Makino quickly mixed the drink and presented the glass to Lakeman.
Mirana, standing beside her, couldn't help but tease. "Sister Makino is being dishonest. Didn't you say earlier that you'd be serving Sex on the Beach? How could you forget so quickly, right after I reminded you?"
Lakeman simply watched the two women bicker, showing no intention of speaking or touching the glass.
Makino, still naked and marked by traces of passion across her body, gave him a shy glance.
She picked up the glass, took the cocktail into her mouth, and leaned forward—her breasts pressing against the bar counter—as she captured his lips and slowly transferred the wine to him mouth-to-mouth.
Lakeman's hand rose to the back of her head, his tongue tangling with hers as he kissed her deeply, savoring the taste of the drink on her lips.
He only released her when she was breathless, then licked his lips and murmured with satisfaction, "Tasty. Makino, give me more."
Obediently, she mixed another glass and repeated the act, over and over, until her entire body was slick with sweat, droplets sliding down her soft skin like beads of melted crystal.
Having swallowed more than a few sips herself, Makino grew tipsy and bold. She stepped out from behind the counter, her flushed face glowing under the dim lights. Leaning forward, her breasts resting on the polished bar, she swayed her hips invitingly and whispered in a slurred, playful tone, "Master… please enjoy Sex on the Beach."
Hearing that, Lakeman rose from his stool, arousal already hardening his resolve. He moved behind her, his hands spreading her soft cheeks apart to reveal the glistening slit that awaited him.
He aligned his cock and, with a single thrust, buried himself deep within her warmth.
"Ahhh…" Makino gasped, her voice trembling with pleasure and pain.
Lakeman withdrew slowly until only the tip remained before slamming forward again, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through the quiet bar.
Pah. Pah.
"Uhhh… more, Master," Makino whimpered, her voice trembling as she begged for more.
He obliged, his rhythm relentless. A sharp smack landed across her ass, making her body jolt and her moan deepen.
"Ooohhh…"
Each thrust drove her higher, her tight walls clenching around him, pulling him deeper as her body quivered under his touch. The steady rhythm of his hips and the sound of skin striking skin filled the air.
Mirana, flushed and breathless, leaned closer and presented her bare breasts before him.
Lakeman turned his head and took one into his mouth, sucking and biting her soft flesh as his hips continued their rhythm inside Makino.
Pleasure rippled through the room—raw, consuming, and intoxicating. None of them spared a thought for Shanks, who lay near the bar's entrance, his eyes lifeless and empty, watching in silence as the last fragments of his world crumbled before him.
More than an hour had passed. The bar was steeped in heat, its air thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and spilled liquor.
Makino lay sprawled across the counter, her body limp and trembling in the afterglow. Her parted lips released faint breaths while streams of thick, pearly fluid trickled down her thighs. Her back and round hips were streaked white—proof that she had been filled twice before her consciousness finally faded.
Yet Lakeman hadn't stopped. The sound of flesh meeting flesh still filled the dim room, mingled with the ragged moans of another woman losing herself beneath him.
Smack. Smack.
"Uuuhhh… harder…"
"Mmhh… Master…"
Pah. Pah. Pah.
Beside Makino, Mirana lay on the bar's edge, her long legs wrapped tightly around Lakeman's waist. Her body arched in rhythm with his every thrust, her nails dragging across his back as his cock slammed into her pussy again and again.
Her breasts bounced with each movement, soft flesh trembling under his chest. Lakeman leaned down, capturing a nipple between his lips, sucking and biting until she cried out in pleasure.
" Ooohhh"
Pah
Pah
Mirana was stronger, more enduring than Makino. Her body met his power with equal hunger, the sound of their joining wet and fierce.
For nearly two hours he drove into her, every stroke deep and merciless, until her body quivered uncontrollably beneath him. Her breath came in broken gasps, her moans dissolving into helpless whimpers as his hot seed filled her again and again—overflowing, leaking from both her swollen holes, glistening against her trembling thighs.
Makino stirred faintly nearby, her lashes fluttering. Still weak and dazed, she instinctively obeyed when Lakeman guided his cock to her lips. Her mouth opened obediently, her tongue circling him as she cleaned the mixture of their fluids from his length, swallowing every drop until he withdrew, satisfied.
Finally, he allowed both women to rest.
Their exhausted forms lay side by side upon the counter—bare, glistening, and utterly spent. The faint light from the bar lamps shimmered over their smooth skin, painting them in shades of gold and rose.
The rhythmic beat of their slowed breathing was the only sound left—apart from the faint hum of the night outside.
Lakeman turned toward the doorway.
There lay Shanks. The once-proud man did not move, did not speak. His eyes were hollow, devoid of hatred, devoid of hope—only a void remained where pride once burned.
Lakeman approached him slowly, the quiet clack of his boots echoing through the bar. His tone was calm, almost gentle, when he spoke.
"Originally, I intended to torture you further," he said, his crimson eyes gleaming with faint amusement. "Perhaps even make you watch as I fucked your dear ones again—maybe even before Luffy's eyes."
He paused, the corner of his lips curling into a faint smile.
"But now… I'm in a good mood. After all, I've thoroughly fucked both your sister and your precious crush to my satisfaction. So instead of dragging it out, I'll give you a painless death."
