Haruto was a writer.
He collected scraps of information about Secret Realm exploration from newspapers and spun them into wuxia-style adventure tales—vivid, immersive, the kind that drew readers into another world. He'd already made a bit of a name for himself long before Ryota was even born. In fact, his mother, Sakura, had once been one of his loyal fans.
Over eighteen years of living together, Ryota had never noticed anything unusual about his father. If anything, it was his mother whose brain seemed wired differently from normal people.
She could cook like a pro, but always had to "experiment." Like now—she was in the kitchen making fish stew with grapes. Ryota could practically hear her thought process: Beer makes fish stew smell great → wine smells even better → grapes must be the best.
But the most ordinary things often hide the most extraordinary truths.
It was the afternoon after college entrance exams ended. His father got a phone call, left in a hurry, and Ryota, who was home, noticed a pile of handwritten drafts scattered across his father's desk. He figured he'd tidy them up and maybe sneak a peek at what his dad was writing lately—maybe even give him a few creative ideas.
Instead, he found a letter.
It was short, written in Demon Script. Ryota, being a top student, managed to make out the general meaning:
"To Mr. ——, your years of infiltration have been hard work. The time is near. Please accelerate the completion of your mission."
Time? Mission? Ryota didn't know what that meant. But the use of Demon Script—something so rare—made one thing clear: his unremarkable father might actually belong to the Demon Clan.
Eighteen years of normal life instantly went to hell.
Report him? Impossible. Eighteen years of care, of comfort and stability—he couldn't just betray that.
Confront him? Two possible outcomes.
Haruto, cold and ruthless, kills him on the spot.
Or—Haruto laughs, booming: "You found out, huh? That's right, I'm a Demon! And you're my little demon cub! Come on, let's overthrow Tiger City together!"
Even though Ryota had never noticed anything abnormal about himself.
A dead-end either way.
He tossed and turned all night, realizing that no amount of studying could change his situation—and that he might not even live long enough to finish four years of college. He had to become a Secret Pattern Martial Artist. He had to gain power before things spiraled out of control, before anything happened.
So, despite everyone's confusion, Ryota signed up as a volunteer for Secret Realm Exploration.
He wasn't going in blind, though.
Late at night, lying under the covers, he let his consciousness sink deep into his mind—where a faintly glowing book hovered.
Or rather, a document.
"'Secret Realm Changes Destiny, Assistance Achieves Dreams' Plan."
In his previous life, Ryota had been a professional soccer player. Not a successful one, though.
He'd spent years chasing a dream he wasn't talented enough to reach, trapped in a rotten sports system that crushed ambition. Eventually, he burned out.
Then his team launched a public initiative: "Soccer Changes Destiny, Assistance Achieves Dreams." Ryota volunteered to teach soccer in a remote mountain town, hoping to pass his dream on to the next generation.
And honestly? Those months were the happiest of his life. Playing with those village kids, he rediscovered what soccer had once meant to him. But before those kids' lives could change, a landslide ended his own.
When he woke again—in this world—he had his memories… and that plan. Except now, the "soccer" had been replaced with "Secret Realms," and the ones receiving assistance weren't mountain kids anymore. It was him.
Maybe this is the universe thanking me for what I did? Ryota flipped open the first page.
[Beneficiary: Ryota]
[Secret Realm to be Conquered: Inactive]
[Assisting Realm: Pending Match]
[Project Vision: Locked]
The remaining pages wouldn't open.
Clearly, this "plan" would only activate once he entered a Secret Realm. Its function, he guessed, was for an advanced Secret Realm to somehow aid him in conquering a lower-level one. How exactly it worked, he didn't know yet.
"I'll find out tomorrow."
He'd already planned to enter a Secret Realm someday—to become a Secret Pattern Martial Artist—but only after college, once he'd learned more, maybe even become a Secret Realm Strategy Planner before taking the plunge.
But plans never survive reality.
Looks like I was destined to be an athlete after all.
---
The next day, at the subway station—
Sakura looked up at her son, reluctant to let him go. "Are you sure we shouldn't come with you? At least to the bullet train station?"
"It's fine." Haruto tugged his wife back gently. "The school bought the ticket, someone will pick him up. If we tag along, Ryota'll just get teased by his classmates. It's only the next city over."
"What's there to tease about?" Sakura grumbled. "You heartless man."
"C'mon, Mom. Gimme a hug." Ryota stepped forward and wrapped her up before she could start another round of guilt-tripping.
"Love you, Mom. I'll call as soon as my phone's allowed. Uh, Dad—train's here. I'm off."
He hugged Sakura tight one last time, nodded to his father, and left.
He absolutely couldn't let them send him off—because he wasn't going to the train station at all.
After a few subway stops, he got off and walked straight to the Secret Realm Explorer Service Center, where he checked in with his ID.
"Ryota…" The staff member glanced at his screen. "You've been assigned to explore Purple No. 605 Secret Realm. Follow me."
