"Trafalgar Law?" Doflamingo's lips curled into an amused smile, his fingers drumming lazily against the armrest of his chair. "And why exactly did you come to see me? Planning to die on my doorstep?"
"Three years and two months." The boy's voice was flat, devoid of the tremor one might expect from a child his age.
Doflamingo tilted his head, sunglasses catching the afternoon light. "What?"
"Three years and two months." Law's small hands clenched at his sides, knuckles white beneath skin that bore an unnatural pallor. "That's how long I have left. Amber-lead disease." His eyes, far too hollow for a ten-year-old, locked onto Doflamingo with fierce intensity. "I came here for one reason: in the time I have remaining, I want to join your crew and kill as many people as possible."
The words hung in the air like poison.
From his seat across the courtyard, Smoker exhaled a long stream of smoke, his gaze fixed on the child. The cigars in his mouth tasted bitter. He'd seen plenty of tragedy in his years as a Marine, but there was something particularly grotesque about watching a disease transform a boy into something so consumed by hatred. Flevance had become a tomb, and this kid had crawled out of it carrying nothing but rage.
"Fufufufufu!" Doflamingo's laugh echoed through the courtyard, startling a few of the women lounging by the pool. "Kill more people? And what makes you think I'm the man for that job?"
Law didn't flinch. "You're the most powerful and evil pirate in the entire North Sea. That's why."
"Interesting." Doflamingo leaned forward slightly, studying the boy like a curious predator examining unusual prey. The kid was swaying on his feet, exhaustion written in every line of his small frame, but his eyes burned with something Doflamingo recognized all too well. After a moment, he smiled. "Very well. I'll take you in."
He turned his head toward Diamante, who stood nearby with his usual ridiculous posture. "Diamante, take Law and get him settled. Make sure he rests first."
Doflamingo could see it clearly: the boy was running on fumes. However he'd escaped from that hellhole in Flevance, however he'd managed to traverse the North Blue while suffering from amber-lead disease, it had cost him nearly everything. He was on the verge of collapse.
Diamante straightened, his cape swishing dramatically as he nodded. "Since the young master has decided, then it's settled." He looked down at the boy. "Come with me, Law. As of today, you're part of the Donquixote Family."
Law's expression didn't change. No relief, no gratitude, just that same empty, lifeless stare. He gave a curt nod and followed Diamante toward the mansion.
Doflamingo remained standing, watching the small figure disappear into the shadows of the doorway. That hollow look, that barely restrained fury directed at the entire world... Yes, he'd seen it before. Every time he looked in a mirror as a child.
The faint smile never left his lips as he finally turned and walked back to the sofa, settling into it with practiced ease.
"Recruiting a dying kid doesn't seem like your style." Smoker's voice cut through the silence. He tapped ash from his cigars, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Doflamingo reached for his wine glass, swirling the deep red liquid before taking a slow sip. "Oh? I thought it was rather appropriate. I saw myself in that boy."
Smoker's eyebrows rose. "Yourself?"
For a moment, Doflamingo seemed almost relaxed, as if Smoker were an old confidant rather than a business partner with dubious loyalties. He nodded, staring into his wine. "Yes. When I was a child, I had that exact same look. The look of someone who hates the world with every fiber of their being. Someone who wants to destroy everything, drag everyone else into the hell they've experienced." His voice softened, just a fraction. "That was me, once."
"Was?" Smoker exhaled another cloud of smoke, watching Doflamingo carefully. "Implying you've changed?"
Doflamingo's smile widened, though there was something cold in it now. He took another drink. "Perhaps. A little. Back then, I wanted to burn the world to ash and make everyone suffer as I had. But now..."
"Now what?"
"Now I have a more... focused goal." Doflamingo set down his glass, lacing his fingers together. "I only want to drag those arrogant bastards who sit on their thrones above the clouds down into the filth with the rest of us. That's all."
"Hahahaha!" Smoker's laughter was genuine, tinged with dark amusement. "Here I thought you were a complete lunatic who wanted to destroy everything."
"Oh, make no mistake—if I had the power, I might still consider it. But that would make the entire world my enemy." Doflamingo's grin turned sharp. "And coincidentally, I'm the person who knows my own limitations best. I don't have the strength to win that battle."
It was true enough. Destroying the world meant fighting everyone in it, and even Doflamingo's considerable ego couldn't blind him to that impossibility. Besides, that childish revenge fantasy had lost its appeal over the years.
But there was one thing he would never let go of.
Mary Geoise.
