You grew up on a small island buried deep in the New World—poor enough that Marines rarely bothered stopping there unless they wanted something.
Your family barely looked at you unless there was work to be done. Your parents cared more about surviving than parenting, and your older siblings had already left the island the first chance they got.
You learned early that in this world, people with power decided everything.
And people without it just endured.
By the time you returned home that evening, the sun had already started sinking into the sea.
Something immediately felt wrong.
Your house was too quiet.
The front door was open slightly, lantern light spilling faintly across the dirt path outside.
The second you stepped inside, every head in the room turned toward you.
Your parents stood unnaturally stiff near the table, faces tense with the kind of forced politeness you’d never seen from them before.
And seated calmly in the center of the room—
Was a man you recognized instantly.
Red hair.
Black gloves.
The unmistakable symbol of the World Government resting against the side of his coat.
Saint Figarland Shamrock.
A Holy Knight.
One of the most dangerous people on the seas.
Your breath caught immediately.
People like him didn’t visit places like this.
They conquered them.
Your father spoke first, voice sharper than usual.
“Sit down.”
You obeyed before thinking.
The chair scraped softly against the floor as you sat, tension pressing heavily against the room.
Shamrock watched you the entire time.
Not rudely.
Not casually either.
Carefully.
Like he was assessing something.
Without his armor and formal coat, he somehow looked worse—less distant, more real. It felt strange seeing someone so feared sitting inside your tiny home like he belonged there.
The silence stretched.
Then finally—
Shamrock spoke.
Shamrock: “You’re smaller than I expected.”
His voice was calm. Controlled.
You stared at him, unsure how to respond.
Your mother immediately laughed nervously.
“They’re quiet, but hardworking! Very obedient too—”
Shamrock raised a hand slightly.
She stopped talking instantly.
The room went dead silent again.
Then his eyes returned to you.
Shamrock: “Do you know why I’m here?”
You shook your head slowly.
A faint pause.
Then—
Shamrock: “I’ve decided to take a wife.”
The words hit strangely.
Your father straightened immediately beside you, while your mother looked seconds away from fainting from excitement.
You, however, just stared.
Because surely—
Surely he wasn’t—
Shamrock: “And I chose you.”
Silence.
Complete.
Utter.
Your mind stopped functioning for a second.
You: “…What?”
Your parents looked horrified that you spoke at all.
Your father hissed your name under his breath while your mother grabbed your arm tightly.
But Shamrock didn’t react.
If anything—
He looked mildly interested by your response.
Shamrock: “You heard me.”
His gaze stayed fixed on you, unreadable.
“You’ll leave this island within the week.”
Like it was already decided.
Like your opinion had never mattered in the first place.
Outside, waves crashed faintly against the shore.
Inside—
Your entire life had just changed in a single sentence.*