The instant Carl flicked Shanks, the latter sobered up completely. He clutched his chest with one hand, gasping for breath.
"... I've got no pride left in front of you. My brain just filters you out automatically..."
Seeing Shanks humbled like that, Buggy couldn't help but feel a little satisfaction deep inside. Still, his body trembled uncontrollably. There weren't many people he'd truly feared in his life—but Carl was at the very top of that short list.
The way Carl casually used someone's head as a cannonball was straight out of hell. Compared to that, his prized Buggy Ball looked like a toy made by a rookie.
Right now, all Buggy could think was:
"Don't look at me, don't look at me, don't look at me..."
...
Unfortunately, fate loves irony. Just as he finished dealing with Shanks, Carl turned his gaze toward Buggy, who was trying desperately to play ostrich.
Buggy felt a chill shoot up from his toes to the crown of his head. His trembling body instantly froze stiff.
Carl raised an eyebrow.
"You there, Red Nose. I heard you say something about wanting to register as an adventurer?"
Buggy hated being called Red Nose. But with Carl staring him down like this, he didn't even dare let out a fart. Instead, he rubbed his hands together and forced out a flattering smile.
"Saint Carl, I—I was drunk and just blurted that out. I swear I've got no plans to be a pirate anymore!"
"Oh? Then what exactly are you planning to do?"
Buggy froze. His brain whirred frantically until finally, he blurted out:
"A circus! I'm planning to open a circus! Saint Carl, you may not know this, but my old crewmates are super talented when it comes to performance arts. Hehe..."
Carl didn't react immediately, but Shanks couldn't hold it in—he burst out laughing, pointing at Buggy.
"Pfft! Buggy, that's the dumbest idea I've ever heard! From pirate captain to circus ringmaster—you're truly one of a kind! When your circus opens, you better let me know. I'll be there front row!"
Carl chuckled at Shanks' reaction and tapped him lightly on the forehead.
"You're too old to still be this childish."
Shanks grinned sheepishly. Buggy, on the other hand, was practically fuming—his soul had left his body and come back twice. But with Carl standing right next to Shanks, no matter how angry he felt inside, all he could do was keep that fake grin plastered on his face.
That's just how it was.
Carl might seem like a strict older brother when dealing with Shanks, but that was between the two of them. If anyone else so much as insulted Shanks in front of him, Carl wouldn't hesitate to turn that person's head into ....
Buggy knew he only had one head. He wasn't about to gamble with it.
...
But credit where it's due—Shanks was still a solid friend. Jokes aside, he took Buggy's request seriously. He also understood how obsessed his rival-slash-bestie was with treasure, so once he'd had his laugh, he turned to Carl with a pleading look.
Carl knew Shanks like the back of his hand. The second he saw that puppy-dog face, he understood what was going on. Still, he didn't call him out. Instead, he asked calmly,
"What's with that expression?"
Shanks rubbed his hands and lowered his voice.
"... Buggy really does want an official adventurer's license. That whole circus thing was just a cover."
"Oh? So what you're saying is, that red-nosed clown just lied to me?"
Buggy, who had been eavesdropping the whole time, nearly dove headfirst into the sea.
"I'm doomed," he thought in despair.
Shanks jumped in front of Carl instinctively. He knew all too well what his brother was capable of—one second joking, the next second teleporting across the room to deliver a "split decision."
As for Buggy's Chop-Chop Fruit? That was a joke in front of Carl's Dark-Dark Fruit powers.
Carl glanced at his overly nervous little brother, then finally eased up with a half-smile.
"Relax. It's just an adventurer's license. Can't you handle something that small? You're from the Figarland family, remember? Don't tell me you don't even have that much authority. If word got out, people would laugh themselves to death."
Carl leaned back and added, "Consider this your first step toward owning your identity."
Shanks blinked.
"Wait, for real? I can just decide that myself?"
"Quit wasting time. Just give the order once you're back with the family. But if he's going to be an adventurer, he better stay in his lane. If I catch that red-nosed clown causing trouble again..."
Buggy quickly pounded his chest.
"Rest assured, Saint Carl! I'm only interested in treasure—no trouble, I swear! Besides, with you around, no pirate dares cause trouble anymore, am I right?"
Carl ignored the flattery. To be honest, if Buggy didn't have ties to Shanks, he wouldn't even be worth Carl's time—let alone be allowed to speak to him directly.
...
With that minor interruption out of the way, Carl sat back down, grabbed Shanks' sake jug, and took a swig.
"Well? Why're you all standing around? Weren't you throwing a party? Keep it going."
Shanks blinked and slowly sat down.
Carl tossed the jug back to him. Someone who knew what was up brought over a matching sake jug and handed it to Carl.
Carl glanced up—it was Rockstar, the once-apprentice from Shanks' crew.
Of course, Rockstar was no apprentice anymore. As a full-fledged member of the Red-Haired Pirates, he was a well-known figure in his own right. He might look like a rookie here, but out in the world, even hardened pirates addressed him as "Rockstar-sama."
After all, the Red-Haired Pirates were now officially the strongest pirate crew, especially since Shanks had recently achieved the feat of reaching Laugh Tale and becoming the next Pirate King after Roger.
Carl had always thought Rockstar was "pretty sharp." He looked him over, prompting Rockstar to tense up. The red-haired pirate scratched his head nervously.
"Saint Carl... did I do something to offend you?"
Carl shook his head and smiled gently.
"No. I just wanted to ask—would you ever consider working for the World Government?"