"Save your excuses, Joker."
"This is the North Sea, not the Grand Line."
"The number of people here who wield Conqueror's Haki can be counted on one hand. Do you take the Five Elders for fools? Or Cipher Pol for idiots?"
Captain Doll's voice was sharp.
As the adjutant handpicked for Vice Admiral Rosen by Fleet Admiral Sengoku himself, her loyalty to justice was beyond question. Yet so was her understanding of flexibility, of lines blurred in shadow.
Even if Donquixote Doflamingo openly spoke of killing a CP9 agent before her eyes, she could pretend not to see. After all, the Heavenly Demon knew his limits. The video showed it clearly—aside from the CP9 operative beneath his heel, every escort of the Heavenly Gold was simply stunned by his Conqueror's Haki.
No deaths. Not even lasting injuries.
What Doll could not tolerate was unreliability—any action of Doflamingo's that might implicate Rosen.
"No," Doflamingo replied with a grin.
"This is already the Grand Line."
"I shadowed the fleet until it left the North Sea. When it reached the Calm Belt, only then did I act."
Then he added words that made Doll's blood run cold:
"Whether Celestial Dragons or World Government—it's all the same. They recognize only Heavenly Gold, not people."
"Without Heavenly Gold, Germa loses its place in the World Government."
"Next, as long as we kill this CP9 agent, the Vice Admiral's blade can strike Germa-66 without restraint."
Finished, Doflamingo pressed harder with his loafer, grinding CP9's skull against the deck. His arms spread wide, fingers curling—five shining threads of steel light bursting forth like the claws of a beast.
"No! Don't kill me!"
The CP9 agent beneath him—horned, broken—was gripped by terror.
"Fufufufufufu…"
"Remember this. In your next life, don't be weak. The weak don't even get to choose how they die."
The five-colored threads slashed downward—
"Stop."
The command cut through like thunder.
CP9's eyes widened in disbelief as the threads missed his neck, gouging five holes into the deck instead. Sweat streamed down his face.
"Vice Admiral," Doflamingo sneered, hand clamped like a talon on the agent's throat.
"I broke no rules. He's not Navy—he's Cipher Pol. And isn't Cipher Pol the one you despise most?"
Vice Admiral Rosen ignored him. His eyes locked on the screen projection, studying the CP9 agent's horned features. Recognition stirred.
"You're Who's Who, aren't you?"
For a heartbeat, silence. Then the horned agent swallowed hard.
"Yes… that's right. I am Who's Who."
Because Who's Who always wore a mask in official duty, and because he was more than a decade younger than when history would later know him, Rosen hadn't recognized him at first. Now, the truth clicked. One of the future Tobiroppo of Kaido's crew—here, still CP9.
Rosen's gaze hardened.
"It seems you really want to live."
He wasn't sure whether Who's Who's body was tough, but his spirit certainly wasn't. Not like Rob Lucci, whose steel will even torture could not bend.
"What can I do for you?" Who's Who's eyes darted, his mind racing. Survival was the only thing that mattered.
"What if I asked you to betray the World Government?" Rosen's tone was calm, unreadable.
"I just want to live."
The words came halting, but steady. Who's Who's creed was simple. A CP9 operative's salary was barely a hundred thousand berries a month. Hardly worth dying for.
"Then give me a reason to let you live." Rosen's eyes pierced him like steel.
"Tell me—who killed Zephyr's family?"
"Give me a name, and I'll let you live."
The admiral's voice carried a weight that made even Doflamingo pause.
"I… I don't know."
Wrong answer.
"Wrong answer," Rosen said flatly.
Doflamingo's hand twitched, threads ready. His finger cocked like a pistol, pressing against the back of Who's Who's head.
"Wait!" Who's Who's voice cracked in panic.
"I wasn't CP9 at the time—it's impossible I'd know who killed them."
"But… but I know something else!"
The words tumbled from him in a desperate torrent.
"Back then, the World Government issued orders—Cipher Pol was to track the murderer of Zephyr's family. But… only CP1 through CP6 were dispatched."
"The others… three other branches… they were given a different mission."
His body trembled beneath Doflamingo's heel, but he forced the words out.
"To erase someone's whereabouts."
"Not erase them from history, no—just erase all record of their movements during a certain period of time."
The words hit Rosen like a hammer.
"Who?" he demanded.
Who's Who's lips trembled.
"I don't know."
Yet the pieces aligned. This matched the whispers he had once heard from Victor Seiji. The truth wasn't that the culprit didn't exist. It was that the World Government had chosen to hide it.
And if it had been a mere pirate, why cover it up? Unless… it was someone else entirely.
Rosen's eyes narrowed.
"Doffy. Break his arms and legs. Bring him to me."
"Fufufu… understood."
Doflamingo's hand spread wide, fingers slicing like blades. Threads pierced flesh and bone.
Crack.
Who's Who screamed, writhing as the bones of his arms and legs snapped. Blood seeped, but the cuts were precise—clean breaks, not severed limbs.
Pain contorted his face, yet in his heart he felt relief.
With his mastery of Life Return, his body could still heal. With treatment, the bones could be set and mended. Rosen hadn't ordered his death. He had ordered survival—broken, but survival nonetheless.
That was enough.
So long as he lived, nothing else mattered.
"Fufufufufu… what a waste," Doflamingo muttered.
"One problem solved. Now, only two remain."
He cast a glance at Who's Who, crawling across the deck like a crippled animal yet clinging to the spark of life.
"The Operation Fruit… and Gild Tesoro."
He hadn't forgotten the three tasks Rosen had assigned him. He dared not. To fail even one was to invite a fate worse than the collar at his throat.
The seas swarmed with pirates. And among them, there was no shortage fit to be warlords.