In a small yet elegant bar owned by Shakky on the Sabaody Archipelago, the atmosphere was calm but tinged with mystery. Dim lighting cast soft shadows on the old wooden walls, while the gentle hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses created a distinct harmony of the place. Behind the bar stood a strikingly handsome man with piercing blue eyes, sharp as sapphires. His partially unbuttoned black shirt revealed a well-toned physique, the result of years of intense training. 

He slid a glass of liquor, complete with glistening ice cubes, across the counter to one of the patrons. The ice sparkled as it caught the light from the overhead lamp. With a faint, confident smile, he spoke in a deep but amiable voice: 

"Tonight's special. Perfect for unwinding after a long journey." 

The patron sitting at the bar, a silver-haired man with a calm yet commanding presence, adjusted his round glasses before reaching for the glass. It was none other than Silvers Rayleigh, the legendary Dark King. Rayleigh didn't drink immediately; instead, he studied the man behind the bar for a moment, as if trying to discern more than what was on the surface. 

The blue-eyed man added with a playful smirk, "Don't worry, I didn't spike it with anything dangerous... unless that's what you were hoping for." 

For a brief moment, the bar fell silent, but it was soon followed by soft chuckles from other patrons. The previously ordinary atmosphere now felt warmer, though an air of intrigue lingered about the mysterious bartender and his curious interaction with the retired pirate legend. 

Rayleigh let out a long sigh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Since when did you return? And why didn't you come to visit me first?" 

"That's your fault, old man," the young man replied with a teasing smile. "You disappeared with Monkey D. Luffy without a word." 

The entire bar froze, the quiet murmur of conversations silenced as every patron turned their attention to the pair at the counter. Shock rippled through the room, their faces betraying their disbelief at what they'd just heard. 

The handsome young man with piercing blue eyes didn't seem fazed by the sudden shift in atmosphere. He leaned casually against the bar, the smirk never leaving his face. 

Silvers Royal — that was his name. A name that now echoed in the stunned silence of the bar, tying him unmistakably to the legendary Rayleigh, the Dark King himself.

"Brat," Rayleigh muttered, though there was no malice in his tone. 

Despite the irritation in his voice, a wide smile crept across his lips. He knew all too well that his son could have visited him anytime, yet here he was, making an entrance in the most dramatic way possible. 

"Have you grown tired of roaming the stars?" Rayleigh asked softly, his voice barely audible—intended only for Royal's ears. 

As he posed the question, he lifted the glass of alcohol to his lips, his casual motion masking the weight of his words. He didn't want to draw further attention to their conversation, especially given how much intrigue his son's earlier statement had already stirred.

"Yeah, I just missed home," Royal replied in a flat tone, as if that were the full truth. 

In reality, it had been nearly six years since he set off on his journey, venturing to the farthest reaches of the galaxy. His travels had been thrilling and filled with wonder, but not without their share of hardship. Among those memories was a dark chapter—months spent as a prisoner of a civilization whose power relied on magic rather than science or strength. 

Truthfully, Royal's return wasn't just about nostalgia. He was tired—exhausted, even. The weight of constant vigilance and the endless battles had worn him down. He needed a break, a sanctuary. 

Here, in the unpredictable yet oddly comforting world of the Grand Line, he knew his father would always have his back. With Rayleigh around, he could afford to let his guard down, if only for a while. A brief moment of rest—that was what Royal truly sought.

Hearing his son's response, Rayleigh snorted into his drink, the alcohol burning its way up his nose. He immediately broke into a fit of coughing, losing his balance and tumbling off his seat in the process. 

Royal watched the scene unfold with an utterly neutral expression, making no effort to help. Instead, he rolled his eyes, clearly bored by his father's dramatic antics. 

"Do you need a tissue, old man?" Royal asked flatly as he calmly wiped up the spilled drink on the counter, his movements steady and deliberate, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

Rayleigh happily accepted the tissue from his son, using it to clean his face before settling back onto his seat with a fresh drink in hand. He gave Royal a small nod of thanks and resumed savoring his drink, the earlier incident already forgotten. 

Moments later, Rayleigh's sharp eyes caught sight of Shakky, the beautiful black-haired owner of the bar, casually leaning against the counter. With a sly grin, he raised his glass slightly in her direction. 

"Shakky, feel free to dock my son's pay to cover my debts," Rayleigh quipped, his tone light but clearly teasing. 

Royal didn't even flinch at the remark. Instead, he continued cleaning the counter, his expression as neutral as ever. "You'd need to pay me first for that to work, old man," he muttered, earning a quiet laugh from Shakky, who clearly enjoyed their banter. 

"Well, my plant son—" Rayleigh began, only to be interrupted by Royal's sharp glare. 

