As they spoke, Darren found himself quietly studying the woman before him.
Golden hair framed a face of disarming elegance, her beauty sharp enough to wound. Shallow dimples danced on her cheeks when she smiled, but the curve of her red lips hinted at mischief—like she knew something you didn't, and found your ignorance amusing. It gave her allure an edge, as if she could slice you open with a single glance.
Even in repose, she radiated an effortless sensuality. Every tilt of her head, every lingering glance, every languid motion seemed soaked in slow-burning seduction.
Exquisite.
Darren had never been easily swayed. During his time in North Blue, he'd shared drinks—and more—with the consorts of several royal houses. He was no stranger to the company of refined, dangerous women.
And yet, this woman stood apart.
There was something about her—an intoxicating softness in her gaze, a deliberate curve to her smile, the way her aura shimmered with temptation. It was a masterwork of controlled allure, subtle and dangerous.
Compared to Gion's proud and youthful ferocity, Toki's gentle reserve, or even Big Mom's volatile maternal madness—though why he'd thought of that deranged old bat at all, he didn't know—this woman was in a league of her own.
His lips twitched.
Must be the blood loss. My brain's wandering.
"You seem rather cheerful," she said suddenly, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Not exactly the look of a man hanging by a thread."
Her smile deepened, her dimples catching the light.
"Hard not to be," Darren replied smoothly. "The view is helping me forget the pain."
Her laughter was light, effortless. "Well, well. So the infamous 'King of the North Blue' is also a charmer."
She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, a textbook gesture of coy femininity, though Darren noted how easily she slipped into it—like breathing.
Leaning forward just slightly, she gave him a calculated glimpse of the generous curves beneath her dress.
"And to think," she said, voice low and lilting, "I personally tended to your wounds… with the utmost care."
Darren's smile didn't waver.
Keep playing your little games, if it makes you feel in control.
Her every move—crossed legs, coy glances, breathy laughter—was deliberate. She wasn't flirting. She was working.
But she'd made one mistake.
She thought he didn't know who she was.
The moment she entered, he'd recognized her.
The Queen of the Pleasure District—the most powerful figure in the New World's vast underworld of indulgence. The glamorous ruler of the largest red-light district this side of the Grand Line.
But that was only her mask.
Behind it, she was one of the World Government's top agents. A high-ranking member of Cipher Pol Aigis 0.
And behind that mask lay the truth.
Stussy—Vegapunk's creation. A clone born of science and secrecy, copied from Buckingham Stussy of the infamous Rocks Pirates. She was the first successful human clone produced by the rogue scientific group MADS.
She had been embedded within CP0 for over twenty years, living a lie for reasons even most of the World Nobles couldn't begin to guess.
A woman forged for espionage. Master of disguise. Mistress of infiltration. A fox wrapped in silk.
Nothing that came from her mouth could be trusted.
And yet, here she was, putting on a flawless show—her tone, her expressions, her body language perfectly calibrated to manipulate. If he hadn't known her true identity, even Darren might've been drawn in.
But instead of suspicion, he felt something else.
Excitement.
So that's how you want to play this.
He'd always considered himself a master of performance—second only to Borsalino in acting, rivaled only by Tokikake in charming women, and surpassed only by Dragon in commanding hearts.
And now? He had a worthy opponent.
A duel of deception.
A stage shared by two masters.
Sea King versus Sea Queen... now that's entertainment.
"What a shame," Darren said, stretching lazily, voice tinged with mock regret. "Since you were so... thorough last time, why not help again?"
And in one smooth motion, he tore away the remains of his shirt and pants.
The muscles beneath were tightly corded, his body a map of scars and power. He radiated a kind of untamed force—not the sculpted vanity of a model, but the lethal grace of a predator.
Stussy's smile faltered for half a breath.
He moved too fast.
Her trained eyes drank in the sight: every chiseled line of his body, every scar that hinted at a life carved from combat. The sheer heat that rolled off him wasn't just masculine—it was magnetic.
Her breath caught. Her mouth went dry.
And she hated that it happened.
Because no matter how lethal a woman's charm was to men, the reverse held true. When a man embodied both danger and beauty, he became every bit as disarming.
Rogers Darren wasn't just attractive. He was devastating.
His raw presence outshone even the most elite hosts of the Pleasure District. In a sea full of monsters and misfits, he stood out like a diamond in a gravel pit.
Even if he'd had no power, no titles, no fame, that body alone might've been enough to win him a kingdom of admirers.
But he had it all—looks, charm, strength, and a reputation that could shake the world.
The kind of man every woman was warned about… and every part of her still wanted.
Damn it… Stussy bit down on her lip, crossing her legs more tightly than before. Why the hell is my body reacting to this?
For a single, unguarded moment, her carefully polished mask slipped.
And Darren noticed.
To be continued...