Zolo’s lack of direction was astounding. It seemed to be inversely proportional to his skill with swords. You could tell him the kitchen was on the first floor, and he’d start climbing the stairs. It could take him an entire hour of walking around the castle to get to his own room. At first Perona had trailed behind him, making sure he didn’t get himself into trouble, but he never remembered any of her directions, and he moved around with unbelievable energy. Exhausted, she had gradually stopped bothering to follow him.
But if Perona was walking beside him, Zolo could get back home safely. They went down the shadowy path side by side on their way back to Muggy Castle’s dark ruins.
What a wasted effort, Perona fumed. No cocoa, just some stupid bottles of wine!
She decided she’d go with Zolo to give Mihawk his prize and call it a night, making her way toward Mihawk’s chamber. Then she stopped. She had noticed that the bottles in Zolo’s hand were covered in a thick layer of dust.
“Shouldn’t you give it a little taste test first? You know how fussy he is about his wine,” she suggested.
“Yeah, I guess it could have gotten spoiled, floating around in the water,” Zolo agreed.
The two of them headed to the dining room. Perona set out two wine glasses, pulled a cork, and started pouring.
“I wish this were hot cocoa,” she grumbled longingly, and took a sip. Perona’s already round eyes widened suddenly in surprise when she tasted the drink.
“What? What is it?” Zolo asked, but she wasn’t going to answer. She couldn’t open her mouth and risk letting the bliss slip away.
The wine was shockingly tasty. Her tongue was thrilled with the interplay of delicate juiciness, soft sourness, and a fringe of bitterness, all of it pleasingly commingled in her mouth. A complex aroma reached her nose, with notes of black and red currants and ripe cherries combined into one, and after a long tail of flavor, a whiff of white rose at the very end.
Perona exhaled slowly. Her eyes popped open again and sparkled. “This wine is…supergood!”
“Now you’re exaggerating. It can’t be that great,” Zolo grumbled.
Perona picked up her glass and drank the rest of it in one go, then promptly started pouring herself a second.
“Hey,” Zolo interjected, “weren’t we just testing it?”
“Who cares?” she responded breezily. “There are three bottles. We can take a little.”
“Well, you shouldn’t just be chugging wine without having something to eat,” he grumbled, then walked out of the dining room without a glance at Perona. Not being allowed to drink any of the wine had perhaps made Zolo less than enthusiastic about watching Perona enjoy it.
“Buzzkill,” Perona muttered. She placed an elbow on the table and rested her cheek on her hand. She stared at the way the light passed through the wine for a while. It was a very dark red, but whenever the light caught it, the liquid got a bit lighter, like a piece of hard candy that had been sucked almost all the way through. She spun the stem of the glass in her fingers, spreading a mysterious aroma of fruit and smoke.
Even if you were abstaining, you could still enjoy the color and scent of this wine, Perona thought. Or maybe those things didn’t mean anything unless you could actually taste it for yourself.
Perona rolled her eyes. Zolo should just learn that Haki stuff already, or whatever it was. Then he’d be allowed to drink, and they could share some wine together.
“Here, eat.” His arm reached over her shoulder and dropped a plate onto the table in front of her with a loud thunk. It was a strange dish of melon slices layered over thin pieces of ham.
“What is this?” Perona asked. Zolo looked offended.
“It’s food. We didn’t have any snacks to go with booze, so I made it for you.”
Ah, so he had gone off to the kitchen. She’d thought he had just wandered away. Not fully comprehending her sense of relief that Zolo hadn’t left her alone for the evening, Perona turned her attention to the food on the plate.
“Melon and ham. I’ve never seen this combination before. How did you come up with the idea?”
“Just eat it, all right?” Zolo instructed. “All I did was slice them, so it should be as good as whatever our cook could have made.”
Perona wasn’t sure what to expect as she popped the first bite into her mouth, but the snack was surprisingly good. The saltiness of the ham and sweetness of the melon went together well. The ham practically melted in her mouth; surely that was because the slices were astonishingly thin and beautiful. Well on his way to becoming the greatest swordsman in the world, Zolo was already a master food slicer.
“Oooh, I know what we should do!” Perona said, as an idea formed in her mind. “We should use one of these bottles to make sangria!”
“What are you talking about?” Zolo asked.
“You and Mihawk are both good at using your blades, right? You can cut the fruit into perfect pieces!”
“You do realize that when I’m training with swords, it’s not for cutting fruit, right?”
“But it’ll be so delicious!” Perona cooed. “Oooh, I can’t wait!”
She ignored his protestations and downed the rest of the wine, letting out a very satisfied sigh.
She lowered the light in the room so the moonlight could gradually infuse the fragile wine glass. It was gloomy and dark, just the way she liked it.
“Horo horo horo… Oh, what a perfect night,” she giggled.
She gazed up at the moon through the window and smiled to herself. Maybe the alcohol was getting to her—she felt a bit warmer than usual. Just floating around the room, in no particular direction, was highly entertaining. The stain on the wine bottle’s label started to look a little bit like a profile of Hawk-Eye Mihawk to her. “Du-heh!” she guffawed.
Zolo started practicing with his swords on the other side of the room. She commented that it seemed far too late in the day to start training again, but according to him, this was just some light exercise before bed. How he could call it “light” when he was wielding those tremendously heavy blades was beyond her understanding.
It really wasn’t half bad, having Zolo in her sight. The wine, it seemed, tasted a bit nicer when someone else was in the room. What was this strange feeling, Perona wondered? It felt like a very simple and comfortable pleasure, like a perfect cup of warm milk, or a cute pair of newly-broken-in shoes.
“It’s strange…” she muttered to herself. Zolo had sensitive ears, and he turned toward her quizzically. “Wha—?” he panted.
“Nothing!” she exclaimed, letting herself flop down to the floor. It was dark and cool, and felt nice on her warm skin.
“I’m feeling sooo good right now,” she said.
“Yeah, good for you,” Zolo replied, gruffly.
“Maybe I should sing a cursing song!” Perona suggested cheerfully. “And then you’ll have a really scary night-mare tonight.”
“Go for it,” said Zolo. “Sing away.”
With the chilly floor supporting her back, the blissful Perona began to sing. It was a cursing song, with a gloomy and lonely melody, and lyrics full of dark tidings.
Perona’s mood affected the ghosts that accompanied her. Normally they were a pale white, but tonight the ghosts were tinged with red, and wandered through the castle more restlessly than usual. They passed through the walls and floors, and even wandered up to the highest level of the castle, to the room with the best view: Mihawk’s bedchamber.
“Don’t enter someone’s room without their permission,” scolded Mihawk, who sat in an armchair reading a book. He swiped at the ghosts that were sidling up next to him.
“Seems that the ghost girl is in quite a good mood tonight,” he sighed.