Moren wandered around curiously for a while, poking at the drifting bubbles like any ordinary tourist and feeling their slightly cool touch against his fingertips.
Soon, his attention shifted to the dazzling array of shops lining both sides of the street.
Most of them were craft souvenir stores, clothing shops, or dessert houses.
He casually browsed a few of them, buying a brass compass with decent craftsmanship and characteristic Sabaody patterns, a bar of soap that supposedly produced colorful bubbles, and a beautifully packaged box of bubble gum.
Whether they actually worked well or tasted good didn’t matter much.
At the very least, they looked nice.
He treated them as part of the experience—and a souvenir.
After wandering around for a while longer, he stepped into an unremarkable antique shop with a sign that read “Old Times.”
The interior was dimly lit and packed with dusty old objects: rusty ship lanterns, worn nautical charts, strangely shaped statues, and stacks of yellowed books.
The air carried the scent of old wood mixed with a faint trace of mildew.
The shop owner was a skinny, balding old man wearing reading glasses.
When Moren entered, he was dozing behind the counter.
Moren didn’t disturb him and simply browsed around with interest.
Most of the items were cheap imitation antiques, though a few genuinely carried the weight of age.
Eventually, Moren’s gaze landed on a stone slab leaning beside a broken cabinet in the corner.
The slab was roughly the size of two stacked books.
Its edges were uneven, its surface grayish-white, unusually smooth and flat, without any carvings or inscriptions.
What made it stranger was that it looked both new and ancient at the same time.
It looked new because there were no obvious signs of weathering, erosion, peeling, or moss growth usually found on old stone relics.
Yet it also gave off an indescribable sense of silence and antiquity, as though it had endured an unimaginable passage of time.
All external damage seemed to have been smoothed away by some unknown force, leaving behind only an almost eternal state of existence.
There was also an extremely faint, cold aura lingering on its surface, something that felt as though it didn’t belong to this era at all.
Moren’s sharp senses immediately picked up on it.
“This thing…”
Moren’s heartbeat quickened slightly.
His collector’s soul grew restless.
The slab itself might be useless, but that unique feeling—as if countless years had been frozen within it—held an inexplicable attraction for him.
“Oh?
Interested in this ‘old relic slab,’ customer?” The old man had woken up at some point.
Squinting his eyes, he rubbed his hands together and walked over with the shrewd smile of a seasoned merchant.
“You’ve got a good eye!
This is the treasure of my entire shop!
According to my research, it’s at least five hundred years old and comes from some forgotten nation!”
“Just look at the texture, the aura…
I bought it last year from a declining noble family.
Their ancestors even produced explorers!”
The old man rambled enthusiastically as though he were introducing a priceless treasure.
“So I won’t waste more words.
One price only—five million Berry!”
Moren curled his lips in disdain.
He flicked the edge of the slab with his finger, producing a crisp sound.
“Boss, if you’re going to scam someone, at least make it believable.
Five hundred years?
I’d say even one year is pushing it.”
“If this thing had really been buried underground or tossed around near the sea for centuries, exposed to the wind and rain, would it still look like this?”
“Tch.
There’re not even any decent wear or natural erosion marks.
This is obviously just a treated modern stone slab.”
Moren’s perception was unusually sharp, allowing him to sense the slab’s abnormality.
But others—like the shopkeeper—clearly couldn’t.
The old man’s smile stiffened.
He obviously hadn’t expected this young customer to know what he was talking about.
The truth was, he had picked the thing up from a remote bubble coast in the south.
Since it looked unusual, he’d brought it back and kept it around as a shop gimmick.
Unexpectedly, someone was actually interested in it today.
“Ahem…
Customer, that’s a bit harsh.
Some antiques are preserved quite well…” the old man tried to argue.
“Enough, boss.” Moren interrupted him and casually weighed the slab in his hands.
“At least it’d make a decent decoration.
Five million is impossible.
Fifty thousand Berry.
Take it or leave it.
Otherwise, I’m walking away.
I still need to buy a ship ticket.”
He pretended to put the slab down.
“Fifty thousand?!” The old man nearly jumped in shock.
That was an insane cut!
Still, he knew perfectly well that the slab was just a useless rock taking up space.
It had been sitting there for over a year without attracting a second customer.
“No way!
Two hundred—no, one hundred and fifty thousand!
I can’t go any lower than that!”
After a blunt round of haggling, Moren finally bought the “ancient” stone slab, an oddly shaped old copper pot, and two damaged handwritten manuscripts containing folk tales from some sea region for a total of eighty thousand Berry.
After paying and leaving the shop, Moren immediately stored the slab inside his Collector’s Compendium.
Looking at the text displayed behind the sticker—
[A Stone Slab Condensed with History and Time — Status: Damaged / Incomplete]
—Moren silently nodded to himself.
His instincts had indeed been correct.
Outside the shop, dreamlike bubbles continued rising into the sky while children’s laughter echoed through the streets.
Yet amidst this fairy tale-like scenery, a completely different scene suddenly entered Moren’s sight, crushing the dreamlike bubble in an instant.
Across the street stood a fat middle-aged woman dressed in a flashy velvet dress, her face plastered with layers of heavy makeup.
One hand rested on her waist while the other swung a short leather whip studded with tiny gemstones.
The whip cracked sharply through the air before lashing down onto a huddled figure on the ground.
It was a gaunt man wearing ragged clothes.
His exposed skin was covered with overlapping old and fresh whip marks.
The beating left his entire body trembling, but he didn’t dare scream.
He could only suppress his painful whimpers like a wounded stray dog.
The fat woman’s face showed no trace of pity—only drunken irritation, twisted irritation, and a sick sense of satisfaction.
“Useless trash!
Why are you walking so slowly?!
You dirtied my new dress!”
Another lash came down.
Most passersby hurried past without even looking, as though nothing had happened.
A few stopped to watch, but their expressions showed neither anger nor sympathy—only the numb indifference of people long used to such scenes.
Some even watched with amusement, as though enjoying an ordinary street performance.
This was the Sabaody Archipelago.
Above the bubbles lay a fairy tale.
Below the bubbles lay naked slavery and cruelty, silently accepted by all.
Watching the scene before him, Moren unconsciously clenched his fists.
A wave of nausea hit him, followed by surging rage.
“Damn it…
this pisses me off.”
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