[RLOP] Chapter : 14 - Maria?

Banquet Hall

Music swirled through the air, courtesans danced, and laughter rose in drunken waves.

At the head table, Orochi sat sprawled, a hulking man with a wide, leering mouth, bald pate, and a square, brutish face. His eyes never left the women twirling at the center.

To his left were the Oniwabanshu, the shadowy clan sworn to protect the shogun for generations. At their head, the grotesque Fukurokuju, with his elongated earlobes and skull, lounged with a smile that didn’t reach the sharp vigilance hidden behind his sunglasses.

Beside him, Kyoshiro—once Denjiro—occupied the second seat, his easy laughter and calm demeanor proof of the trust he’d earned.

On the right sat Lucci, clad in a pristine white suit. A faint smile played across his lips as he studied Orochi, then he lifted a cup of sake in a gesture of toast.

“Gu-hah-hah! As expected of a Beasts Pirates executive—so young, yet drinks like a veteran!” Orochi’s face flushed red as he threw back his own cup, downing it in one breath and flipping it upside down for all to see.

To him, Lucci’s toast was a miracle—a rare show of goodwill. After all, rebellions flared in Wano like weeds. Every time, Kaido’s subordinates came to stamp them out. But King, Queen? None had ever spared him so much as a smile.

Forget a toast—if they didn’t strike him on sight, that was already mercy.

And yet here was Lucci, toasting him first.

A shudder of pride rippled through Orochi. At last… even the Beasts Pirates must respect me!

His grin twisted into something lecherous, grotesque.

But was it really goodwill?

Lucci set down his cup and idly stroked Hattori, perched on his hand. Watching Orochi wallow in his delusions, his smile curved faintly. Only one thought flickered in his mind: Unbearable. How can someone be so ugly?

He took another sip, suppressing his distaste for the man’s face, and shifted his gaze toward Kyoshiro. That one… he was worth attention.

On the surface, Kyoshiro was loyal—so loyal he’d raised his lord’s daughter to become an oiran and offered her to Orochi. Yet in truth, he endured humiliation for twenty years, hiding every trace of his Haki, waiting. A man living behind a mask of laughter.

The Wano version of the Ninja Turtles, Lucci mused dryly. How could someone like that not interest me?

As if sensing the scrutiny, Kyoshiro glanced back. For an instant, a strange weight pressed on his chest—as if his secrets were being stripped bare by this boy’s gaze.

Discovered…? Impossible. I’ve worn this mask for years. How could a mere child see through me?

Reassuring himself, he forced his attention back to the courtesans. Yet their beauty rang hollow. A more dangerous thought lingered in his mind. If it were the Princess instead…

“Lucci, was it?” Orochi finally broke from his fantasies, turning to the boy in white. “I’m twenty years your senior, so allow me to call you Little Brother Lucci. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not,” Lucci replied pleasantly, setting Hattori back on his shoulder. “Given the bond between Shogun Orochi and Boss Kaido, if anything, being called your younger brother is my honor.”

That smile of his—calm, polished, unreadable.

Hattori’s eyes darted knowingly. The ugly purple man is already marked for death.

Across the hall, the Tobi Roppo who had followed Lucci bristled, each wearing a barely concealed scowl. Ulti in particular was seconds away from chewing her straw to pieces.

(Yes—she and Page One really were drinking juice, through straws.)

“Good, good, good!” Orochi slammed down his cup, laughing as he downed another. “You truly are a young hero, Little Brother Lucci!”

If Lucci had some golden ability to see stats, Orochi’s favorability toward him would be rocketing sky-high.

But beneath the surface, the truth remained unchanged. Orochi’s heart had always been warped—twisted by the weight of his ancestors’ failed rebellion, by years of scorn and humiliation. His inferiority festered, desperate for validation.

And tonight, Lucci was feeding him just enough to make him believe.

As time passed, Orochi’s status rose higher and higher.