"How is it? Are you happy to hear this news?"
Lakeman's laughter rolled through the room, low and cruel, echoing between the wooden walls of the quiet bar.
Mirana stirred at the sound, her lashes fluttering open.
Realization struck almost instantly—this was the moment her hateful, rebellious brother would finally die.
A slow, wicked smile spread across her lips.
She rose from the couch and, with a tug, brought Makino along. Though Makino's body still trembled with exhaustion from their earlier indulgence, hatred and disgust for Shanks burned hotter than fatigue.
Both women stood behind Lakeman, naked and radiant, their flawless bodies gleaming under the amber glow of the hanging lamps. Their eyes were cold, fixed upon the broken man who once dared defy gods.
Lakeman raised his hand lazily, as if brushing dust from the air.
"Time to end this."
A deep hum resonated through the room as the power of the Steal-Steal Fruit activated. Shanks's body began to dissolve from the feet upward, turning into drifting ash. His eyes—once full of fire—met Lakeman's one last time before fading into emptiness.
From within the ash, several radiant orbs emerged, each shimmering in a unique hue—crimson, azure, emerald, gold.
Lakeman caught them effortlessly, his expression serene. "Your strength. Your swordsmanship. Your haki. Your life force. Your time. All of it now belongs to me."
The glowing spheres pulsed once, then vanished into the swirling vortex of his internal storage space.
"Tch." Mirana scoffed and folded her arms beneath her breasts. "What an easy death. I wish I could've tortured him longer."
Lakeman chuckled, the faintest amusement in his crimson eyes. "Don't say that. He was still your brother, after all."
"Brother?" Mirana's laughter was sharp, bitter.
"That bastard lost that title long ago. I once helped him escape after Father imprisoned him for rebelling—wanting to leave Mariejois to become some filthy pirate. I pitied him. Freed him. And he repaid me by knocking me unconscious and running away without even a word of thanks."
Her voice trembled between fury and scorn. "Father punished me with two years of solitary confinement because of him. That was the last time I showed mercy."
She smirked then, turning toward Makino. "Though I suppose our sweet Makino wished to punish him more—for lying to her, for deceiving her whole village. She actually thought they were some noble pirates."
Makino snorted softly, her silence serving as confirmation. The coldness in her eyes said everything.
Lakeman turned his gaze toward the shadows. "Clean up the mess."
From the corners of the room, several female CP agents stepped out, bowing deeply. "Yes, Master."
They moved swiftly, gathering the remnants of Shanks's ashes along with various love juices and cum scatered on the floor and bar counter, thoroughly cleaning the bar and Makino's bedroom and her bed.
Lakeman drew the two women close—his hands sliding up their waists, kneading their breasts as he led them toward the inner chambers.
Steam soon filled the bathhouse, and what began as cleansing became yet another session of indulgence—moans rising, bodies entwined, the sound of splashing water merging with pleasure's rhythm.
When they finally emerged, the three were freshly dressed and serene.
Mirana guided Makino toward Lakeman's magnificent private cruise, docked just offshore, for sightseeing, while he remained in Makino's barroom, resting near the window.
Evening light spilled through the curtains, washing him in amber hues as he mused silently.
'A pity,' he thought.
'But my enemies have only two fates—to serve me or to die. If I had bound him earlier through the Genius System, all his training and growth would have been mine to share. I could have allowed him to live until his peak. But the Colorful Mist wasted five years of my time. He was almost at his peak strength now… so he's useless to me. Except for giving me beautiful Makino. fufu…'
September 13, 1514 — Sea Circle Calendar
The world remained ignorant.
One of the Four Emperors who ruled the New World, Red-Haired Shanks had perished quietly in an obscure village of the weakest sea, East Blue.
Had Lakeman not intervened, Shanks would have been the only Emperor to survive until the end, long after the others had fallen.
But now, no one would know his fate—no one except one man.
Elbaf, Kingdom of Giants
On a vast shore littered with empty rum bottles, Rayleigh lay reclined against a boulder, staring into the golden sea.
The waves shimmered like molten amber under the setting sun, carrying the faint cry of gulls across the horizon.
Ever since Shakky had vanished years ago, Rayleigh had lost his spark, drowning his nights in drink.
But suddenly, a sharp heat flared in his chest. Startled, he reached into his coat and pulled out a worn life card—only to watch in disbelief as it blackened, crumbled, and turned to ash between his trembling fingers.
His throat tightened. "Shanks… even you've left me."
Behind him, heavy footsteps crunched over sand. A deep voice, half-teasing, half-concerned, broke the silence.
"What's wrong, Rayleigh? Sulking again? Missing your lover?"
Rayleigh didn't turn. "Jabba… Shanks is dead."
Jabba froze mid-stride, his jovial tone fading. "What?"
Rayleigh opened his palm, letting the last specks of ash scatter in the wind.
"The brat's gone."
He lifted the bottle again and drank deeply, his voice low and cracked. "First Shakky… now Shanks. I guess the world keeps taking everything worth caring for."
The sun dipped beneath the waves, leaving only the sound of the sea—and two aging legends, sitting in silence as the world shifted unseen.
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