Two figures watched from private Booth 2, as the next item in the auction was brought in. Every so often, they would glance at Booth 3, then at each other, a heavy silence between them. A single chandelier hanging overhead cast its flickering light over their faces–though one face never stayed the same for long.

Ophelia Shaw stood by the balcony, her silver hair tied in a loose knot and her knuckles white from how tight she had been gripping the railing. Behind her sat her brother, Cornelius, a man that had been blessed with the power of the Face-Face Fruit (顔顔の実). He leaned back in his plush leather chair, his face shifting continuously in rapid succession–first, a wizened old man with a long, drooping moustache; then, a plain, forgettable visage that seemed to fade into the shadows; and finally, the youthful countenance of a nobleman with striking blue eyes and sharp cheekbones. He watched in silence as his sister finally let go of the railing, absently tracing the delicate carvings on the wooden box laying on his lap, following the swirling ridges carved on its surface with the gentlest of touches.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, her voice a low growl. “Who the devil do they think they are?”

“Winners,” Cornelius chuckled drily as his face shifted once more, this time settling on the features of a grizzled sea captain, complete with a weathered brow and a scar slashing through one eyebrow. “They think they are winners,” his face morphed into that of a young scholar, with round glasses perched on his nose. “No, they are winners.”

Ophelia turned to face him, her eyes blazing with the same intensity that had gripped her since her personal bidding war against Booth 3. “Whoever they are,” she said, lips curling into a cold smile, “they might be worth the trouble, no?”

Cornelius’s face morphed once more, this time into that of a cunning merchant, complete with a thin moustache and a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “Only one way to find out, dear sister,” he said, his voice now a honeyed whisper. “We’ll see how they do, if they are to be our customers they must be worthy.”

He tapped the wooden box lightly, filling the silence between them with the dull sound.

“You mean rich enough?” Ophelia broke the silence with a smirk.

Cornelius smiled back at her. “Yes, I mean worthy.” Then he winked.

Ophelia let out a breath and took a seat next to her brother. “Let us see how deep their pockets go.”

Cornelius’ smile widened and his face changed, this time into a young child with a cherubic grin. “I’m quite curious myself.”

The auctioneer’s voice boomed through the hall, drawing everyone’s attention back to the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, feast your eyes on our next treasure—Sky Turtle Scales!”

A glass case covered in a black curtain was wheeled into the centre of the stage and an attendant swept it aside. Within, lay several prismatic scales that shimmered like liquid silver. The scales were feather-light and as thin as paper. Their gleam caught the light just right, reflecting a kaleidoscope of colours.

“These scales,” the auctioneer carried on, unperturbed by the light show behind her, “are from a Sky Turtle, a legendary creature of the South Blue. Rare, durable, and extraordinarily valuable, they are sought after by collectors and craftsmen alike! Starting bid—forty million berries!”

A murmur of excitement rippled through the room, and for a moment, all was silent. Then, a voice rang out from Booth 5. “Forty-five million!”

Ophelia’s eyes flicked to her brother. “Are they worth it?” she asked, her voice sceptical.

“The scales? Or Booth 5?”

Ophelia rolled her eyes, “Booth 5 of course.”

“Well, I’m not sure. Booth 3 is still the second highest Booth apart from our own and the royals of course.” Cornelius pursed his lips in thought as he gazed at the royal crest that hung over Booth 1.

“Why not just sell it to the royal?”

Cornelius turned to look at her as his face morphed into the gentle, kindly features of an old man with a grandfatherly smile. “Why do you think?”

Ophelia shrugged, listening with half an ear as she watched the bidding for the sky turtle scales steadily climb.

“Because they could simply take it by force,” he stated, voice grave.

Ophelia nodded, she knew this. “Always pick your customer, don’t let your customer pick you.”

“And pick one with more money than power,” Cornelius finished. “The rough rules we must abide by.”

“I know, I know, no need to remind me.”

Cornelius’ face flickered yet again, settling into the sharp, hawkish features of a seasoned detective, his eyes gleaming with intrigue. “Which do you think it is? In Booth 3?” he mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “They probably have more money than power right?”

“Yes,” Ophelia drawled out, “and less power than us.”

“Safe, but we’ll have to make sure to monitor them. Just to be sure.”

Ophelia sighed, “I‘m aware, You know how much I hate doing this right?”

“Yes, but you know as well as I do, that it’s the only reason they decided to keep us as partners.”

