The slightly bitter liquid slid down her throat, settling her tangled thoughts a little.
She began sorting through those names, as though taking inventory of dangerous goods.
"There aren't actually many people qualified to sit in that chair."
She set down her cup, porcelain clinking crisply against the wooden table. "Edward Newgate is one.
"But we all know what he's really collecting isn't treasure or territory, but something else."
The man known as "Whitebeard"
was probably standing on a ship's deck somewhere at sea right now, laughing deafeningly at his newly adopted sons.
His strength could tear islands apart, yet he poured all his tenderness into his so-called "family."
Quite a few people said in private that this emperor of the seas was merely playing an enormous game of house.
"Patrick Redfield."
When Tsuru spoke that name, she unconsciously lowered her voice. "He travels alone, but he's worth an entire fleet."
There were many rumors about that man: that he could peer into the deepest memories of people's hearts, that the strange fountain pen he carried could summon phantoms of the dead.
Those phantoms could even wield the abilities their originals had possessed in life, their likenesses chillingly exact.
Had they not lacked some crucial quality, he might already have ruled the entire sea alone.
Even setting all that aside, he himself was among the handful of people who stood at the pinnacle of swordsmanship.
That umbrella named "Tranquil Garden"
had brought down so many opponents in silence.
"Charlotte Linlin."
At this point, Tsuru paused for a rare moment, an indescribable curve flickering across her lips. "She's been... very busy these past few years."
Busy bearing children, busy weaving the blueprint of her kingdom through bloodlines.
One child after another was born, as though she were building some fortress with