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She was still breathing, existing in this world because of One Piece.
.
Two years of her life wasted. Two years of smiles, texts, and stolen moments, all wiped away when he said it—coldly, casually, as if it was nothing.
"I have a fiancée. We’re getting married next month."
That’s it. No apology, no remorse. Just like that, everything she thought they had was ripped apart.
What the hell? she thought, stunned, the words echoing in her head like a bad dream. Fiancée? What do you mean fiancée? What do you mean married next month?
He had played her for two years, and she never saw it coming. How could she have been so stupid? All those moments—were they real? How could someone smile at you like that, talk to you like that, and have someone else waiting in the wings the whole time?
The pain was unbearable, but the betrayal cut even deeper. She had trusted him, opened up to him, and for what? For him to casually drop the bomb and walk away like nothing had happened.
There was only one good thing that cheating bastard ever did for her—introducing her to One Piece.
She remembered the day he recommended it, all excited, telling her about the adventure, the friends, the battles. At first, she didn’t care much. She had better things to do than watch some long anime with a goofy pirate. But then, out of spite, she decided to give it a try after their breakup. It was the last thing connecting them, his favorite show. The one thing that he had talked about endlessly, with that stupid grin of his, and if he loved it so much, she’d watch it just to prove it wasn’t anything special.
She had never wanted to touch anything he liked, yet in that moment of spite, she pressed play. And episode after episode, she found herself lost in Luffy’s adventures. The world of pirates, dreams, and friendship slowly stitched her heart back together, each episode a tiny patch over her shattered soul.
It became her solace, her escape. It was the only thing that kept her from slipping into the abyss. She clung to the story, not for him, but for herself. One Piece gave her a reason to wake up every morning when everything else felt meaningless.
How could someone like him, someone so shallow, appreciate something as profound as One Piece? He was exactly the kind of person Luffy despised. And he had recommended her to skip certain arcs—skip?! The gold of this show was in every corner, not just the flashy moments. He had skipped the slow, meaningful moments, the quiet character-building arcs. He didn't understand One Piece at all. No wonder he didn’t see how trashy he was in Luffy's eyes, that bastard didn’t get it, just like he didn’t understand how rotten he was.
She, on the other hand, loved it. No—she obsessed over it. One Piece became her life. Luffy and the crew became her anchor. She found herself crying when they cried, cheering when they triumphed, and vowing to keep going—if only to see the end of their journey.
It gave her purpose. It became the reason she kept breathing.
That night, five months after the breakup, she was walking home. She’d just bought a new piece of One Piece merchandise—a Straw Hat keychain she couldn’t wait to add to her collection. Her mind was filled with thoughts of the crew’s next adventure, a rare smile tugging at her lips as she imagined the joy the series brought her. Then, out of nowhere, someone lunged at her. She didn’t even see their face before she felt the sharp pain.
One stab. Then another. And another. Five times.
She collapsed, her body screaming in agony as blood soaked through her shirt. Her mind reeled in panic. The pain was unbearable, but what really killed her inside was that she couldn’t die, not yet.
But fate had other plans. Darkness swallowed her as her vision blurred, the world spun, and all she could think was—Why? Why now?
She didn’t want to die. Not yet. Not before the story finished. Not before she see Luffy reach the One Piece. Not before she saw how it is ended. The only thing that had made her want to keep living was now slipping away from her, her vision darkening.
Her last thought before the world went black—Luffy...
[I]
When she woke up, gasping for air, the world around her was not the one she knew.
The first thing she noticed was the cold stone floor beneath her. The rough texture scratched her skin. She blinked, disoriented, before the unfamiliar surroundings slowly came into focus.
She was in a prison cell.
Thick, iron bars stood before her, casting shadows that danced ominously on the cold stone walls. The smell of dampness and rot filled the air, making it hard to breathe. The only light came from a tiny window high above, casting long shadows across the grimy floor.
"What the—" she muttered, her voice hoarse.
She lifted her hands, expecting to see her own familiar fingers, but the hands she saw weren’t hers. They were pale, delicate, and even though they were dirty, they were... beautiful. Almost dainty. Her heart pounded as she looked down at herself.
What the hell is going on?
