Under the night sky, Jaya's harbor was even noisier than in daylight.
Casinos and taverns blazed with harsh lights. Laughter spilled out from brothels and pleasure dens. The roar of the arena carried across several streets to reach the docks.
On the very edge of that chaos, the Oro Jackson lay quietly at anchor.
When Bullet returned to the ship, dinner was already laid out.
The long table in the middle of the deck was piled high with roasted meats and fresh vegetables and fruit. The head chef had even procured a barrel of red wine that was supposedly from a top winery in the West Blue.
The price, no doubt, had been outrageous.
"Perfect timing!"
Roger sat at the head of the table, a roast lamb leg in one hand and a brimming wineglass in the other.
"We were waiting on you!"
"Rayleigh says you went digging through junk stalls?"
"Find anything good?"
Curious looks turned his way from all along the table.
Bullet took the seat beside Rayleigh, then pulled the oiled bundle from his shirt and set it on the table.
"A rubbing," he said.
"The script is similar to Poneglyph text, but not exactly the same."
The table went quiet for a heartbeat.
Roger set down his lamb, wiped his hands, and leaned forward.
Rayleigh simply put his knife and fork aside.
Shanks and a few of the younger crew members crowded around as well.
Bullet unrolled the rubbing.
Under the ship's lamplight, the strange characters stood out even more clearly.
"This is…"
Rayleigh's fingers brushed lightly across the surface of the script.
"It is indeed from the same root as Poneglyph writing, but this is a handwritten form."
He raised his head and looked straight at Bullet.
"Where did you get it?"
"In the junk district, from a book stall."
"The seller said it came from a scholar family in the South Blue. They studied ancient script and later ran into disaster."
"The South Blue… a scholar family…"
Rayleigh's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Oliventa?"
Bullet nodded.
"There is a family crest in the lower right corner of the rubbing."
Rayleigh bent closer and checked the tiny emblem.
A few seconds later, he confirmed,
"It is the Oliventa family."
"One of the South Blue's most famous researchers of ancient writing."
Roger scratched his head.
"Oliventa?"
"Never heard of them."
"Are they supposed to be a big deal?"
"In academic circles, their status is on par with the scholars of Ohara."
Rayleigh sat up straighter, his expression unusually grave.
"But their focus is different."
"Ohara studies ancient history itself, while the Oliventa family studies the script."
"They believe written language is the vessel that carries history and thought. To understand an ancient civilisation, you must first understand its words."
He pointed at the characters on the rubbing.
"This is one of their research results."
Shanks frowned at the symbols.
"So that means they can read Poneglyphs, right?"
"In theory, yes."
Rayleigh replied.
"But in practice, the World Government does not allow it."
The air around the table shifted, growing a shade heavier.
Roger took a swallow of wine, then grinned.
"The same old World Government routine."
"Ban research into history, ban digging up the truth, ban anything that might shake their little throne."
"The Oliventa family knew that perfectly well, which is why they kept their heads down."
Rayleigh continued.
"Family members rarely left the South Blue. Their work was never formally published."
"But three years ago… they were still found."
Bullet asked,
"Found?"
"CP agents."
Rayleigh's voice cooled noticeably.
"Rumour has it someone betrayed them."
"In a single night, the Oliventa estate was burned to the ground. The family scattered to the winds."
"No one knows how many died, how many were captured."
"The World Government sealed every scrap of information."
He glanced at the charred edge of the rubbing.
"This piece was probably rescued during that fire."
"For it to drift all the way to Jaya means at least one member of the family made it onto the Grand Line."
Roger suddenly cut in.
"Hold on, Rayleigh, how do you know all that so clearly?"
Rayleigh was silent for a few seconds.
"I once had contact with one of them."
He said slowly.
"Back then, in the South Blue, I met an Oliventa girl."
"She was very young, but her knowledge was frightening."
"We talked all night about ancient writing."
He rubbed his brow.
"Her name was Anna Oliventa."
"She told me her dream was to build an academy where every script in the world could be studied freely."
"But she also knew that in this world, that dream was impossible."
Silence settled over the table.
Bullet looked at the rubbing, and a line from the stall owner floated up in his mind:
"Disaster, nobody knows if it was storm or man."
Now it seemed clear. It had been man.
"So," he said,
"If I want to decipher this rubbing, I need to find the surviving members of the Oliventa family."
"In theory, yes."
Rayleigh nodded.
"But it will be very difficult."
"The World Government is certainly hunting them. They will be forced to hide their identities."
"And…"
He paused.
"Even if you find them, they may not agree to help you."
"Anyone who has lived through that kind of thing will have a hard time trusting outsiders again."
Bullet rolled the rubbing back up and rewrapped it.
"I will find them," he said.
His tone was calm, yet there was a quiet finality in it that allowed no doubt.
Roger burst out laughing and slammed a hand against Bullet's shoulder.
"Good, that is what I wanted to hear!"
"If you have decided, then do it!"
"If you need help, just say the word!"
"Not for now," Bullet replied.
"This is my own business."
Dinner went on, the conversation shifting in other directions.
Shanks happily reenacted his fights in the arena. Buggy grumbled about opponents being too strong and making him lose money.
The mood around the table grew lively once more.
But Bullet could feel that Rayleigh's spirits had sunk.
The first mate drank quietly, only occasionally joining the talk. His gaze kept drifting off into the distance, as though chasing memories.
After the meal, the crew dispersed to their tasks.
Some went to maintain weapons, others to update the logbooks, a few simply collapsed and went straight to sleep.
Bullet returned to the hammock area.
He had just laid down when he felt a faint presence drawing near.
He closed his eyes and let Observation spread soundlessly.
It was Buggy.