The colossal waves created by the battle at Mary Geoise strangely calmed after the World Government released its absurd announcement. Most people initially thought the bulletin was a joke, the work of some bold satirist. A pirate attacking Mary Geoise? It was the funniest story to sail the Grand Line in years.
The expected Buster Call never came. The mad, retaliatory strikes never occurred. While there was a small purge of the underworld, the core networks remained completely intact, thanks to prior arrangements. Everything seemed to fall silent, as if the deadly struggle that shook the Red Line had never even happened.
Inside the villa on the Sabaody Archipelago, Kyle removed the last of his bandages. He stretched, and his joints let out a series of loud pops.
"Boring," he sighed, slumping back onto the sofa and gazing at the calm sea outside. "I thought those four old men would be angry enough to use the Ancient Weapons to bomb my house, but this is it? All bark and no bite."
"Perhaps they believe that a large-scale public attack on you would be the same as admitting their defeat to the entire world," Robin said, placing a cup of black tea on the table in front of him. "It would be a sign of weakness, and it would damage the World Government's prestige."
"Tch, can't afford to lose face, huh?" Kyle pouted, though he knew she was right. They would have to swallow their pride, pretend nothing happened, and plan their revenge in secret.
Just then, the shadows in the corner of the room twisted, and Gekko Moriah's figure emerged. Behind him followed a tall figure in a familiar pink feather coat: Donquixote Doflamingo. He didn't make his usual "Fuffuffu" laugh, nor did he have his typical arrogant sneer. He simply walked quietly to Kyle and, to the surprise of Robin and Moriah, slowly knelt on one knee.
For the man once known as the Heavenly Yaksha, this action should have been worse than death. But there was no hint of humiliation in his posture, only a deep, soulful reverence.
"Lord Kyle," he said, his voice hoarse but clear.
Kyle picked up his tea without even looking at him. "Yo, Doffy. Made it back alive? I thought some Celestial Dragon might have roasted you like a turkey."
Doflamingo's body trembled slightly. "Thanks to you, I survived." He knew Kyle had left him there as a test, and a warning. And he had passed.
"So, how was the scenery in the Holy Land?" Kyle asked, taking a sip of tea.
"…Yes," Doflamingo's voice held an uncontrollable excitement for the first time. "It was the most beautiful scenery I have ever seen." Gods bleeding and Celestial Dragons wailing. That hell was his heaven.
Kyle put down his teacup and finally looked at him. "Get up. Why are you kneeling?"
"Yes." Doflamingo stood, but kept his head bowed. The image of Kyle's golden eyes, burning with an insane fighting spirit above the Red Line, was forever burned into his mind.
"Go back. Business as usual," Kyle said with a wave of his hand. "Continue being a Warlord. Continue being Joker."
Doflamingo froze and looked up. "Lord Kyle, I…"
"What, you want to stay here and serve tea?" Kyle raised an eyebrow. "I don't need an errand boy. I gave you power so you could use it. I don't like to micromanage. It's called giving you freedom to stimulate your own initiative, understand?"
To Doflamingo, those lazy words sounded like a divine decree. This was trust. This was recognition from the devil himself.
"I understand!" Doflamingo nodded, the fire of ambition reigniting in his eyes, now branded with Kyle's mark. "I will not disappoint you!" He bowed deeply once more, then turned and followed Moriah back into the shadows. Kyle chuckled. A dog like Doflamingo was more valuable when let off the leash.
A series of deliberately heavy footsteps came from the stairs. Kyle looked up to see a tall girl with long black hair walking down, a pout on her beautiful face. It was Boa Hancock. She was sixteen now, her stunning figure already beginning to show. She didn't dare lash out at Kyle, so she expressed her displeasure with her stomping. She slammed a stack of documents on the table.
"Your things!" Her voice was cold, but held a tiny tremor. In the few days she'd been here, she had already learned how terrifying this man was. The aloof World's Strongest Swordsman was still recovering from his battle, and this lazy man in front of her had fought four "gods" and returned. She didn't dare resist, but she would never surrender.
"You've worked hard, little Hancock," Kyle said, picking up the documents without a glance.
Hancock bit her lip, even more annoyed at being ignored. She watched as Robin naturally refilled Kyle's tea, which made her feel a frustrated anger at the other girls' apparent acceptance of their situation. Just as she was about to turn and leave, a hand shot out.
Thwack!
A crisp flick landed right on her smooth forehead.
"Ugh!" Hancock cried out, clutching her head. She glared at Kyle, only to find him smiling at her like she was a bratty little sister.
"Walking so loudly," he said. "Are you trying to stomp through the floor?"
"You…!" Hancock was trembling with anger but couldn't find the words. Finally, she stomped her foot, clutched her head, and ran back upstairs.
"What a troublesome kid," Kyle shook his head, opening the documents. Most were intelligence reports, which he quickly skimmed through. Finally, he picked up an envelope that had a faint floral scent. It was from Rouge. He tore it open, revealing her elegant handwriting on the paper inside.
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