Two days later, in the top-floor reception room of the Galley-La Company.
"Mr. Ryan." Kalifa walked in carrying a silver tray. On the tray sat an exquisite caramel pudding, the edge of the porcelain plate garnished with a mint leaf. She placed the dessert on the coffee table, her movements deft yet elegant. "This is the signature dessert you requested last time. The kitchen just finished making it."
Ryan's gaze fell upon Kalifa. She wore the standard-issue dark blue skirt suit of a Galley-La secretary, with a bow tied at the collar. The skirt hem just reached her knees, revealing a portion of her calves wrapped in skin-colored stockings. Her feet, in high-heeled leather shoes, stood perfectly straight.
Her shoulder-length blonde hair was impeccably styled, with a few stray strands falling across her forehead. She wore a pair of thin-framed glasses, and her blue eyes behind the lenses held a professional detachment.
Kalifa's figure wasn't voluptuous, but she was well-proportioned. The suit outlined her slender waist and crisp shoulder line. Although it was a dignified outfit, her long legs and cool, beautiful features made her particularly eye-catching.
"Iceberg sure is lucky." Ryan picked up a silver fork and gently broke the caramel surface of the pudding. "With a secretary as competent and easy on the eyes as you, coming to work must be more pleasant than a vacation."
"Mr. Ryan." Kalifa's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. She pushed up her glasses, the lenses glinting coldly. "Please watch your words. A suggestive comment like that already constitutes harassment."
"I was just complimenting your strong work ethic and happened to mention you're 'easy on the eyes.' Are the aesthetic standards in Water 7 really that strict?" Ryan deliberately dragged out his words, his gaze vaguely sweeping over the part of Kalifa's calves wrapped in black stockings beneath her suit. He chuckled lightly. "Or is it that Miss Kalifa is so used to hearing comments about her 'iceberg face' that she can't handle hearing the truth all of a sudden?"
"Mr. Ryan, your gaze has crossed a line," Kalifa said, her tone remaining formally rigid. "If you continue to stare in such an offensive manner, I will have to ask you to leave the reception room."
"Don't be so tense, Miss Kalifa." Ryan let out a low laugh and finally retracted his gaze, forking a piece of pudding into his mouth. "I just think that a serious person might be more... appealing if they relaxed once in a while."
Just as he finished speaking, the door to the reception room was pushed open. Iceberg walked in with his craftsmen, his eyes on Ryan, a complex and hard-to-describe emotion within them.
Over the past two days, the Pirates in Water 7 had been almost completely swept away. Not a single ship flying a skull flag could be seen at the docks.
Galley-La had always taken on ship repair business from Pirates, and now nearly thirty percent of their work had been cut off. It would be a lie to say it didn't hurt, but the other party was one of the Seven Warlords, and "clearing the seas" was part of his duty. They didn't even have the standing to complain.
"Mr. Ryan." Iceberg gestured for a craftsman to open a wooden box. "The model of the ship is complete. Please see if it meets your requirements."
Inside the wooden box lay an exquisite ship model, azure blue all over, with a ferocious dragon head carved at its bow.
"The ship's total length is forty-five meters, its width is twelve meters, and its draft is four and a half meters." Iceberg picked up the model. "The upper deck is divided into three sections. The front is an open-air observation deck paved with non-slip teak. The middle section is a temperature-controlled swimming pool with an independent water circulation system, surrounded by a half-person-high carved railing that both blocks waves and doesn't obstruct the view. The rear section is a crow's nest with a field of vision three times wider than that of an ordinary ship."
Iceberg flipped the model over, revealing the hull. "The lower level is the living area, with eight luxury cabins complete with private bathrooms and built-in wardrobes. The middle level is the engine room, with interfaces reserved for a power transmission device. Next to it are the storage hold and a freshwater purification room. The bottom level has been double-reinforced to withstand deep-sea pressure and can also serve as an emergency shelter."
Next, Iceberg pointed to the sails and said, "The sails are designed as a combination of foldable canvas and a metal frame. They can be used for wind-powered sailing or retracted to reduce drag when using electric propulsion. Three thruster nozzles are hidden at the stern, which, when connected to an external power source, can produce speeds far exceeding that of a normal sailboat."
When he set the model down, the base made a soft sound as it hit the table. Iceberg looked up at Ryan. "This size is on the larger side for a civilian vessel, so its stability is unquestionable, but it's also nearly thirty percent heavier than similar ships. However, per your request, the electrical system will only power the lights, pool, and basic equipment, with propulsion relying mainly on the sails and external power. This design is the most reliable."
Ryan picked up the model, his fingertips caressing the dragon head's fangs, a satisfied smile gracing his lips.
