Karl stepped out of the grand doors of the Imperial Briss Gallery and felt the cool evening air sweep over him. After Hugo had completed his part of the deal by telling him the two secrets. They had continued the rest of the tour through the Gallery. It had been tense, and awkward once they’d returned from the underground chamber. But Elisa’s curious and clueless questions had quickly eased the atmosphere. Her adorable smile easing the frown Jane had been shooting his way. They’d talk later in private, he knew. But not now, not as the breeze ruffled his hair, reminding him to button his coat.

A large crowd was still streaming into the Gallery, but there was a separate gate to the side of the main entrance from which visitors could exit, which the group used to make their way out of the building and out into the packed main square.

Their guards pushed through the crowd and towards their carriage. The driver tipping his hat as they approached.

“Where to milord?” he asked, the two creatures at the front of his carriage snorting in the evening chill.

“To the Royal Auction Hall,” he said, and helped his wife and daughter into the carriage, climbing in right after. Their luggage had previously been set in one of the corners, where the servants that streamed in after him took their seats. Karl took a seat by the window, his wife sitting next to him, as a tired Elisa curled up on her lap. Hugo sat opposite them, on the other side of the carriage, implicitly understanding that they needed space.

“After the Auction,” he murmured, no longer able to stand his wife’s silence, “I’ll tell you what I learnt and also a little surprise.”

Jane looked at him, the quiet in the carriage heavy, and simply nodded. Karl knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet but at least she wasn't so angry as to ignore him.

The carriage lurched into motion and Karl leaned back, feeling the gentle sway as it picked up speed, not faster than the trotting guards that surrounded the carriage of course. But fast enough that if Karl had been in their place, he would be heaving for breath by the time they arrived at their destination.

Karl’s mind drifted to the auction ahead, rumour had it that a seastone bullet would be sold. Something he sorely needed. Karl had not met any devil fruit users, but he knew. Even with his small merchant fleet and budding trade empire. They would not stand a chance against any users who had consumed a useful devil fruit. For his peace of mind, Karl was willing to spend a fortune. Seastone, the bane of devil fruit users, was precious beyond compare. For one to be sold as a bullet? Even more so. He would get his hands on it, and if ever they met a pirate that they stood no chance against. He would have something to fall back on.

The carriage continued on, the silence in the carriage somewhat stifling as they rolled by buildings of all kinds. Noticeably none of them seemed to be homes. There were shops and stores of all kinds, Karl even spotted some kind of apothecary. It made sense, this section of the main street closest to the centre of the city was like the main artery of the capital. Pumping people and resources. The owners would never waste the valuable real estate on simple homes.

The carriage slowed and Karl felt the shift as it eased to a stop. Through the window, he could see the Royal Auction Hall—a grand, stately building. They had finally arrived.

Karl looked at his wife, she had opened her eyes when they had come to a stop.

“I think it would be better if you went with Elisa to inspect the suite I booked at the hotel?” he said and she nodded, her face expressionless.

“I know Auctions don’t exactly thrill you, and you can tuck Elisa in for a small nap?”

A small smile tugged at her lips, “yes, yes go have fun throwing your wealth around but–” her face morphed into a serious expression. “We’ll talk when you get back.”

Karl nodded as the driver opened the carriage door and he stepped out of the carriage, Hugo following after him. A single servant broke off from their group and trailed after Hugo.

Karl looked at the building, taking in the lion-shaped statues that framed the tall entrance. The doors were wide open, people streaming in from their own carriages. The large windows at the buildings’ front allowed for the clear view of the entrance hall, a hall that was filled with men and women in fine evening wear. They lingered in small groups, their conversations hushed but animated. A group of his guards nodded to each other in silent communication and followed after Karl.

“Quite the building, is it not?” said Hugo, looking up at it as they approached. “Of course, it's nothing compared to the Gallery. But I’m glad they're still building like they used to.”

“It is quite grand, true” Karl nodded back at Hugo as he stepped into the grand foyer. The moment he did, the buzz of conversation seemed to dip, almost as if the room itself held its breath. Karl knew that he cut a striking figure in his tailored suit, yet he would have never thought his presence would have such an effect on the hall.

