Wonderful Misunderstanding

Come on! Come on!

Hancock clenched her fists, her pretty face twisted in anger as if she wanted to kill someone. The middle-aged woman, however, maintained her smile.

"When you grow up, there will be drugs used in front of you, which can make the door easier to open and close, thus locking the essence without revealing a drop," the middle-aged woman explained calmly. "It can even mimic a human mouth, making the same swallowing actions. Of course, this requires practice."

The woman's voice dripped with condescension. "If I'm not mistaken, you have a special physique. Just like some rare flowers, after being picked, they secrete special cold honey and syrup. This is the ultimate enjoyment that makes men fall in love with them."

"Hancock, you were born to please men," the middle-aged woman continued, her eyes gleaming with admiration.

"That's enough!" Hancock shouted coldly, her eyes blazing with fury.

The middle-aged woman chuckled, said no more, and turned to leave. Hancock was left alone in the room.

She lowered her head to pick up the bottle, examining the silver marrow-like liquid inside, her expression uncertain. She wanted to smash the thing to pieces, but after a long moment of contemplation, Hancock sighed and put the bottle away.

Lakeman always says weird things like the "Three-hole goal." Although she didn't understand, she knew what Lakeman meant. Phrases like "thread of sky," "pink and delicate," and "clear liquid like honey" were whispered in her ear every night as he took her.

Coupled with the teachings of the middle-aged woman, Hancock gradually understood her immense allure to men. It was only a matter of time before she would have to use all her abilities to please him.

It's just, why give me the opportunity to practice? Hancock frowned, puzzled. If Lakeman only wanted to possess her, he would treat her like a vase. But he let her practice and master power. Wasn't he afraid she might defect one day?

Hancock couldn't figure it out. She shook her head, got up, and walked to the bathroom.

Hancock stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The room was spacious, adorned with marble tiles and elegant fixtures. She approached the large, ornate mirror, her reflection staring back at her. Her eyes, usually filled with defiance, now held a hint of uncertainty.

With a sigh, she reached behind her neck and undid the clasp of her dress. The fabric slid down her shoulders and pooled at her feet, revealing her flawless, porcelain skin. She stood there for a moment, her body illuminated by the soft, golden glow of the overhead lights.

Hancock turned towards the shower, the sound of water cascading down inviting her closer. She stepped into the glass enclosure, the cool tiles beneath her feet sending a shiver up her spine. With a gentle twist of the handle, warm water burst forth, enveloping her in a soothing mist.

As the water flowed over her body, Hancock tilted her head back, letting the droplets cascade through her long, ebony hair. Her hair clung to her back, accentuating the graceful curve of her spine. She closed her eyes, the warmth of the water relaxing her tense muscles.

Her hands moved slowly, almost languidly, across her body. She lathered the soap in her palms, the rich, fragrant foam spreading over her skin. She started with her arms, gliding her hands up and down, feeling the smoothness beneath her fingertips. The soap slid over her shoulders and down to her chest, her touch light and sensual.

Hancock's fingers traced the contours of her breasts, lingering for a moment before moving lower. The soap glided over her taut stomach, down to her hips, and along the length of her legs. She savored the sensation, the act of cleansing herself becoming a ritual of self-care and reflection.

She turned under the water, letting it rinse away the soap, her skin gleaming with moisture. The droplets clung to her like tiny diamonds, enhancing her natural beauty. Hancock took a deep breath, the steam filling her lungs, and exhaled slowly, feeling the last remnants of tension melt away.

With deliberate care, she picked up a bottle of shampoo, the scent of jasmine filling the air as she worked it into her hair. She massaged her scalp, her fingers weaving through the strands, ensuring every inch was covered. The lather foamed richly, cascading down her back and shoulders.

Rinsing her hair, Hancock felt a sense of renewal. The water carried away not just the suds, but also the lingering doubts and fears. She stood there for a moment longer, letting the water embrace her, before finally turning off the shower.

