from attacking him.
For the final dish, wanting to make a good impression on his future crew member, Arthur adopted a more serious demeanor, dramatically wiping his hands with a napkin.
He picked up a takoyaki ball with exaggerated care, popping it into his mouth and closing his eyes, as if savoring the complex flavors. In reality, he was trying to come up with a suitable compliment.
After a full minute of dramatic silence, as the crowd grew restless, Arthur finally opened his eyes, his voice booming across the plaza.
"This takoyaki is a symphony of flavors! The aroma alone is intoxicating. The texture—a delicate balance of crispy and tender. The taste—an explosion of savory goodness. The aftertaste—a lingering delight. It melts in your mouth—a burst of flavor that dances on your tongue. In all my years, I've never tasted anything so exquisite—I am truly blessed!"
He sighed dramatically. "After tasting Miss Jessica's masterpiece, I fear all other food will be bland and tasteless. What am I to do?" He feigned despair, as if facing a culinary wasteland.
The announcer gaped. The judges stared, mouths agape, their own mouths watering at Arthur's vivid description.
Jessica beamed, her youthful face flushed with pride. She had received compliments before, but none as eloquent as Arthur's.
"This Food Festival was worth the trip. Miss Jessica, are you free? Perhaps we could chat somewhere more private?" Arthur finished the remaining takoyaki balls, walking towards Jessica with an eager smile.
Several Marines, hidden in the crowd, aimed their sniper rifles at Arthur. If he harmed Jessica, they would fire without hesitation, even if they knew their weapons were useless. As the daughter of a Marine Headquarters head chef, Jessica had a security detail.
"I know you. You're a Pirate. I'm a Marine. So, no, I don't think a chat is necessary," Jessica said politely, keeping her distance.
"Oh, that's a shame." Arthur sighed, feigning disappointment, then suddenly reached out, his arm snaking around Jessica's waist before she could react.
"It's alright if you disagree. I've never kidnapped a beautiful woman before, but I'm always open to new experiences. Hahahaha!"
His Electromagnetism activated, iron sand erupting from the ground beneath their feet, forming a platform large enough for two. He lifted the platform into the air.
Arthur's movements were too fast. The Marines hadn't reacted in time. They watched in horror as he flew away with Jessica, scrambling after them while frantically contacting Marine Headquarters.
"AAAAAHHH!!!" Jessica's terrified screams echoed through the sky. She had never flown before. Arthur's arm tightened around her waist, preventing her from falling.
"Hey, hey, don't be scared. You're not going to fall. Flying is a dream for most people, isn't it?" Arthur rolled his eyes, trying to reassure his future chef.
"What are you doing? You maniac! Let me go!" Jessica struggled in his grasp, her face pale with fear. She was handling the situation remarkably well. Most people, suddenly snatched into the sky, would be paralyzed with terror.
"Well, my Pirate crew needs a chef. I think you'd be a perfect fit. So, what do you say?" Arthur asked, feeling a twinge of guilt at terrifying the young girl.
"No! I want to be a Marine, not a Pirate! Let me go, you creep!" Jessica pushed against his chest, her resistance clear.
Growing up in a Marine environment had instilled in her a deep-seated aversion to Pirates. It was practically instinctual. Unless something drastic happened, that perception wouldn't change.
Pirates were evil. Marines were just.
It was a simple dichotomy ingrained in her from childhood.
Arthur understood her resistance, but a beautiful chef was a rare find. He needed to convince her to join him willingly.
"Alright, if you insist…" Arthur released his hold on her waist, the Electromagnetic platform disappearing.
The wind whipped past Jessica, her legs dangling precariously as she lost her footing.
Arthur, his mischievous side getting the better of him, quickly reformed the platform, catching Jessica before she fell.
This time, she didn't ask to be released. Tears streamed down her face as she glared at Arthur, her hands clutching his coat, terrified of experiencing that freefall again.
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