"Then what about you, Mom?"
Law shook his head stubbornly. "The hospital can't hold out any longer. Aren't you and Dad coming with us tonight?"
"We can't, sweetheart. Your father and I are doctors — no matter what happens, we can't abandon all the patients still in the hospital."
His mother smiled gently. "Don't worry, you go first. Once things settle down here, Dad and Mom will find a way to leave the country and find you. Here, take this."
She pressed a small Den Den Mushi (transponder snail) into Law's hands. "Remember to keep it safe. We'll rely on this to contact you and Lami when the time comes. Until then, you must take good care of your sister."
"I will!"
Law nodded vigorously, no longer hesitating. He carefully tucked the snail away and dashed out, running home as fast as he could.
Watching her son's small figure disappear around the corner of the corridor, the female doctor slowly stood up and let out a long sigh.
Silly child...
There was something she hadn't told him.
The national borders were sealed tight — surrounded by barbed wire and guarded by heavy troops. For adults like her, even as medical personnel, there was no chance of being allowed to leave.
The only reason Law and Lami could go at all was because the nuns at the city church had spent hours pleading with the soldiers on the eastern side, until one compassionate officer — unable to bear it — granted permission for her to take a few of the children out.
This must be goodbye… forever.
Law, you must live on…
Taking one last reluctant look in the direction of home, the female doctor wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes, tightened her white coat, and hurried towards the operating room without looking back.
...
Aboard the Thunder Hawk.
At the bow, Onigumo sat leisurely on the railing, a cigar between his teeth and one leg crossed over the other. His long, crimson hair hung down like spider legs, two strands of it coiled around a richly dressed, rotund figure — King Roaland VI — who was being dunked up and down in the sea below.
"Let me go, you bastard! Glub glub—"
Before long, Roaland VI had swallowed half the ocean.
At first, he was furious, shouting curses with what strength he had left, but soon his voice weakened. After ten minutes, all that came from him were pitiful, breathless whimpers.
A few of his attendants stood nearby, clearly wanting to intervene — but when Onigumo turned around and flashed his sharp-toothed grin, they froze in terror and immediately backed away.
Moments later, when the sea below grew completely still, Onigumo casually retracted his hair and tossed the soaking wet king onto the deck.
"Cough, cough..." He coughed weakly.
"Now then," Onigumo said with a smirk, brushing off his hands as he loomed over him. "Still want compensation? Or maybe you'd like to ask our Vice Admiral for another 'explanation'?"
"N-no… no need…"
Roaland VI frantically waved his hands, eyes filled with panic — the arrogance from earlier completely gone.
"You sure about that?"
Onigumo raised an eyebrow.
"Y-yes, I'm sure! Absolutely sure!"
The fat king nodded over and over, instinctively scooting backward — only to bump right into someone standing behind him.
"Ah!"
Roaland VI let out another terrified yelp and scrambled away on all fours — realizing it was none other than Vice Admiral Nao who had just stepped out.
"All taken care of, sir," Onigumo said cheerfully, snuffing out his cigar. "He's nice and quiet now — shouldn't cause any more trouble for the next couple of days."
"Good."
Nao gave a brief nod, uninterested in the scene. He'd seen plenty of such displays over the years.
After casting one last glance at the drenched king, he turned to head back to the training room to resume the practice session that had been interrupted earlier.
However—
Just as his gaze passed over Roaland VI, something caught his attention.
His eyes narrowed slightly, fixing on the man's exposed chest.
During Onigumo's rough treatment, the king's outer coat had been lost to the sea, and several buttons of his shirt had popped off — revealing patches of white blotches spreading across his skin.
Noticing Nao's gaze, Roaland VI's expression shifted slightly. Almost instinctively, he turned his body halfway aside and hurriedly raised his trembling hands to button his shirt back up.
"What's wrong, Vice Admiral?"
Onigumo, sensing the sudden tension, was still confused when Nao had already crouched down. Under the king's terrified stare, Nao tore open the shirt with one quick motion.
White blotches—again, those same white blotches.
The man's flabby upper body was covered in them—his chest, arms, and neck all marred by the spreading white blotches. The sight was gruesome.
Nao's expression first showed some confusion, then quickly, as if realizing something, turned increasingly gloomy.
"You said earlier, which country's king are you again?"
Seeing Nao's face grow cold, Roaland VI swallowed hard and stammered, "F–Flevance..."… the Flevance Kingdom…"
"Flevance?"
Nao repeated the name under his breath, tasting the unfamiliar word—then, all at once, his face hardened. He seized the king by the throat and hoisted him into the air.
"Does it also go by another name?" Nao's voice was like ice. "A name people call the White City?"
"Y–yes… yes!"
Roaland VI's face went deathly pale, his teeth chattering as he nodded frantically.
That was all the confirmation Nao needed.
There was no mistake—the white disease covering his body, his absence from the Reverie, his panicked escape from the kingdom months later…
So it was that incident.
The tragedy that happened in the year 1506 of the Sea Circle Calendar.
"What's going on, Vice Admiral?"
At that moment, Momonga stepped out onto the deck as well, looking puzzled. "Is there something special about that name?"
"I'll explain later," Nao replied curtly.
He tossed the trembling king back onto the floor, ignoring his groans of pain, and took a deep breath before turning his cold gaze toward the northern horizon.
Then his voice rang out, sharp and commanding:
"Everyone, listen up! Turn the ship around—set course for the North Blue, full speed ahead!"
...
"Law, hurry—this way!"