Hugo chuckled, “You didn’t know did you? I thought I implied it when we met.”

“You are famous, Karl Brooks. The ‘Briss Herald’, the most read newspaper here in the capital, has pronounced you the richest man in the kingdom.”

Hugo grinned at his shocked face. “Yes, you are quite famous.”

A small, mousy-looking attendant, her hair a bright crimson, approached their group. She sported the usual practised smile, yet it seemed genuinely warm.

“Mr Brooks,” she greeted, dipping down in a small curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to have you with us this evening. We’ve reserved Booth 3 for your convenience, as requested.”

Karl offered a faint smile, still inwardly reeling in shock. He scanned the room and noted how he seemed to be the centre of attention. “Thank you,” he finally said.

The attendant gestured gracefully, inviting the group to follow her through a discrete side entrance that bypassed the main one entirely. Karl couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He could feel their gazes digging into his back as he stepped out of the hall. Once he had rounded the corner, out of sight, he slumped in relief. Hugo snickering behind him. He had not been ready to suddenly become the centre of attention.

The attendant led them down a long, meandering hallway, adorned with soft lighting that illuminated portraits of past auctions’ prized artefacts. From bizarre creatures to historical works of art, until their group reached a set of winding stairs. A large, golden 3 above the archway marked it as their booth.

“Booth 3,” said the attendant, but Karl barely heard her. He was still thinking on the implications of his new fame.

Karl Brooks had been reborn long before the actual events in ‘One Piece’ took place. Specifically 83 years before the birth of Rocks D. Xebec, and he had been very thankful for that. The seas were not nearly as turbulent now as they would be in the future. The ‘pirate age’, as it was referred to in canon, had not yet begun. The relative safety had allowed him to amass a fortune. But now that he was famous, now that he was not protected by anonymity, everything would be more dangerous. Karl did not fool himself, it might not yet be the pirate age. But there were still pirates. He’d have to change many of his plans going forward.

They made their way up the set of stairs where the attendant stopped and opened the door at the top with a flourish.

“If there’s anything you need, Mr Brooks, please do not hesitate to ask.”

Karl nodded, stepping inside the private booth, his guards settling into positions around him.

“Quite the place you booked,” Hugo made himself known as he walked past Karl and unceremoniously settled himself on one of the plush armchairs, and groaned in pleasure as he sunk into its velvet cushions. “These chairs are just right for my old bones.”

Karl ignored him, and instead took a moment to appreciate the room. Rich, dark wood paneling and deep burgundy drapes framed a view that overlooked the entire auction hall. Plush armchairs and a low table occupied the centre, bearing a bottle of scotch with some glasses and a den den mushi. Karl walked past the lounging Hugo and settled into the armchair closest to the railing, from where he could see the rows of seats slowly filling up as the attendees filtered in. His servant stood behind him and slightly to his right.

For a few minutes, he watched the crowd, Hugo pouring himself a drink in the background.

“You know,” said Hugo, after taking a sip from his glass. “Your competition for the auction isn’t down there. Its there.” Hugo pointed at the other balconies and Karl nodded, those would be the true movers and shakers of the auction.

Booth 1 was by far the largest booth, and Karl knew that it would always be reserved for the royal family. But for someone to acquire booth 2 instead of him? That meant there was someone else in the auction that either had more money than him, or was vastly more influential. His gaze lingered on the closed drapes of booth 2 and booth 1. Those would be the true competitors.

Just then, a soft chime echoed through the hall, signalling the start of the auction. The lights dimmed, leaving only the stage bathed in a warm glow. The heavy doors at the back were closed and the murmur of conversation gradually tapered off. Karl’s pulse quickened, his senses sharpening as the auctioneer stepped onto the podium. Karl was surprised to find that she looked very similar to the attendant who had led them to their booth. She had the same long crimson hair, although hers had been rearranged in a braid, and she seemed to be slightly older. More mature. She sported a long green dress that dragged behind her as she made her way to the centre of the stage to stand behind the podium. She took a deep breath, her bountiful chest rising, and began.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” her silky smooth voice carrying easily across the room, “welcome to this evening’s exclusive auction. Tonight, we have an array of extraordinary pieces, each one a testament to rarity and artistry. And without further ado, let us introduce our first item.”