Her skin, pale and unblemished, was not her own. She touched her hair—long, silky, and blond? But her hair was black, shoulder-length, and messy.
Panicking, she looked down at her body. She was wearing a dress, and the dress was tattered and dirty, and the figure beneath them was unfamiliar. Her curves were too pronounced, her limbs too slim, breasts too big, legs too long.
This wasn’t her body.
Suddenly, a scream tore from her throat. She couldn’t stop it, the panic overwhelming her.
Heavy footsteps echoed outside her cell, and moments later, a guard appeared at the door. He was tall and broad, dressed in a dark, old-fashioned uniform, complete with armor that clinked as he walked. His face was hard, unyielding, his eyes cold as they locked onto her.
"Silence, Gracia Gaveston! Your execution is in five hours!" he barked, his voice echoing in the stone chamber.
Gracia... Gaveston? Her mind spun. Who the hell is that?
Before she could ask anything, the guard turned on his heel and stormed away, the sound of his footsteps fading down the corridor.
Execution? She felt her stomach lurch. What the hell is happening?
She collapsed back onto the stone floor, her mind spinning. Execution? What the hell is going on? Did she somehow... transmigrate? Transmigrated into the body of someone else—someone named Gracia Gaveston? And now, she was going to be executed in just a few hours?
This was straight out of those otome isekai manhwa or manga she used to read for fun, where the female lead would get transported into a fantasy world and have to navigate her way out of a tragic fate. Except in those stories, the girls always had time to change things. They arrived before the tragic ending, before the worst of it.
But she didn’t even recognize any of this. Gracia Gaveston? Who? What world is this? She couldn’t remember anything. She had read too many otome isekai stories—it was too hard to differentiate them.
Those girls always remembered every event and detail, with handsome male leads just waiting to swoop in and save the day. Must be nice.
She had none of that. No mysterious man watching her from the shadows, no handsome prison mate with cursed powerful magic, not even snarky two-faced bitch or stone-cold family member staring at her in disgust outside of her cell. Just her, alone, waiting to die.
She felt the weight of despair crushing her, but it wasn’t the execution itself that made her want to give up.
It was the realization that this wasn’t Earth. There was no One Piece in this world.
She let out a small, bitter laugh. There would be no more adventures of Luffy, no One Piece to look forward to. Just a cold, harsh reality where she was about to be executed for crimes she didn’t even commit.
Well, damn, she thought bitterly. If there’s no One Piece here, she might as well die.
She closed her eyes, retreating into her thoughts, dreaming of the Straw Hat crew's adventure. Maybe, in her dreams, she could at least stay with them a little longer.
---
The loud clang of metal jerked her awake. She blinked, groggy, as three guards entered her cell. They were dressed the same as the one before—dark uniforms, armor, weapons at their sides. And then, there was another figure behind them.
He had silver hair shone like moonlight. His skin was pale and flawless, and his eyes—deep red, like burning rubies—seemed to glow with cold intensity. His sharp jaw and sculpted lips gave him a look of pure authority.
He was too perfect. Too stunning. His presence filled the room like an unspoken command, and everything about him screamed male lead.
She had read enough of these stories to know when a male lead was in front of her, and this man had it all—unearthly beauty, power, and that icy, unreachable demeanor that made her stomach flip.
He regarded her with an expression of contempt, his red eyes piercing through her. Great, she thought. Of course he hates her. The male lead always hates people other than his heroine, right? That’s how these stories go.
The guards beside him moved forward, opening the cell with a loud creak. Two of them grabbed her by the arms, flanking her on either side.
The silver-haired man, the presumed male lead, stepped closer. His scent was like winter air—cold, crisp, intoxicating. He gave a simple command, his voice low and authoritative.
"Move."
She swallowed hard, her heart hammering in her chest, but she didn’t respond. What was the point? She was being led to her execution. She remained silent, letting them pull her forward as her feet dragged across the floor.
He walked behind her, his presence looming like a shadow. She could feel his eyes on her, studying her, probably wondering why she hadn’t begged for her life like Gracia Gaveston surely would have. Or maybe he was just waiting for her to crack, to plead for mercy.
But she wouldn’t. Why bother? This wasn’t her world.
