In the hotel room.
Ryan leisurely walked to the windowsill, picked up the cigar from the table, and held it between his lips. A flame ignited at his fingertip, and as smoke curled upward, he tilted his head to glance at the bed.
Hina lay on the bed, her pale pink hair splayed messily across the pillow. A few damp strands clung to the side of her neck, accentuating the unnatural flush on her cheeks, like the rosy hue of drunkenness. A thin blanket covered her, its edge slipping down to her waist, tracing the curves of her body while strategically concealing the crucial areas, leaving only a section of her pale calf exposed.
Hina's eyelashes were long, but now they drooped weakly. Her eyes, usually sharp as blades, were closed, stripped of their usual edge and instead imbued with a touch of fragility.
"Hah—" Ryan exhaled a smoke ring that slowly dissipated in the beam of light. He tapped the cigar with his fingertip, sending embers fluttering down.
Ryan was not a merciful man. If others showed him respect, he might reciprocate with a measure of leniency, but if anyone dared raise a blade against him, he would only drive it deeper. Since Hina insisted on wielding her duty to "capture wanted criminals" as a weapon, she had to face the weight of that choice.
Those who challenged him would pay the price.
That said, the pink-haired colonel's taste was truly exceptional. The resilience usually concealed beneath her uniform had now transformed into the lingering moisture in her eyes, and her perpetually tight-pressed lips had earlier betrayed a few fragmented sounds.
This contrast exuded an unexpected tenderness.
Ryan held the cigar between his fingers and turned to face the window. He exhaled another puff of smoke, which mingled with the sweltering sea breeze drifting through the open French windows, creating faint ripples in the air before being scorched into nothingness by the sunlight.
Suddenly, a soft rustle of fabric came from the bed behind him, and almost simultaneously, Ryan's shoulder twitched slightly.
"Ha!"
Hina's low shout erupted alongside the sharp whistle of splitting air. She sprang upright with astonishing speed, her right leg taut like a straight blade, channeling the full force of her body as she aimed a vicious kick at the back of Ryan's head, precisely targeting his temple.
"Thud!"
A dull thud echoed through the room, but Ryan's figure remained unmoved, as if the powerful kick had merely struck a solid steel pillar, leaving no impact.
"Urgh…" Hina's ankle was caught in Ryan's reverse grip, the force so immense it made her bones ache. Cold sweat instantly beaded on her temples, trickling down her cheeks, and her pupils dilated in shock.
She could clearly feel that her kick, strong enough to crack a deck, had landed on him as if striking the armor of a warship. The recoil left her ankle numb, having inflicted no damage whatsoever.
"You bastard… your body…" Hina gritted her teeth, her voice trembling with strain. "Hina can't understand it!"
Ryan slowly turned his head, the cigar in his fingers glowing intermittently in the light. His gaze fell on Hina, who was now mere inches away. The thin blanket had long since slipped off, revealing the taut lines of her body, honed by her military uniform. Her abdomen and waist, tightened from exertion, glowed with a healthy honeyed hue, yet her face was filled with frustration and disbelief.
"What?" Ryan raised an eyebrow with a light chuckle, his thumb gently stroking Hina's ankle in a teasing manner. "Just recovered and already eager for another fight? So impatient?"
Hina jerked her foot back, staggering two steps as she assumed a defensive stance. Her pale pink hair swung with the movement, the panic in her eyes quickly replaced by cold determination.
"Hina will never let you get away!" she gritted out, her voice carrying undeniable stubbornness. "As long as Hina draws breath, she will bring you to justice!"
Ryan looked the pink-haired captain up and down, his gaze frank to the point of boldness—from her tense shoulders to her clenched fists, finally settling on her face still flushed with drink. He suddenly chuckled low, his tone carrying a hint of admiration. "I have to say, your figure is quite something."
"What nonsense are you talking? Hina is very angry." Hina's cheeks instantly flushed crimson—not from embarrassment, but from offended fury.
"What I mean is..." Ryan's smile faded as his gaze returned to Hina's tense yet unwavering shoulders. "Even though you could barely stand just moments ago, your eyes still hold only the thought of 'capturing me.' Quite rational, and quite stubborn."
