Starting as a Roger Pirates Apprentice

Late in the year 1497 of the Ocean Calendar, with only a few months remaining until Captain Roger's surrender, the former members of the Roger Pirates one by one disembarked and vanished into hiding.

Red-Light District

At dusk—just when most people have returned home after a day's work to enjoy a moment of peace—the atmosphere here was only beginning to come alive.

In a luxurious building at the heart of the district, inside a private office, a long‑haired youth lay back in his chair, eyes closed in relaxation, one hand cradling the back of his head in complete comfort.

Behind him, a young silver‑haired girl extended slender fingers, her bright, dewy eyes fixed on the youth's face as she expertly massaged his temples.

Orin's expression was one of pure enjoyment. A dozen glasses of fresh juice sat within arm's reach, and with a simple gesture, the dark‑haired attendant at his side would feed him a sip.

When he didn't require nourishment, that same attendant would drape her long, alabaster legs over the armrest of his chair, serving as a plush support for his other hand.

"Sigh…"

Noting the faint crease of worry between Orin's brows, the silver‑haired girl hesitated for a moment, then leaned close and asked softly,

"Orin-sama, is something troubling you?"

"…Nothing."

He sighed again—not from discontent, but because joyful moments are always fleeting, and it was time once more to strengthen his resolve.

This man luxuriating in pleasure was none other than Orin, who had left the ship over a month ago.

Orin freed his temples from the girl's delicate grip, supported himself on the dark‑silk‑clad thigh, and sat up.

On the desk before him lay a black saber and a long spear—meticulously maintained, just like their wielder.

"Oh my, my, Orin-sama, have these two girls not attended to you properly?"

At that moment, the door swung open and a well‑dressed woman carrying a small handbag entered. She wore a form‑fitting skirt that showcased her alluring legs and a bosom on the verge of spilling forth—every bit the seductive power of a woman in her prime.

Seeing Orin sit up, she hurried forward with concern.

At her words, the two girls serving him tensed visibly, their bodies stiffening.

Orin noticed this and simply shrugged.

"It's nothing of the sort, Mrs. Sammi. I merely… wanted to stretch my body."

At this, Mrs. Sammi froze for a heartbeat, then pressed a hand to her cheek and gave an enchanting smile, a blush rising on her face as if to say…

So you finally decided.

"Since you've taken a fancy, I'll prepare a room at once."

"Huh?"

Orin blinked, then caught on—Sammi had misunderstood.

"No… they have looked after me wonderfully, but perhaps in a couple of years."

Though his body was already capable of its functions at fourteen, he had no desire to indulge himself into ruin and jeopardize his future strength and potential.

"Lina" and "Mei" were names Orin had given them. Ever since Sammi, the "mommy" of this district, had entrusted them to him in hopes of currying favor, their lives—and even their names—had been in his hands.

Indeed, a young man had arrived in the Red‑Light District!

Also known as the Pleasure Quarters or the "Crackle Girls' Gathering," this area was ruled by its proprietor—and protector—Sammi, a self‑made woman who had taken in countless fallen girls and built this district with her own hands.

But the bigger her territory grew and the busier her business became, the more troubles emerged: oppressive taxes from the World Government, Navy officers freeloading their services, pirates stirring up chaos…

One threat after another, each determined to swallow her and her livelihood whole, made this otherwise strong woman taste the bitterness of powerlessness for the first time—the tragedy of the weak.

Recognizing this, Sammi immediately devised a strategy to save her core interests by finding a powerful patron, even if it meant sacrificing most of her own profits. Better that than being stripped bare—such was the wisdom of the small.

Orin, freshly departed from the Roger crew, had appeared before her as if sent from heaven.

After a friendly negotiation, the agreement was simple: a man who possessed only strength and a woman who needed only strength consummated their pact without so much as a spark.

As long as Orin would act as her shield, she would offer him fifty percent—or more—of her net profits, plus free access to any of her district's services.

For a young pirate seeking a foothold, it took only a moment's thought for Orin to gratefully accept.

Thus, in the days that followed, Orin experienced a taste of what it meant to live like a god.

Sammi's all‑inclusive services tempted him so much that his resolve wavered at times, and he nearly wished never to leave.

But reason ultimately prevailed. Why would they cater to him so lavishly if not for his name and strength? A former member of the Pirate King's crew, his bounty in the billions from the New World—if he truly squandered his abilities, that would be the height of folly.

So now, aside from coming to the district for a massage or a meal during his off hours, Orin spent nearly all his time training alone on a deserted island.

Though it lay some distance from there, for Orin—who could teleport anywhere in sight—it was only a few blinks away.

Once he had fully awakened his Devil Fruit power for unlimited teleportation, even that commute would shrink further.

His regimen was simple: master Haki of the Conqueror and develop his Devil Fruit ability. Once these two pillars were honed to perfection, Orin estimated he would not be far behind Captain Roger himself—though he would not neglect his swordsmanship or marksmanship along the way.

Such divine living had become the norm for Orin.

He tossed back the last of his juices, wiped his mouth, and stood.

Now over two meters tall, he remained impressively imposing in the eyes of the beauties around him—for they knew that compared to wealth or territory, this seemingly young boy's strength was their true foundation.

In Sammi's gaze flickered the most fundamental desire a woman bears for a powerful man—and none more so than a self‑made woman like her.

Patting the heads of his two attendants, Orin headed for the door.

"Well then, I'll be off. Should anything come up, just send me a message."

Orin smiled at Mrs. Sammi as he departed.

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Pls Drop some Power Stones

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