But his deep-rooted inferiority complex did not fade—instead, it grew sharper, more poisonous. By the time he ascended the shogun’s throne, that weakness had hardened into arrogance, bluster masking a fragile core.

Nothing gave him greater pleasure than seeing Wano suffer, except one thing: recognition from those above him. And to Orochi, the executives of the Beasts Pirates were the pinnacle of power, beings whose approval could fill the hollow inside him.

“Enough—time’s almost up.”

He waved a fat hand, dismissing the courtesans. The hall grew quieter, save for the shuffle of feet and clink of dishes. Orochi cast a look at Kyoshiro, who immediately stood and slipped outside to handle the arrangements.

Then Orochi leaned closer, grinning lecherously. “Little Brother Lucci, I knew you were coming, so I had Kyoshiro prepare something. A newly appointed oiran, straight from his pleasure district. She’s about your age—suitable for you, don’t you think?”

His grin widened, his aura practically dripping with lust. Even Kizaru, infamous for his lascivious air, would pale in comparison.

Before Lucci could answer, Fukurokuju, silent until now, finally spoke. “Shogun-sama… did you forget something?”

“What now?” Orochi snapped, feigning ignorance.

Fukurokuju’s smile never wavered, but his tone carried the weight of tradition. “The Beasts Pirates have been… assisting villagers along the way. That goes against the rules agreed upon when Kaido first established your alliance, doesn’t it?”

Orochi’s face darkened. He remembered all too well: outside the Flower Capital, the people were to be abandoned, branded as barbarians. No relief. No hope.

The thought of those same villagers smiling, laughing… it twisted something inside him. He was not a ruler who wished for his people’s prosperity. Quite the opposite—he thrived on their despair.

His hatred ran deep. Hated since childhood, ostracized for his bloodline, Orochi despised Wano itself. His ancestors had dreamed of conquering the world, but once they died, Orochi chose a different ambition: to drag the entire country down with him, as if to bury Wano alongside the Kurozumi name.

“Shogun, you misunderstand.”

Lucci’s voice was calm, cutting through the hall. Orochi blinked, confused, as the boy continued:

“The people of Wano are indeed suffering. But that pain? That’s shallow. Fleeting. True pain…” Lucci’s eyes narrowed, his tone colder than steel, “is when you give them hope… and then crush it beneath your hand.”

Orochi froze. The words pierced straight through him, as if peeling back his own heart. He realized—next to this boy—his own cruelty looked naive.

Excitement overtook him. “Little Brother Lucci! Assist me! Whatever Kaido gives you, I’ll give ten times more! Together, we’ll plunge Wano into despair!”

Lucci rose slowly, his chair scraping against the floor. His face betrayed nothing, though his killing intent flickered beneath the surface. “Assist you? I’d rather—”

He stopped. A tremor in his Observation Haki made him turn toward the doors.

Kyoshiro had returned, an oiran at his side.

The woman stood frozen, stunned by the tension filling the hall. According to Lucci’s plan, he was meant to kill Orochi before Komurasaki—Kozuki Hiyori herself—to manipulate her favor. That was the reason he had tolerated Orochi’s existence this long.

But now—

Lucci’s eyes narrowed.

The “oiran” was four meters tall. Red horns jutted from her head. And her face… unmistakably Maria’s.

“L-Little Brother Lucci…” Orochi stammered, sensing the sudden shift. He shuffled backward, dragging retainers in front of him like a shield.

Lucci ignored him. Step by step, he advanced toward the towering woman.

“Are you Komurasaki?”

The girl fidgeted nervously, glancing down at the boy who barely reached her waist. “Y-Yes, sir. Every oiran inherits this name…”

“What’s your real name?” Lucci asked, his voice quiet, unyielding.

She hesitated. The answer slipped out before she could stop herself. “…Ma… Maria…”

Lucci exhaled through his nose, a faint smirk touching his lips. “Not bad either.”

With that, his body began to swell, muscle and power surging as his form shifted—his aura no longer that of a boy, but a predator unveiling its true skin.