The women in this pirate world were interesting—firm in their goals, not the least bit coy.
Then again, this was a place where strength spoke loudest. Those tearful types who sought death at the slightest hardship wouldn't survive on these seas.
His words seemed to strike a chord, making Hina's movements falter slightly.
She had never considered showing weakness. Whether it was pain or humiliation, they all seemed like trivial matters she could endure when measured against her goal of "apprehending criminals."
"This is Hina's duty." She bit her lip and straightened up again. Even though her ankle still throbbed faintly, her eyes had regained their usual sharpness. "Hina doesn't need evaluation from a pirate like you."
Ryan watched Hina's display—clearly in pain and frowning, yet stubbornly straightening her back with unyielding resilience. The mockery in his eyes gradually transformed into interest. He suddenly turned sideways, jerking his chin toward the window as he spoke just loud enough to be heard downstairs. "Mikita, have you dealt with those Marines downstairs?"
"All tied up. No one dares make a move," Mikita's voice floated up from below.
Ryan hummed in acknowledgment. When he turned back, his gaze settled on Hina again, his fingers lightly tapping the window frame. "Tell me, how should I deal with those troublesome Marines?"
Hina's movements froze abruptly, her pupils contracting sharply. Seeing the careless smile playing on Ryan's lips, a sense of foreboding instantly surged in her heart. "Don't do anything reckless! They're just ordinary soldiers following orders!"
"Oh?" Ryan raised an eyebrow, a mocking smile curling at the corner of his mouth as he drawled, "I could let them go, even guarantee they won't suffer a single scratch."
Hina stared at him warily. "What do you want?"
"On the condition that..." Ryan drew out the words, his eyes sweeping over Hina's tense face as if appraising merchandise. "You satisfy me."
"What exactly do you mean? Hina is very displeased."
Hina's heart sank heavily. This scoundrel before her was definitely no good person—she could tell from the utterly cold amusement in his eyes that he placed no value on human life.
Though she understood the situation, when Ryan slowly stated his conditions, Hina's eyes instantly widened as if she had heard some outrageous fantasy, her cheeks flushing bright red in an instant.
"Don't even think about it!" Hina took a sharp step back, the pain in her ankle causing her to stumble, yet she still stiffened her neck, her gaze sharp as a blade: "Hina is a Navy Captain and will never suffer such humiliation!"
"Humiliation?" Ryan spread his hands, his tone light but carrying an undeniable pressure: "But those Marines... you wouldn't want them to remain here forever just because of your words, would you?"
Hina fell silent immediately upon hearing this. Looking into Ryan's half-smiling eyes, she knew this man wasn't joking. Hadn't Captain Nezumi and the soldiers at East Blue's Branch 153 been wiped out by this very man?
"Fine, Hina agrees to your demand." After a long moment, Hina lifted her head, the sharpness in her eyes now mixed with struggle, gritting her teeth as she said: "But if you dare go back on your word, Hina will fight you with her life and never let you succeed."
"Deal." Ryan chuckled lightly: "Then, please begin your performance."
Hina's body visibly stiffened, her hands instinctively clenching. She took a deep breath, as if performing some difficult sacrifice, slowly relaxed her hands, and walked step by step toward Ryan. The pain in her ankle intertwined with the humiliation in her heart, making her face grow increasingly pale.
When she reached Ryan, Hina stopped, her knees slightly bent. The face that usually carried sharp edges was now covered with a gloomy frost, her voice wrapped in suppressed fury: "Hina... is utterly humiliated."
The words that followed became indistinct, as if blocked by something, leaving only barely audible breaths.
Ryan, holding his cigar between his teeth, watched her appearance—clearly humiliated to the extreme yet stubbornly keeping her back straight—and the smile at the corner of his mouth deepened.
He cared nothing for the dignity of the Marines, nor did he care whether this so-called humiliation was excessive.
Morality? Rules? Even the survival of this world? None of it concerned him. Ryan lived on these seas, seeking never any grand righteousness, but simply following his whims.
As long as he was pleased, that was enough.
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