Ophelia closed her eyes and opened her mouth wide, delicate lips parting as the tip of a slender leg emerged. It was glossy and black like polished obsidian. The leg was followed by the body of a spider. Its size, only that of a closed fist. It paused briefly on her lower lip, almost as if looking around the room before skittering across her smooth chin and dropping on the table in front of them.

Cornelius swallowed, his face turning green as bile pushed its way up his throat, he forced it down and made sure to keep his face as expressionless as possible. It was, as always, disgusting to watch his sister use the power of her devil fruit. The Bug-Bug Fruit: Mouth Model (虫虫の実 モデル: 口).

Ophelia reached for the glass beside her spider. It scuttled toward the edge of the table and dropped to the ground. They both followed it with their eyes as Ophelia took a dainty sip from her glass, and watched in silence as the spider climbed up the curtain. She then closed her eyes, using her powers to peer through its many eyes.

She saw the fractured, mosaic vision of the room—multiple perspectives merging into one. The fine hairs that covered its body quivered, allowing her to notice even the slightest whisper of movement in the air. She felt the spider's limbs as if they were her own, felt the coolness of curtains beneath its tiny feet, and the loud bang of the auctioneer's gavel.

“Sold! To Booth 5 for one hundred and fifty million berries!”

The sounds broke her out of her out-of-body experience, and she opened her eyes. Cornelius was still staring at the spider that was hanging from the curtains.

“Are you going to get it to move? We don’t want it to be seen.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she closed her eyes once more and flexed her power,‘Trail the mark,’ she sent, and it slipped away.

“Done,” she opened her eyes and fixed her focus on the next item that was brought out. A jellyfish.

“Good, we’ll find the perfect moment to contact them later then. If they are worthy."

"Yes, yes, stop bringing up our family motto already."

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Cornelius smiled–and stared in the direction of Booth 3. "For the worthy, we provide."

____________________________________________________________________________

The tension in Karl’s shoulders eased as he adjusted his posture and fixed his eyes on the stage down below. The auctioneer led the bidding for the next few items, and Karl let them pass without much interest, though they fetched sums that could buy an entire island.

First came the scales of a Sky Turtle, shimmering in the spotlight, then a Bubble Jellyfish floating gracefully in a tank. After that, the lights in the auction were dimmed as a large thousand year old bioluminescent coral was rolled in.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the coral was finally sold, and the lights were toned back up. A small velvet pillow was brought out, bearing what he had been waiting for all this time, the seastone bullet.

“This, is no simple bullet,” the auctioneer walked up to the table where the pillow had been set. She then picked up the bullet and held it up so the crowd could see it more clearly. “This,” she continued, “is a seastone bullet. Made of one-hundred percent pure seastone, it is capable of harming–if not outright killing–devil fruit users. It is even able to harm Logia fruit users. “ The auctioneer finished her spiel by gently returning the bullet to the pillow and walking back up to the podium.

“Suitable for all who wish to have a trump card to fall back on. The starting bid is sixty million Berries!”

Karl leaned forward in his seat, as the room buzzed with murmurs, those below whispering amongst themselves, weighing the worth of the item. His eyes narrowed as he watched the crowd hesitate. They were fools, the lot of them. No one here truly understood the real power that bullet held. Sure, they saw it as a rare weapon, a novelty to add to their collections, but to Karl, it was so much more—it was the key to levelling the playing field against some of the most dangerous individuals in the world. Devil fruit users.

He knew of them from One Piece, but he had never actually met one. Had he not remembered his past life, he would be like those ignorant fools down below, he shivered as he pictured the terror that Logia users could unleash. Men and women who could transform into fire, ice, or even lightning, their bodies intangible, untouchable. Conventional weapons were useless against them, passing right through their elemental forms. The only things that could harm them was Haki or seastone, and here it was—a bullet made of the purest form of the latter.

The bidding started slow, the crowd unsure of its worth.

“Sixty-five million!”

“Seventy million!”

Karl leaned back, as the bids crept higher. He knew that the real players, the ones who understood the potential of the seastone bullet, were holding back, waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Eighty million!” A woman in a sleek black dress raised her paddle, her voice cool and steady.

“Ninety million!”

A man in an elaborate white coat, dripping in gold jewellery, called out his bid. This was just the beginning; soon the room would be a feeding frenzy.

“One hundred million!”

The voices overlapped, the bids surging higher as those who understood the bullets' real worth revealed their hands. But Karl knew better than to join the fray now. He remained still, letting the others battle it out. The trick was to strike only when everyone else was weary and second-guessing their limits.

Then, just as the bidding stalled at one hundred and fifty million, no one willing to go higher, Karl made his move.

“Two hundred million Berries.”

