The ruler finished his final speech with a solemn voice, heavy with the weight of the years he had spent upon the throne, and dignified by the trials that had carried him and his people to this moment. Silence filled the grand hall for a few breaths, as though everyone held back the air in their lungs, waiting for what would come next. Then the royal procession began to move, slow and deliberate, toward the throne platform.
The crown prince appeared, his steps confident, his face bearing both majesty and awe. He wore a regal robe embroidered with golden threads, its long train trailing behind him across the red carpet that stretched up to the throne. In that instant, it seemed as though every light in the hall had gathered to shine upon him alone.
The High Priest approached, holding the ancient crown of rulership in both hands—a crown encrusted with gems of shifting colors, as if each stone carried the story of centuries of power and dominion. He raised it high before the gathered crowd, and cheers and applause erupted from every corner of the square. Then, with slow and deliberate grace, he placed the crown upon the prince's head, sealing the ceremonial transfer of authority.
The moment the crown settled, the hall quaked with shouts of jubilation and blessings. Applause thundered until the very pillars shook. Trumpets sounded their triumphant melody, and the voices of the multitude rose together in waves of joy and loyalty, crashing like a storm-tossed sea.
Amidst this splendor, Ace—for a fleeting moment—forgot the heaviness pressing upon his heart. He was overwhelmed by a wonder he had never felt before. The scene unfolded like a painting from legend: gleaming colors, resplendent robes, banners raised high, and the chorus of voices blending into a grand symphony of celebration. Without realizing it, he slipped the folded paper into his pocket and forgot about it entirely.
And yet, despite the magnificence, Ace could not shake a gnawing sense of boredom. Everything around him seemed rehearsed, overly polished: repeated phrases, identical faces, children his age sitting stiff and rigid, imitating their parents as if they had been born old before their time. To him, it felt less like history and more like an endless play.
He sighed in frustration and let his imagination wander.
If only Luffy were here… Surely, he would have leapt onto the platform without a second thought, shouting at the top of his lungs, "I'm the king now!"—and then devoured the entire celebratory cake before anyone noticed.
As for Sabo, Ace could almost see the sly, quiet smile forming on his face, followed by some elaborate prank that would leave the whole procession upside down.
The thought made Ace smile faintly, cherishing the chaos that felt more like home than this suffocating order. It was a genuine smile—but it faded quickly as reality closed back in.
He sank into the wooden chair reserved for him, resting his chin on his hand and staring into nothing. Weariness dragged down his eyelids, spreading through his small body like a chill, until he found himself yawning for the third time—long, heavy breaths slipping out between applause and cheers that had long ceased to mean anything.
And then, as always, a reckless idea sparked in his mind.
What if I slipped into the castle right now? There must be a grand library somewhere, full of books that could explain this strange world. And with everyone here at the ceremony, the corridors would be empty…
But there was the problem of the old woman seated beside him—his new grandmother in this world. Her gentle, watchful eyes never left him, as though she could read his very thoughts.
Ace hated overthinking. He always did whatever came to mind without wasting a single second in useless hesitation. So he bowed his head slightly, then rose to his feet and muttered with feigned unease:
"Grandmother… may I go for a moment? I think I need… the restroom."
She blinked in surprise, then smiled kindly and patted his shoulder.
"Of course, dear. Just don't be long, Ace."
He nodded, hiding a mischievous grin, and began to walk away slowly, as though nothing were out of the ordinary. But once he had slipped past the back rows of guests, his steps turned into a light jog. He darted between carved columns and stone statues adorning the gardens, moving like a shadow.
The castle's main entrance swarmed with servants carrying platters and arranging banquet tables, so his only choice was the back path. With nimble ease, he slipped through flower-lined corridors until he reached a quiet corner away from the noise. There, a tall white marble wall stood, its center broken by a massive wooden gate left half open. Beyond it, a dim passage stretched into the castle's depths.
Ace paused, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching. He exhaled in relief.
Perfect. My adventure starts here.
With quick, light steps, he slipped through the back gate, leaving behind the clamorous festivities and venturing into the unknown—where he might find answers… or more trouble.
He prowled through the castle's corridors like a wild creature hunting prey, his eyes darting to every side as he scanned each doorway. He lingered briefly at every room, studying the plaques and carvings beside them, hoping for one word to save him: Library. But no such word appeared—only names of halls, wings, and symbols that meant nothing to him.
With each step, the true enormity of the castle revealed itself: endless hallways, towering columns, branching stairways, and doors without number. It was a labyrinth, reminding him that here he was nothing more than a small child lost in a world far too vast.
Weariness began to creep into his legs, his breath growing ragged with a mixture of complaint and irritation. He kicked at the edge of a luxurious carpet and muttered:
"Damn them! Who builds something this huge? Don't they think a kid might one day have to sneak around looking for a library? Idiots… with their stupid ideas…"
He stopped, bracing his hands on his knees as he caught his breath, then lifted his gaze toward a massive staircase that split into the second floor. He sighed in despair, clenched his fists, and forced himself upward, one heavy step at a time.