The guards led her outside, the sun blinding her as she stepped into the courtyard. She squinted, taking in the sight of the guillotine ahead. A wooden platform stood in the center of a jeering crowd. Her heart should’ve been pounding with fear, but she felt nothing. No fear. No sadness. Just... emptiness.
As they dragged her to the platform, the crowd erupted in shouts and curses. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t care. This world wasn’t hers, and she didn’t belong here.
The male lead followed, his eyes watching her every step. He ascended the platform with her, standing beside the guillotine, his arms crossed as he addressed the crowd. His voice was rich and commanding, the kind that demanded attention.
"Gracia Gaveston," he began, his tone ice-cold as he listed off her crimes—typical villainess stuff: treason, conspiracy, betrayal, attempted murder of the Saintess, and manipulation magic directed at him, the Crown Prince.
So this male lead is the Crown Prince.
The crowd roared its approval, but she barely heard them. She stared up at the sky, blue and endless, so much like the skies in One Piece.
The man’s gaze burned into her. "Any last words?"
She stayed silent for a moment, contemplating. She wasn’t Gracia Gaveston. She didn’t know this woman or her crimes. She wasn’t even sure how she ended up here. But then, a particular voice from the crowd rang out—
"What do you think they’ll do with the Gaveston family’s treasure?"
Treasure?
Suddenly, something clicked in her mind.
Oh my God.
The execution. Treasure question. The crowd.
She smiled, wide and wild, her teeth showing. She could see from her peripheral vision that the silver-haired man furrowed his brow, confused by her reaction.
Oh my god, she thought, grinning. This is it!
If she was going to die, she might as well go out with a bang!
"You want my treasure?" she shouted, her voice ringing through the square, her grin widening. "You can have it! I left everything I own in one place! Now, all of you just have to find it!"
She laughed, the crowd going silent as they stared at her in confusion. She had just quoted Gol D. Roger’s famous last words before his execution!
This was the coolest shit she’d ever done—
[II]
She gasped, sitting up, her hands flying to her neck. She was back in the prison cell again. The cold stone walls loomed around her, the same dim light filtering through the tiny barred window as before. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could feel the phantom pressure of the guillotine blade on her neck.
What the hell just happened?
She looked around wildly. Her hands were trembling as they touched the smooth skin of her neck. No blood. No wound. She was alive.
But… she had died, right?
Her thoughts spun in confusion. She had been on the platform—the crowd jeering, the guillotine looming over her like an executioner’s blade. She felt it. The cold, sharp finality of death.
Hadn’t she?
She clutched her chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"I died," she muttered, her voice trembling. "I’m sure of it."
But now she was back in this cell, exactly where she had been before. The stone walls, the damp smell of rot, the heavy iron door. It was all the same, down to the last crack in the floor.
Suddenly, a surge of frustration welled up in her chest. She stood up, her fists clenched, and screamed, the sound raw and desperate.
"WHAT IS HAPPENING?!"
Her voice echoed through the cell, bouncing off the stone walls. Her head spun as she tried to make sense of it all. Was it a dream? But it had felt too real—the crowd, the cold air, the guillotine’s blade coming down. She could still feel the weight of it on her neck.
Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. Her heart skipped a beat as the familiar sound grew closer. The same guard from before stepped into view, his expression hard and cold, his voice gruff.
"Silence, Gracia Gaveston! Your execution is in five hours!"
Her blood ran cold. Her execution… in five hours? That’s the same thing he said last time!
She staggered back, her hand flying to her mouth.
"What… what did you just say?" she stammered, her voice shaky.
The guard gave her a sharp look, irritated by her question.
"I said your execution is in five hours," he repeated, his tone flat.
She stared at him, her mind racing. This is impossible. Everything was exactly the same. The same guard. The same line. The same timing. Her eyes darted to the window, the dim light hitting the same angle as before.
Did she dream it? Was that execution just a twisted nightmare?
But it felt so real...
As the guard turned to leave, she called out.
"Wait!" she said, her voice desperate. "Hasn’t this already happened?"
The guard narrowing his eyes in annoyance.
"Stop with your nonsense. I don’t have time for your games," he turned and walked away with heavy stomps.
She stood frozen, her heart pounding, her thoughts in chaos. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Did she just… reset?
