Chapter 190: Can Words Alone Break the Chains?
"Your body's a bit weak," Ross remarked, stepping up to Otohime as she panted on the shore. He shook his head.
"Hmm... I'm not exactly built for endurance," Queen Otohime replied, her cheeks flushing pink. She ducked her head, mortified.
As a mermaid, this was humiliating. She'd barely swum for half a minute before her strength gave out. And worst of all, Mr. Ross had seen it.
"Are you happy with the pool?" he asked.
Otohime still couldn't meet his eyes. Ross just smiled, settling down beside her and letting his legs dangle in the water. His Devil Fruit power tied him to seawater—this pool was his creation, an extension of his will. Immersed in it, his senses sharpened to their peak, like extra limbs brushing against everything it touched.
Her fishtail didn't glide smooth like scales; it had a firm, supple texture, almost velvety. Exotic. Ross found himself drawn to it.
"Back to what we were discussing—thoughts on that price Doflamingo quoted?"
Business first, pleasure second. These days, Ross craved a deeper bond, something beyond the physical. He preferred sketching his vision onto a fresh canvas.
"The price..." Otohime peeked up at him, grateful. Even now, he considered her feelings.
She was sure Ross was a good man. Pushing aside her jumbled thoughts, she focused on Saint Ross's words. He was showing her the harsh reality—she couldn't keep disappointing him.
After a long pause, she ventured, "A massive markup? Female mermaids must be especially pricey."
"That's the price tag, sure. But why? Fifty million Berries for one could buy five hundred ordinary folks. What makes female mermaids worth that?" Ross pressed.
"Rarity?" Otohime guessed.
Doflamingo's numbers had stunned her. As queen of Ryugu Kingdom, she knew the value of her kind all too well. No wonder pirates and even fish-men targeted them.
She'd seen the ugly underbelly: Many trafficking rings traced back to Fish-Man District thugs, forming a whole sordid industry. But she always blamed humans. Fish-men didn't enslave their own—coexistence was the key, or so she'd believed. End human prejudice, end the slave trade.
Now? That illusion shattered. Even in harmony, some merfolk would still end up in chains.
"Rarity? Male merfolk are rare too—why don't they command top Berries? Aren't male mermaids even scarcer?" Ross countered.
Persuading the stubborn? Not his forte. But dismantling naive ideals, planting seeds of doubt? That was child's play.
By poking holes, making her question everything, she'd start seeing him as the expert, his words carrying weight. And he wasn't twisting facts—just laying them bare, with real examples to prove it.
His ideal order might not be perfectly fair, but compared to the world's rot? It was paradise.
"Why...?" Otohime faltered, brow furrowing.
Ross had derailed her completely. Following his logic, no answers came.
"Because there's demand. Rich folks crave female mermaids, and those types hold the world's power and gold."
"You know the Holy Land Mary Geoise has at least a thousand of them? Fresh ones shipped in daily, others... gone just as quick."
"So many?!" Otohime's face drained of color. The scale hit like a tidal wave.
Fish-Man Island teemed with five million souls, a million young ones under thirty. But envisioning thousands of her sisters enslaved—especially in that "sacred" place she'd once dreamed of—twisted her gut.
"My own palace has at least four," Ross added casually, no sugarcoating. "Gifts from allies, all with backstories like yours."
Otohime fell quiet, stunned.
She knew he was decent. But it echoed those overheard whispers from the transporters: After capture, she'd be shipped to Ross as some bigwig's present.
To scum like them, female mermaids were disposable trinkets, passed around like fine wine. The thought choked her.
If she'd endured it, so had countless others. Luck had landed her with Ross—what horrors awaited those who drew worse hands?
"Ignorance doesn't erase the problem," Ross said, watching tears well in her eyes. He felt no urge to coddle.
Better to vent now than bottle it up. Between saintly naivety and a sharper edge, he preferred the latter.
"I... I get it. Thank you for being honest, Mr. Ross," Otohime murmured, dabbing her eyes. Depression settled heavy.
As Ross peeled back layers, the ugliness emerged. Human-merfolk coexistence? A pipe dream.
Filth festered among her own kind too—merfolk turning on merfolk, fish-men preying on the vulnerable. Not everything traced to humans.
She glimpsed the core: Neptune hoarded pearls despite her disinterest; subordinates gifted them anyway, eager to please.
As long as female mermaids symbolized luxury, hunters would strike, turning them into trophies. Inevitable.
Unless...
"Can words change that? Convince people they're not 'precious gifts'?" Otohime lifted her gaze, tears shining with fragile hope.
Her boldest idea yet. Force? Unthinkable. Ryugu Kingdom lacked an army, and she'd never stoop to violence.
"Words alone? Let's test it. Pretend I'm the skeptic—convince me," Ross said, eyebrow arched in amusement.
If talk could fix this, why bother with fists? This world rewarded strength. The weak's words? Mere echoes in the wind.
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