What Man Could Possibly Refuse?

New World.

Klamapo Island.

The Golden Tower rose into the clouds at the island's center. Bustling streets and shops spread out below it, giving the place a lively air.

At the top of the tower.

Inside a room whose walls were studded with enormous screens, uniformed soldiers worked at control panels. The screens showed every corner of the island.

Buena Festa sat in a red chair at the room's highest point. Beautiful maids stood ready on either side of him, constantly refilling his wineglass with expensive red wine.

A rectangular table stood before him, laden with fruit.

Buena Festa swirled the wine in his glass and drained it.

Then he lit a cigar and took a deep drag.

"Phew!"

Smoke billowed around Buena Festa as he settled back in bliss.

"Everything's ready. Now we just need the players to arrive!"

"Report!"

A soldier hurried up from below, looking flustered.

"Hmm? Has something happened?"

Buena Festa made a face and peered at the soldier, one eye wider than the other.

"Well..."

The soldier stepped close and whispered a few words in his ear. Buena Festa's expression grew grave.

"You're saying... the Marines have gotten wind of our plans?"

"That's right!"

The soldier nodded firmly.

"Which Marine is handling this?"

"Marine Admiral White Hou."

The soldier spoke the name in a furtive, strained voice.

"What?!"

Buena Festa's heart jolted, but he still refused to give up.

"All right, I understand. You can go."

Though his thoughts were in turmoil, his face remained calm.

He knew he could never abandon this operation.

As a man who had already died once, holding this festival was the one thing he lived for now.

He could even call it his dream.

Even if that dream was to turn the entire world upside down!

And that wasn't