KING felt like he had been dismantled and reassembled incorrectly.
After being brutalized all morning by that violent old man Garp, every bone in his body ached.
He collapsed onto the surviving plank bed and began his daily AFK cultivation.
Ten hours passed.
Night fell.
This time he had learned.
All AFK points went into Constitution.
The soreness eased. His body no longer felt on the verge of losing control. His speed stabilized — fast when needed, slow when desired.
Peace at last.
Knock knock knock!
The rapid pounding rattled the fragile doorframe, shaking loose dust.
"Lord KING! Fleet Admiral Sengoku requests your presence immediately!"
KING froze on the bed.
Sengoku?
Again?
Can't a man AFK in peace?!
What could someone of that rank possibly want from him?
His mind instantly replayed the shattered training ground and the split mountain.
Compensation.
He was going to be billed.
This was a catastrophe.
He couldn't scrape together a single Beli.
If forced to repay damages, would he be sold into lifelong naval labor?
KING forced himself upright.
His face grew even grimmer.
His signature deadpan eyes shone with ruthless resolve:
I would rather die than pay money.
Since escape was impossible, he could only grit his teeth and face fate.
His improved physique helped; though sore, he no longer felt like he might explode from a misstep.
That was the only good news.
The corridors of Marine Headquarters were spacious and bright.
KING walked with his head lowered, focusing entirely on controlling the contraction of his leg muscles, ignoring everything ahead.
At a corner—
A tall figure in yellow turned while carrying a teacup, swaying leisurely.
Neither slowed.
Thump.
A dull collision.
KING felt as if he'd bumped into a spring-loaded wall. His upper body rocked back slightly, but his feet stayed planted.
The man opposite tilted his cup, spilling a few drops of hot tea.
KING looked up instantly.
Yellow striped suit.
Wrinkled face.
Brown-tinted sunglasses.
Admiral Kizaru — Borsalino.
The legendary Marine who clocked in, clocked out, and casually crushed pirates as part of his job description.
"Oooh~ scary~"
Kizaru swayed slightly from the impact and adjusted his sunglasses.
"You nearly frightened me to death, young man~ Why not watch where you're going~"
Behind tinted lenses, he studied the newcomer.
So this was KING.
The "monster rookie" Garp and Kuzan mentioned.
No muscle recoil.
No instinctive tension.
He had absorbed the impact purely through physical toughness.
And after colliding with an Admiral…
he hadn't apologized.
KING stared at him silently.
He was thinking.
If I apologize, will I look weak?
If I walk away, will he kick me at light speed?
His inner conflict manifested as suffocating silence.
Kizaru murmured inwardly:
"Oh~?"
A faint glint flashed behind his lenses.
He knew exactly who this was.
The rookie who terrified a logistics colonel.
The man who caused chaos with Garp and Kuzan.
He had only intended to make tea and hear gossip.
Instead, the gossip had walked into him.
Perhaps he should offer the junior some… life advice.
"Hmm~ King-san~"
Kizaru leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
"You're heading to see Fleet Admiral Sengoku, aren't you~?"
KING nodded.
"Oh dear… how troublesome~"
"That man loves paperwork and meetings. Young people shouldn't waste their youth on such things~"
KING's eyes lit up.
A kindred spirit!
At last!
Someone who understood him!
His gaze shifted from wariness to silent excitement.
Though his face remained expressionless, the light in his eyes was unmistakable.
Kizaru smiled wider.
"Oh~ we understand each other~"
He slipped smoothly into mentor mode.
"If you want to live comfortably at Headquarters, remember one word: hide."
"Sengoku's office is on the third floor — spend your time on the first."
"That workaholic Sakazuki roams the training grounds. If you see him, head for the archives. Quiet, empty… perfect for naps."
"And work…" he drawled, "if someone else can do it, let them. If it can be done tomorrow, don't do it today."
"We clock in for justice… not for exhaustion~"
"As long as you're strong, slacking off looks like composure~"
He winked.
KING nodded repeatedly.
These words resonated with his soul.
This was the Marine life he dreamed of.
(Big brother… you are my long-lost elder brother!)
Kizaru was delighted.
Just as expected.
A powerhouse who hated trouble.
If KING acknowledged his philosophy, Borsalino's doctrine of strategic laziness had reached new heights.
He cleared his throat.
Time for the real objective.
"By the way, King-san… there's a rather troublesome assignment lately."
"Escort duty in Loguetown."
"Not dangerous — just errands. A waste of time~"
"Sengoku is deciding who to send."
"If someone as capable as you handled it quickly, you could relax in Loguetown afterward… tea, sunshine… very pleasant~"
His words were impeccably crafted.
Praise on the surface.
Delegation beneath.
He assumed KING would accept a quick assignment and enjoy extended leisure afterward.
He miscalculated.
KING's thinking differed from ordinary people.
Automatic translation in KING's brain:
Mission.
Loguetown.
Going to sea.
Troublesome.
Wastes AFK time.
KING's heart dropped.
Go to sea?
Loguetown?
Absolutely not.
The ocean meant pirates, Sea Kings, storms… seasickness.
Marine Headquarters was paradise.
He did not want to leave.
His gaze shifted instantly from admiration to suspicion.
(This wrinkled big-eyed guy is cunning… trying to trick me into going to sea!)
His face darkened visibly.
He said nothing.
He gave Kizaru a cold look…
then turned and walked toward Sengoku's office.
His departing figure radiated:
We are not on the same wavelength.
Kizaru froze.
His smile faded.
"Oh… oh?"
He scratched his head.
"Did I say something wrong~?"
"Was the task too trivial… did he feel insulted?"
"Or did he see through my attempt to pass the work along…?"
"Wow~ this rookie doesn't fall for that kind of persuasion at all~"
He lifted his teacup and sighed.
"Troublesome… truly troublesome…"