He remembered it with perfect clarity: standing before those massive gates, his father's severed head gripped in his small, blood-soaked hands. He'd killed his own father to reclaim his birthright, to return to the Holy Land. And those damned Celestial Dragons had looked down at him like garbage, their faces twisted with disgust and contempt, and cast him out.
They made his sacrifice meaningless. They made his father's death a joke.
That was the hatred that still burned in his chest.
He didn't need to destroy the world anymore. He only needed to destroy them—to pull every last one of those so-called gods from their pedestals and watch them drown in the same filth they'd condemned him to.
"Really." Smoker's response was neutral, noncommittal. He didn't particularly care about Doflamingo's tragic backstory or his motivations. But there was one thing the pirate had said that rang true: Doflamingo was remarkably self-aware.
Smoker shifted in his seat, ready to wrap things up. His business in the North Sea was essentially complete. Spandine had contacted him a few days ago to confirm that everything in Water 7 was arranged. The shipwrights were ready to be relocated to the New World whenever Smoker returned to collect them.
He'd been delayed here for over half a year already. Time to move on.
Just as Smoker was about to excuse himself, a new figure stepped into the courtyard.
The man was tall, nearly Doflamingo's height, and just as thin. He wore a black feathered coat similar to Doflamingo's, though if anything, his style was even more flamboyant. His face was painted in garish colors that resembled a ghost or a jester, and he wore a strange hood that partially obscured his features. A cigarette dangled from his lips. His hands remained buried in his pockets as he walked past both of them without a word, barely sparing Smoker a glance before disappearing into the mansion.
The entire entrance was so casual, so utterly indifferent to Doflamingo's presence, that it immediately caught Smoker's attention.
"Who's that?" Smoker asked, keeping his tone mildly curious rather than probing.
Even Smoker didn't know the full truth about Rosinante. The undercover operation was classified at the highest levels, known only to a handful of Marine officers: Fleet Admiral Sengoku, Instructor Zephyr, Chief of Staff Tsuru, Vice Admiral Finn, and Vice Admiral Kuzan. No one else had clearance, and those who did would never betray him.
"Fufufu." Doflamingo's smile softened, just a touch. "That's my younger brother. I hope you'll treat him kindly if you ever cross paths in the future."
Smoker blinked. "Your brother?"
He'd never heard anything about Doflamingo having a sibling. Judging by the man's build and age, and that arrogant attitude of completely ignoring Doflamingo, it seemed plausible. But the way he dressed, that eerie painted face... Was he even more twisted than Doflamingo?
This was important intelligence. Smoker doubted the Marines knew about this. He'd have to report it to Admiral Finn immediately.
Outwardly, Smoker's expression remained unchanged, as if the information held no interest for him whatsoever. He flicked ash from his cigars and stood. "Well, my work in the North Sea is done. As for the Amway Group's dealings with the Donquixote Family, I'll make sure to maintain and expand them going forward." He started toward the courtyard gate. "If there's nothing else, I'll be on my way."
He made it almost to the exit before stopping and turning back, as if something had just occurred to him. "Oh, one more thing." He met Doflamingo's eyes, and his mouth curved into a grin that would've looked perfectly at home on a ruthless pirate. "I hope you become one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea soon."
With that, Smoker turned and walked out, leaving the courtyard behind.
Doflamingo watched him go, his own wicked smile firmly in place. "Good luck to you too, Smoker."
Once the Marine was gone, Trebol shuffled out from inside the mansion, his grotesque form casting a long shadow as he positioned himself behind Doflamingo's chair. "Doffy," he said in that perpetually nasal voice, "are we heading back to the New World?"
"No." Doflamingo didn't even glance at him, his gaze still fixed on the spot where Smoker had disappeared. "I don't feel like returning to the New World just yet. We'll stay in the North Sea for now."
Trebol didn't understand the young master's reasoning, but he never questioned him. "Understood."
He shuffled away, leaving Doflamingo alone once more.
For a long while, Doflamingo sat motionless, ostensibly watching the bikini-clad women playing in the pool, their laughter and splashing filling the warm afternoon air. But his mind was elsewhere.
"Trafalgar Law," he murmured softly to himself.
Could amber-lead disease be cured?
He'd seen himself in that child—the rage, the desperation, the hunger for destruction. And he found he didn't want that boy to die in three years. If Law could be trained properly, molded correctly... He might become an invaluable asset. Perhaps even a right-hand man.
But amber-lead disease...
Flevance.
Doflamingo's smile faded, just slightly, as he stared into the shimmering water of the pool.
What a waste that would be.
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