This ship was nearly twenty percent longer than the Straw Hat Kid's Sunny and even wider, clearly designed to the specifications of a large three-masted galleon. But it was grand enough to meet his needs.
"Not bad." Ryan placed the model back in the box. "Build it according to this."
"Shall we sign the contract now, then?"
"We can." Ryan leaned back into the sofa and inquired, "Tell me, how much Belly for a ship like this? And how long until it can be launched?"
"The base construction cost plus special craftsmanship requires a thirty percent down payment." Iceberg was prepared. He pulled a cost-analysis sheet from his briefcase but didn't hand it over, simply looking at Ryan as he stated the number. "Based on current material market prices, it will be about five hundred million Belly."
The figure made Mikita, who was standing nearby, pause slightly. Even for a top-tier custom ship, that price was enough to buy three ordinary large merchant vessels.
"Five hundred million... not too outrageous." Ryan raised an eyebrow, showing no surprise at all. Instead, he smiled. "But I've heard that in the shipbuilding business, there are always some last-minute additions to the process and materials."
"The final total will be settled after completion based on actual material consumption, but the margin of error won't exceed ten percent. As for the construction period," Iceberg put away the analysis sheet and met Ryan's gaze, "in one month, you will see a finished product ready to set sail."
"One month!" Ryan's eyebrows shot up, and his fingertips tapped sharply on the armrest. "I don't have that much time to waste in Water 7. Have your employees work overtime. I'll pay double for labor and use the best materials. As long as it can be finished quickly, I won't let you lose out on the price."
Iceberg's fingertips tapped lightly on his knee as he seemed to be making a quick calculation. A moment later, his tone softened slightly but still carried the stubbornness of a professional in his field. "Working overtime is certainly possible, but shipbuilding has a fundamental procedural logic. It's not as simple as piling up wood."
"The temperature-controlled pool's water circulation system must be seamlessly integrated with the ship's keel, and the power interfaces need to be repeatedly tested and adapted for external energy sources." Iceberg gestured with his hands, outlining the ship's structure. "At most, we can compress it to half a month. Twenty days is the absolute limit. Any shorter, and we'd be gambling with sailing safety."
"Half a month?" Ryan fell silent for a moment, then nodded. "Fine, we'll do it your way."
"It's just that for a half-month construction period, we'll have to add an extra thirty percent to the cost." Seeing Ryan agree, the tension in Iceberg's shoulders relaxed slightly, but his lips quickly tightened again. His tone was frank. "The overtime pay for the craftsmen working in shifts, the priority allocation of special-grade materials—all of that has to be factored in."
"Money is not an issue," Ryan said nonchalantly with a hum. "As long as the ship can be launched as soon as possible."
Receiving a look from Iceberg, Kalifa took out two contracts with gold-leaf borders from her briefcase and spread them neatly on the mahogany coffee table. A fountain pen was clipped to the edge of the contract. Ryan picked up the pen and, with a flick of his wrist, fluently signed his name.
At that moment, DAZ BONEZ expressionlessly placed three heavy black leather suitcases on the table one by one, which made a dull thud as they hit the surface.
"Here is three hundred million Belly," Ryan said, nodding his chin toward the suitcases. "Consider it the down payment. The rest will be paid upon delivery."
Iceberg signaled for a craftsman to open the suitcases. The sight of the neatly stacked Belly was momentarily dazzling. His gaze toward Ryan now held a more genuine sense of ease.
This Warlord, though forceful to the point of being domineering, was surprisingly straightforward and reasonable. He hadn't haggled over the price and had been decisive when paying the deposit. He was much easier to deal with than those dithering noble clients.
After the handover was complete, Iceberg's tone softened. "For the next half a month, if Mr. Ryan has free time in Water 7, you might want to walk around. The old craftsmen at the docks give live demonstrations of ship woodcarving, and the top of the clock tower in the west of the city offers a panoramic view of the entire island. Both are local attractions."
With that, Iceberg paused as if he had suddenly remembered something. "Oh, right. If you take the Sea Train from here, you can reach the seven surrounding islands in half a day. Saint Falte Island is currently holding its annual masquerade ball. I hear it will last for a whole week. If Mr. Ryan is interested, you could go join in the fun."
"A masquerade ball?" Ryan's interest was piqued. "Dancing while wearing masks?"
"Yes," Iceberg nodded. "It's said that it originally started as a celebration for the end of the sailing season and later became a custom on the island. Whether you're a noble or a commoner, once you put on a mask, you can revel as you please without regard for your status."
A flicker of interest crossed Ryan's eyes.
It seemed this half-month might not be as boring as he had thought.
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