In the room.
Ryan reclined lazily on the leather sofa, the crimson ember at his fingertips flickering with each breath. His gaze lingered on Kalifa, who stood at the center of the carpet. His expression wasn't one of pure admiration—rather, it was the look of someone appraising a meticulously arranged collectible.
Kalifa slowly pulled up the edge of her fishnet stockings. The black mesh climbed up her pale calves, tightening into clean lines at the tops of her thighs. The elasticity of the fabric traced the smooth curves of her toned legs, showcasing both the firmness of long-term training and an indescribable allure enhanced by the semi-transparent material.
As she bent down to fasten the straps of her high heels, her black bodycon dress stretched taut, revealing the faint outline of her spine. The mesh lining beneath peeked through the fabric in delicate grid patterns. When she straightened up, she swept the golden hair draped over her shoulders behind her, adjusting the thin-framed glasses on the bridge of her nose with her fingertips. Yet, the gaze behind those lenses remained unnervingly calm, a stark contrast to the forced flush on her cheeks.
"The deal is done," Kalifa said, her voice as steady as she could manage, though the tension at the edges was unmistakable. "Now, may I leave?"
"What's the rush?" Ryan exhaled a smoke ring, watching it dissipate slowly between them. His eyes swept over the marks on Kalifa's body, the amusement in his smile deepening.
This woman was truly enjoyable—especially her silent resistance. It only fueled the desire to conquer her.
"Everything should be seen through to the end, shouldn't it?"
Ryan suddenly leaned forward, tapping the table with his finger. "I recall you're a Paramecia-type Devil Fruit user—the Bubble-Bubble Fruit, right? You can create cleaning foam and make anything you touch slippery. Might as well put it to good use. Clean up before you go. Not too much to ask, is it?"
Kalifa's expression darkened instantly. Her fingers, gripping the hem of her dress, tightened abruptly, her knuckles turning white.
This ability was something she had only just acquired—how did he know?
More importantly, the power of the Bubble-Bubble Fruit was a weapon for an agent, an asset in missions. Yet here it was being frivolously tied to something as trivial as "cleaning," twisted into a tool to serve such vulgar intentions with undisguised lewdness.
Humiliation surged through her. Kalifa nearly lost control, the energy of Finger Gun gathering at her fingertips.
"What, unwilling?" Ryan's gaze drifted lazily over Kalifa's tense profile, the cigar smoke curling before his eyes. "We've come this far. Finish this, and you can leave."
That blunt statement shattered Kalifa's already wavering composure. She took a deep breath, and the energy at her fingertips dissipated silently.
The CP9 training manual stated: A true agent remains calm under gunfire and swallows their fury when their dignity is trampled. The mission comes first, survival above all. Every act of endurance is for the sake of the final counterattack.
Besides, as Ryan had said—they had already come this far...
Kalifa adjusted her glasses with one hand, then stepped forward in her black pointed heels, stopping before Ryan. She lowered her head slowly, golden hair falling to obscure her face. Only the stubborn line of her tightly pressed lips betrayed the defiance she couldn't quite suppress.
Ryan glanced down at the white foam rising beneath her touch and chuckled softly.
The Bubble-Bubble Fruit was certainly convenient. Pity he'd probably only get to see it used like this once. Otherwise, he might've come up with even more… interesting applications.
BANG—
At that moment, the rotting wooden door was kicked open with brute force. Splinters flew as Kalifa whipped her head around, catching sight of the bandaged figure in the doorway. Instinctively, she murmured, "Lucci."
Rob Lucci stood silhouetted against the backlight, the bandages across his chest already soaked through with dark red blood. Clearly, he had forced his way out of medical restraints to get here.
The moment their eyes met, Lucci's gaze first landed on Kalifa's flushed cheeks before locking onto Ryan's leisurely expression. His pupils constricted sharply, the muscles beneath his bandages tensing violently. The joints of his fingers cracked audibly as he clenched his fists, saturating the air with an unmistakably dangerous aura.
"Awake already? Sooner than I expected." Ryan took a slow drag of his cigar, exhaling another smoke ring as he studied Rob Lucci.
To regain consciousness so quickly after such severe injuries—this was the regenerative power of a Zoan-type Devil Fruit.
"Soru."
No questions, no roars, not even a single unnecessary sound. Lucci's figure blurred into an afterimage, the extreme speed of Rokushiki's Soru sending ripples through the air. In the next instant, Rob Lucci transformed into a half-human, half-leopard hybrid. His mane-like black hair bristled, his beastly eyes burning with fury. The muscles in his right arm bulged to their limit as he gathered every ounce of strength into his palm, the strike tearing through the air with a piercing shriek.
"Rokougan: Maximum Power!"
A dull shockwave exploded through the room. Kalifa staggered back from the force, yet Ryan merely swayed slightly, as if brushed by a breeze. The punch, capable of piercing steel, had left him completely unharmed.
"Wha—how…?" Lucci remained frozen in his attacking stance, the rage in his pupils instantly replaced by shock.
"That actually felt pretty good." Ryan dusted off nonexistent dirt, his lips curling into that familiar smirk. "Loosened me up a bit. Thanks."
So much for CP9's so-called once-in-a-century genius.
The sheer mockery in those words ignited Lucci's fury anew. He wrenched his fist back with a guttural snarl, the muscles beneath his bandages coiling once more as he prepared to charge again.
"Seems you still don't understand the situation." Ryan's eyes chilled abruptly. He lashed out with a kick—his movements so slow they were almost visible—yet Lucci barely managed to raise his arms in time to block.
THUD!
The dull crunch of bone striking bone was unmistakable. Rob Lucci was sent flying as if struck by a sledgehammer, his arm bending at an unnatural angle before he crashed through the wooden wall behind him, kicking up a cloud of choking dust in the wreckage.
"Lucci!"
Hurried footsteps echoed from the doorway as Kaku, Jabura, Blueno, and Fukurou rushed in. Jabura's eyes immediately caught on Kalifa's disheveled state before flicking to Lucci struggling in the rubble. His claws unsheathed instantly as he roared, "What the hell did you do to them?!"
Kaku grabbed Jabura's shoulder, his gaze sweeping over Kalifa's tightly pressed lips and Ryan's indifferent profile. His fists clenched, veins bulging, but he gritted his teeth and held back.
Charging in now would only render Kalifa's earlier compromise utterly meaningless.
As the dust settled, Lucci slowly pushed himself up from the collapsed wall, half his bandages now soaked with fresh blood. His left arm hung limply—clearly dislocated. Ignoring his gathered comrades, he forcibly shoved the dislocated joint back into place with a sickening crack, his glasses reflecting nothing but crimson fury. Like a leopard cornered with no way out.
"It's not over yet."
Without another word, Lucci blurred into motion again, his half-beast claws tearing through the air with a shriek. No technique, no strategy—just pure, desperate frenzy, as if he'd drag Ryan down with him even at the cost of his own life.
"Enough, Lucci."
Rob Lucci skidded to a halt, his half-transformed fist freezing mere meters from Ryan. Yet the moment that voice reached him, the fury in his eyes flickered with something imperceptibly hesitant. Slowly, he turned, his gaze locking unerringly onto Kalifa.
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