Solo Around Goa

As the time passed, the excitement of the constant parade of revealing outfits gradually began to wear thin. Vincent, initially out of his depth, had settled into a rhythm of supplying Alvida with ever more daring designs, his initial shock replaced by a professional detachment.

Eventually, as Alvida slipped behind the curtain, I decided I needed a change of scenery. The non-stop display of near-nudity, while certainly enjoyable, was becoming a bit... boring.

"Alvida," I called out, "I'm gonna take a little break, stretch my legs some."

Her head popped out from behind the curtain, her hair a wild cascade around her face, her expression one of mock indignation. "Leaving me so soon? I thought you were enjoying the show!"

"I was, I really am," I assured her, standing and stretching, feeling my joints pop. "But a man's got limits, you know? Gonna take a walk, see some sights that don't involve your tits for a change.”

Alvida laughed, a rich, throaty sound that filled the boutique. "Fine, but don't get into trouble without me, Tsujo. This city's a snake pit."

With one last look at the pirate queen, who was now admiring herself in a mirror, her breasts heaving with each breath as she assessed the fit of a particularly racy thong, I turned and pushed through the boutique door into the bustling streets of Goa.

The streets of Goa City’s High Town stretched before Tsujo in a kaleidoscope of gold and marble, lace and velvet, perfumes and powder. Here, wealth wasn't just displayed. It was weaponized, woven into every cobblestone, every elaborate facade, every meticulously arranged wisteria-lined boulevard. The further one ascended, the more controlled the chaos became.

As he stepped onto the promenade, he should have been noticed. His plain, worn, and frankly dirty clothes should have marked him as an interloper in this fine space. But he wasn’t.

With the power of his earrings wrapping him like a coat of utter normalcy, Tsujo moved like an imperceptible **** through the opulence, his presence neither challenged nor questioned, no matter how out of place he should have been. He should have been stopped at checkpoints, scrutinized by guards, sneered at by noblewomen, scorned by men who could trace their lineage back a dozen generations. Instead, he was as much a part of the world as the gilded lampposts or the murmuring fountains, a natural fixture of High Town, accepted without thought.

Tsujo wove through artisanal boutiques and perfumeries, past pastry shops displaying colorful confections, and jewelers with window displays so dazzling they looked like miniature starscapes.

The ladies of the nobility, adorned in the latest silks from Dressrosa or brocades inspired by Mariejois, fluttered from shop to shop, inspecting delicate gloves, imported spices, and rare fabrics.

Wealthy young men in tight-tailored suits lounged near terrace cafés, sipping spiced coffee from ornate porcelain cups, their boots polished to a mirror shine.

A perfumed air of indulgence lay over everything, thick as the gold embroidery on a merchant lord’s waistcoat.

He passed yet another tailor’s shop where a noblewoman stood before a three-mirror dressing station, turning to admire herself in a scandalously low-cut crimson gown, her courtiers offering gentle, practiced gasps at her daring. A jeweler nearby set diamonds into a rapier’s hilt, meant not for combat but for parading wealth in duels of aristocratic posturing.

To Tsujo, this spectacle was more lavish than anything he’d ever imagined, far beyond the brief luxury glimpsed on that raided cruise ship. Every street seemed to be a stage for those who lived their lives as though they were constantly performing for an unseen audience.

Tsujo’s feet carried him ever upward.

Eventually, he arrived at a wide-raised promenade, a long, graceful stretch of sculpted stone lined with fluted columns and marble balustrades. The avenue overlooked one of Goa’s grand squares, a place where nobility gathered not for purpose, but for spectacle.

Below, the elite of Goa mingled in a sweeping parade of silk and arrogance.

It was a vast open expanse that could easily fit his whole town back home. The area was bustling with activity, the center dominated by an ornate fountain that cast a soothing murmur over the sounds of lively conversation and the clinking of fine china from nearby cafes. Elegant wrought-iron benches, strategically placed around the fountain and along the pathways, hosted clusters of nobles. Their laughter and chatter floated up to Tsujo, mixed with the distant trill of a violin from an unseen musician.

