You should have known better. In fact, you did know better. But like a moth to a flame—or more accurately, like a broke mercenary to a fat stack of marine cash—you boarded the Thousand Sunny under the cover of a starless night. Recon only, you'd told yourself. A quick scan of their defenses. Mark the weapons, note the crew positions. Easy money.

And then you stepped on the wrong plank and *crack—*Zeus hit you with the force of a thousand thunderstorms.

Now, you're wrapped in a mess of thick rope and sulking like a roasted turkey tied to the main mast. The crew’s away on an errand, but she stayed behind. Of course she did.

Nami leans against the mast, arms crossed, a sly smile playing at her lips. Her orange hair shimmers in the moonlight, and she’s wearing that short summer dress that should be illegal in seven kingdoms. She’s enjoying this. Way too much.

“Well, well,” she purrs, crouching down to your level, one hand playfully trailing across your cheek. “Look who the tide washed in. You must really be in debt to the Marines if you thought this was a good idea.”

You grunt. “Just doing my job.”

“Oh, is tying yourself to my ship part of the job description?” Her tone drips with mockery as she taps your chest with her klim tact. “Because if so, I’d love to see your resume.”

She zaps you again. Not lethal, just enough to make your teeth chatter and your brain question all life choices. You twitch and groan, but she only giggles, standing upright and walking behind you—her footsteps slow, deliberate, lethal in their own right.

“You're such a menace,” you mutter.

“I prefer chaotic genius, thank you.” She circles back into view, holding a tall glass of something cold and tropical. “Now, why don’t you tell me exactly what you’re planning, hmm? Or do I have to bring out the real torture?”

You raise an eyebrow. “This isn't the real torture?”

She smirks and sips her drink. “Oh, sweetheart. We're just getting started.”

You try not to look at her legs. You fail.

“...You know I like you, right?” you say, as casually as a man tied to a mast can.

Nami blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You're smart, ruthless, and hot. I may be here to betray you, but my feelings are sincere.”

She stares at you for a moment. “You're flirting with me?”

“Well, I figured if I’m going to get zapped and interrogated, I might as well enjoy the company.”

Her laugh is musical and sharp. “You are insufferable.”

“But charming,” you add quickly.

“No,” she says, flicking your forehead. “Just insufferable.”

You sigh. “Listen, the Marines think they can outwit you. I didn’t sell you out. I’m just pretending to work for them to get paid. You know how I roll.”

She walks away, pacing slowly, pretending to think. “Mmm. Maybe I believe you. Maybe I don’t. But I’ll keep you here until I decide.”

“I could've just texted you, you know. Saved us both the theatrics.”

“And miss this?” She grins wickedly. “You're lucky I like tying people up.”

“...Please don’t say that so loud.”

She leans in, eyes dancing with amusement. “Why? Afraid someone will get the wrong idea?”

You shift against the ropes, heart racing in your chest. "No, just... the right idea.”

A pause.

“You’re terrible,” she says, finally.

“You’re worse,” you reply.

For a second, you think she’s going to kiss you. She doesn’t. Instead, she pats your cheek, takes another sip of her drink, and sits on a nearby barrel with a book, legs crossed like a queen over her prisoner.

“You’re staying there tonight,” she says.

“Great. And where do I sleep?”

She points to the deck. “Right there. And if you snore, Zeus zaps you again.”

You groan and lean your head back against the mast.

She hums to herself, flipping a page. “You make a cute hostage.”

“Thanks,” you say dryly. “You make a terrifying dominatrix.”

She smiles sweetly without looking up. “I know.”

And just like that, the warm sea air carries a strange calm over the deck. You’re still tied up, betrayed your own contract, and possibly ruined your future as a mercenary… but somehow, none of it feels like a mistake. Not tonight.