Kyle played with the Transponder Snail, his fingers tapping a light, rhythmic beat against the receiver. The soft clicking sounds echoed in the quiet office. On the other end of the line, Morgans held his breath, waiting for the verdict that would decide his fate.
"Hmm… the Rumble-Rumble Fruit, CP0, the Seven Warlords of the Sea, and… Buggy," Kyle mumbled slowly, as if he were taking inventory of goods on a shelf. He paused for a moment before continuing. "Alright, I'll admit, that information is interesting enough. I'll let you off the hook this time."
"Thank you for your generosity, Lord Kyle! Your wisdom is vaster than the sky, and your kindness is deeper than the ocean itself!" Through the Transponder Snail, Morgans's voice was so high-pitched with excitement that it almost cracked. He sounded as if he were on the verge of tears.
In reality, however, his face was a mask of pure resentment. He silently mouthed a long string of curses at the device in his hand. He was, as always, a two-faced schemer.
Kyle listened to the familiar, over-the-top flattery without any reaction.
"Your insight is like the North Star, guiding us all through the darkness, you…"
"That's enough," Kyle interrupted him flatly. "You can stop now."
"Yes, yes, of course!" Morgans immediately fell silent.
Kyle finished the last of his black tea, setting the cup down on the table with a sharp, clear clink. He leaned back, shifting into a more comfortable position in his chair before speaking in a lazy tone. "However, little Mor, you have a serious flaw."
Kyle could almost hear Morgans's heart pounding through the receiver.
"You say one thing to my face, but you do another behind my back."
"What are you talking about, Lord Kyle!" Morgans's voice became sharp and defensive. "My admiration for you is witnessed by the sun and the moon! I would never…"
"Is that right?" Kyle chuckled softly. "Why don't you look behind you?"
Behind him?
A dead silence fell over the other end of the line. Kyle didn't press him, content to wait quietly. Beside him, Caron stood perfectly still, like a loyal and unmoving statue.
After a few tense seconds, a distorted shriek tore through the Transponder Snail, the sound of a man whose throat was being squeezed tight.
"Ah—!"
At that very moment, in the president's office of the World Economic Journal, Morgans stiffly turned his neck. The fawning relief that had been on his face just moments before was gone, replaced by a look of absolute terror.
Behind his desk, a raven stood silently on a bookshelf. It was completely black, seemingly formed from pure shadow itself. It made no sound and didn't move a muscle. Its eerie, blue eyes were fixed on him, staring without blinking, as if it had been watching him for a very, very long time.
The vision was being shared. Morgans didn't need to ask how; he knew this had something to do with Moriah's strange powers. He instantly understood everything, and a cold sweat began to soak the feathers under his wings.
"L-Lord Kyle… this… this is…" He tried to laugh, to play it off as a joke, but his voice trembled too much.
"Just a lost little bird," Kyle's voice drifted from the Transponder Snail, laced with a hint of amusement. "It said it really likes your office and wants to stay for a while."
"It likes it! That's wonderful! It's welcome! More than welcome!" Morgans immediately put on an enthusiastic act. He forced a smile at the shadow raven, a smile that looked more painful than crying. "How do you like my office? Should I redecorate it for you? Maybe a retro style? Or something more minimalist and modern?"
"No need," Kyle's voice turned cold. "Just mind your mouth, and mind your pen. If I ever see another article about a 'Strongest Marriage Alliance' in the newspaper again, I'll have Moriah cut off your shadow and stuff it into Big Mom's wedding cake. Then, I'll have Mihawk chop your body into tiny little pieces."
"Never again! It will never happen again!" Morgans nodded frantically at the Transponder Snail, his movements so wild that his top hat flew right off his head.
Kyle ignored the terrified fool and casually hung up the call. The Transponder Snail, still mimicking Morgans's horrified expression, went limp on the table.
Silence returned to the office. Kyle propped his feet back up on the table, and his chair began to spin again, this time faster than before, almost becoming a black blur. Caron silently stepped forward, took the empty teacup, and replaced it with a fresh one. He watched his lord's unusual method for relieving stress, and the admiration in his eyes only grew stronger.
*To simulate the tidal forces of celestial bodies through high-speed rotation, adjusting one's own biomagnetic field to achieve perfect resonance with the world!* he thought. *What a truly profound and unfathomable way to train!*
Of course, Kyle had no idea what his imaginative butler was thinking. He was simply organizing the information he had just acquired while enjoying the dizzying feeling of emptiness.
The Seven Warlords of the Sea… Hancock was already one of his own, and Doflamingo was his most loyal… dog. With those two in place, the World Government was essentially paying two of his subordinates to guard his territory for him. The thought was amusing. As for Crocodile, Kyle was happy to let him stir up trouble in Alabasta. It would serve as a perfect introductory challenge for a certain straw-hatted boy in the future. Besides, he could always go visit and play there himself if he got bored.
And then there was… Buggy.
Thinking of the red-nosed clown, an unconscious smile spread across Kyle's face. A bounty of $55,000,000$! Well done, Buggy! He hadn't ended up like he did in the original story, sailing around in a broken-down ship with a crew of nobodies, robbing small villages and getting involved in petty schemes.
By some strange twist of fate, Buggy had relied on pure luck and a fearsome reputation to defeat veteran pirates and become adored by the common people. This was the kind of prestige a former member of the Pirate King's crew was supposed to have. The process might have been filled with comical coincidences, but the result was undeniably good. It seemed his Conqueror's luck had finally kicked in.
Finally, Kyle turned his thoughts to the piece of information that interested him the most: Sky Island and the Rumble-Rumble Fruit. It was currently in the possession of a man who called himself "God," Eneru.
In Kyle's view, Eneru was a classic case of a man-child who got his hands on a powerful toy and started lording it over his own little world. He was no different from the mountain bandits in the East Blue who bullied ordinary people; his scope of influence was just a bit larger.
A problem child like that was the easiest type to deal with. All Kyle had to do was beat him into the ground until he questioned his own existence, then toss a pile of gold at him and tell him there were far more interesting things to discover out in the universe. He was sure Eneru would immediately bow down, call him "Big Brother," and become his sharpest weapon for future expeditions to the moon.
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