Chapter 3: The World’s Greatest Secret

The thud-thud-THUD of the Emperor Engine roared in Sige’s ears. His own heartbeat—amplified and weaponized—now drowned out all other sound in the tavern.

Will this really fool the Red-Hair Pirates?

Sweat slicked his palms. Across the room, First Mate Benn Beckman’s razor-sharp gaze locked onto him. The man’s eyes felt like twin blades pressed to Sige’s throat.

He’s the smartest on the crew… If he sees through me—

Their eyes met.

Beckman’s stare intensified. Sige’s breath hitched.

Don’t look away. Don’t blink. Don’t…

Every instinct screamed to flee, but Sige forced himself to hold the gaze. His nails dug bloody crescents into his palms, pain anchoring his act.

Emperor Engine thundered louder.

To the pirates, the sound crescendoed into a war drum’s frenzy. The air thickened, pressing down like a suffocating blanket.

Benn Beckman’s cigar trembled. Mangrove sap dripped from its tip, forgotten.

What Devil Fruit is this? His mind raced. East Blue’s weakest sea… Why does this man radiate more menace than an Admiral?!

Sweat beaded on Beckman’s nape. Out the corner of his eye, he noted his crewmates: Yasopp white-knuckling his rifle, Lucky Roo’s meat roll abandoned, even Shanks’ smile long gone. The Emperor Engine’s resonance gripped them all.

Not just me. They feel it too.

The bandit before them seemed to grow in stature—a colossus of shadow and dread, heartbeat shaking the floorboards.

Who… what is this man?

───

Inside Sige’s mind:

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I’m gonna die I’m gonna die I’m gonna—

A lifeline came.

“You… know me?” Shanks’ voice sliced the tension.

Sige’s soul wept with relief. Breaking eye contact with Beckman, he turned stiffly to face the Yonko.

Maintaining KING’s icy façade, he let his gaze drift to his ale mug. Don’t stare. Don’t trigger Round Two.

“Red-Haired Shanks.” Sige’s borrowed voice rumbled, its bass vibrating glassware. “Of course I know you.”

He paused, letting KING’s subtle smirk surface.

What would a legend say? Think! Think!

A memory sparked—Roger’s straw hat. Plot armor activate!

“Who could’ve guessed…” Sige drawled, tone laced with world-weary nostalgia, “…that Roger would bequeath that hat… to a mere cabin boy?”

Silence.

Then—

Clatter! Yasopp’s rifle hit the floor. Beckman’s cigar followed.

Oh god, did I mispronounce “bequeath”? Sige screamed internally.

───

On the Red-Hair side:

Benn Beckman’s mind short-circuited.

The hat.

Roger’s hat.

The other hat.

Images flashed—a vault deep in Mary Geoise, its walls cradling a colossal straw hat older than the Void Century. A relic guarded by Celestial Dragons. A secret even Fleet Admirals feared to whisper.

Roger had worn its twin. Shanks now bore it. Why?

Only a handful in history knew this. The Government had erased all connections. Yet this mountain bandit…

Shanks’ knuckles whitened on Gryphon’s hilt. “How do you…?”

Sige shrugged—a motion KING’s aura transformed into tectonic shifting. “Tch. Predictable.”

He swirled his ale, avoiding eye contact. “Playacting pirates with trinkets from dead men. How quaint.”

Every word was Spoken with capital letters. Every syllable KING’s passive aggression dialed to eleven.

The Emperor Engine amped the psychological assault.

THUD! — How?!

THUD! — Does he know about the D.?

THUD! — Im’s secret? The Void Century?!

Beckman’s throat went desert-dry. This filthy bandit lord had just casually referenced the World Government’s deepest, most dangerous truth.

And yawned.

───

Sige sweated bullets under his new chiseled jawline. Did I overdo it?

Shanks stepped forward, Gryphon half-drawn. “Explain.”

NOPENOPENO—

“Explain?” Sige chuckled—KING’s version: a predator’s growl. “To you?”

He rose, chair screeching. The Red-Hairs flinched in unison.

Praying to every isekai god: Please don’t let them see my knees shaking.

“The game’s grown dull.” Sige turned toward the exit, cloak billowing (Bandit Lackey No. 3 had sneakily arranged it). “Come, men. Boring rodents aren’t worth our time.”

As he strode out, Beckman noted two details:

1. The ale mug Sige gripped now bore five fingerprint-shaped cracks.

2. The Emperor Engine’s tempo never faltered.

Power restraint? Beckman shuddered. If that grip had been on a neck…

Outside, Sige’s bandits whooped.

“Boss scared off a Yonko!!!”

“Mountain Bandit Era!!!”

Sige’s inner voice: NEVER AGAIN.

Meanwhile, in Mary Geoise…

A five-story straw hat pulsed faintly in the dark.