Each group seemed to have chosen their spot with care, displaying themselves as much as they observed the spectacle around them. The sunlight caught on gem-encrusted accessories and glinted off polished brooches, creating a dazzling display of wealth and status. Beyond the casual loungers, cafe fronts offered sanctuary for those preferring to sip their teas and coffees while still partaking in the day’s gossip. The entire square was framed by tall, immaculate buildings, their facades as meticulously kept as the fashion of their occupants, each window and balcony offering another stage for Goa’s elite to present themselves to the world.

I leaned against a column and watched all the rich people down there, picking out particular individuals in the mass of the city’s elites moving about like pieces on some ritzy Go board, their wealth and status evident in every sweeping gesture, tailored garment, and confident stride.

A tall, slender woman with a delicate, aristocratic face and deep brown eyes, clad in an elegant blue gown with gold embroidery, glided through the square with the ease of someone accustomed to being admired. Her high-collared dress, perfectly tailored to her willowy frame, fluttered slightly as she turned to speak with an older guy in a richly adorned crimson coat with silver buttons. He had a broad jawline and a well-maintained gray beard, his strong, weathered hands clasped behind his back as he regarded the square with the quiet authority of a man accustomed to command.

He reminded me of that rich husband back on the cruise ship before I accidentally turned him into a crazy cuckold guy.

There was a big-titted woman with dark curls cascading over her shoulders, wearing a gown that barely contained her imposing boobs, lounging on a bench, fanning herself lazily. Her low-cut dress of emerald silk clings tightly to her figure, and her plump lips curl into an indulgent smirk as a short, fat nobleman with a hooked nose and balding head, dressed in a cream-colored coat barely containing his round belly, seemed to be talking at her without pause. He wiped sweat from his brow with a silk handkerchief, his eyes constantly checking out her heaving chest.

At an opulent cafe, another noblewoman made a scene. A blonde with voluminous curls and a radiant, doll-like face, dressed in an exquisite white gown with pearl inlays, threw back her head in laughter, her gloved hands gesturing animatedly as she talked with two fawning young noblemen. Her laugh was airy, practiced, each movement exaggerated to draw attention. Even among the richly dressed elite, she glowed like an untouchable prize.

Servants and attendants move swiftly and quietly through the crowd, their presence acknowledged only when required. A young maid in a dark, modest dress with white lace trim followed a noble couple at a respectful distance, her hands clasped before her, eyes lowered. Two footmen in matching navy-blue livery carry a polished mahogany chest between them, their faces blank as they struggle under its weight.

Watching all the pampered nobles apparently just hang about and do nothing, I thought about what I wanted to do. This definitely seemed like a perfect opportunity to test out my powers.

I thought about all the normalities I’d made so far.

Ones for just one person like making Alvida mine alone or turning Makino into a whore.

That one that affected whole groups of people when I changed how all pirates and marines interacted on the East Blue.

The one that didn’t even have a definite target, just anyone who happened to have a devil fruit in a certain area.

It seemed like I could just decide who it affected when I spoke the sentence, the only limit being the ones that Alvida pointed out: I couldn’t make physical changes to the world. Only apparently beliefs, memories, and behaviors.

Maybe it was time to see if I could find a limit to how far my power could spread.

Looking out over all of these well-dressed snobs, they seemed like a perfect opportunity. There were hundreds of people in sight.

Could I change them all at once?

How far would my power extend? I’d immediately be able to see if it failed at some particular distance from where I currently stood based on the reactions of the nobles below.

My fingers brushed against the earrings. I didn’t need to whisper. I didn’t need to shout. Just state it.

Something quick. Something obvious. Something that would flip their world inside out.

I smirked as it came to me as I recalled Alvida’s focus on fashion, ALL of the clothing shops, and all of that fine clothing down there.

"It's normal for the nobles and rich people of Goa to go naked at all times!"

Heat bloomed at my ears, and I knew my earring guardian spirit approved.

I leaned forward, eager for the show.