A single spotlight flared to life, illuminating a small table at the centre of the stage. The crowd leaned forward, the tension in the room tightening like a coiled spring. Karl’s eyes narrowed as the same attendant who had led them to their booth approached the table. In her hands, she carried a small case, which she gently placed on the table with a reverence one might reserve for a relic. She then opened it with a slow, deliberate motion. Inside, nestled against the white lining, was a single playing card. The card seemed to gleam under the spotlight, its edges rimmed with gold leaf that caught the light.

“This,” the auctioneer announced, “is a rare and exquisite find—a gold rank pocket card. As a gold rank, there will only ever be one, the ‘Queen of Shadows’, Aveline Orelov.”

Karl smiled and leaned back, his hand reaching for the glass as his servant poured him a drink. To think the very cards he created were being sold in this very auction. As if they were something precious. This, was the meaning of success.

A decade ago, the idea had come to him. There were no other types of card games or cards apart from poker cards. So why not create his own? Thus ‘pocket cards’ came to be. The ‘gold rank’ version of the cards he designed to cater to collectors, their designs based on famous pirate and marine figures. He made sure to only include those pirates that had not yet been wiped from history, it wouldn’t do to get on the World Governments’ bad side. Or even on their radar for that matter. The idea had taken the Briss Kingdom–and then the wider South Blue–by storm. The card game had become so successful that forging replicas would have become quite lucrative, had Karl not made it as hard as possible for them to be forged.

A collective gasp rippled through the audience, breaking Karl from his thoughts. He took some binoculars that had been hung from the side of his armrest and peered down at the stage, he could just make out the intricate design of the card from where he sat: the queen’s eyes were hidden behind a delicate filigree mask, her gown adorned with tiny, hand-painted details that seemed to dance under the light. Each brushstroke, a testament to the superb craftsmanship, the card itself was not just a piece of gaming paraphernalia, but a work of art.

The auctioneer’s voice cut through the silence, smooth as velvet. “We will start the bidding at fifty thousand berries. Do I hear fifty thousand?”

Karl turned away from the action down below, as Hugo cleared his throat behind him.

“So,” Hugo adjusted his glasses, “The item I would like you to get for me is this one.” Hugo pulled out an auction catalogue from his coat pocket, his finger on Lot 9. “The Spyglass of Captain Redtail. Just this.”

“And we are even,” Karl finished his sentence with a sigh, “I’ll get you that Spyglass.”

“Thank you,” Hugo nodded, and turned his attention to the auction down below. Karl following suit.

“Sold!” The auctioneer’s voice rang out, her eyes already moving to the next item.

The room erupted into soft applause as the next item was placed on the table. This one a painting.

“The piece you see before you is a historic work, coming all the way from the North Blue. A painting by the elusive master, Eloise Roussel. The starting bid is seventy-five thousand berries.”

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Karl once again turned his attention back from the auction. The piece of art did not interest him, he had enough at home. He was here for the bullet, and now for the Spyglass, nothing else. Karl glanced at Booth 2, the drapes covering the booth closed in such a manner that from their angle he could not see who was sitting there. But it worried him. He hoped that the mysterious person in that booth wasn’t vying for the same items as him, and if he was…Well he’d taken part in bidding wars before. He would do his best, and if his best wasn't enough, so be it.

“Sold!” The gavel hit the podium with a definitive crack, echoing through the hall and Karl watched as a new item was brought up to the stage. This one a small, exquisitely carved wooden box.

“Ladies and gentlemen, what we have here is an exquisite piece—a music box of unparalleled craftsmanship, said to capture the very soul of the South Blue’s waves,” the auctioneer declared, her voice rich with the kind of reverence reserved for objects of legend. “Crafted by the renowned artisan, Vensarlo, this music box plays melodies inspired by the lull of the sea, cherished by collectors and romantics alike. We will begin the bidding at one hundred and fifty thousand Berries.”