Stepping out, she reached for a plush, white towel. She wrapped it around herself, the fabric soft against her freshly cleaned skin. Hancock dried herself with slow, deliberate movements, appreciating the softness and warmth. She moved to the mirror again, her reflection now serene and composed.

As she dried her hair, she couldn't help but think about Lakeman's intentions. Why give me the opportunity to practice? she wondered again, her mind clearer but still searching for answers.

With a final sigh, Hancock finished drying off and wrapped herself in a silk robe. She left the bathroom, feeling a sense of calm and clarity, but also knowing that the challenges and uncertainties were far from over.

On the Warship.

Kizaru picked up the phone with a pained expression and reported to Sengoku.

"I really don't want to do this task, Marshal."

"What's wrong?" Sengoku's confused voice came from the phone bug.

Kizaru sighed. "I don't know why, but Lakeman Saint is extremely eager for me. He even invited me to dinner. I don't know what to do."

"Just eating?" Sengoku asked.

"Yes, it's just a simple meal. Then he tells me he's admired me for a long time and asks me to share interesting things that happened in the Marines... How can I tell stories!" Kizaru complained.

Pfft…

There was a muffled laugh from the other side of the phone. Obviously, Sengoku found the situation amusing. Making Kizaru tell a story was indeed a difficult task.

"..."

Kizaru shook his head, pretending not to hear Sengoku's laughter.

"Since it's just about eating, you can just deal with it casually," Sengoku advised. "I have no better solution. Let's hope that Lakeman Saint loses interest in you soon."

"Oh, this is the only way," Kizaru hung up the phone tiredly.

After finishing his report to Sengoku, Kizaru put on his glasses, donned a new military uniform, and walked to the deck. Thanks to Lakeman not coming in the morning, he had a full practice session, took a shower, and changed into a new set of clean clothes.

At Naval Headquarters.

In the Marshal's Office, Sengoku put down the phone, his expression serious. He looked at the female Vice Admiral in front of him, his old friend Tsuru, who had the ability to wash fruits and held the position of chief of staff. Though her strength wasn't top-notch, her intellect was formidable.

"What do you think, Tsuru?" Sengoku asked.

Tsuru took a sip of her tea and said slowly, "This Lakeman Saint can ask the Financial Martial God to force Kizaru to be appointed as an escort. I think it is a test."

Sengoku raised an eyebrow. "Testing?"

"Yes," Tsuru nodded. "It's not so much that Saint Lakeman is interested in Kizaru, but rather that the Five Elders are interested in Kizaru."

Sengoku's expression changed slightly. This guess seemed highly plausible. The World Government had always disliked the current Marines because of their strong sense of justice. He, Garp, and Tsuru were three like-minded individuals occupying the upper echelons of the Marines. 

The elite training camp in charge of Zephyr trained future Marine executives. This meant that the present and future Marines were imbued with a strong sense of personal heroism and universal justice, which the World Government found displeasing.

The World Government viewed the Marines as merely a tool to deal with pirates, with justice being an unnecessary burden. The presence of a Marine Admiral protecting the Celestial Dragons contradicted this sense of justice.

"Do they want to drag Kizaru over?" Sengoku took off his glasses, rubbed his face, and said, "What a good idea. Kizaru's beliefs are different from ours. He can be swayed, and he is willing to be swayed."

"Yes, that explains why they forcefully named Kizaru," Tsuru nodded.

Sengoku let out a silent breath. The methods of the World Government were hard to guard against. Fortunately, among the Admiral candidates he favored, there were two people who wouldn't be easily swayed. One was Akainu, who was ruthless, and the other was Aokiji, who was deeply influenced by Garp. With these two, they could ensure that the next generation of Marines remained on the right path.

"In that case, we cannot let Kizaru come back," Sengoku said thoughtfully. "Let Kizaru take the initiative to contact Lakeman and test the World Government's intentions."

"Agreed," Tsuru nodded.

"Then it's decided," Sengoku agreed.

The two completely misunderstood Lakeman's situation. Kizaru didn't know it yet, but he had been betrayed by his old boss, Sengoku.

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