She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. There was no explanation. She had died, hadn’t she? She felt the guillotine’s blade. She felt the finality of it. And now… she was back here. Five hours before her execution.
Again.
A deep sense of loss and confusion hit her all at once. She slumped to the floor, her knees weak.
Why am I back here?
She had no answers. Just the same creeping dread as before, only now mixed with the overwhelming sense of wrongness. She didn’t belong in this world, and now, it seemed like she couldn’t even die in it properly.
The hours stretched on, her mind swirling with uncertainty, fear, and anger.
---
The same events played out again. The same three guards entered her cell, and the silver-haired male lead stood there, his expression blank.
"Move," he said, the same as before.
They dragged her into the courtyard, where the crowd buzzed with excitement. She stood on the platform, the guillotine towering above her, a chilling reminder of what was to come.
The male lead ascended the platform beside her, addressing the crowd with the same authoritative tone.
"Gracia Gaveston," he began, listing her so-called crimes—treason, conspiracy, the attempted murder of the Saintess, magic manipulation directed at him—all accusations that felt foreign and absurd to her.
Then, like a cruel echo of her previous execution, he leaned in, his gaze unyielding. "Any last words?"
She sighed, resigned to her fate. But if she was going to die again, she might as well make it with a bang, just like before.
"THE ONE PIECE!" she shouted, her voice echoing across the square. "THE ONE PIECE IS REAL!!!"
The crowd fell silent, confusion rippling through them. For a moment, even the male lead looked taken aback. She felt a rush of adrenaline—that's it! She had delivered another badass last line from One Piece!
Her last thought before the darkness enveloped her was; Man, is this what Whitebeard felt like in his last moments—
[III]
But just as quickly as the darkness took her, she woke up, heart pounding, back in the cold, familiar prison cell.
"No, not again!" she gasped, clutching her chest.
Frustration surged within her. This was the third time. Each time she died, she woke up here, in the exact same prison.
What the hell is happening?! This can't keep going on!
This some kind of time loop bullshit!
Her thoughts spiraled in chaos. She’d read about this kind of thing before—people reliving the same moment over and over again. And now here she was, trapped in that same nightmare. Every time she died, she woke up as if someone had hit rewind on her life.
She scrambled to her feet, pacing the cramped cell, her mind racing. If this was a time loop, how long would it last? What triggered it? More importantly, how could she escape it? Could she just die for real this time and be done with it?
Her heart thudded in her chest as the questions overwhelmed her. No answers came, only the ticking of time. Five hours until her execution—again. She had to figure something out, or she'd be right back on that guillotine, staring up at the blade.
Ugh, whatever. Let’s see if she can actually die for real this time.
This time, she didn’t scream or panic, so the guard didn’t bother announcing her execution time. The same routine unfolded. The same three guards arrived as before, but when the silver-haired male lead appeared with his usual unreadable expression, something was off.
Wait... why does he look like that?
His gaze lingered on her, but there was something behind his eyes. Frustration? She hadn’t noticed it before. Was she just reading him better this time? Did he hate her that much? Or was it just impatience for her to die?
He didn’t say "Move" like before. He stood there, too silent, his expression tighter than usual. What the hell? What was his deal?
So troublesome.
She decided to follow the guards without a word, letting them drag her back to the execution platform. The crowd was the same, buzzing with anticipation, and the guillotine stood like a grim reminder of her fate.
The male lead took his place beside her, listing her crimes like before, but this time, he seemed more agitated. His voice was sharp, his tone impatient, as if he couldn’t wait to get it over with.
Huh, was he always this frustrated with her? She hadn’t noticed it before. Was he that eager for her death?
Whatever. If she was going out again, she might as well have some fun.
A wide grin spread across her face, teeth showing as she thought of one of her favorite One Piece scenes. If she was going to die again, she’d do it in style.
"Zoro! Sanji! Usopp! Nami!" she shouted, her voice gleeful as the crowd murmured in confusion. "Sorry, I’m dead!"
I said Luffy's line!
She grinned even wider, eyes shut, savoring the absurdity of her words as the guillotine blade came crashing down once more. She almost missed the shocked and confused expression on the silver-haired prince beside her, his frustration deepening for reasons she didn’t yet understand.
