The New World.
The Totto Land Kingdom—thirty-four islands of wildly distinct character, all ruled beneath the iron-and-sugar dominion of one of the Four Emperors: Charlotte Linlin.
At this moment, Gern Reginald Sigmar was sitting outside a dessert shop on Candy Island.
The island lived up to its name.
The air was thick—almost viscous—with sweetness. Caramel, cream, chocolate, fruit essences of every imaginable variety blended into a fragrance so rich it bordered on intoxicating.
With BIG MOM's tea party approaching, the entire island had transformed into a hyperactive confectionery super-factory.
Pastry chefs "invited" from around the world—many of them kidnapped outright—worked themselves to the bone. Flavor experiments ranged from safe classics like strawberry and vanilla…
…to creations that sounded borderline unhinged: Volcanic Lava Spicy, Deep-Sea Bubble Salt, and other culinary fever dreams.
And it wasn't just Candy Island.
Biscuit Island, Cheese Island, Fruit Island—every neighboring territory was locked in competitive overdrive, scrambling to satisfy the Queen's infamously tyrannical palate.
After all, everyone knew that when BIG MOM's eating disorder flared up, blood ties meant nothing. Her destructive rampage could rival ten Kaidos combined.
For Totto Land's residents—and even her own children—that was nightmare fuel.
...
On a street in Perorin Town, Gern sat at an outdoor table beneath a striped awning.
A simple sun hat shaded his face. In front of him sat a cup of hot cocoa; in his hand, a delicately sculpted piece of brittle candy. He sipped and nibbled at leisure, his gaze drifting quietly over the bustling locals.
Truthfully, he was surprised.
The people here did not wear the strained, hollow expressions of "dessert slaves" he had expected.
Instead, their faces glowed with a strange, sincere satisfaction—as if they truly believed they were crafting happiness itself.
Children rolled laughing in piles of candy.
Couples shared freshly baked gingerbread men, feeding each other pieces with flushed cheeks.
The entire scene felt like a promotional reel for some saccharine utopia.
"Totto Land's got something going for it…" Gern murmured, biting into the brittle.
He had only recently dug deeper into the inner mechanics of this kingdom.
You traded lifespan for protection and indulgence.
Every resident across the thirty-four islands surrendered part of their life twice a year—one month at a time.
And during the extraction, you forgot everything. The sensation. The loss. The memory.
What did you receive in return?
Protection under a Yonko-level banner. A safe harbor in the chaos of the New World. Food, housing, services—virtually free within Totto Land's borders.
And when BIG MOM's inevitable cravings spiraled out of control?
Her children would prioritize evacuating and shielding civilians, minimizing casualties where possible.
"Isn't this the ultimate dream retirement package?" Gern mused inwardly as he sipped his cocoa. "Food included. Housing included. Security included."
You traded an intangible "future" you could not feel for a tangible "present" you could enjoy.
You surrendered vague, abstract "time" in exchange for immediate safety and pleasure.
Was it cruel?
Hard to say.
Especially when compared to another system Gern remembered all too well…
In one version of reality, endless overtime devoured people's lives. Twelve-hour workdays accumulated invisibly—thirteen days' worth of waking time surrendered every month. One hundred fifty-six days a year. Over five months of life drained annually.
And you felt every second of it.
Exhaustion carved into your bones. Stress branded into memory.
In comparison, Totto Land's system had a clear price—forgotten upon payment—and offered immediate reward and safety.
The other system had a vague, creeping cost that accumulated endlessly, in exchange for soaring housing prices, emptied savings, and a body that might collapse without warning.
Which was more cruel?
Gern couldn't answer.
At least here, the residents wore genuine smiles.
Elsewhere, there was mostly anxiety, fatigue… and the quiet question:
What am I even living for?
"A utopia," he murmured softly. "All races living together in harmony."
And in that regard—
BIG MOM had succeeded.
Just as the thought settled, a long shadow stretched across his table.
A tall, thin man stood before him, dressed in a pale yellow coat and top hat. Most striking was the long crimson tongue hanging from his mouth to his chest—and the candy cane scepter resting in his hand.
The eldest son of BIG MOM.
The overseer of Candy Island.
The Minister of Candy—
Charlotte Perospero.
"Perorin~" Perospero's voice carried its usual sticky drawl. He tapped his candy cane lightly against the hardened sugar pavement with a crisp click, eyes glinting as they studied Gern.
"What an unexpected guest…"
His tongue slid across his lips.
"The famed 'Heavenquake'… enjoying sweets so leisurely on my Candy Island."
Gern sighed when he realized the game was up. He popped the remaining half of the brittle into his mouth, finished his cocoa in one slow swallow, then looked up.
"Alright. How'd you spot me?"
Being recognized on Sphinx Island by Marco was one thing.
But here, amid the chaos of Candy Island? He had considered his disguise subtle enough.
It wasn't as though Perospero's Observation Haki rivaled Enel's island-spanning mantra, was it?
Perospero's tongue flicked again, and he let out a smug little "Perorin~" laugh.
"Admiral Gern," he said smoothly, tapping his cane against the ground once more. "You may not fully understand Mama's Totto Land."
"Each island maintains a fixed resident population. Neighbors know one another. Faces are familiar."
"One extra person… or one missing person… stands out like an extra cherry on a cake."
His smile sharpened.
"After all, Mama's principle is simple."
He enunciated the final words carefully.
"'All who come are welcome… none who leave are permitted.'"
Beneath the sweetness lay suffocating population control. Any outsider stepping into Totto Land was noticed almost immediately.
A man like Gern—impossible to blend completely—was bound to be flagged.
"So…" Perospero's tone shifted. The levity drained away, replaced by wariness. His grip tightened subtly around the candy cane.
"Admiral Gern. The Navy's highest combat power. The current Supreme Commander of the New World Marines."
His eyes narrowed.
"You infiltrate Candy Island alone."
"For what purpose?"
The air seemed to solidify.
Even the surrounding cheerful clamor felt muted, as though someone had turned down the volume.
Perospero maintained composure, but the tension in his posture betrayed him.
No one underestimated the man who had personally ended the eras of Whitebeard and the Golden Lion.
Gern observed the micro-expressions, the tightened fingers.
He merely leaned back in his chair, which creaked faintly.
Then he raised his gaze and met Perospero's tense scrutiny with a smile so gentle it bordered on absurd.
"Relax, kid."
"I'm here to see your mother."
"…?"
Perospero's smile froze.
Disbelief splashed across his face.
Are you insane?
Is this some new form of provocation?
"See… my mother?"
Which mother?
In Totto Land, there was only one "Mama."
The Navy Admiral—"Heavenquake" Gern Reginald Sigmar—was openly declaring he wished to meet one of the Four Emperors.
Alone.
Was he—
Actually planning to solo BIG MOM?