The Atla Mountains loomed in the northwest corner of Alabasta Kingdom, just outside Rainbase—the city Crocodile, one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, called home. Once a quiet, sparsely populated region, the mountains had recently become a hub of activity. Nearly eight thousand people had poured in, with more arriving every day, drawn by rumors of opportunity.
An agreement between the Umbrella Corporation and King Cobra mandated that any Umbrella ventures in Alabasta provide jobs for the kingdom's citizens, aiming to boost their livelihoods. True to their word, the corporation announced plans to establish an industrial park in the Atla Mountains. They offered wages far above the standard rate, attracting swarms of laborers, engineers, and construction crews to build the sprawling facility.
The Umbrella Corporation wasn't cutting corners. They'd committed to excavating the vast uranium ore deposit buried beneath the mountains within a decade, sparing no expense. At the mountain's base, makeshift tents and temporary wooden houses had sprung up overnight, forming a bustling encampment.
Workers toiled under the sun, their tools clanging against stone and wood as they erected factory structures. The work was grueling, but no one complained. Umbrella paid double the usual wage, triple for night shifts, and offered enviable benefits. Every hand was eager, every worker terrified of losing this golden opportunity to laziness.
At the heart of the construction site stood a modest single-story wooden villa. Outside its entrance, a crowd of women—each dressed meticulously—awaited their turn. They entered one by one, only to emerge minutes later, their expressions a mix of hope and disappointment.
The reason for their presence was a recruitment notice pinned to the villa's door:
Umbrella Corporation Security Consultant, Alabasta Kingdom Affairs General Manager, Sephiroth, seeks a female secretary. Generous salary offered.
The job requirements were draconian: beauty, unmarried status, no older than twenty-eight, mastery of administrative skills, and unconditional obedience to all orders. Despite these steep demands, women flocked to the villa, undeterred.
The draw was twofold. First, the monthly salary of ten million Berries was staggering. Second, the man they'd serve, Sephiroth, was a high-ranking Umbrella executive with an annual income of ten billion Berries—a veritable diamond bachelor. And, as whispers spread, he was devastatingly handsome.
Every woman with a shred of confidence saw this as her chance. Dreams were worth pursuing, after all. What if she succeeded? What if she landed the job—or, better yet, caught Sephiroth's eye? Inside the villa's first-floor hall, Sephiroth sat at a desk, his silver hair catching the light as he sifted through documents.
The uranium ore project was critical. It would fuel Umbrella's energy needs and enable the production of mushroom bombs—a task that demanded precision. Sephiroth planned to oversee operations personally, using a clone to maintain control indefinitely. While crafting mushroom bombs was straightforward, the true challenge lay in purifying Uranium-235 to the necessary concentration.
Thanks to the knowledge of Dr. Asie, the genius alchemist who had created pure gold, Sephiroth had devised a groundbreaking uranium purification process. It promised an unprecedented purity level of ninety-nine percent.
The massive uranium deposit loomed before Sephiroth like an unclaimed treasure, made all the more urgent by the mushroom bombs and clean energy tech from his past life. In this increasingly unstable world, how could he not feel the pressing need to secure it? Yet one obstacle remained—the endless stream of administrative tasks flooding in from Alabasta.
He could handle them, of course. But the sheer volume grated on his nerves. Baccarat and Black Maria would've been ideal for delegating the workload, but both were already swamped with their own responsibilities. As for the rest...
Either they lacked the competence or were stretched too thin themselves. Using a clone to manage Alabasta's affairs had become a reluctant necessity.
A chair scraped back as a figure settled across from him—a middle-aged man with golden curls, smeared lipstick, and a voice like gravel. Two suspiciously round apples strained against his dress.
"Name's Tiragotan..."
Sephiroth's eye twitched as he took in Igaram, captain of the Alabasta Royal Guard, in his frankly insulting disguise. "Wrong office. I'm hiring a female secretary. Next!"
The moment the door shut behind Igaram, Sephiroth exhaled through his teeth. Are all these One Piece lunatics completely deranged?
That sloppy getup, the half-hearted makeup—did they seriously think he wouldn't notice a man in drag?
Before he could dwell further, the door swung open again. This time, the applicant moved with feline grace—black stockings, stiletto heels, an aquamarine ponytail swaying behind black-framed glasses. She crossed her legs as she sat, crimson lips curving.
"Hello. I'm Nana, applying for the general manager's secretary position."
Sephiroth stared.
Unbelievable. First the guard captain, now her—Nefertari D. Vivi, crown princess of Alabasta. Had the entire kingdom run out of competent spies?
Not that he was surprised Alabasta had taken an interest in Umbrella Corp. The timing of Baccarat's intervention had been too convenient—right as public outrage over the dancing powder scandal peaked, with Umbrella swooping in to "solve" the drought crisis.
Any ruler worth their salt would've grown suspicious. Sending agents to investigate made perfect sense.
But the princess personally going undercover? That was just absurd.
The real mastermind's next door at Rain Dinners, Your Highness. Our operations here are cleaner than fresh parchment—you'll find nothing.
Still, he leaned forward, feigning polite interest. "Administrative skills?" His fingers drummed the desk. "We don't carry dead weight at Umbrella."
Vivi's hand pressed lightly to her chest—still developing, but carried with regal assurance. "Mr. Sephiroth, I promise my work will exceed your expectations."
"Prove it." He rifled through a stack of files before sliding one across. "Handle this."
Without hesitation, she took the document, her brow furrowing in concentration as she began to read.
"My work ability will definitely satisfy you..." Princess Vivi murmured, already absorbed in the task.
The princess studied the document for several minutes before finally setting it down. "There's significant room for improvement in this project..." she observed critically.
Sephiroth listened with quiet attention, giving an approving nod.
Impressive, he thought. The Alabasta princess isn't just some sheltered royal—she's got real administrative talent. A convenient asset delivered right to his doorstep. Let her investigate Umbrella Corporation all she wants. Trying to find dirt on an organization cleaner than fresh parchment? Good luck with that.
"You passed the interview," he announced. "Start tomorrow."
"Yes, Boss!" Vivi sprang to her feet, barely containing her excitement as she bowed. Behind her composed expression, triumph blazed:
Perfect infiltration—straight into the General Manager's office! Intelligence gathering will be child's play now. Umbrella Corporation, your days are numbered. Princess Vivi will expose your crimes and see justice served!
After seeing Vivi out, Sephiroth closed the secretary recruitment and prepared to return to Angel Island for dinner preparations. Then—
Brrrring! Brrrring!
The den den mushi's shrill alarm cut through the office. He scooped up the receiver with practiced ease.
"General Manager! Emergency report!" The caller's voice crackled with urgency. "Our coastal weather control unit near Yuba just exploded without warning. Thankfully it happened after hours—no casualties, but—"
"Determine the cause immediately."
"Yes, sir!"
The line went dead. Sephiroth stroked his chin, mind racing.
A sabotaged rain machine? Quality failure was impossible—Umbrella Corporation's standards were impeccable. They hadn't even sold these units to Alabasta; the loss fell entirely on the Company.
Brrrring! Brrrring!
Another call shattered his thoughts. "Update, sir. The second unit just detonated under identical circumstances. Half-billion Berry machines reduced to scrap metal. No workers present, but—"
Silence stretched as Sephiroth processed this. One malfunction might be coincidence. Two simultaneous explosions? That stank of deliberate sabotage.
"I see," he said at last before terminating the call.
Office door clicking shut behind him, Sephiroth stepped into the hallway, already calculating his next move. Someone had just declared war on Umbrella Corporation—and they'd learn what that meant soon enough.