And then, just like before, darkness.
[IV]
"This is bullshit!"
She screamed as she shot up, finding herself once again in the same cold, damp cell. For the fourth time. FOURTH. TIME.
She let out an enraged growl and pulled at her blonde hair in frustration, her breaths coming out in shaky gasps. Her fingers clawed at her scalp as if the pain would somehow snap her out of this nightmare.
"Can I just die peacefully for once?! Not respawn like a goddamn video game character?!"
The sheer weight of it all crashed down on her. Dying wasn't even the problem anymore—it was this unending, suffocating cycle. No matter what she did, the time will reset. Every time she died, she woke back up here. Back in this prison, back to square one.
Her chest tightened, and she bit back a sob. "I'm actually stuck in some twisted time loop. This can't keep happening! This kind of time loop bullshit–"
Living through this kind of time loop was maddening. The thought of being stuck in this endless cycle made her stomach churn. Would this keep going forever? Would she always wake up here, in this cursed cell, waiting to die again?
Then came the heavy, familiar footsteps outside her cell. Great. It must be the guard again, here to announce her execution in five hours, as if she didn't already know.
She shut her eyes tightly and waved dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll die in five hours. Go away, will you?"
"Gracia Gaveston," a voice called out, but this time it was different than usual.
Her eyes shot open. The guard's usual gruff tone was absent. Instead, it was him. The male lead. The Crown Prince stood outside her cell, alone.
His striking silver hair gleamed even in the dim light, and his red eyes bore into her with a mix of anger and frustration.
What...
She froze.
He looked down at her, his expression taut, barely-contained frustration simmering beneath his cold exterior. His gaze burned with intensity, as though her very existence was a personal affront to him. His jaw clenched, the tension palpable.
"What did you do?" His voice was sharp, accusing. "What dirty tricks are you pulling?"
She blinked, bewildered. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You did something, didn't you?" he hissed, stepping closer to the cell bars. "Every time you die, time rewinds again. Why? What is The One Piece? Who are Zoro, Sanji, Usopp, Nami?" The names came out butchered from his lips, yet she didn't care.
Her blood ran cold.
He knew.
"What– How did– You're in the time loop too?!" she stammered, the shock and confusion clear in her voice.
"Time loop?" His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Is that the trick you're playing?"
"I'ts not me!" she shouted, her frustration boiling over. The man flinched, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. "I didn’t do anything! I just want to die! Why do I keep coming back?!"
The weight of everything finally hit her, crushing her beneath its relentless pressure. The frustration, the hopelessness—it all burst from her like a dam breaking.
Tears blurred her vision as she choked out, "I just want to die!" Her voice cracked, and she grasped at her neck. "Why does it keep happening? Why can't I just be free of this? It hurts so much."
The man's stoic demeanor faltered. He took a step back, his eyes widening ever so slightly, as if unsure how to handle the sobbing, broken girl in front of him. For a moment, his cold exterior melted, replaced by something closer to genuine confusion—maybe even concern.
The sight of her tears seemed to catch him off guard. This wasn't the Gracia Gaveston he had come to expect. She wasn't smug or defiant like usual, she was raw, vulnerable, and utterly broken.
She hiccuped between sobs. "It hurts... I just want it to end..."
The silver-haired man's face became unreadable again. His crimson eyes narrowed, and after a long moment of tense silence, he unlocked the cell. He stepped inside, his towering form casting a shadow over her as he stood before her.
"Who are you?" he asked quietly, his voice dangerously calm.
She froze, her breath hitching. The question cut through her sobs like a knife.
Did he know? Did he realize she wasn't the real Gracia Gaveston?
He continued, his voice still cold, but now laced with suspicion. "Gracia Gaveston would never act like this. She wouldn't calm through her executions. She would spew curses at the Saintess, or beg for her life, or declare her love for me." His tone dripped with contempt at that last part. "But you... you're too different. You're indifferent of your execution. Who are you?"
Her mind raced, panic rising in her chest. Should she lie? Confess? What could she even say that would make sense? But there was no point in hiding it now, he already knew something was wrong.
She sighed heavily, she wiped her tears, and running a hand through her long blond-hair before looking up at him.
