Next Bonus, 100!!
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The world rolled into Sea Calendar Year 1520.
The Winter Blossom Kingdom's New Year's Eve Gala—an event that had shaken the world—was still fresh in everyone's memory, dominating the news cycle well into January.
Entertainment Weekly only fanned the flames, launching a poll titled "Which Performance Was Your Favorite?"
Some chose Gordon and the children's choir performance of "One World," calling it a deeply moving experience.
Others voted for the mermaid's song and dance, describing it as breathtakingly beautiful.
Many picked Uta's "Memories," praising how it stirred forgotten feelings.
Brook's "Binks' Brew" was a hit for its exhilarating energy.
Maria Napole's "Opera" was lauded for its spine-chilling intensity.
Even Alabasta's masked dance troupe had its share of devoted fans.
Every single act found an audience, each vote accompanied by a heartfelt reason.
In an age where information still traveled by newspaper and letter, the broadcast of a single night's gala had sent shockwaves across the globe.
A Visual Den Den Mushi? The devices weren't cheap. Even the average wealthy merchant couldn't afford one.
That fact alone underscored just how "expensive" the production had been. Industry insiders estimated the cost of the broadcast equipment alone ran into the hundreds of millions of Berries—to say nothing of the lineup of world-famous stars.
The local acts from across the kingdom had also been top-notch, seamlessly woven into the program by the gala's directors to create a flawless atmosphere.
And Jin's closing speech? It resonated with countless ordinary people.
They needed a little light.
Just a spark.
Enough to find the courage to keep living.
And with his music, Jin had cast that light, igniting a flicker of hope for a better future.
Even if it was just for a moment—a single night of reprieve before they had to face the hardships of life once more—it was enough.
It was a comfort.
Jin's name, along with the Winter Blossom Kingdom, captured the world's attention, becoming a symbol of aspiration.
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Aboard the ship of the Alvida Pirates.
Koby carefully cut out the lyrics to "Memories" from his copy of Entertainment Weekly.
"My childhood treasure map, always in my mind, forever searching for that land of miracles..."
He wasn't a fan of Uta, but this song... it spoke to him.
A journey to find a place of miracles, to protect an innocent dream... Wasn't that exactly what he longed for?
"Hey, Koby!"
THWACK!
A fat woman, wielding an iron mace, stood behind him. She brought a fist down on his head.
"Ow, ow, ow..."
Koby yelped in pain, trying to hide the newspaper in his shirt. But Alvida was too quick. She snatched it from him.
She unfolded the paper and scanned it.
"No picture of King Jin?"
Tears welled in Koby's eyes. "Not in this issue," he mumbled.
"Hmph. The floor is filthy. Get to work," Alvida sneered.
"But... my newspaper..."
"What do you mean, your newspaper? It's my newspaper now," she said, raising her fist. "Feeling brave today, Koby? You want another beating?"
"No, no... I'll get to work right now!"
Koby scurried away.
Alvida took the newspaper back to her cabin. The wall opposite her bed was covered in pictures of Jin. She stared at them dreamily for a moment before sitting down to flip through the fashion section, looking for new ways to style herself.
The literature page had already been torn out by another pirate.
As Koby scrubbed the floor, he could hear the crew's second-in-command sitting on a barrel, reading the story aloud to the others.
Koby took a deep breath.
"The mighty will one day fall, and the weak will one day rise. Never look down on a young man's poverty!"
He knew, one day, he would have his moment.
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By February, the buzz from the gala had finally started to die down.
The Ilusia Kingdom.
As a major nation in the West Blue, it was situated on a peninsula near the Red Line.
Its southern mountains blocked the sea winds, blessing the country with a pleasant climate and a thriving agricultural sector.
The kingdom's foreign policy was closely tied to the World Government's. It was also one of the two main backers of the Kraken's Tongue Pirates.
But with the destruction of the Kraken's Tongue in the Kano Country, and the subsequent counter-attack by the Kano Country against the Neighboring Country—who, with their superior firearms, were winning battle after battle and cracking down on smugglers—Ilusia's maritime interests had been severely damaged. Its situation had become precarious.
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Night. Boloni Port, southwest of the capital.
Karasu, commander of the Revolutionary Army's North Army, waited with his men at an abandoned dock.
He wore a black, feathered cloak and a crow's-beak mask.
"They're here."
One of his men flashed a series of signals with a lantern.
A sloop quietly docked.
A figure leaped from the ship, landing in front of Karasu and his men.
In the moonlight, they could see it was a tall woman with a cigarette dangling from her lips. Her eyes instinctively scanned the area. Only after she had confirmed there was no danger did she turn to Karasu.
"Long time no see, Karasu."
"Betty," Karasu nodded.
Belo Betty was, like Karasu, a high-ranking officer in the Revolutionary Army, the commander of the East Army.
"Dragon is being pursued," Betty said. "The pressure is immense. The 'Life Coach' has suggested we stir up trouble in various places to draw attention. The destruction of the Kraken's Tongue has caused quite a bit of trouble for Ilusia."
"I've investigated," Karasu said. "He's right. This is our chance."
"Tell me," Betty said.
She had been sent by Dragon to support Karasu and was not yet familiar with the situation.
"The Kraken's Tongue Pirates were Ilusia's privateering force," Karasu explained. "After their defeat in the Kano Country, the kingdom's treasury took a massive hit. But the royal family and the nobles, with their extravagant lifestyles, just kept spending. The king, Thalassa Lucas, is a lapdog of the World Government. To pay the Heavenly Tribute, he's levied a dozen new taxes. The lives of the people are getting worse by the day."
"And," he continued, "I've discovered that there's an orphanage near Boloni that takes in orphans and street children. But it's actually a front for a weapons factory. The workers are the children. They're fed stale bread and forced to work eighteen-hour days. They're not paid, and if they fail to meet their quotas, they're publicly flogged by the overseers. Many of them have died."
Betty grit her teeth. "Those bastards... to do that to children... they should all burn in hell."
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