"You should know about repaying your parents hard work when you are a baby, You should be grateful to have a pirate as your father." Rayleigh continued, undeterred, his grin widening in defiance of Royal's growing annoyance. 

Before the exchange could escalate further, Shakky cut in smoothly, her tone calm but laced with dry humor. "Rayleigh, useless old men—" Rayleigh's expression shifted instantly, as though he'd just been stabbed with a sword, his ego visibly wounded. 

"—your son has only been working here for two months. The advance pay he took to rent the apartment above my inn already used up whatever salary he had. There's nothing left to cover your 'debts.'" 

Rayleigh sputtered at the revelation, clearly at a loss for words. "Then put him to work as much as you like!" he finally protested, waving his drink dramatically as if that would settle the matter. 

Royal, meanwhile, shot his father a disgusted look. "You really are hopeless," he muttered under his breath, already regretting his decision to return. Shakky, hiding a chuckle, gave him an apologetic shrug before walking off, leaving father and son to continue their ridiculous exchange.

"Are you planning to become a pirate like your old man?" Rayleigh asked with a teasing grin, raising an eyebrow at his son. 

"I've told you, I'm not interested," Royal replied nonchalantly. "What's the point of staying on a ship for so long when you can travel the world in the blink of an eye?" 

Rayleigh sighed deeply, his eyes softening with a touch of concern. "You move too fast, son. You're missing out on so much." 

Royal's superhuman speed allowed him to perceive the world at an extraordinary rate, but it came with a cost—he didn't just miss out on the slower, more peaceful moments, but his heightened senses made him overly aware of every tiny detail around him. It was overwhelming at times, and he was often too sensitive to the world. 

Seeing the slight furrow of Royal's brow, Rayleigh pushed further. "You need someone, someone you can trust and talk to, besides your old man." 

Royal's expression became defensive, his tone firm. "For your information, I do have friends I can talk to," he replied, clearly irritated by his father's words. The idea of needing others outside of his father was something Royal never truly entertained.

Thinking about it, Royal was indeed the type of person who preferred solitude. He wasn't incapable of socializing; in fact, he could easily get along with others, but only to a certain extent. His interactions were often professional, surface-level, and based on politeness rather than true connection. Unlike his father, Rayleigh, who had never hesitated to share everything—his deepest secrets, his experiences, his fears—Royal kept most of his thoughts locked away.

Where Rayleigh had no qualms about baring his soul to others, trusting them with his history and struggles, Royal chose to keep his distance, relying on himself for everything. Perhaps it was because of the overwhelming nature of his superhuman senses, or maybe it was just his inherent preference for independence. Whatever the reason, he remained an island, keeping his emotions and past hidden beneath the calm, almost aloof exterior. 

But even Royal couldn't deny the subtle longing in the back of his mind, the faint wish that maybe, just maybe, someone could get close enough to see past the walls he'd built around himself.

Perhaps General Dru-Zod almost could have cracked that shell if Royal hadn't realized the hypocrisy in his uncle's actions. 

The bitter memory resurfaced briefly—of the time when his own family, whom he had trusted, betrayed him in the name of power. Dru-Zod's twisted version of strength, hidden beneath layers of false ideals, had almost shattered his resolve. Royal, however, was keenly aware of the manipulation and deceit behind his uncle's words. The revelation stung, but it also hardened him, making him even more resolute in his decision to keep his true self hidden from others. 

He forced the memory aside, pushing the sharp sting of betrayal deep into the recesses of his mind. There was no point dwelling on it. 

Shaking his head to clear the lingering thoughts, Royal turned his attention back to his father, who was still trying to provoke a reaction from him. Rayleigh's eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and concern, as though he was both challenging and understanding his son in equal measure. Despite the barrier Royal had put up, Rayleigh's persistence never wavered. The Dark King always pushed for more, as if he believed his son had the potential to break free from the isolation he had wrapped himself in. 

Royal wasn't sure if he was ready for that, but for now, he would endure his father's antics—at least until he could escape the weight of his own thoughts again.

"Maybe you're right, Dad," Royal said, his tone a bit lighter as he shifted the conversation. "What do you think I should do?" 

Rayleigh raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. "Huh, it's rare for you to ask for advice from me. Don't worry, I have something brilliant in mind for you." 

Royal tilted his head, a hint of curiosity mixed with skepticism. "And that is?" 

"Become a pirate, of course!" Rayleigh exclaimed with a grin, as if the answer were the most obvious one in the world. 

Royal stared at his father for a long moment, the absurdity of the suggestion hanging in the air. His expression was unreadable, but deep down, he knew this was Rayleigh's way of breaking through his stoic exterior, challenging him to take a leap into something new, something more than just traveling the world alone.