Purple-level. Just as he expected.
Over the centuries, people had categorized Secret Realms into six difficulty tiers. The higher the danger, the stronger the Secret Patterns one could obtain—but also, the greater the risk.
White: easy.
Blue: normal.
Purple: difficult.
Red: infernal.
Gold: legendary.
And beyond all that—Rainbow: immeasurable, nearly impossible to conquer.
Volunteers were never sent into the easy ones. Those with a 95% survival rate were basically luxury vacations.
Most were purple-tier, with about 60% survival. A few lucky ones got assigned blue-tier. The unluckiest? Red-tier.
And don't underestimate purple-tier just because it sits in the middle. Being ranked "difficult" meant war, plague, or monsters so powerful they could kill you with a flick of the wrist.
That 60% survival rate only existed because many people went in and barely explored, focusing purely on staying alive.
Soon, Ryota was led to a waiting room. Three people were already inside—a lively young man, a beautiful woman, and a rugged-looking older man. Probably his teammates for the mission.
They'd already been chatting, but when Ryota walked in, they all looked surprised.
"You're also in Purple 605?"
"So young! Are you even old enough to be here?"
"Face looks young, but I'm twenty-eight," Ryota lied smoothly, not even blinking.
"Bullshit," the older man snorted. "You look barely eighteen. What's a kid like you doing here? I'm forty-six, single, and broke. Got nothing left to lose, so I'm taking one last gamble."
Ryota looked at the other two curiously.
The man gestured toward them. "Kaito here's chasing a girl. Aihara's running from an arranged marriage to some rich guy."
"I haven't even graduated yet, and my mom's already forcing me to get engaged to her boss's son…" Aihara brushed her hair aside, her delicate face shadowed by melancholy. "Honestly, I regretted signing up the second I got accepted."
The older man sighed. "What about you, kid?"
Ryota paused for a beat, then sighed dramatically. "Same as you guys. Love troubles."
Family counts as love too.
The old man chuckled, Aihara rolled her eyes, but Kaito suddenly sat up straight. "Your childhood sweetheart got stolen by a Secret Pattern Martial Artist too? Bastards!"
Childhood sweetheart? The image of foul-mouthed, hot-tempered Aiko flashed in Ryota's mind, and he shuddered. "Uh… worse. Her dad's a Secret Pattern Martial Artist. Thinks I'm not good enough."
Kaito's face filled with sympathy. "These Martial Artists always looking down on us regular people! When I become one, I'll—"
Ryota quickly joined his rant to keep him from spiraling further, until a knock on the door interrupted them.
A man in uniform walked in—young, straight-backed, but with slightly messy hair.
"Ryota, Aihara, Kaito, Kirishima—you're all present, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"Follow me."
They left through the side door, boarded a large military transport vehicle, and took their seats.
The inside was spacious. The windows were sealed except for the front windshield, ventilation handled by some high-tech air system.
"The location of the entrance is classified," the officer explained. "Don't try peeking through the front. You've got more important things to do." He handed each of them a folder.
"You're headed to the Purple No. 605 Secret Realm. It's already been explored twice. These files contain classified information from both expeditions. The trip will take about two hours. Read through everything at least three times."
They're only giving this to us now?
Pretty strict. Guess they're preventing spies.
Oh… or people like Dad.
Makes sense.
Ryota opened the folder and started reading.
[Secret Realm Name: Marine Pirate]
[Difficulty: Purple - Difficult]
[Cycle Entry Limit: 100 Explorers]
[Realm Cycle Duration: Three months real time = roughly nine years inside; time recorded in Sea Circle Calendar, from 1515 to early 1524]
Secret Realms weren't called "worlds" for a reason.
Until explorers completed certain key objectives—essentially "clearing the stage"—a Secret Realm had no future. It simply looped through the same period of time again and again. Once it reached the end, it kicked everyone out and reset to its starting point.
It was like a slice of history cut out from a real world. The one Ryota was entering only had nine years of history—when the Sea Circle Calendar hit 1524, it'd reset to 1515, ready for the next round.
In real time? Just three months.
"Three months, huh? I can hide that from Mom. But… 'Sea Circle Calendar'?"
That sounds familiar…
He kept reading.
[Realm Background: This world consists mainly of oceans and islands. The vast seas have birthed a special profession—pirates. Thieves of the sea, raiders who live by plunder. And those who capture them are called Marines.
In Sea Circle Calendar 1498, the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger, was captured by the Marines and publicly executed…]
Slap! Ryota shut the folder instantly.
The sound drew everyone's eyes. He blinked rapidly, rubbing his eyes as if to make sure he wasn't seeing things, then slowly reopened the document.
[During his execution, Gol D. Roger declared the location of his treasure—fame, fortune, power… sparking the Great Pirate Era!]
"…"
Holy crap.
This isn't a dream.
I'm really about to enter One Piece.
I'm gonna be the man who becomes the Pirate King?!