The scent of freshly baked bread and warm spices filled the air, wrapping around the small bakery like a comforting embrace. It was early morning, just as the sun began casting golden light over the island, and the quiet hum of your routine had just begun. The gentle clatter of trays, the soft rustling of flour, the rhythmic kneading of dough—it was a peaceful morning, like every other. Or at least, it should have been.

The moment the bell above your door chimed, announcing a visitor, you barely had the chance to look up before the air in the bakery shifted. A looming presence stood in the doorway, unmistakable even without his usual entourage. Charlotte Katakuri. Tall, imposing, with his signature scarf partially obscuring his face, the Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates rarely paid personal visits. But here he was, his sharp gaze scanning the bakery before finally settling on you.

“I need a word with you.” His voice, deep and even, held a weight that made your stomach flutter—not with fear, but with anticipation.

You had seen him here before, always lingering at a distance, always sending someone else to retrieve his order. You had noticed the way your pastries disappeared first, the way his men always returned with subtle praise muttered under their breath. But never had he sought you out directly.

His gaze flickered toward the tray of pastries cooling behind you, but it was clear that wasn’t the reason for his visit. Stepping further inside, his towering figure cast a long shadow across the counter.

“I want you to work for me,” he stated simply, leaving no room for argument. “As my personal chef.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. A request from a Charlotte wasn’t something taken lightly. And yet, despite the seriousness of his tone, you couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers tapped once against the counter—an almost subconscious habit, as if waiting for your answer held more weight than he cared to admit.