At the border in the night, under the shadow of a building, Law, who had just arrived carrying Lami on his back, hadn't even caught his breath when he heard someone anxiously calling his name.
He turned his head quickly—
—and saw a crowd of children already gathered there. Two or three hundred of them, all about his age.
And at their head stood someone he recognized—Sister Teresa from the church, a young girl only a few years older than him. These past days, she'd been constantly running between the hospital and the church, helping to treat the sick.
"I was worried you hadn't gotten the message," she said with relief when she saw him. "Thank goodness you made it in time."
Sister Teresa saw Lami on Law's back and finally let out a breath of relief. She reached out her arms and said softly, "Here, Law — let me carry little Lami for a while."
Law quickly shook his head, seeing how pale and exhausted the young nun looked. He forced a smile. "It's okay, Sister. I'm a man — I can handle it!"
"…Alright."
Teresa gave him a worried glance but didn't argue further. She turned back toward the street corner, scanning the dark roads anxiously.
After about ten minutes, more children began to arrive one after another.
Some came alone, others were escorted by their parents. And those parents — after handing their children over — could only wave tearfully, forcing smiles before covering their faces and walking away in silent sobs.
"…Mom…"
Law bit his lower lip hard, adjusting the unconscious Lami on his back.
Now he understood why everyone gathered here was just a child like him.
Sister Teresa returned to the shadows of the building, did a quick headcount, and murmured, "Two hundred and sixty… looks like all the children we could reach are here."
It was already past midnight — they couldn't delay any longer.
Glancing up at the pale moonlight, she spoke softly but firmly:
"Everyone, follow me. Take care of the ones who are more ill. Try not to make any noise, understand?"
"Mm!"
"Got it, Sister!"
…
About half an hour later.
The nun led the children to the southeastern edge of the border fence. Just as promised, there was a narrow opening at the bottom of the barbed wire — about a meter wide.
She looked around carefully. No guards in sight. In the distance, the tall watchtower loomed silent — every searchlight turned off, the night eerily still.
That kind-hearted officer from the Arca Kingdom… he had kept his word.
Teresa let out a long sigh of relief — the greatest worry she'd carried the whole way finally lifted.
She turned to the frightened, trembling children, gestured for calm, then dropped to her stomach and crawled through the gap first. Once she made it to the other side, she began helping them one by one.
"Careful — watch your heads, don't get scratched."
"One at a time, no rush. Once we're past this, we'll be safe."
…
The children crawled through one after another. Law lifted Lami and carefully passed her to the nun before staying behind to make sure everyone got through safely.
Neither he nor Sister Teresa noticed —
that up in the shadowed watchtower, in the dim moonlight, dozens of gun barrels were quietly trained on the fence below.
"They've almost all made it through," a nervous voice whispered in the darkness. "Sir… are we really not going to open fire?"
"If we let them go and command finds out, we'll be—"
"…"
No reply came.
The soldier turned his head and saw his commanding officer in the moonlight, gripping the small cross hanging from his neck, his face twisted in silent conflict and pain.
After a long, heavy silence—
he finally exhaled a bitter sigh and said quietly:
"…Forget it. Let them go."
"If we open fire… I'll never be able to sleep peacefully again for the rest of my life."
The officer's voice trembled slightly.
"Remember — if headquarters comes down on us for this, just say it was all my decision. Put all the blame on me."
————--
The mountain path was rough and uneven.
Along the way, nearly everyone's feet had been rubbed raw and blistered.
The younger children, unable to endure it, had to be carried on others' backs, while the older ones like Law pushed themselves forward through sheer willpower.
But no one stopped.
They had been walking all night — hours had passed, and time was running out.
In less than half an hour, the sun would rise.
And when that happened, if they still hadn't reached the coast…
The Marine's evacuation ship would depart — taking with it their last, fragile hope of survival.
Law trudged at the rear of the group, Lami still on his back.
He was panting heavily, his pale face slick with sweat, his vision blurry, his mind hazy.
I can't fall here… Keep going! Come on, Law!
He shouted silently to himself. No matter what happens, I have to get Lami out of here!
Once Lami's cured, our family will be together again…
He didn't know how much longer he had been walking. His legs felt like they were filled with lead — every step heavier than the last.
Then suddenly—
The line of children ahead stopped.
Caught off guard, Law nearly stumbled into the one in front of him.
What's going on?
He lifted his head — and was momentarily blinded by a brilliant red glow in the distance. Tears stung his eyes, and after blinking hard a few times, he realized—
The light came from the rising sun, just breaking over the horizon.
And they were standing at the exit of the mountain pass.
The salty ocean breeze brushed his face. From afar came the faint, rhythmic crash of waves. Lowering his gaze, he could just make out a white Marine ship anchored by the shore.
Its sails rippled gently in the wind, and the blue seagull-and-scales insignia upon them gleamed gold in the morning light…
"We've reached the sea."
Sister Teresa turned back to the children, tears shining in her eyes.
"Everyone… that's the Marine's evacuation ship! We're saved!"
"W-We made it!"
"There really is a ship! The Marine didn't abandon us!"
The exhausted children broke down in joyful sobs. Some leapt and cheered; others hugged one another, laughing through their tears.
Law, swept up in the emotion, touched Lami's forehead gently. Despite his exhaustion, a faint smile found its way onto his face.
"The merciful Lord who watches over all living souls… never abandons His faithful followers."
Sister Teresa clasped the cross on her chest, whispering a short prayer. Then she wiped away her tears, turned to the children, and gave them the brightest smile she could muster.
"This is it — the last stretch! Everyone, let's get on that ship together!"
"Yeah!"