Admiral Renzo's awakening usually followed three steps.
Step one: The Floating Sofa, Cloud Cluster No. 1 would automatically sense his shallow consciousness, shifting its softness from "deep sleep" mode to "lazy lounging" mode, then drift, at a dignified speed of one centimeter per minute, toward the warmest, but not dazzling, patch of sunlight.
Step two: Sanji's special "wake-up aroma" would be precisely delivered to his nose through the ventilation system of the main building.
Today's theme was sea breeze and lemongrass, fresh with a trace of sweetness, just enough to stir the appetite without ruining the joy of dozing off again.
Step three: He would have a perfect final dream.
The content varied wildly, but the theme was always the same: how to be even more comfortable while slacking off.
For example, today he dreamed that he invented a pillow that could automatically flip over and adjust its coolness based on body temperature.
When Renzo opened his eyes in supreme satisfaction and stretched so hard that his bones crackled, the world felt peaceful, beautiful… perfect.
But that peace was shattered the moment he saw the figure standing below the terrace.
Ain stood there, straight and sharp like a blade drawn from frost.
She didn't speak, but her expression, the kind that looked like the whole world owed her a stack of reports, was already a powerful signal of "trouble."
"...Sigh."
Renzo exhaled. He felt ten percent of his freshly restored energy vanish instantly.
He hated this expression the most, because it usually meant something he didn't know about, but would now have to deal with, was about to land on his head.
He waved feebly, and the floating sofa drifted down onto the office terrace.
"Alright, talk," he said, collapsing into the sofa without even trying to sit up.
"Rear Admiral Ain, what insignificant little issue is disturbing a Marine Admiral's precious rest time today?"
Ain ignored the resentment in his tone. She had already learned the key to communicating with this superior.
She stepped forward and handed him a freshly printed one-page briefing.
"Admiral Renzo, I have confirmed a major security risk within our jurisdiction."
"A risk?"
Renzo didn't even lift his eyelids.
"Is it a volcano waking up, or the sea floor shaking again? If it doesn't affect me here, let it be."
"Punk Hazard," Ain said calmly. "Officially it's a deserted island. In reality, there is a massive secret research facility operating on it."
"A research facility?"
One of Renzo's eyebrows twitched.
"Whose is it? As long as they pay protection money, no, I mean, as long as they behave, we don't need to interfere."
"Based on intel, it is tied to Caesar Clown, a scientist under the World Government. Furthermore-" Ain's tone sharpened, "-they are conducting illegal human experiments. Many of the test subjects are kidnapped children. And most importantly, the facility's operation is unstable. There is a constant risk of leakage or explosion."
Renzo fell silent.
Ain knew this wasn't enough to move him, so she delivered the real killing blow:
"If the situation spirals out of control or is exposed, the Marine Headquarters and the World Government will dispatch a joint investigation team to G-5."
"At that point, we will face endless questioning, hearings, and mountains of reports. Given your position, every step would require your personal presence and approval. The entire process could last months, or longer."
Renzo slowly sat upright. For the first time, his blue eyes held something resembling seriousness.
Illegal human experiments… children…
He honestly didn't care much.
But… a joint investigation team?
Unending hearings?
A mountain of documents?
For months?
These words combined in his mind into an image straight out of hell.
It meant at least a year, maybe more, without peaceful sleep, constantly pestered by people and paperwork.
This wasn't "trouble."
This was apocalypse.
"So you're saying…" His voice was a little dry.
"I'm saying we must intervene before the situation escalates and creates countless future hassles," Ain summarized clearly, turning a world-shaking military operation into a piece of preventative maintenance done purely to avoid future overtime.
Renzo stared at her with an expression that said, as expected, you're very useful.
This ability to crush "future mega-trouble" in the cradle was exactly what he appreciated most.
At that moment, the office door burst open.
"Aiiiiiin-!! Miss Ain!!"
Sanji spun inside with the grace of a ballerina, holding a silver tray aloft.
Ignoring Renzo, he dropped to one knee before Ain, eyes sparkling with hearts.
"I heard your angelic voice, so I prepared this 'Morning Dew Trio' for you!"
"First, fragrant West Blue coffee to awaken your senses; second, rich milk infused with South Blue pearl powder to care for your flawless skin; and third, my personally baked madeleines, sweet but not heavy, to brighten your day like sunshine!"
Ain thanked him politely and took a sip of coffee.
Renzo, meanwhile, waved a hand like shooing away an annoying fly.
"Hey, curly-brow, where's mine?"
"Ah-" Sanji finally turned around, sounding completely uninterested.
"Your breakfast is being prepared by Potts. Just regular oatmeal and fried eggs."
"Why?! A little favoritism is fine, but this is ridiculous!"
"This is the chivalry of serving a beautiful lady. A lazy admiral who doesn't understand art wouldn't get it," Sanji replied with a dramatic flair.
Renzo clicked his tongue, giving up on arguing with this "beauty-biased cook."
He turned back to Ain and made his decision.
"Fine," he sighed, as if embarking on something unbearably taxing.
"Tell Potts to ready the ship. Sanji, prepare something for afternoon tea; we'll need snacks on the way."
Then, as if remembering something, he asked casually,
"By the way, earlier you mentioned finding some… 'obstacle' in the hallway?"
Ain immediately understood he meant Morgenson.
Her lips curved in a faint, fleeting smile.
"Yes, Admiral. A piece of refuse that obstructed movement and threatened the base's cleanliness. I've already instructed the logistics department to dispose of it."
"Oh, good." Renzo nodded without concern.
"Just don't let me see it."
Ain understood perfectly.
The so-called "logistics department" were her trusted subordinates.
The slumbering Morgenson, laid low under the Domain of Sloth, would be cuffed with Seastone and sent directly to the deepest G-5 cell, where he would await a formal military tribunal from Navy HQ.
All without Renzo needing to spare even half a thought.
Renzo rose from the sofa, stretched again until his joints cracked like fireworks, and yawned.
Then, in a tone like he was heading downstairs to buy soy sauce, he issued the highest order for this operation: "Well then. Let's go. Take care of that potential trouble for me."
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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