Karl’s pulse quickened, though his face remained a mask of calm. This would be the perfect present to gift to Jane as an apology. He had not planned on bidding on it tonight, but plans could change.

The bid climbed swiftly—160,000 Berries, then 175,000, with barely a pause between calls. Karl watched the scene with sharp eyes, fingers lightly drumming on the armrest of his chair. The bidding reached 200,000 Berries. Karl waited, he knew better than to show his hand too early. Patience was the name of the game. Finally, when the price hit 220,000 and the flurry of hands began to slow, he pressed the den den mushi that lay on the table, signalling his entry into the fray.

“Two hundred and thirty thousand from Booth 3,” the auctioneer announced, the small den den mushi on her ear letting her know where the bid had come from. She quickly hid the flicker of surprise in her eyes as they darted up toward Karl’s booth. Karl’s lips twitched into a faint smile as he noted her surprise, she probably thought he would wait for the more expensive items later on, as was common from the private booths.

A paddle rose near the front, a sleekly dressed woman with an air of stubborn determination. Karl noted her with a glance; perhaps someone trying to make a splash in the collector’s circles?

The auctioneer’s voice rang out again. “Two hundred and forty thousand, do I hear two fifty?”

The bids continued, climbing higher, a rapid volley between the floor and Karl. 260,000, 280,000, 300,000. The air grew taut with tension, whispers skimming like ripples across the room. The woman down below seemed unyielding, her bids coming in sharp and immediate, but Karl was prepared to go as far as needed.

When she raised her paddle for 320,000, Karl responded without hesitation, pressing the den den mushi once more.

“Three hundred and thirty thousand from Booth 3,” the auctioneer called, her voice a touch breathless now. There was a pause, a hesitation, as the woman Karl was competing against glanced up towards his booth, weighing his resolve. Karl could almost see the calculations flickering behind her eyes—was he truly willing to go all the way?

Karl answered her silent question with a press of the den den mushi.

“Three hundred and forty thousand from Booth 3.”

The woman hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, Karl wondered if she would push him further, but then her hand dropped, her paddle with it. To her the music box was not worth as much as he was willing to pay. The room seemed to still, waiting for the next bid.

“Three hundred and forty thousand Berries from Booth 3,” the auctioneer repeated, her gavel raised. “Going once... going twice...”

Karl’s grip tightened on the armrest, heart thudding in the split-second pause before the final strike.

“Sold!” The gavel came down with a decisive crack.

Karl leaned back into his chair, a quiet triumph filling his chest as he sipped his scotch, the tension draining from his shoulders. The music box was finally his, he watched it disappear from the stage, a satisfied smile on his face.

“This next item–,” Karl tuned her out as she introduced the next item, a miniature lighthouse model. He then looked back at Hugo, who looked at him with an eyebrow raised questioningly.

“You wanted a music box?”

“It's not for me.”

Hugo nodded in understanding, a teasing smile then gracing his lips. “An apology then.”

Karl shook his head at Hugo’s antics. “Yes,” was all he said, as he turned his attention back to the auction.

They watched in silence, as new items were introduced and bid for. Waiting for Lot 9. Hugo in anticipation, and Karl with a hint of resignation. The bidding for the items now would regularly finish in the millions. So the spyglass was bound to cost him at least a few million.

The ninth item was bound to be introduced at any time now. He settled deeper into the plush seat of his private booth, eyes fixed on the stage below as the auctioneer prepared to present the next item. The ninth item of the night. Lot 9.

A slender, velvet-lined case was brought to the stage and placed on the table. The auctioneer paused, letting the suspense build, before she flipped open the case with a flourish. Inside, nestled among dark velvet, lay a spyglass with an ornate brass finish, its lens gleaming like a distant star.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the auctioneer announced, “feast your eyes on a piece of maritime legend—Captain Redtail’s spyglass! Rumoured to possess an enhanced zoom and capable of piercing through the thickest fog, this historic artefact was once the prized possession of one of the South Blue’s most notorious pirates. For navigators, collectors, and those with a taste for adventure, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. We will begin the bidding at three million Berries.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. The starting price was no small sum, but the allure of the spyglass—its history, its rumoured abilities—was tempting. Karl leaned forward slightly as he watched the first hands down below rise in tentative increments.

