Grand Line, Baltigo.
The Revolutionary Army's Dragon and all the core commanders were stationed on this island.
Although Michael had set their goals, directing them in the early stages of the revolution to focus on the Four Seas—
Baltigo, as their headquarters, was still indispensable.
"Sigh, come to think of it, it's been a while since Michael-san showed up around here," Ginny said with a sigh. "Even though he doesn't seem very reliable, he's actually kind of fun."
"Ginny, ever since Michael said he'd officiate your and Kuma's wedding, you started calling him 'Michael-san,'" Ivankov said with a laugh. "But you're quite a bit older than him, you know."
"For me, calling someone 'san' has never had anything to do with age," Ginny replied without the slightest pressure. "Besides, from how I look, I'm still in my twenties, right?"
Ginny's confidence in her appearance wasn't unfounded.
After all, in the original story, when a Celestial Dragon took a liking to her and forcefully dragged her back as a wife, Ginny was already thirty-seven.
If she wasn't truly beautiful, how could she have been targeted by a Celestial Dragon at that age?
Of course, this also had something to do with the Pirate World's tendency for beautiful women to practically defy aging.
"Uwah, you really have no bottom line, huh? Just because Michael was willing to help you get that blockhead Kuma?" Ivankov twitched his lips. "Our Chief of Staff really has too much free time on his hands."
Though he said that, Ivankov was genuinely grateful to Michael. That move had completely eliminated the small wall between Ginny and Kuma.
With Kuma's naturally self-deprecating and overly considerate personality, if they'd just let things progress on their own, there's no way it would've ended well.
Ivankov would stake his entire Okama Way on it!
"Hey now, it's just been a while since I came by. You two really had to start gossiping about your poor Chief of Staff behind his back?"
A voice rang out from above. The two looked up and saw Michael descending in a spiral, wings spread wide.
Their faces immediately lit up with joy, and just as they were about to speak, they noticed a swirling mass of sand hovering beside Michael in mid-air.
When the sandstorm landed, it took the shape of a person.
The figure was tall and imposing, but his eyes exuded a sinister chill that made one's spine tingle.
Ginny was just about to speak, but Ivankov's laughter beat her to it.
"Well, if it isn't our dear Crocodile? Haven't seen you for a few days—why are you looking so defeated?" Ivankov approached with a teasing grin. "Judging by your state, I'd say our dear Chief of Staff finally beat that arrogance out of you, huh? Hee-haw!"
Crocodile glanced at Ivankov, anger welling up inside, but he didn't dare let it show.
His glare was fierce, but he could only stew in silence.
After all, this wasn't just someone who knew his secret—this was the man who personally created that very secret.
"Enough, Ivankov. From now on, he's my new subordinate. Give the guy a bit of dignity, alright?" Michael shrugged. "The main reason I came to find you two today is for him."
"For him?" Ivankov's massive head tilted slightly. He leaned in toward Crocodile, his comically huge eyelashes almost poking into the man's nose. "Oh right! I told you the secret about this Crocodile guy!"
"Exactly. So I brought him to get a full makeover." Michael shrugged. "Originally, I just wanted to use him as a Warlord of the Sea and take him out after a while. He's way too ambitious. But once I got hold of that secret, I decided to make him part of my Navy crew!"
"This secret? I'll milk it for life!"
"I see now. You really are a wicked man, Michael! Hee-haw!"
"Keep it low-key, keep it low-key."
Watching the cocky exchange between the two insiders, Crocodile suddenly found himself overwhelmed with hatred.
Hatred toward his own weakness!
If he were strong enough, he could wipe out these two bastards right here!
After all, he never imagined that the sacrifice he made to hide his true identity would become the very chains binding him now.
"What the hell are you two talking about?" Ginny raised an eyebrow, her not-so-quick mind working at top speed. "But I think I've seen this guy on a Navy wanted poster before… isn't he the 'Desert King' Crocodile, with an 80 million Belly bounty?"
"Yes and no," Michael replied without denying it. "But after today, the man known as Sir Crocodile will no longer exist."
Ivankov looked at the two of them with shock.
What did that mean?
Michael actually intended for Crocodile to become a woman again!?
"Crocodile, is that what you want too?"
"You bastard, Ivankov. Do you think I have a choice right now?"
Crocodile lit a cigar, took a deep drag, then exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.
From the look on his face, though, it wasn't just smoke he was exhaling—but a deep, weary sigh.
"But you don't need to worry. Even after the gender reassignment surgery, your appearance won't return to how it was before." As the mastermind behind it all, Ivankov naturally noticed Crocodile's concern. "So you don't have to worry about those people who once targeted your body coming back for another shot."
That comment, in turn, left Michael completely bewildered.
What did he mean by "targeted your body"?
What exactly had Crocodile been hiding?
"Alright, come with me. As for the operation, we'd best discuss it in a more private place."
With that, Ivankov turned and led the way.
Ginny, curious as ever, followed alongside Michael, clearly determined to absorb every drop of juicy gossip.
"Anything you want to say, Crocodile?" Michael walked beside him. "Seems like I let myself get misled by the past too. I only found out you were originally a woman… but not what kind of woman you were."
"What if the truth completely shocks you?"
"I doubt I'll be that surprised."
Michael's face radiated nonchalance.
After all, what could be more surprising than being a time traveler?
At most, it'd just expand his horizons a little.
Crocodile glanced at Michael's expression, then finally let out a long sigh.
"Do you know why I call myself Sir Crocodile?"
"Why?"
"Because the desert crocodile is a specialty of Alabasta."
Crocodile pulled the cigar from his lips.
"And I… used to be from Alabasta."
"To be exact, my former surname was Nefertari."