Chapter 191: The Idealist's Wager
Queen Otohime hung her head, disappointment clouding her face. She'd never really expected her plan to work—not after seeing the look on Ross's face. He was sharper than her by miles, his strategies light-years ahead. Their long talks had drilled that into her.
"So, what now?" she asked softly, almost shrinking back.
"You tell me," Ross replied with a faint smile. "Who are you really fighting for? Me? Yourself? Your people? Or Fish-Man Island?"
The question hung in the air, simple yet piercing. Words like these couldn't fix deep-seated conflicts, but they could sway the powerless. And this wasn't pure manipulation—Ross was nudging her toward clarity, helping her define her path. If anything, it made him a decent sort.
"Who are we fighting for...?" Otohime murmured, her mind churning. She wasn't dim; she'd just been too narrow-focused on the immediate chaos. Ross's words cut through that, highlighting the tangled contradictions. She needed to zero in on the one that mattered most to her, then tackle it step by step. No more chasing rainbows—solve one puzzle at a time, based on real outcomes.
"If it were you, Mr. Ross, you'd have cracked this in seconds," she said with a frustrated sigh, glancing at him with a mix of envy and admiration. "I'm just... hopeless."
Or maybe she had a hunch, buried deep, but voicing it would shatter everything she held dear.
"Me? What do you make of me?" Ross asked, his smile teasing.
"You're a good man!" Otohime blurted, no hesitation.
They'd only just met, but their chats had convinced her. She stood by it.
"A good man?" Ross chuckled dryly. "Ever hear of Ohara?"
"A bit," she admitted, lips pressing thin. The details were fuzzy, but the gist? Scholars digging into forbidden history, and the World Government turned the whole island to ash. Bloody work, from what she'd gathered.
"I commanded the Ohara operation," Ross said evenly.
"You... what?" Otohime's eyes widened. She hadn't caught the news broadcasts down here, and she'd never dug deeper. This was news to her.
"Five thousand eight hundred ninety-two dead," Ross continued. "Two hundred fifty-nine scholars, the rest everyday folks who knew too much."
"Over five thousand..." Otohime trailed off, her gaze softening with pity. He must be haunted by it, she thought.
"Guilty over it?" Ross arched a brow.
"Aren't you?" She blinked, confused.
"Think about it. If those scholars stirred up the civilians to topple the World Government, how many graves would we dig?"
"Ten times that?" Otohime ventured, voice tentative. Her knowledge gaps yawned wide in these talks. Every insight from Ross left her scrambling, shouting empty ideals while knowing zilch about the real world.
He grinned. "The biggest uprising since the World Government's founding hit two hundred years back. Swept the New World and the first half of the Grand Line—seventy-two islands, four member nations, fifty-one non-affiliated countries. Twenty million people caught in the crossfire."
"That one?" Otohime's eyes bulged. She knew it well. The Great Pirate Alliance's revolt had gripped nearly the entire Grand Line, even brushing Fish-Man Island. Back then, their kingdom was the vital link between sea halves, and Ryugu's king had gotten tangled in it.
"You know how it ended," Ross prompted.
She nodded grimly. "Yeah... Everyone involved—fish-men, mermaids, humans, other races—got wiped out by the World Government. Kings, pirates, slaves, commoners... rivers of blood."
Most folks never learned the full story; the World Government buried it deep. Otohime knew because Fish-Man Island was ground zero for the fallout. The old king died in the mess, and his successor bent the knee, joining the alliance. That's when their ties to the surface world truly formed.
As someone pushing for human-fish-men harmony, Otohime got it better than most. Neptune only had scraps—mostly that Ryugu had signed on back then.
"It was brutal," she admitted, her tone a touch forced, "but I get why the World Government did it. And you, too."
Ross shook his head. "I don't need your pity. Just hear this: I don't regret a thing. To win peace, sometimes you pay in blood. Pretty words won't stop a knife—only real fear keeps lines from crossing."
Otohime paused, then met his eyes. "I get you, Mr. Ross. But I still want to try my way."
Her ideals burned too bright to snuff out. If force was the only answer, what was the point of her? With her fragile frame, she'd achieve squat anyway. She respected his logic but clung to her own—losing that left her adrift.
Ross's eyes lit up. "How about a wager?"
Her curiosity sparked. "What kind?"
"I'll escort you home to Fish-Man Island. Along the way, we hit three stops: Sabaody Archipelago, the Holy Land Mary Geoise, and Fish-Man Island itself."
He leaned in. "I'll throw three scenarios at you. Simple challenges: guard yourself, free some slaves, slip away clean, or shield innocents. No using your special abilities."
"Deal!" Otohime nodded firmly, intrigued despite herself. She'd wondered how she'd fare without her powers. Human leaders were immune anyway—if she wanted to sway them, words had to carry the load.
"What's the prize?" she asked, eyes gleaming.
"Pass even one, and I'll back whatever crazy dream you've got. Full support."
She bit her lip, victory already tasting sweet. Three shots? She'd nail at least one.
"And if I lose?" Though she wouldn't.
"You stay put by my side till the next Levely. Then you're free to go," Ross said with a laugh.
"Fine by me!"
Otohime didn't flinch. Time with Ross meant lessons in the wider world, and a year? Mere blip in the grand sea. Win or lose, she'd sail stronger from it.
—
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