At the docks.
BABE was carrying an entire barrel when he suddenly dropped it onto the deck with a loud "thud." As he straightened up, he saw Ryan walking toward him with an unfamiliar woman in his arms.
"Captain, you're back," Zala greeted, swaying her hips as she approached. The hem of her skirt traced a graceful arc with her movements. Her gaze briefly swept over Porche before settling back on Ryan's face. "I asked around town earlier. If we sail for three more days, we'll reach Water 7."
"Water 7!" Ryan's fingers lightly traced circles on Porche's waist. At the mention of the name, his eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly.
Of course, he knew the place—not just because it was famous for its shipbuilding industry, but also because of the upcoming "Enies Lobby Incident." The Straw Hat Kid's crew would storm Enies Lobby to rescue Robin, leading to the downfall of CP9's elite and a humiliating blow to the World Government's reputation...
"Mhm," Zala nodded calmly. "I heard their shipbuilding industry is highly advanced. We could get our ship repaired while we're there."
Ryan glanced up at their vessel. It was a ship he had casually commandeered in Alabasta—far from top-tier—and after enduring the rough journey, it had developed some minor issues. Among their crew, BABE had brute strength, DAZ BONEZ excelled in combat, Zala specialized in intelligence, and Mikita... well, she was more of a mascot. None of them were skilled shipwrights.
"No need for repairs," Ryan withdrew his gaze, pressing his fingertips lightly against Porche's waist. His tone was nonchalant. "Since we're passing by Water 7 anyway, we might as well get ourselves a proper ship."
For a journey around the world, a proper ship was essential—not just to withstand storms, but most importantly, for comfort. A custom-made one, at that.
"Are all the supplies ready?" Ryan looked up at Zala.
"Fresh water, food, medicine, spare anchors, and ropes—everything's accounted for," DAZ BONEZ answered succinctly.
"Then let's set sail." Ryan waved his hand dismissively and strode toward the cabin with Porche still in his arms, his hand sliding down the curve of her waist. He hadn't chosen Porche in the Davy Back Fight just to have her stand around—she was meant to serve a practical purpose.
"Ah, you're so mean..." Porche stiffened for a moment before melting into his touch. She lightly swatted his hand away, her voice deliberately coquettish as she drawled, "Mr. Ryan, whatever you want... let's talk about it inside, okay?"
.....
Water 7.
At the top-floor office of Galley-La Company, Iceberg sat behind a heavy oak desk, dressed in a dark gray waistcoat with a meticulously knotted tie at his collar. His silver hair was neatly slicked back with pomade, and he held a fountain pen between his fingers as he reviewed the towering stack of ship blueprints before him.
The pen glided across the paper, leaving clear annotations in its wake. The only sounds in the room were the rustling of paper and the faint crashing of waves outside the window.
Knock knock. The raps on the door were neither too loud nor too soft—just the right amount of restraint.
"Come in," Iceberg said without looking up, pausing the movement of his pen.
The office door opened, and Kalifa stepped inside in her signature black business suit, a white blouse with a bow at the collar, and neatly combed shoulder-length blonde hair. Her expression was professionally detached as she carried a silver tray with a steaming cup of coffee.
"President," Kalifa approached the desk and set the coffee down gently beside Iceberg's hand. Her voice was cool and measured as she spoke, "The staff reports that one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, the 'Wanderer' Ryan, is waiting in the reception room. He wishes to speak with you."
"Seven Warlords?" A small blot of ink seeped onto the blueprint as Iceberg finally looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing his eyes. He set the pen down and tapped his fingers lightly on the desk. "What does he want with me?"
"According to the receptionist, his purpose seems to be..." Kalifa withdrew the tray, resting her fingertips lightly on its edge before adjusting her thin-framed glasses. Her tone remained steady. "He wants to commission a ship."
"A ship?" Iceberg raised an eyebrow. He knew a ship commissioned by a Warlord would be anything but ordinary. If Ryan had come here personally, it could only mean he sought Galley-La's craftsmanship.
"Understood." Iceberg stood, smoothing the hem of his waistcoat with his usual composed demeanor. "Take me to the reception room."
Kalifa nodded and turned to lead the way, the sharp clicks of her heels echoing down the hallway. Iceberg followed behind her. As Kalifa pushed open the reception room door, the conversation inside abruptly ceased.
Iceberg's gaze swept across the room. Two men and three women were seated on either side of the couches, but the focal point was the young man lounging in the center. Dressed in a loose black shirt with sleeves casually rolled up to his forearms, his eyes were half-lidded, and a faint, careless smile played on his lips. This was the "Wanderer" Ryan, one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.
A newly ascended powerhouse who had risen by stepping over the former Warlord Crocodile—his reputation was impossible to ignore.
"Mr. Ryan, I am Iceberg, president of Galley-La Company." Iceberg walked straight to the single armchair opposite Ryan and sat down, his tone polite yet businesslike. "I hear you wish to commission a ship?"
"That's right." Ryan tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest, his voice quiet yet carrying clearly to everyone in the room. "After all, Galley-La's craftsmanship is unmatched in the Grand Line."
Iceberg didn't respond to the flattery, merely inclining his head slightly. "Then, may I ask what specifications you have for the ship?"
"My requirements are simple." Ryan's gaze drifted toward the shipyard outside the window. "First—it has to be luxurious."
"Don't misunderstand," he added, noticing the slight shift in Iceberg's expression. "I'm not talking about tacky gold-plating. The interior furnishings must be refined—spacious bedrooms, plush sofas in the lounge... in short, it has to be comfortable."
Iceberg tapped his fingers lightly on his knee. The request sounded like the whims of a noble, but for Galley-La's craftsmen, it wasn't particularly challenging.
"Second, I want a pool on the deck. The bigger, the better." Ryan's tone carried a hint of amusement. "When the voyage gets dull, we'll need some water games to pass the time."
Iceberg's brow furrowed slightly. "A pool will add unnecessary weight to the ship, affecting its speed and maneuverability. Moreover—"
"That's your problem to solve," Ryan cut him off. "I'll pay enough to turn those 'problems' into 'features.'"
Iceberg fell silent for a moment, mentally noting the point before looking up again. "Anything else?"
"One last thing." Ryan leaned forward slightly, his expression turning serious. "I want an electrical system on board—not some outdated wind or manpower-driven contraption. I'm talking about a system that controls the cabin lighting, the pool's water circulation, and most importantly... powers the ship's propulsion."
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