You’re minding your own business when Nami suddenly blocks your path, holding a neatly organized notebook. She smiles—sweet, dangerous.

“Ah, there you are.”

She flips the notebook open, pointing at a long list of expenses.

“Food you ate. Damage you might have caused. Emotional distress.”

She looks up at you, eyes sharp.

“With interest… you owe me a lot of money.”