Chapter-9

The table stretched like a pirate's plank, groaning under the weight of sugared treats - jellies wobbled, cakes loomed like frosted islands, and bowls brimmed with creams the color of sunsets. 

At one end, Pudding sat hunched, a mountain of sweets a barrier between her and the world. Her bangs, like spun gold, hid most of her face, leaving only the blush creeping down her neck as evidence of the approaching storm.

The door creaked open, and Atlas entered. Black, his attire mirrored the night outside, except for the stark white shirt beneath. Hair like midnight feathered his shoulders. He moved with the silent grace of a panther, settling across from Pudding. This was it, the meeting arranged by mama.

Pudding didn't look up. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken words and the cloying sweetness of the room. Finally, Atlas cleared his throat, the sound raw in the sugary air.

"Pudding," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I am Atlas, Whitebeard's son."

She mumbled something, inaudible beneath the golden curtain.

"You should already know you're marrying me," Atlas continued, his words like chips of ice on the warm syrup of the situation. 

Pudding's head dipped lower, a single tear escaping the barricade of hair to trace a glistening path down her cheek. He felt a pang, unexpected and unwelcome. Maybe it was the vulnerability in her posture, maybe the glimmer of fear in the tear. Or maybe it was just the absurdity of the whole damn thing - two pawns thrust together by unseen hands.

He sighed, the sound heavy in the room. "Look," he said, leaning forward, "I know about your third eye, if that's what you're worried about then, no need."

Pudding finally lifted her head, eyes wide and wary. 

The words hung heavy in the air, thicker than the sugared incense filling the room. "I know about the third eye," Atlas said, his voice firm but gentle. "No need to get yourself worked up about it."

Pudding's head snapped up, her golden locks flying. "You find it disgusting, don't you?" she spat, defiance warring with fear in her eyes. "Just like everyone else."

Atlas met her gaze, unflinching. "Disgusting? No, not at all." He could hear the doubt in her voice, the years of hiding etched in her posture. "But you haven't seen it, have you?" she challenged, her voice barely a whisper. "Then you surely can't say."

He surprised them both. "Show me," he said, his request simple, unwavering.

Pudding froze, her hand trembling where it rested on the table. "B...But..." she stammered, fear paralyzing her.

Before she could protest further, Atlas stood and crossed the room, his movements quiet but purposeful. He stopped before her, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her flushed cheeks. Her eyes darted away, seeking refuge in the folds of her hair.

With a gentle hand, he brushed the golden strands aside, revealing her forehead. There, in the center, sat the third eye, closed and serene. In that moment, the air crackled with unspoken emotions.

"Don't close it," Atlas whispered, his voice barely a breath. "Let me see."

Hesitantly, as if peeling away a part of her soul, Pudding lifted her eyelid. The third eye opened, glowing with an inner light that seemed to illuminate the very room. But with its unveiling, a stark change swept over her. Her familiar demeanor vanished, replaced by a cold, distant air.

"Weird, isn't it?" she said, her voice devoid of emotion. Her face, once flushed with vulnerability, hardened into a mask of indifference. Atlas saw a flicker of pain deep within, a flicker she quickly buried.

He leaned closer, studying the intricate markings on her eye. "Shame," he murmured, his voice surprisingly melancholic.

Pudding grinned. "I knew it," she whispered, her voice thick with as-a-matter of fact tone.

"Shame," Atlas repeated, his gaze steady. "You don't like your eye," he clarified, "when I think this the most beautiful part of you."

His words hung in the air. The silence stretched. 

Pudding's breath hitched. His words, unexpected and honest, cut through her layers of self-protection like a warm knife through butter. Shame stung, but beneath it, a spark flared. She met his gaze, with her third eye.

"You...you think it's beautiful?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

A ghost of a smile played on Atlas's lips. "It's beautiful," he corrected, his thumb gently brushing against her cheek. "I don't know about others, but I personally like It."

The touch, light as a feather, sent shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes, the conflicting emotions within her threatening to overwhelm.

The bell's jarring clang shattered the intimate bubble they'd created. Atlas pulled away, his eyes locked on hers. "We'll be seeing each other often," he said, his voice husky.

At that moment, a tall, slender figure with piercing purple eyes materialized beside them. "Prespero," Atlas acknowledged, a hint of coolness returning to his voice.

"Smoothie's not here," Prespero informed him, his tone clipped. "On a mission, won't be back for a while."

"Good for me," Atlas replied, his lips curving into a smirk.

Prespero scoffed. "Yeah, enjoy the peace while it lasts." His gaze flickered to Pudding, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face.

"So, what's next?" Atlas asked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Survive," Prespero's response was blunt. "Living in Whole Cake Island ain't no fairytale, especially not for an outsider like you." A dark chuckle escaped his lips. "Right now, you're useless with your current strength. Big Mom's assigned you a 'residence' - a shack in the roughest part of the island."

He expected fear, a flicker of desperation perhaps. Instead, Atlas's smirk widened. "Perfect," he said, his voice devoid of concern.

"Perfect?" Prespero echoed, surprised. "Why in the world would you be happy about that?"

Atlas's gaze turned steely. "I need a brutal place to live," he said, his voice low and firm. "Just my stuff, don't sweat it."

Prespero stared at him. This kid wasn't scared. "Lick," he finally drawled, as he licked. "Let's see how long you will have that smug on you face."

Atlas nodded, a fire lighting up his eyes. "Spoiler," he said, his voice steady. "Always!"