Please Keep Reading! Everything Belongs to the World Government!

The Navy being overly powerful was one aspect of it, but in Imu's eyes, the World Government's own structure also had no small number of problems—perhaps even greater ones. Thinking of this made him somewhat irritated.

He casually picked up the red wine from the coffee table and poured some into a crystal glass. He swirled it thoughtfully, took a sip, then suddenly rose with the glass in hand and slowly walked out of the treehouse.

Perhaps it was psychological, but he felt a little stifled, so he came out for a walk.

He stepped across the silver-gray ground beneath his feet, beneath a sky full of Galaxy stars, strolling lightly in the bright moonlight and occasionally breathing in the fragrance of the wine.

The maids nearby, always ready to serve, did not dare look around carelessly. They respectfully lowered their heads, their hands folded before them.

As he walked, Imu followed his instincts and habitually came to a piano with no ornamentation whatsoever, its entirety pure silver.

This piano had a name. Imu's predecessor had named it three hundred and forty-two years ago: the Moon God Piano.

Imu glanced at the full moon overhead, sat down casually on the piano bench, placed the scarlet crystal glass aside, and lightly brushed his right fingers over the black and white keys.

Over the past several centuries, his predecessor had shut himself away in the deepest part of Mary Geoise, but he had not been entirely idle. After all, he was human too and needed ways to pass the time, so he had intermittently explored many things. Yet there were only two that truly engrossed him.

Music and painting.

Between the two, he had preferred music more.

However, his so-called music had nothing to do with singing. It referred purely to playing instruments. The long years had allowed him to master many instruments, to the point where even calling him proficient would have been modest.

And among all those instruments, his predecessor had loved the piano most of all!

Sitting before the Moon God Piano, memories of countless moonlit solo performances gradually surfaced in Imu's mind. His long fingers immediately became difficult to restrain, so he simply raised both hands and slowly played one note after another.

As he played, he became increasingly skilled, his ten fingers increasingly nimble. At first, he merely played melodies his predecessor often played, but before long, the tune abruptly changed, becoming grander, more forceful, and filled with imposing momentum. The maids were unconsciously drawn in and cautiously watched from the corners of their eyes.

This piece was called Giant Fortress, one of Imu's favorite tracks from the shows he had followed back then.

The stirring piano melody sent his thoughts drifting into contemplation once again.

Although the World Government's departmental structure looked fairly proper on the surface, closer consideration revealed many shortcomings.

On the administrative side, the highest department was the State Council, overseen by Saint Topman Warcury. Beneath the State Council were the Administrative Department and the Finance Department.

The Finance Department was responsible for issuing Beli, managing banks, and collecting the Heavenly Tribute, while the Administrative Department handled far more extensive matters—construction, taxation, auditing, industry, and so on.

But the problem was that, first, every department had too few staff members, and second, the divisions between departments in each field were far too simplistic, creating an extremely complicated and chaotic impression.

Of course, the so-called shortage of personnel was only by Imu's standards. According to his future plans, the current number of government employees was nowhere near enough.

For example, after this Reverie, the next Reverie would need to begin addressing reforms to the Heavenly Tribute.

If they wanted to adopt a flexible proportional fee system like the United Nations dues system from his previous life, it would be impossible to rely on the member nations to calculate it themselves. It had to take into account a country's population, economy, industries, and various other factors.

Most countries in his previous life, as well as the United Nations itself, had financial teams. Yet the development levels of the member nations in this world varied greatly. A large portion of them remained in ancient societies. Even a major nation like Alabasta would find it difficult to produce many sufficiently outstanding and professional financial specialists.

In that case, if they wanted to implement proportional fees, the World Government would have to shoulder the burden of assessing the actual conditions of every member nation. This would require a great many specialists from various fields.

Then another problem arose: where would those specialists come from?

Logically, they should be selected from specialized training schools. But according to what he had seen, the World Government had no department related to education at all.

Most member nations under its banner did not have many schools either. Education among nobles took the form of private tutors, while commoners at the bottom could only rely on elderly elders passing knowledge down by word of mouth.

In other words, if he wanted large numbers of specialists, he first had to start by building schools. How despairing.

For a time, the melody beneath Imu's fingertips changed once more, now carrying far more troubled and helpless negative emotions.

Under such circumstances, if they wanted to reduce the Heavenly Tribute and ease the pressure on poor and small nations, they could only choose a crude, across-the-board approach—reducing the amount for all nations together, regardless of whether they were large or small, rich or poor.

But if they did that, the World Government's annual income would inevitably plummet. Even with its accumulated reserves, it likely would not last more than a few years.

So the best approach was still proportional fees: large and wealthy nations paid more, while small and poor nations paid less.

Then what method was there to solve the shortage of talent?

Imu thought for a long, long time, but his playing fingers never stopped. They merely kept repeating Giant Fortress.

For a time, an extremely tense atmosphere filled the entire Moon Chamber.

That's it!

Suddenly, Imu, whose eyes had been tightly shut, snapped them open. At the same time, an invisible aura burst forth from him, making the glass beside him, still holding half a glass of red wine, hum and tremble. The rhythm beneath his fingers gradually quickened.

Because travel between islands was difficult in this world, the levels of development between countries differed enormously.

But this also meant that there were not only backward nations, but advanced ones as well. Some resembled the modern era, some had reached contemporary levels, and some had even developed to future-era standards.

Civilizations from ancient times to the future could all be found upon these seas. That was what made this world truly incredible.

It was another kind of complete set of organs, except the organs were scattered in a rather disorderly fashion.

North Blue!

That was right. It was North Blue that Imu had thought of—a sea filled with heavy industry, cities with a near-modern aesthetic, and hospitals.

A place like that could not possibly lack a relatively mature education sector. Near-modern industry and commerce surely required large numbers of technical, medical, and financial professionals.

Besides that, while fewer in number, other seas also had islands with relatively advanced civilizations, such as Loguetown in East Blue, Water Seven on the Grand Line, the future nation Baldimore, and so on.

Then the World Government could completely recruit, or even requisition, the various talents it needed from those nations to expand its departments!

The more Imu thought about it, the more excited he became. He realized that he had previously fallen into a misconception.

The form of governance best suited to this world was not blindly developing everything from scratch, but the deployment of talent and the allocation of resources.

Whatever was needed, they only had to find where it existed. This sea had everything; it all depended on whether they could find it, knew how to find it, and how well they could use it afterward.

For example, if a member nation had no electricity, not even the ability to manufacture basic components, and was essentially an ancient country, then by conventional logic, it should build everything from scratch. That was the standard approach for most transmigrators.

But Imu only needed to have the necessary materials, equipment, and personnel sent over from another modernized member nation.

Wasn't that precisely why he valued the Sea Train so highly?

There might not be a Sea Train yet, but they could still transport the needed specialists from various nations by ship. At most, it would be a little more troublesome.

If the World Government did not have something, that was fine—as long as a member nation did.

In short, what belonged to the World Government belonged to the World Government; what belonged to member nations also belonged to the World Government. And what belonged to non-member nations? Heh, of course that could belong to the World Government too!

Stopping his playing, Imu happily picked up the wineglass beside him and leisurely brought the crimson liquid to his lips.