The bidding rose swiftly. Three point one million. Three point two. Karl watched the crowd as the bids continued to climb. He knew better than to show his hand too early.

“Won’t you bid?” asked a worried Hugo, Karl looked back. Hugo was standing up now, looking like he wanted to pace as he listened to the rising prices.

“Of course,” Karl said and fixed his gaze back on the stage. “Patience, Rome wasn't built in a day.”

“Rome?” Hugo asked curiously, “Never heard of it.”

Karl winced, the saying had been a slip of the tongue. It was not smart at all to give clues of his past life like that, especially to a sacred historian like an Imperial Treasurer.

“A saying my great-grandfather read somewhere once,” Karl dismissed it with a wave of his hand. Making sure to act as nonchalant as possible.

“Curious,” was all Hugo said as he shifted his attention back to the bidding. It had now risen to three point four million.

“Three point five million Berries, from Booth 2,” the auctioneer announced, her tone shifting to acknowledge the gravity of this new contender. Karl’s eyes flicked to the booth. This was not good. Hopefully his pockets were not deeper than his own.

Karl pressed the den den mushi with a worried frown. Now, a real bidding war would begin.

“Three point six million from Booth 3,” the auctioneer called, her voice rising. The crowd shifted, as they realised a duel was about to unfold.

“Three point seven,” countered booth 2, their response almost immediate. There was no hesitation, no pause. Whoever it was, they were determined. Karl tapped the snail again.

“Three point eight million from Booth 3.”

The room was electric now, the crowd’s eyes darting between the two booths. Karl could almost feel their gazes on him. But he didn’t care about the crowd; his focus was on Booth 2 and the enigmatic bidder who was pushing him further and further up the scale.

“Four million from Booth 2.”

Karls’ jaw tightened, if the price rose much further he would be forced to back down. He would not jeopardise his chances at the Seastone bullet. He then took a deep breath and pressed the snail again, he was not ready to give up just yet . He would give it his best shot.

“Four point two million,” the auctioneer echoed. There was a pause, a beat of silence that stretched just a little too long. Karl wondered if he had finally shaken his opponent’s resolve.

But then, like a shot in the dark, Booth 2 came back. “Four point five million,” the mysterious bidder called out. Her voice female, and her bid cool and confident; as if they had only just begun to play. The fact she had decided to speak up meant she was getting serious.

Karl’s hands tightened around the armrest. Should he continue? Was it worth it? No, he wouldn’t back down just yet. He still had a bit more left in him. If the bid rose above five point five million he would back down.

“Five million Berries,” he bid, his own voice loud and clear. If she was calling out now–getting serious– then so would he. He made sure to project his voice to give the impression that he was calm, with a tint of laziness, as if he were merely raising the stakes in a friendly game. The auctioneer called the bid.

A pause. The air seemed to crackle with tension, the entire hall waiting with bated breath for Booth 2’s response. But this time, there was no immediate reply. The seconds stretched on, each one feeling like a heartbeat.

“Going once,” the auctioneer began, her voice startlingly loud in the still room. Karl held his breath.

“Going twice…”

And then it came. “Five point two million,” the voice from Booth 2, still calm and unyielding.

Karl felt a flash of frustration but quickly swallowed it down. The lady in the booth was no ordinary bidder—this was someone who would not be cowed. But neither would he. With a slow exhale, he pressed the snail one final time.

“Five point five million Berries from Booth 3.”

The room was deathly silent now, the air thick with suspense.

Karl could feel the weight of it, the sense that everything hinged on this moment. Booth 2 remained silent, the seconds ticking away, each one stretching longer than the last.

“Going once,” the auctioneer said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Going twice…”

Karl held his breath, his eyes on Booth 2.

