The weather was clear.
The bustling Sabaody Archipelago was teeming with tourists from all walks of life, nobles, commoners, criminals, and adventurers all blending together.
And in such a chaotic crowd, the presence of justice—the Marines—was of course indispensable.
A patrol unit moved through the streets, and even when they encountered the occasional pirate crew, they tacitly chose to turn a blind eye.
It simply wasn't manageable.
On this island, the unspoken rule was: as long as the pirates didn't cause trouble, the Marines wouldn't bother with them.
Especially now, with the most widely spread news being that the Pirate King Roger had been captured. The arrogance of pirates across the seas had noticeably diminished. For these grassroots Marines, it was a welcome relief—fewer fights.
"Alright, our shift is over for the day. Get ready, we're heading back to headquarters!"
"Oh!!!"
"Finally! A bit of rest! I can even go home and see the wife and kids."
"What's the rush? Let's wait till we get our bonuses and go have some fun together."
"Ah... That's probably not a good idea."
"Cut the crap..."
Beneath the blazing sun, a Marine warship set sail at noon from Sabaody, bound for Marineford. On the deck, the low-ranking sailors were chatting and joking among themselves.
Inside a side room of the ship's kitchen, a tall figure sat at a dining table, one leg casually crossed over the other.
The noise outside didn't bother him at all.
Even the rocking of the waves failed to disturb his composure.
A Navy cloak, almost three meters long, draped over his shoulders didn't look bulky in the slightest. On the contrary, it emphasized a majestic, commanding presence that perfectly complemented his uniform beneath.
The ornate epaulettes on his shoulders, adorned with intricate patterns, clearly marked his status.
In the Navy, any ambitious soldier would instantly recognize what that cloak symbolized—it was the cape of a general. A Rear Admiral in Marine Headquarters.
Orin savored a bite of steak.
Beside him stood two young Marine recruits, standing stiffly at attention. The smell of the steak made them gulp involuntarily.
Knock knock knock...
"Come in." Orin spoke calmly. Though not loud, his tone carried undeniable authority.
At his words, a timid figure poked his head in, wearing a wrinkled smile full of flattery. Then he slowly stepped inside.
"Rear Admiral Allen, sorry to disturb you. I've come to report on the situation."
The man was small and skinny, wringing his hands as he spoke obsequiously.
Then he turned with a serious face to the two young sailors at Orin's side.
"You two may go."
"Yes!"
Even if they looked down on their superior's behavior, the two sailors dared not show it. They kept straight faces and exited the room.
"Is something the matter?"
Orin almost wanted to laugh, but he kept his composure. Facing the Marine officer's flattery, he maintained the dignified image expected of a superior officer.
In fact, Orin's performance was exactly what newly transferred Captain Dick had imagined a high-ranking officer would be like.
Dignified. Towering. Imposing...
So much so that Orin had only needed to make up a name and a story.
He draped over himself the cloak he'd claimed years ago after taking down a real Rear Admiral, and Dick had completely bought into the story.
Rear Admiral Allen of Marine HQ, who had split from his subordinates during a mission, and was now hitching a ride back to HQ after completing the operation.
"Reporting to Rear Admiral Allen: I've issued the order to end the patrol and have already arranged all procedures for our return voyage!"
Dick reported every step in a strict, by-the-book manner—even though Orin was still focused on his steak, barely acknowledging the report.
But Dick had his own interpretation of this behavior.
As expected of a Marine Rear Admiral, wasn't it?
That relaxed confidence—as if nothing in the world could rattle him. To someone so battle-hardened, a routine patrol must seem like a child's game.
No wonder he could become a Rear Admiral.
That's a Rear Admiral, after all.
Just one step away from Admiral, two steps from Fleet Admiral.
Standing before such a big shot, Dick knew he had to impress.
Seeing Orin enjoying his steak, Dick subtly pulled out one of his prized possessions from a secure cabinet in the back of the kitchen.
"Rear Admiral Allen, this is a specialty red wine from the Land of Fine Wine. I came across it by chance some time ago. I hope you won't mind it—I thought it could help refresh your palate."
He bent forward obsequiously, uncorked the bottle, and poured it into a crystal wine glass.
"Oh… very thoughtful of you."
The food was getting a little dry anyway.
Orin took the glass. A flicker of red light flashed across his eyes, and after a brief pause, he took a full sip.
"Very good wine."
He accepted the gift and offered a polite compliment.
"None of the bitterness you usually find in cheap liquor. It's fruity and rich. I like it."
And he meant it.
Though it was alcohol, it was nothing like the rum or beer Orin had drunk before.
This stuff was genuinely good. Its only flaw was the price.
Even with the money he had stashed with Sammi, he couldn't afford to burn through it like this. Two or three sips, and the bottle was gone—costing a million Belly.
Might as well take over that so-called Wine Country someday. Then he wouldn't have to pay.
Since when did great pirates pay for anything anyway?
"Hehe, as long as you enjoy it. If you'd like more, I'll bring some next time. After all, I'm counting on your support."
Dick beamed. Eager to please, he pledged his loyalty with gusto, hoping to stay in Orin's good graces.
Orin couldn't help but laugh at that.
He started painting promises as if they were free, feeding Dick so many sweet lies that the man was almost drunk on happiness.
"Rest assured, Captain Dick. I'll make sure to mention you to Admiral Sengoku in the future… and to Strategist Tsuru as well. You're worried about promotion? Don't be."
"Ahahahaha…" Dick laughed so hard it looked like he'd spill his guts to prove his loyalty. He waited on Orin hand and foot like a servant.
But to Orin, who was used to being attended to by cute maids, a guy this ugly held no appeal. He quickly made up an excuse to send him off.
The truth was, if this useless glutton of a Marine had ever spent more time chasing pirates instead of sucking up to superiors and bullying civilians, he might have noticed—
The commanding officer he respected so much… was actually one of the most notorious men on any wanted poster:
Black Gun · Orin!
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Pls Drop some Power Stones
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