The True Enemy

The dead who returned from the Underworld had obtained an immortal body.

Perhaps in that distant, endless future, immortals were destined to be lonely. But there were still things they wanted to accomplish.

Call it a goal, or call it an obsession.

Brook was willing to hold a book he had written himself in that distant future and tell the story of what had once happened to every passerby he happened to meet.

And the beginning of this story started with an island ship shrouded in dense fog...

"What a perfect opening."

Sabo adjusted his posture, sitting cross-legged inside Kuma's paw-shaped air bubble. Propping his chin on his hand, he watched Brook writing furiously.

It seemed that after finishing the hardest part—the opening—Brook had suddenly broken through a bottleneck. His thoughts flowed like a spring, and his writing became swift and smooth.

"Yohohoho, that's all thanks to Mr. Sabo's advice."

Brook kept his head down and wrote rapidly, turning the many scenes in his mind into paragraphs of text.

He did not need exaggerated wording or excessive praise. Following Sabo's advice, he used a simple, easy-to-understand narrative style to turn Maud's experiences into paragraph after paragraph.

Sabo smiled and said nothing more, quietly watching Brook write the biography.

After quite some time passed.

Brook suddenly stopped writing and closed the thick notebook.

"What's wrong?"

Seeing this, Sabo asked curiously.

Brook smiled. "The biography is very long, but I want to write it slowly."

"I see."

Sabo nodded in understanding, then said in a teasing tone, "Brook, will you write me into this biography too?"

"I will."

Brook said softly, "Because we're both indispensable parts of this 'long journey.'"

"Haha, true."

Sabo raised a hand and rubbed his forehead.

Brook then asked, "Would Mr. Sabo mind something like that?"

"Of course