"But... brother-in-law? Do I even have a brother-in-law?"
Violet froze as she scanned the note, which described a short-legged toy soldier.
Suddenly, a flash of realization crossed her mind.
"Damn it! It's Sugar's Childlike Fruit ability!"
Her memories were fragmented—she had no recollection of any brother-in-law, as if he had never existed.
She always knew her sister was married, but she had never once thought about who the husband was.
The Childlike Fruit was terrifying—erasing not only a person's body but their entire existence from others' memories.
Even now, Violet couldn't remember her brother-in-law's name—only that he had been turned into a toy soldier by Sugar.
"It doesn't matter. Once I defeat Doflamingo, all your memories will return," Lynch reassured her.
—
The day passed quickly.
By nightfall, Violet returned with her father, King Riku, her niece Rebecca, and the one-legged toy soldier—her brother-in-law.
"Your Excellency Lynch, if you can help restore the honor of the Riku family... you will forever be our kingdom's greatest benefactor."
Clad in armor and a steel helmet, King Riku stepped forward.
Without hesitation, he dropped to one knee before Lynch.
"This old man's life... from now on, is at your service!"
Since Doflamingo seized the throne, the Riku royal family had fallen from grace, their once-beloved name now synonymous with disgrace.
The very people who once adored King Riku had been deceived, manipulated into seeing him as a traitor.
Now, he couldn't even walk the streets without wearing a mask to hide his identity.
His survival—his very life—was bought at the cost of his second daughter, who was forced to serve their greatest enemy.
Every time he thought about it—the suffering of his people, the lies they were fed, and his daughter sacrificing herself just to keep him alive—King Riku's heart twisted like a blade was piercing it.
Eight years.
Eight long, agonizing years spent in self-blame and regret.
If not for his desire to stay alive and one day avenge his kingdom, he might have ended his own life, just to spare his daughter the burden.
But eight years had passed, and revenge still seemed like a distant dream.
Just when all hope seemed lost, his daughter brought news beyond his wildest imagination—
A former Marine Admiral, now the King of West Blue, was willing to help.
This was their last chance, their only hope.
King Riku had to grasp it, even if it cost him his life.
—
"Old King, please get up. What are you doing?"
Before King Riku could fully kneel, Lynch stepped forward and pulled him up.
"You don't have to do this," Lynch said calmly. "I promised to help you, and I don't go back on my word."
"I know... I know... Thank you."
King Riku steadied himself as Lynch helped him up, but his hands trembled slightly as he gripped Lynch's arm.
"I'm sorry. I'm old... I didn't expect to feel this emotional."
For someone who had been trapped in despair for eight years, having hope suddenly shine through felt almost unreal—like a dream.
A man drowning in darkness, only to be pulled back into the light.
—
Lynch's gaze shifted.
"You... Are you Cyrus?"
The one-legged toy soldier following the group froze.
This man was no ordinary soldier—Cyrus was a warrior.
Eight years ago, he cut off his own leg to save his father-in-law and nearly beheaded Doflamingo in battle.
If he were in the Marines, he'd have been a Vice Admiral at the very least.
"You... actually remember me?"
Cyrus' voice trembled with shock.
Ever since his wife's death, he had buried his emotions, living only to protect his daughter from the shadows.
But now—
Now, his heart stirred.
Because ever since he was turned into a toy by the Childlike Fruit, the entire world had forgotten him.
Eight years.
For eight long years, Lynch was the first person to call his name.
"...Is this your power?" Cyrus unconsciously used an honorific, showing his respect.
The others, hearing the name Cyrus, showed little reaction.
Because in their memories, Cyrus never existed.
"You never told the little girl who you really are?" Lynch glanced at Rebecca, who looked both excited and nervous.
"It's better this way," Cyrus replied. "Spare her the pain. Once Doflamingo is defeated, everything will be fine."
Lynch suddenly gave Cyrus a strange look.
"...Who taught this little girl to dress like that?"
Rebecca's face turned bright red.
She normally only wore this outfit during training—never in front of others.
But today, she had mustered the courage to wear it because she knew they were going to fight Doflamingo.
Rebecca had inherited her mother's beauty—delicate features, fair skin, and striking pink hair tied into a braid that flowed down her back.
But her outfit…
A golden chest piece, barely covering the essentials, mimicking chainmail underwear.
Golden boots wrapped tightly from her feet to her calves.
A Roman-style gold helmet atop her head, with a green cape draped behind her.
A sword in her left hand, a round shield in her right.
No father would choose such an outfit for his daughter.
It was a bit… too much.
Lynch's gaze lingered.
Rebecca, now burning with embarrassment, quickly hid behind Violet, wrapping her cloak tightly around herself.
"My lord, I'm sorry… I must have made you laugh," Cyrus said, his voice filled with shame. "I never wanted her to dress like this… but it's the only way she can fully wield the 'Backwater Sword Dance.'"
The one-legged soldier looked as if he wanted to crawl into a hole.
He knew it was his own failure—if he had been strong enough, Rebecca would never have needed to take up the sword.
He had no choice.
If a man performed this sword style, he would be shirtless—so for a girl, this was simply the female equivalent.
It wasn't ideal, but he thought that if he died, at least Rebecca would be able to protect herself.
She had wanted to learn it—insisted on it.
If she had shown even a hint of hesitation, he would have taught her a weaker style instead.
Fortunately, as a toy, Cyrus couldn't blush.
Otherwise, this upright and tough warrior would have been red-faced, struggling to explain himself.
"So that's why," Lynch muttered.
Back when he first saw Rebecca dressed like that, he had wondered how she could possibly fight in such an outfit.
Even the broadcast sensors nearly didn't let it pass.
No matter how he looked at it, it just didn't seem normal.
.
.
TO BE CONTINUED
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