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Hancock was lost in it.
A pleasure unlike anything she had ever known.
But it was more than that—it was a sense of reliance, of safety, of final, absolute release.
An indescribable battle.
A total surrender.
And in its wake, a profound joy.
Her legs—long, straight, and perfect as carved ivory—coiled around him like serpents.
Hancock's chest rose and fell with each deep breath. Greedily, she buried herself deeper into Jin's embrace.
A soft giggle escaped her lips, the sound of triumphant victory. "It seems... I have finally struck you down."
Jin ran a hand through her hair. He had torn through her protective shell, and the Empress had given way to the girl beneath.
The contrast was staggering.
It made her all the more captivating.
"DON'T—"
Suddenly, Hancock's senses flared.
She twisted, her hand clamping down on his as it moved toward her back. Her voice trembled, a flicker of fear in her eyes as she looked at him with a pitiful, pleading gaze.
Jin raised his other hand, cupping the back of her head and pulling her into a tight, secure hug.
Hancock obediently nestled closer.
Then, she curled into a ball, like a contented kitten, and closed her eyes.
She listened to the strong, steady beat of his heart.
Slowly, the tension drained from her.
And finally, in a trembling voice, she told him her story...
When Hancock and her two younger sisters were children, they were captured by slave traders.
They were sold to the "World Nobles"—the Celestial Dragons.
For years, the three sisters endured a living nightmare, a horror beyond words.
On their backs, they were branded with the mark of something less than human.
The Hoof of the Soaring Dragon.
It was burned into their very flesh, a stain that could never be removed.
Two streams of tears traced paths down Hancock's cheeks.
She sat up.
She turned her back to him.
She swept aside the silken curtain of her hair.
And she revealed the brand.
She covered her face and began to sob.
For some reason, the people of this world held a deep-seated, almost religious reverence for the Celestial Dragons.
From the Goa Kingdom to Sabaody to Uta's concert, it was always the same.
Those pathetic excuses for gods were weak, useless parasites who stood on the necks of ordinary people.
In Film: Red, Uta had been protecting the common people, punishing a Celestial Dragon.
And what had those people done? The very ones she was protecting? They hadn't thanked her. They had turned on her, screaming that she shouldn't have angered a Celestial Dragon.
It was as if the mere sight of a Celestial Dragon demanded prostration.
As if being oppressed by them was some kind of honor.
As if they were born to be superior.
A slave mentality, burned into the very soul of the world.
The depravity of the Celestial Dragons was like rotting meat. The stench was unbearable.
It sickened Jin to his core.
These people... had they never heard the phrase, "Are kings and nobles born, or are they made?"
But for all their weakness, the Celestial Dragons had ruled the world for eight hundred years. They would not be easily toppled.
On one hand, their eight-hundred-year reign had branded a slave mentality onto the hearts of the people. Many didn't dare to fight back.
On the other hand, the military power of the Celestial Dragons was not to be underestimated. After eight hundred years, no matter how corrupt, there would always be a few true powerhouses among them.
But that was what made it a challenge.
"Hey. Hancock. Look at me."
Jin placed his hands on her shoulders from behind and gently turned her to face him.
He took her hands away from her tear-streaked face.
He wiped the tears away.
Hancock tilted her head back, her beautiful, snow-white neck exposed.
She looked into his eyes.
"Stop dwelling on the past..." he said, his gaze unwavering. "Sooner or later, I will wipe every last one of those disgusting pieces of trash from the face of this earth. I will erase the Hoof of the Soaring Dragon from your body. But you... you have to erase the brand on your heart. You are the Queen of the Kuja. You are no one's slave. So stand up, and live with your head held high. A true warrior dares to face a bleak life, dares to look upon the blood that has been shed."
Tears welled up in Hancock's eyes...
In that moment, he seemed to radiate a light.
A light that filled her with warmth.
Ever since she had returned to her home, Hancock had been plagued by a profound sense of insecurity. She had desperately craved the feeling of being protected.
But she was the Empress of the Kuja. Her people looked to her for protection. She could not show weakness.
She had used arrogance and a foul temper as a mask, a way to hide her fear, to become a willful, spoiled ruler.
That way, even if she was wrong, no one would dare to question her.
But now, she had shared her secret.
She had taken off the mask.
And he had not recoiled. He had supported her, encouraged her.
The shadows in her heart began to recede.
"Alright, no more tears," Jin said, gently wiping a fresh tear from her cheek. "If you keep crying, you'll lose your title as the most beautiful woman in the world."
"And who would dare to take it from me?" Hancock sniffled, a hint of her old fire returning.
"There's that smile."
Hancock broke into a teary smile and leaned against him, her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. A sense of peace washed over her.
It felt like a dream.
A smile bloomed on her face.
She closed her eyes.
And a moment later, she was asleep.
She had never slept so soundly.
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"She's gone??"
"The Snake Princess has run away with him??"
Early the next morning, in the Kuja castle, Sandersonia, Marigold, and Gloriosa all let out a collective gasp when the guards informed them that Hancock was not in her chambers.
This was a catastrophe of the highest order.
They didn't want to speak any louder.
"THE SHIP!" Gloriosa said, her voice a harsh whisper. "Is the ship still here?"
"It is."
"Well, that's something. Maybe she just went for a walk... a morning workout."
"Or maybe," Marigold said, "they spent the night together."
"That king... he wouldn't be so bold, would he?" Gloriosa muttered.
"Maybe he would," Sandersonia said, a worried look on her face. "I have to admit... he's very charming."
"Eh??" Marigold stared at her.
"In any case," Gloriosa said, "we can't let this get out. Just say the Snake Princess drank too much last night and overslept."
"What about this morning's council meeting?" Sandersonia asked.
"An exception will be made," Gloriosa sighed.
"There have been a lot of exceptions lately," Marigold muttered.
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