"You're right. I'm not Gracia Gaveston." She paused, taking a deep breath. "I don't know why I'm in her body, or what crimes she committed. I don't know who you are, or why this keeps happening. Hell, I'm not even from this world."
The words tumbled out before she could stop them. She instantly regretted it, but the man's eyes locked onto hers, his gaze intense and unreadable.
"You're not from this world?" he repeated, frowning. "Is that why you spout nonsense every time you're executed?"
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"It's not nonsense!" she snapped, but the man just raised his eyebrow and his intrigued expression made her feel even more self-conscious. "But yes... I'm not from this world. I don't know what happened to me. Did Gracia summon me somehow? Is that why I'm here, trapped in her body?"
The man remained silent for a moment, his expression contemplative. "That sounds... plausible."
She blinked in surprise. "Wait, why the times keep looping back then? Is it because I'm not acting like her that the times keeps resetting? Maybe if I pretend to be her, this will stop!"
Her eyes lit up with excitement as the idea struck her, a spark of hope shining through her. She looked up at the man expectantly, waiting for his response. But his face remained impassive, watching her with the same unreadable expression.
After a moment, he sighed. "You want to get executed again?"
She frowned and tilted her head. "Of course. How else am I supposed to die?"
The man's eyes widened, his voice dropping. "You don't mind dying?"
She let out a soft laugh. "Why, yes," she said, smiling. "There's no One Piece in this world, anyway."
He opened his mouth, as if to ask her something, but then closed it again. After a brief pause, he nodded slowly.
"Alright. Let's see if this works. I'll see you in a few hours, at your scheduled execution."
As he turned to leave, she called after him. "Wait! I don't even know your name. How am I supposed to pretend to love you if I don't even know who you are?"
The man stopped, turning around to face her. For the first time, she saw something that almost resembled a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips—amusement, perhaps, though it was fleeting.
"My name is Lucian Valestris. That woman used to call me... Lucci."
She snorted, unable to help herself. "Lucci? Really?"
Lucian raised an eyebrow. "It was a nickname I despised, but she insisted on it. Why?"
She waved her hand dismissively.
"Nothing, nothing. Just reminded me of something." She chuckled, he stared at her for a long moment before walking away.
---
The scene unfolded like before, the same three guards, but this time, she played her part to perfection.
"Lucci, my love! Please spare me! I didn't do anything!" she wailed dramatically, clutching at her heart. "How can you accuse me of such vile things?!"
She could see Lucian stiffen, his eyes narrowing in disgust. He took a step back, his expression a mix of contempt, similar to how it had been when she first met him. Good. The act was working.
"Please, Lucci! That rotten woman making me like this!" she cried, but the venomous glare in his red eyes told her she had hit a nerve. Mentioning the Saintess definitely a sore spot.
"Take her away," Lucian ordered, his voice cold.
The guards grabbed her roughly, dragging her toward the execution platform. This time, Lucian walked ahead, his back rigid as if he wanted to escape her presence entirely.
Her acting was that good, huh?
As they neared the platform, the crowd jeered and cursed her name. Just like the last time.
Lucian listed Gracia Gaveston's crimes like before, his voice a monotone hum in her ears. She wasn't paying attention she was too busy recalling the stories she'd read before, of villainess meeting their doom.
When it come time for her last words, she took a deep breath and screamed like a mad woman.
"I cursed you! You, Lucian Valestris and that rotten Saintess! May both of your lives be filled with nothing but misery and heartbreak! You'll be cursed! Along with your children, and your children's children, for all time to come!"
Lucian's blank face turned towards her one last time, his expression empty and unreadable.
And then.... darkness.
[V]
She woke up in her cell again, frustration surging within her. Each reset felt like a punch to the gut. Acting like the real Gracia wasn’t working; the time kept looping. What was she supposed to do?
Not long after, Lucian Valestris hurried into her cell, looking frazzled. His silver hair was tousled, and there was an urgency in his eyes.
She stared at him, irritation bubbling over. "It didn’t work."
Lucian sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "It seems something forbids you to die."
"Why?" she demanded, her voice echoing in the cold cell. "What does it want from me?"
He stepped closer, studying her with a mix of concern and curiosity. "I don't know. But we can’t let this keep happening. I’ll postpone your execution."
