The night was like a song, especially the sea outside Water Seven.
The high-hanging moon cast down hazy light, while the shattered ice left behind by Aokiji glimmered with dreamy colors in the night.
The people of Water Seven had long since gone to sleep. They had been badly frightened during the day, but fortunately, the Marines had withdrawn by now. It was foreseeable that Whitebeard would leave after repairing his ship, and Water Seven would then return to its former peace.
That really was good news.
The banquet aboard the Moby Dick was also nearing its end. Many of the division commanders and pirates had collapsed on the ground, snoring without any regard for their image.
Their sleeping poses were naturally anything but elegant. Coupled with their earth-shaking snores and the stench of alcohol, it was a wonder they could sleep so soundly.
There were not many people still awake, but there were some. At the very least, Whitebeard and Shin were both conscious.
Though calling them conscious was not quite right either. The two had drunk quite a lot today—at least a hundred jin of liquor. An ordinary person would have died from that much alcohol long ago, but to them, it had merely been enough to drink to their hearts' content.
Whitebeard's tongue was already tied in knots. It had been a long time since he had encountered an opponent he could neither beat in a fight nor drink under the table.
Even when he had met Roger last time, he had still held a slight edge in drinking.
"Come to think of it... where exactly did you come from, brat? A master like you had no news about him before?" Whitebeard asked with a drunken belch. He was already seven parts drunk.
Shin smiled. "What if