Year 1506.
Holy Land Mary Geoise.
Slave holding cells.
A boy lay sprawled across the icy stone floor, jolted awake by the hard slabs pressing into his back.
He instinctively raised a hand to rub his eyes—only to freeze.
Cold, heavy shackles encircled his wrists, the kind he'd only ever seen in ancient movies.
The boy went blank.
He stared at the cuffs locked around his hands, disbelief flooding his face.
"…What the hell is going on?"
He lifted his head and looked around.
Several children were scattered throughout the cell—boys and girls alike, none older than twelve or thirteen. They sat or lay in silence, motionless, as if stripped of the liveliness children their age were supposed to have.
Their one common trait was unmistakable.
Every single one of them wore shackles—on their hands and their feet.
The boy continued to observe his surroundings and realized they were inside a stone prison cell. Outside the bars stood several guards wearing masks and black suits.
And that was what truly confused him.
The children inside the cell looked like they belonged to some ancient era—their clothing crude, chains heavy and primitive. Yet the guards outside wore modern suits, immaculate and out of place.
The clash made his head reel, as if time itself had been twisted.
Then—
Something surged into his mind.
Information poured in violently, flooding his consciousness all at once. The sheer volume made it feel as though his brain were about to burst apart.
"Ahhh—!!"
The boy clutched his head and screamed.
Most of the children merely glanced at him coldly, then quietly shuffled farther away, distancing themselves before turning their attention elsewhere.
Only three girls remained focused on him.
They watched as he writhed on the floor, crying out in pain. They clearly wanted to help—but fear held them back.
Among the three was the smallest girl.
She had twin braids framing her cheeks, wore red clothing, and a white cloak draped over her shoulders. After hesitating for a moment, compassion overcame her fear.
She stepped forward.
The two older girls behind her grabbed her arm and shook their heads.
The small girl turned back and said softly, trying to reassure them:
"Big sisters, it's okay. He's like us—someone kidnapped by slavers. He won't hurt me. And we just arrived here. We don't know anything yet. If we help him, maybe we can learn more about this place… he might even become our ally."
The two girls were already terrified by their surroundings. Hearing that the boy might become a helper eventually, they reluctantly let go.
Even so, the girl was clearly scared.
She moved slowly toward the boy. Only after confirming he showed no signs of attacking did she cautiously ask:
"Are… are you okay?"
The boy gradually stopped thrashing. He lay on the floor, gasping for air.
What had flooded his mind moments ago were two sets of memories.
One belonged to his past life.
The other belonged to this body.
The torrent of memories had nearly torn his mind apart—but it also made everything clear.
He understood what had happened.
And why he was here.
He was a transmigrator.
In his previous life, his name had been Wang Li—a corporate slave trapped in a brutal 6-6-6 work schedule. His only hobby had been anime. After his company forced him into nonstop overtime for an entire month to meet deadlines, he died of sudden overwork.
And then, he arrived in this world.
A world of passion and blood.
The world of pirates.
But as he absorbed the memories of this body, Wang Li realized something horrifying—
This world was far darker than the anime he'd watched.
This body belonged to a thirteen-year-old boy named Chenos.
Because of his strikingly handsome appearance, he had been targeted by human traffickers, kidnapped, and sold to the Celestial Dragons as a slave.
A toy.
After becoming their plaything, he was subjected to endless abuse.
The most unbearable moment was when a Celestial Dragon personally branded him with the Hoof of the Soaring Dragon—a red-hot iron pressed directly onto his chest.
The pain alone had caused him to lose consciousness.
And that was only the beginning.
He was tortured repeatedly, treated as less than human. Eventually, the original Chenos could no longer endure it.
He died.
That was when Wang Li took over.
The boy lifted his head and looked at the pure-faced girl who had spoken to him. He weakly waved his hand, signaling that he was fine. His head still throbbed violently from the memory overload, so he didn't speak right away.
The girl flinched back instinctively, then relaxed when she realized he wasn't attacking.
She spoke again, gently:
"My name is Boa Hancock. I was also captured by slavers. Don't worry—I just wanted to check on you. What happened just now? Do you need help?"
Boa Hancock?
…Boa Hancock?
The future Pirate Empress?
Wang Li snapped his head up and stared at her.
The girl before him looked nothing like the peerlessly beautiful woman who would one day conquer the seas.
Could it just be the same name?
Then his gaze shifted to the two girls behind her.
One had green hair.
The other had yellow hair.
Their appearances matched the future images from the manga almost perfectly.
Only then did Wang Li realize—
The girl in front of him truly was the future Empress Hancock.
"I'm… Chenos," he said slowly. "Earlier, it was because the Celestial Dragons hurt my head. It suddenly started hurting really badly. I'm fine now."
When he almost spoke his old name, an overwhelming surge of rage and hatred erupted within him.
It didn't belong to Wang Li.
It belonged to the original Chenos.
And it wasn't directed at him.
It was aimed squarely at the Celestial Dragons.
The hatred roared inside his mind, as if the dead boy were screaming:
Kill the Celestial Dragons.
Avenge me!!!
After fully merging with those memories, Wang Li felt the pain and despair as if it had all happened to him personally.
He answered silently:
Don't worry. From now on, I'll live in your name. I'll avenge you.
I'll slaughter the Celestial Dragons.
At that moment, Hancock's cautious voice reached his ears.
"Chenos… are you really okay?"
She stared at him fearfully.
The hatred that had flashed through his eyes just now had terrified her.
Chenos closed his eyes, took a few steadying breaths, then opened them again.
"Thank you for your concern," he said softly. "I'm fine now…"
Just as he was about to say more, the prison door creaked open.
A man in a black suit wearing an owl-shaped mask stepped inside.
His voice was cold and emotionless.
"All of you. Follow me. You're going to Saint Charlos's palace."
The moment Chenos heard that name, his expression darkened instantly.
Hancock noticed the change and leaned toward him, whispering nervously:
"Your face suddenly looks terrible. Is that… Saint Charlos's palace really that scary?"
Chenos's face turned pale.
"Terrifying," he said quietly.
"You might… die."