"Seriously? You can do that?" she asked, she felt a flicker of hope but still wary.
"I have some influence," he replied, his tone calm but firm. "But we need to work together. I’ll come to see you every day until we figure this out."
She raised an eyebrow, skepticism clear on her face. "Work together? You’re not just doing this out of pity, are you?"
Lucian crossed his arms, a small flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Maybe a little. But I also want to understand why we're stuck in this loop."
As the days passed, their unlikely partnership began to develop. Lucian kept his word and visited her daily. Each meeting was a mix of awkward tension and slow-growing camaraderie. Their conversations shifted from tense discussions about her fate to more casual talks. Lucian brought her news from the outside world, and she, in turn, vented her frustrations. Slowly, she began to open up about her past, about the world she came from.
One day, while they sat on the cold, stone floor of her cell, Lucian asked, "What were your last words before your execution about anyway? You mentioned something called... One Piece?"
Her face immediately brightened, her purple eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "Oh, the One Piece! It's this legendary treasure in a pirate world. The whole story of One Piece is about freedom, adventure, and chasing your dreams! I thought maybe if I made my last words something epic from One Piece, it'd be like going out with a bang, y'know?" She babbled excitedly, her hands gesturing as if she were recounting the story to a friend rather than a stranger like him.
Lucian's brow furrowed in curiosity. "Story? And who were the names you called out before? You seemed... invested."
She grinned, unable to contain her excitement. "Yes! One Piece is this epic tale from my old world! The names I mentioned were the characters—who taught me about loyalty, fighting for your dreams, and never giving up, no matter how crazy the odds are." She launched into a full-on explanation, telling him about the Straw Hat crew, about Luffy and his endless optimism, Zoro’s strength and loyalty, and Nami’s cunning, and so on. Her eyes shone with passion as she spoke, her voice filled with excitement as she described their adventures, struggles, and bonds.
Hours passed as she babbled on, and to her surprise, Lucian didn’t seem to mind. He watched her with quiet fascination, absorbing every word she said. There was something about the way she spoke—not just about the story itself, but about the ideals behind it. Her exterior was now vibrant with life, and the more she talked, the more Lucian found himself drawn to this side of her.
Her lively demeanor was infectious. He hadn’t seen Gracia Gaveston this animated before, and it was striking. She wasn’t the cold, obsessed woman he remembered; she was... someone else entirely. A part of him couldn’t help but be intrigued by her transformation.
“You really believe in all of that?” Lucian asked, leaning back against the stone wall, his arms crossed but a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Freedom? Adventure?"
She laughed. "Of course I do! Who wouldn’t want to be free? And the adventures they go on… it’s inspiring, really. It’s why I’m not giving up on life, y'know." Her expression softened, her gaze distant as if seeing another world entirely. "I’m a lost cause, you see. I had nothing. But One Piece kept me going, always giving me a reason to live."
Lucian's face shifted, becoming unreadable, his eyes narrowing slightly. "So that’s why you didn’t mind dying in this world. Repeatedly, at that."
Her bright, bubbly expression faded, replaced by a blank, almost resigned look.
"Yeah," she admitted quietly, "One Piece was the only thing that kept me moving forward." Her voice softened, growing hollow. "Now… there’s no reason left for me to live."
The cell fell into an uneasy silence, the air thick with unspoken thoughts.
Lucian straightened up suddenly, his eyes sharper now, as if he had made a decision.
"Oh, you’re leaving already?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "See you next–"
"You’re coming with me," Lucian cut her off, his voice firm.
She blinked in shock, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. "What?"
Without warning, Lucian reached out and grabbed her hand, his grip strong and unyielding. He pulled her to her feet, guiding her toward the cell door.
"Wait! Lucian! What the hell—" she protested, her feet scrambling to keep up as he practically dragged her out.
His pace was quick, determined. "No more sitting around," he said, not bothering to look back at her. "We’re going to fix this."
Her heart raced as they stormed out of the cell, her confusion turning into a mix of excitement and anxiety. Whatever Lucian was planning, she had no choice but to go along with it now.