"Becoming a pirate isn't just about sitting on a ship and getting bored," Rayleigh said, his tone growing more serious, as if imparting a lesson that went beyond the surface. "Being a pirate means living in freedom. You don't have to care about how others judge you. You don't have to worry about the bounty on your head. What matters is that you live meaningfully, as if tomorrow might not come. But always remember who you are before you make any decisions."

"Always remember, Royal," Rayleigh continued, his voice steady and firm. "If you truly choose this path, keep in mind that when this journey ends, you should be someone better than the person you are now. That's what freedom really means." 

Rayleigh's gaze softened, the weight of his words sinking in as he looked at his son. It wasn't just about becoming a pirate or living a carefree life—it was about growth, evolution, and becoming someone who could stand proudly, no matter what the world thought. That, in Rayleigh's eyes, was the true essence of freedom: to live in a way that shapes you into someone worthy of your own respect.

In the midst of the quiet pause between them, the soft chime of the bell above the bar's door rang, signaling the arrival of a customer. Both Royal and Rayleigh turned their heads toward the entrance. 

Standing in the doorway was a man with striking green hair, three swords strapped to his waist, and an air of determination that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. There was no mistaking him—Roronoa Zoro, the first member of the Straw Hat Pirates to arrive at Sabaody. 

Zoro's sharp gaze swept across the bar, taking in the scene. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was a subtle tension in his posture, as though he was ready to draw his swords at a moment's notice. After a brief moment, he stepped inside, the weight of his presence palpable in the small space. 

Rayleigh grinned, his expression shifting to one of intrigue. "Well, look who's here," he said, leaning back in his seat. "The first mate of Monkey D. Luffy's crew. What brings you here, swordsman?" 

Royal glanced at the newcomer, his neutral expression betraying no interest, though his sharp eyes studied Zoro carefully. For now, he stayed silent, waiting to see what this green-haired pirate would do next.

"Has no one else arrived yet?" Zoro asked, his tone blunt as always, though there was a hint of impatience beneath it. 

"Congratulations, swordsman," Rayleigh replied with a grin. "You're the first to make it here." 

Zoro let out a long sigh, clearly annoyed at being the first. Without another word, he began making his way across the room, his boots echoing against the wooden floor as he headed toward Rayleigh. 

Royal watched him approach, his sharp blue eyes flicking over Zoro with a measured gaze. The man's sheer presence was undeniable, and though Royal didn't say a word, he could sense the determination and raw strength that radiated from the swordsman. 

Rayleigh leaned back, casually sipping his drink, clearly amused by Zoro's reaction. "Take a seat, Zoro. You might as well catch your breath. Looks like you've been through quite the journey."

Zoro muttered something under his breath, so low that even he didn't realize Royal had caught it. The words were faint but clear to Royal's keen hearing: "Mihawk is a tough teacher." 

Royal's sharp eyes narrowed slightly, though he kept his thoughts to himself. This swordsman had clearly been through rigorous training, and the mention of Mihawk, the world's greatest swordsman, only confirmed his suspicions about Zoro's ambition and dedication. 

"So, what's your plan for now?" Rayleigh asked, breaking the silence. He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the counter. "Because I can't say for certain when your crewmates will show up." 

Zoro looked at Rayleigh, his expression unreadable, but the subtle clenching of his jaw suggested his frustration at the uncertainty. Still, the swordsman wasn't one to waste time. "Guess I'll do what I always do," Zoro finally said, his voice steady. "Keep training until they get here." 

Rayleigh chuckled at the straightforward answer, while Royal silently observed the interaction, intrigued by the resolve of this green-haired swordsman.

"If that's the case, why not train with my son?" Rayleigh suggested with a mischievous grin. 

Zoro raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled, before following Rayleigh's subtle gesture toward the bartender—the man with striking blue eyes and a physique that seemed carved from stone. 

The swordsman studied Royal for a moment, his curiosity piqued but his expression still guarded. There was something off about him, a presence that didn't quite match the role of a simple bartender. 

"I'll admit," Rayleigh continued with a sly smirk, "he might *look* strong, but don't be fooled. Those muscles? Pure genetics. He's lazy as hell when it comes to martial arts or refining his skills. No technique, no finesse—just raw power and speed. The boy couldn't care less about elegance in combat." 

Rayleigh's tone carried an edge of teasing mockery, clearly meant to provoke his son. 

Royal, who had been quietly cleaning a glass, paused and shot his father a sideways glance, his expression as stoic as ever. "I'm standing right here, you know," he muttered, clearly unimpressed with the jab. 

Rayleigh chuckled, ignoring his son's mild annoyance. "Come on, Royal. Show the swordsman what you're made of—or are you too lazy even for that?" 

Zoro crossed his arms, watching the exchange with faint amusement. "If he's as bad as you say, this won't take long," he said, his voice laced with a hint of challenge.