A month had passed on Rakers island. Regan and Clam had spent a good part of it overseeing the construction of the new ship. Every time they would appear at the shipyard, the men would come down from their ships and greet them obsequiously, their eyes covered by a soft sheen that many a man would call 'greed.'
Greedy they were, for Regan observed that they often did keep their hands by their sides, but their tongues wagged with vague euphemisms and sycophantic remarks that sought to bring out the money from his and Clams pockets. It didn't bother him all that much, so long as the ship was being built accordingly.
Regan and Clam had discussed things with the project manager, the same man they had approached during their first day on Rakers island. Regan explained how he wanted the ship to be built, where the rooms were to be, how each one should be built according to a revised blueprint that showed all of the future ship's dimensions.
He had then deliberated on how secret compartments should be included, and how those compartments were of paramount importance compared to anything else within the ship. It was the place where they'd be stuffing their treasure, after all.
Their presence and their wealth had raised many questions and many suspicions. Those who sought to delve further into their background, however, were met with the same story that Clam had given the pawnbroker. It seemed to work well enough, nobody else asked anything further after that, and their appearance, wealth, along with Regan's cutlass and Clam's pistols had given a lot of truth to their words.
The trust and friendship that they had gained from the builders allowed them to garner connections across Rakers island. Many of them were associated with business men, marines, and jewelers. People that Regan wanted to get close to. Clam used these connections to advertise the premium Inn, where many men thus began pouring into the large crowd that often stood outside of the stand, eager to get a taste of the best booze in the North Blue.
Regan used these connections to learn about the woman he had seen in the pawn shop a month ago. He learned that her name was Tina Lothbrook, and she was a rear admiral in the marines. A commendable rank. He had also learned that Rakers island was frequented by many marines as there was a HQ situated on the island, where the navy communicated with various traders and businesses that arrived on the island.
No pirate would so freely and so boldly invade such a place with that much security.
''Ships coming along well, huh?'' Said Clam, who was biting into an apple and a banana.
''Yeah, so is dads business.'' Regan said. It felt weird calling another man dad, but he wanted to keep up the act. Immersing himself into the world often made him feel like a part of it, even while he ofttimes felt like he was a stranger to it, too.
''Fuck yeah! Did you see the crowd last time?''
Regan nodded. ''Loads of people. I wonder how big the crowd will be today.''
The crowds, these days, were often filled with marines. Regan would hang around the place from sunrise till sunset, waiting expectantly for the marine with the pink hair and the crimson suit. But she never appeared. He dreaded coming to terms with the possibility that she had left.
Why am I so fixated on this damn woman!?
Regan sighed and walked onto a street where the premium inn's business was being conducted. It was booming, one would say, but even that word didn't suffice to explain how lucrative the premium Inn had been.
There was a massive crowd of marines and civilians, all gathered around the Inn, waiting to be served. The same vice-admiral was there, Strawberry, gulping down an entire jug of booze as his men cheered him on. He was drunk out of his mind, retching, gagging, but still forcing down more of the booze as if he was parched.
Regan and Clamp walked to the stand, cutting through the crowd to meet up with their group. They found Rose and Jinkota filling up cups and collecting berries rapidly, while Izgrim and Randi were selling some of the booze elsewhere through the drum dolly and the barrel that was on it.
Clam and Regan weren't wearing their aristocratic clothing today. Many rumors had spread about two aristocratic men who had just paid a hefty sum for the construction of a ship, and handed in their jewelry for huge stacks of cash. These aristocrats were the talk of the town, apparently. And had garnered much attention towards themselves.
Regan and Clam wanted to separate those identities from the ones that they were born with. Well, in Regan's case, the one that he adopted. Rose let them through behind the counter, and Regan and Clam began helping with selling a lot of the booze. At the rate they were selling it at, they would be able to meet their quota in the next 2 weeks.
It was all so boring and unproductive in Regan's eyes. Especially when he remembered how adventurous it felt to take on a secret identity and fool everyone around him. The life of the rich man was second best to the life of a pirate.
Regan found himself passing drinks and collecting berries to and from many marines. Almost all of them were young, though some were older than the others, at least mid to late 30s. The effects of war were plastered on many of their faces. They looked old, wizened, and tired. The booze was their respite, as was getting drunk.
Regan had seen so many of them come and go that he began to get tired of it. That was until one marine came forward, one that he had seen a few weeks ago. Her hair was pink, and this time it was worn in ringlets. She was wearing the same crimson blazer, with the same coat over her shoulders.
You! I finally found you!
''One large cup please.'' She said, her arm resting on the counter.
Regan grabbed a large plastic cup and began filling it up. He eyed the woman up and down, studying her face and her mannerisms. She gave no reaction, and there was no hint of emotion on her face. Not even a smile.
Regan held the cup firmly, not willing to give up the cup until he shook off the strange feeling that sweltered in his heart when he was in her presence. Regan thought back to when he first spawned in the world, and how he had pointed out Morgan in the premium Inn. He had, for some reason, stood out to him more than the other pirates in the building who were just as eccentric and just as dastardly looking as he was.
And now he was in a similar scenario, with the woman standing out to him more than anyone else did, even more so than the vice-admiral whose long beard and long hair could put him in some Guinness world record back in the real world.
''Are you going to pass me the cup?'' The woman said.
Regan paused and allowed himself a moment to think. His gut feeling was telling him that something was off with this woman. He pieced his memories together and thought back to the conversations he had had with his group. All of whom were people born in the One Piece world.
A few weeks ago he had mentioned the three musketeers to Clam, who only responded by blinking and looking at him like a lost and confused child. Regan took his eyes off of the cup, and met the woman's own two eyes. He cleared his throat, and, said, ''The three musketeers.''
''What?'' The woman said. ''What are you...' she trailed off, her eyes widening, a wave of shock gripping her heart which was no doubt crashing against her rib cage at this point. She glared at Regan, and quickly turned away, not daring to look back at him.
I knew it, I knew it! So that's what my gut was trying to tell me. This woman is a damn transmigrater!