His voice cut through the noise like a blade, and the entire room turned to look at Booth 3. He didn’t care about the attention. In fact, he welcomed it. Let them see the man willing to pay any price, the one who was here not to bargain but to take what he wanted.

A hush fell over the room. Even the auctioneer seemed momentarily stunned by the sudden leap in price, but quickly regained her composure. “Two hundred million! Do I hear two hundred and ten?”

Silence.

Nobody seemed to be willing to challenge Karl’s bid.

"Going once… going twice…" The auctioneer’s gavel hovered. But before she could call it, a mocking laugh echoed from the far side of the hall.

“Two hundred and fifty million,” a male voice drawled lazily from Booth 1.

The crowd gasped, and Karl paled, turning his head sharply to stare at the Booth, thoughts racing on how he should respond. What to do? Could he afford to anger a royal? He looked at the bullet once more, should he? It was tempting…The choice was between angering a royal now, or getting a trump card for later. For a time when it could be used to protect his family.

“Three hundred million!” he said, his voice steady, though internally the moment he said it, he winced, it wasn’t the smartest decision to go against the ruling family of the country he lived in.

The man–probably a prince–behind the drapes in Booth 1 did not respond, and the moment stretched on, Karl anxiously waiting to see what the royal would do.

“Five hundred million,” the royal finally said, his voice annoyed.

“Five hundred and fifty million,” Karl responded a moment later. If he was going to go against a royal, he would go all in. The bullet would be his.

The auctioneer, sensing the escalating tension, tried to regain control. “Five hundred and fifty million! Going once... going twice...”

“Six hundred million!”

The crowd held its breath, this was no longer just an auction—it was a showdown. Their eyes darted between the two booths, waiting to see who would flinch first. They could scarcely believe it, somebody had dared to go against the royal!

The auctioneer glanced nervously between both competing Booths. “Six hundred million going once…”

This could not go on for much longer, Karl knew, the longer the battle of wills went on, the greater the repercussions, the royal would not forget this slight, but he didn’t want the consequences of his actions to bite him back too early. Not before they left the capital. “One billion,” he finally said, raising the stakes even further.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, whispers of disbelief and curiosity as the bids soared to unprecedented heights.

“One billion… one hundred million,” said the voice from Booth 1, voice cracking slightly. But then it firmed. “I admire your spirit, commoner, but this game is now over. Go no further.”

“Going once…” The auctioneer’s voice was a whisper, almost drowned out by the crowd’s anticipation. She looked at Booth 3, her eyes pleading, as if urging him to bow out gracefully, to stop before he plunged too deep.

A hand clapped down on Karl’s shoulder, startling him. He turned to find himself face-to-face with Hugo, his lips curled in a knowing smirk.

“Quite the pickle you’ve landed yourself in, no? Damned if you do, damned if you don't.” Hugo shook his head, “the Imperial faction will make sure your name does not reach the royal’s ears before you leave the capital. All we ask is another favour.”

Karl gulped, thinking it over.

“Going twice…”

His jaw tightened, giving Hugo a curt nod. He was already past the point of no return. If he backed down now, this whole spectacle would have been for nothing.“Two billion,” he finally said. It was the absolute limit of what he was willing to spend, but this needed to end.

A stunned silence fell over the room. It was an astronomical sum. Who was the mysterious bidder in Booth 3? The crowd gazed at the burgundy drapes, as if hoping to pierce through them to see his figure.

The silence stretched on, and all eyes then turned back to Booth 1. Would the royal respond?

There was no response.

The auctioneer's voice cut through the tension, “Two billion going once… going twice…”

Still, there was no response.

Karl's heart hammered in his chest, each beat pounding in his ears. Would the battle continue?

“Sold!” The auctioneer’s gavel came down with a resounding crack. “To Booth 3 for two Billion Berries!”

He’d won. A cold sweat trickled down his back, had it been worth it?

“Remember, you owe us Imperials one favour.”

Hugo’s voice broke him from his spiralling thoughts, he turned back to Hugo. “Imperials? Imperial faction?”

Hugo chuckled, shaking his head and raised four fingers, “there are four main factions in our kingdom.” he lectured, and started counting them off. “The Imperials, the royals, the nobles and finally the merchants.”

“We Imperials,” he continued, “are a faction that has survived since the fall of our glorious empire,” there was a twinkle in his eye now as he stared at Karl, “our hope is to one day bring back the glory of the Briss.”

Hugo smiled, “and now, you owe us a favour.”

“What do you want?” Karl turned so he was fully facing Hugo.

“Nothing, for now. We’ll save this favour for another time."