“Sold! To Booth 3 for five point five million Berries!”

The gavel came down with a resounding crack, and Karl finally allowed himself to exhale. He had won. Captain Redtail’s legendary spyglass was now his. No, not his. Karl looked back at Hugo, noting his elated expression and slightly flushed cheeks.

“Thank you Karl Brooks,” Hugo stood and gave him a deep formal bow. “The Imperial Briss Gallery will cherish this piece of history you have granted us.”

Karl waved his hand, “Forget it, it was no trouble off my back.”

Hugo chuckled and pointedly eyed Karl’s white-knuckled grip on the armrest. A grip he was only now beginning to loosen.

Karl embarrassedly looked away and focused his attention on the next item that was brought to the stage. This one a pair of miniature Sea Kings, secured in a reinforced glass enclosure. Karl knew their small size belied their danger, anything that was given the title of Sea King had to be undoubtedly worthy of the name for the name to stick, and miniature Sea Kings–Karl knew– were worthy, they were also incredibly rare, coveted by many a collector.

The large men who had wheeled the fish tank onto the stage left it on the table and hurriedly made their way out.

Inside the fish tank, water sloshed and churned as two creatures, slightly larger than a child’s toy, swam in tight, erratic circles. These miniature versions of the infamous Sea Kings may have been scaled down but they were no less intimidating. Their serpentine bodies glimmered with iridescent scales, their jaws lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth and their eyes glowed with an eerie intelligence.

“Behold,” the auctioneer’s voice carried across the room. “These rare, exotic creatures are notoriously difficult to capture and even more challenging to contain. They are prized by collectors across the seas for their sheer uniqueness and the danger they represent. And tonight, you have the chance to own not one, but two of these magnificent beasts.”

The crowd erupted into whispers and Karl could see the gleam of greed in their eyes, the hunger for something so rare and untamed. He could practically hear the thoughts racing through their minds—the prestige, the bragging rights, the sheer thrill of possessing something so dangerous.

“We will start the bidding at ten million Berries,” the auctioneer announced, her voice cutting through the murmur like a knife. “Do I hear ten million?”

The response was instantaneous. Paddles shot up all across the room, and the auctioneer’s gavel came down like a drumbeat, rapid-fire as the bids climbed higher. Karl watched the frenzy unfold, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the competition. The bids flew fast and furious, the numbers skyrocketing in a matter of seconds.

“Twelve million! Do I hear twelve-five? Yes, thirteen million from the gentleman in the third row!”

The bids continued to rise, and Karl watched in fascination as the bidders in the stands fought tooth and nail for the right to own the creatures. They had not fought nearly as hard when his ‘pocket card’ had come out. But that was understandable, that had just been a curiosity. They had probably been saving themselves for items such as this one, items that would only be revealed in the latter parts of the auction.

“Fifteen million! Do I hear sixteen?” the auctioneer called. The room was a sea of waving paddles, a chaotic dance of hands and shouts. Karl watched as the crowd worked itself into a frenzy, each bid more desperate than the last.

“Twenty million Berries from Booth 1!”

The chaos stilled. The entire room turning to look at Booth 1. The sudden stunned silence broken only by the murmurs of disbelief rippling through the crowd. Somebody from the royal family was in attendance. Karl could see the defeat in the eyes of the other bidders, their shoulders slumping. The moment Booth 1 cast their bid was the moment the bidding came to an end. Nobody would risk offending a royal.

The auctioneer’s gavel came down with a decisive crack. “Sold! To Booth 1, for twenty million Berries!”

The crowd buzzed with speculation about the identity of the royal behind the curtains of Booth 1. Who were they? A prince? A princess? Maybe even the king? Or, the person could also be a mere representative.

Karl furrowed his brows, a royal was in attendance. He could only hope that he wouldn’t also bid for the seastone bullet. But if they did. If they did Karl didn’t know what he would do. Would he risk offending a royal, maybe even bringing down their wrath for his peace of mind? For the safety that having the bullet would bring him? He did not know. And he did not want to know. He could only hope, and pray.