Knock, knock, knock.
"Come in."
The tapping roused Wayne from his thoughts. Robin stepped through the door in a fitted secretary's suit, slim spectacles shining, hair pinned into a neat twist.
"Sir, the concert starts in one hour. Please head to the dressing room for makeup. Gloria has been waiting."
"Understood."
Dressing room
Inside, freshly made-up Gloria bounced over, posing. "Well, Boss, how do I look?"
She wore a sapphire-blue princess dress, glossy black ankle boots, and twin tails now bleached ice-white. With her doll-like face she was every inch an idol singer.
"Adorable," Wayne said, ruffling her hair. "The crowd will faint dead away."
"Of course," drawled their resident make-up artist, Josh Moen, "you are looking at my handiwork."
Moen had eaten the Make-Make Fruit. One brush of his sponge could not only reshape a client's features but even tweak posture and aura. He was also Dawn operative No. 07, codename Clown, a dual-Haki close-combat expert whose favored weapon was a twenty-centimeter dagger. On missions he painted his own face like a clown; the persona boosted his speed, strength, and reflexes.
Wayne shivered. "All right, Moen, same look as always."
"Right away, sir."
Thirty minutes later Wayne studied the mirror. The jawline, brows, and eyes were all still his, yet even he felt an odd disconnect, as if he were staring at a stranger.
"Incredible," he murmured.
Moen preened. "After awakening, my fruit creates a cognitive blind spot. Anyone who meets you tonight will know the face yet never match it to 'Wayne'."
Outside, fans were already chanting in tidal waves. Wayne straightened his collar and glanced at Robin.
"Broadcast snails good to go?"
"All channels live, just waiting for you."
Grand plaza stage, Loguetown
Wayne descended from the sky, one hand clasping Gloria's, using Moon-Walk as if strolling on invisible steps.
Screams erupted.
"He's here!"
"Lord Wayne!"
"I'm gonna die, he's too handsome!"
The roar alone knocked several fans unconscious. Medics, long familiar with the routine, whisked them away.
Wayne raised the Den-Den microphone. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen!" His voice boomed across the plaza and into every linked tel-snail. "Welcome to the East Blue stop, final show of the Four-Seas Tour. I'm Wayne, your humble vocalist."
"I'm Gloria, the Songbird!"
After the brief greeting, Wayne signaled the band. "First up my song Lemon."
The opening riff hit, and a sea of glow-sticks swayed. In the One Piece world, pop culture was thin on material; but Wayne's stash of Earth classics, drawn from his system, had conquered listeners of every age and station pirates, marines, nobles, commoners, even a few Celestial Dragons.
From a smoky bar in Sabaody to royal invitation halls, his venues had grown with each show. Backed by Dawn's quiet media machine, he became a global idol in just five years, culminating in this world-spanning tour.
The first number ended to thunder.
"Next," Wayne announced, "Gloria and I will sing Because of Love."
Song after song raised the temperature until, after seven or eight hits, Wayne motioned for an intermission. Experience had taught him that letting fans scream nonstop for hours led to mass fainting, and he preferred his audience conscious.