---
Lucian hadn't brought Gracia out of the cell for any particular reason at first. Maybe he just didn't want to see her die again. But as the days passed, as they shared moments of quiet conversation and late-night reflections, he found himself growing attached to her. Her sharp wit, her refusal to sugarcoat anything, and the way she spoke about a world he could never understand—One Piece—fascinated him. She clung to that fictional world as if it were the only thing that kept her tethered to life.
Lucian, however, had a different vision for her. He wanted to show Gracia that she didn't need to hold onto that obsession, that there was something worth living for right here, in his world.
"We are stuck in this time loop," he had told her one night, "because you haven't found a reason to live here yet."
Gracia had scoffed at that, as usual. "You think this is some kind of cosmic punishment? For the crimes I didn't even commit?"
"No," he had replied, watching her closely. "I think this world is giving you a second chance. And l'm going to help you find it."
And so, he tried. He introduced her to politics, let her assist in court affairs, even suggested she use her cleverness to help the people. But no matter what she did, it never seemed to fill the void inside her. Sure, she liked Lucian's company. She liked this world well enough, with its magic and strange beauty. But it wasn't home. Her heart still belonged to Earth, where the One Piece story exist. This world, for all its wonders, felt like a cage.
But Lucian refused to give up. He was determined to show Gracia that life in this kingdom could be just as meaningful as her dreams of One Piece. His days were now filled with her presence, and he found himself skipping meetings with the Saintess, something he never thought he’d do. Where once he had sought her out for guidance and approval, now he prioritized moments with Gracia—each visit to her side felt more important than any royal obligation.
He reveled in the way her laughter echoed in the halls, how her purple eyes sparkled when she spoke about the small joys of everyday life. Slowly, she began to open up, caring more about the kingdom and the people around her.
"Did you see that little girl’s face when you gave her that bread?" he asked one day, amused.
"I might have just won the title of 'Best Bread Giver' in the kingdom," she joked, her eyes sparkling.
"If you gave food, especially meat, to Luffy every time another kingdom attacked us, he might save our kingdom without hesitation," he said thoughtfully.
She choked at that, then burst out laughing. "You're right!"
In those moments, hope began to bloom. She laughed more easily, and her spirit seemed to lift. Each smile felt like a small victory, and Lucian cherished every shared laugh.
The garden became their special place. Lucian loved watching her enjoy the sunlight, feeling the warmth of her laughter. It was a life he never knew he wanted, and he realized how much he cared for her.
With each passing day, he was determined to help Gracia find a new purpose in this world. He could see her walls coming down, and he hoped she was starting to see life differently.
---
One day, they sat together in the palace garden, enjoying the moment of peace. The sun was warm, and for the first time in a long while, she felt a strange sense of contentment.
That was when everything changed.
A knight, his face twisted with fury, came charging at Lucian, sword raised. She saw it before anyone else did. Without thinking, without hesitation, she threw herself in front of him. The blade pierced through her chest, straight into her heart.
"Gracia!" Lucian caught her before she hit the ground, his arms shaking as he cradled her limp body. Blood was everywhere, staining the garden floor, and her breathing came in shallow gasps.
"What the hell were you thinking? Why did you–" His voice cracked with panic. This couldn’t be happening. Not like this.
"It’s fine," he muttered, trying to convince himself more than her. "The time loop will reset, right? Just... hang on. You’ll come back. You always come back."
But her breathing was shallow, her face pale. Blood pooled beneath her, soaking her dress, her blond-hair, and the ground. She gave him a small, tired smile.
"You're so stupid," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "You're the one who told me."
Lucian's grip tightened, his red eyes filled with desperation. "What are you talking about? You'll come back– you always come back!"
She coughed, a weak laugh escaping her lips.
"One Piece was the only reason I wanted to live... back then. But now..."
She looked up at him, her gaze soft and full of something he hadn't seen before.
"In this world... you're the reason I want to live. And... you're also the reason... I can finally die."
"No, no... don't say that—" he called her out with her real name.
She smiled at him.
"Thank you," she murmured, her voice fading. "For everything."
Thank you for loving me.
Her body grew limp in his arms, the life slipping away. The garden was silent, the world around them eerily still, as if it, too, was mourning her loss.
Lucian held her close, his heart breaking. She was gone, truly gone this time. The loop was broken.
But the price had been too high.