At the top, the air was different. Servants moved busily about, carrying fabrics and trays, whispering to one another.
Ace froze.
What if they ignore me? Or worse—throw me out?
Then he remembered what he had begun to understand: here, his status wasn't ordinary. They might even call him "young master."
Straightening his back, he summoned a look of confidence and called out:
"Hey, you there!"
He half-expected to be ignored, as always happened with children. Instead, one of the maids stopped abruptly, her eyes widening. She hurried toward him and bowed politely, smiling.
"Good day, young master. How may I serve you?"
Ace hesitated briefly, then forced a gentle, innocent smile.
"Actually… I was just looking for the restroom."
The girl nodded immediately, as though she had been waiting for such a request.
"Of course, young master. I can show you the way."
But Ace had no intention of going directly. His plan crystallized in that moment. He yawned, feigning boredom.
"Ah… but the problem is, I'll get bored on the way. Nothing to do while… you know."
The maid tilted her head in slight confusion, then asked softly:
"Bored, young master? What could interest you instead?"
Ace's lips curved in a sly grin, though he tried to keep it casual.
"Books. Yeah, I like reading something fun. Isn't there a library in the castle? I mean… if I passed by it on the way to the restroom, I could just grab a book to kill time."
For a moment, surprise flickered on the maid's face. Then she smiled, relieved.
"Why yes, there is a library—a very grand one, in fact. It's on the eastern side of the second floor. If you like, I can take you there first."
A thrill shot through Ace, though he masked it with calm composure.
"That sounds perfect. Lead the way, then."
They walked side by side, the maid holding his hand gently to guide him through the maze of corridors. With each step, however, Ace became increasingly aware of something strange—his height.
He remembered well how, at ten years old in his former world, he had reached at least an adult's waist, sometimes even higher. But here, whenever he stood beside his grandmother or any adult, he barely came up to their knees.
He glanced up at the maid walking beside him, her slim frame towering over him. The difference was clearer than ever. He frowned slightly and muttered to himself:
That means… I'm much younger here. Maybe six… seven… eight at most.
The thought weighed on him. Being younger didn't just mean losing years of growth and strength—it meant that, no matter what he did, others might never take him seriously. He clenched his small fist in silent frustration, then exhaled slowly, forcing calm.
The maid looked down at him kindly, unaware of the storm brewing in his mind.
"Are you all right, young master? You seem distracted."
Ace smiled faintly, hiding his unease behind a soft tone.
"I'm fine. Just thinking."
They continued on in silence, but deep down, Ace felt surer than ever: this world was keeping secrets from him. Even his very age wasn't truly his own.
At last, the maid gestured ahead.
"This is the castle library, young master. The restroom is just a few steps farther—then a right turn."
"Thank you. You can go back to your duties now," Ace said with a polite nod.
She curtsied and withdrew, her footsteps fading into the corridors. Ace turned toward the towering wooden doors before him, carved with intricate patterns of birds and trees as though guardians of ancient secrets.
He pushed them open slowly, the hinges groaning with a deep echo that lingered down the hall. A wave of scent rushed out to meet him—aged paper and dry ink, the fragrance of centuries bound into silence.
His eyes widened with childlike wonder. Before him stretched a vast chamber, walls entirely lined with towering shelves overflowing with books. Some bound in ornate leather, others worn and frayed from countless hands. Golden lamps hung from the high ceiling, their warm glow glinting off the covers like hidden treasures.
A dizziness came over him—not from fatigue, but from awe.
Where do I even start?
He scowled in frustration, brushing his fingers over unfamiliar titles. As always, he disliked thinking too much, so he rushed to a random shelf and yanked out the first book.
He read aloud under his breath:
"Marine Life of the Southern Seas."
He groaned.
"Great… fish. Just what I needed. I want history, not seafood."
Book after book piled up at his feet, each more useless to him than the last:
"The Art of Royal Architecture."
"Medicinal Herbs."
"Manuscripts of the Early Poets."
Soon, a small mountain of discarded tomes surrounded him. He dropped to his knees, panting slightly, then smirked.
"Well… at least I can make a servant put all this back. Easy life, huh?"
But the ease quickly gave way to exhaustion. An hour and a half passed before he finally stumbled upon a massive tome, so heavy it strained his small arms. He hefted it carefully, staring at the title etched into the aged leather:
"The History of Atlantis."
He froze.
The name struck him like a heavy bell—Atlantis. He had heard it before. The king… his grandfather… had mentioned it.
Ace's heart skipped, his expression turning tense.
Is that the name of this world? Or is Atlantis… something far greater?
He glanced at the thick tome, its pages numbering surely over a thousand. He groaned, flipping the first page reluctantly.
"No way… reading all this will bore me to death."
And yet, deep inside, he knew that hidden within these pages lay something vital—the beginning of the truth behind why he was here.