New World, Sphinx Island.
There were no pirates here who burned, killed, and plundered, nor any World Government garrison that extorted the people. Rolling emerald grasslands stretched along the coastline, and the sea breeze carried the scent of fresh grass and salty seawater, stirring layer upon layer of green waves.
Fishing villages dotted the shore, with nets drying outside every home. The villagers wore simple, peaceful smiles, living quiet and stable lives.
Warm golden sunlight covered the beach as barefoot children chased and played in the sand, their bell-like laughter drifting far away on the sea breeze.
The elders sat on stone stools at the village entrance, basking in the sun while their rough fingers deftly mended fishing nets. From time to time, they looked up and smilingly scolded the children who had run too far, their eyes full of tenderness.
This island had maintained such peace amid the turbulent New World because of one man—Edward Newgate.
Every so often, Whitebeard had his fleets deliver shiploads of supplies, treasure, and medicine, protecting the island that had raised him with utmost care.
Everyone in the New World knew that Sphinx Island was the reverse scale of the world's strongest man. Whoever touched it died.
Even the most vicious pirates feared causing trouble on this island, lest they invite Whitebeard's towering wrath.
On the island's western side, in a secluded stretch of water hidden by reefs, an inconspicuous small single-masted sailboat silently anchored in a secret rocky cove.
By the rail, Saint Germain, wearing a black hood, raised a hand and touched his cheek. In the blink of an eye, his appearance completely changed.
Long pink curls cascaded over his shoulders. His exquisite, cold features, his temperament, even the subtle expressions in his eyes and brows—all were nearly identical to Reiju's. Even