White Ghost ignored everyone's looks and turned his gaze to the woman sitting motionless on the sofa.
Lucianne.
"She's the greatest fortune you've had in this life," he said quietly. "Shame the world decided to play a joke on you."
Señor Pink took a slow drag on his cigarette, eyes never leaving his wife's face.
"I've thought the same thing," he murmured. "Must be fate making fun of me."
He exhaled a thin stream of smoke.
"I might've been 'sold' to you," he went on, voice low, "but listen clearly—if you can't cure her… then you and I are just superior and subordinate. Nothing more."
White Ghost didn't mind his bluntness. A man like this had earned the right to talk straight.
"White-bro, help him," Stella said, coming to stand beside White Ghost. Ain followed, her earlier suspicion gone from her eyes.
"I'm going to treat her," White Ghost said. "That was always the plan."
He looked at Señor Pink.
"But you'd better think about how you're going to explain everything when she wakes up. You lost a child back then… that kind of thing doesn't just vanish."
Señor Pink crushed his cigarette out and suddenly dropped to one knee.
"I'm not a pirate anymore," he said hoarsely. "From now on, I'm your man. Whatever you order, I'll carry out. I don't care what it is."
His shoulders trembled.
"I only have one request, Boss—save my wife."
This was the kind of man he was.
He could dress like a baby and let the world laugh if it meant seeing her smile once.
He could kneel in front of anyone, if that kneeling bought her even a sliver of hope.
White Ghost watched him for a moment, then slowly raised his right hand.
Golden flame rose from his palm.
It did not burn hot.
Everyone watching only felt a strange, quiet warmth.
"The thing I admire most about you, Señor Pink," White Ghost said, "is that when you say you'll do something, you do it. No pretense. No lies."
"For your wife, you ignore how the world looks at you.
For Doflamingo, you were ready to die on command."
He stepped closer and laid his hand gently on Lucianne's head.
"I bought you off him," White Ghost said softly. "Not out of pity. But to make sure a man like you doesn't finish his life in regret."
The golden flame sank silently into Lucianne's skull.
Señor Pink's eyes widened. He stared, hardly daring to breathe.
White Ghost's tone turned almost clinical.
"My fire can't grow back limbs," he said. "But if it's an internal lesion, something buried where no surgeon can reach—"
"I can burn it out."
He withdrew his hand, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Everyone watched Lucianne.
Her once-vacant eyes trembled.
Then slowly, they focused—faintly at first, taking in the room… and finally landing on the man kneeling in front of her.
She stared at Señor Pink for one long, quiet heartbeat.
Then her lashes fluttered.
She closed her eyes… and slumped forward.
"Lucianne!" Stella and Ain rushed up, catching her before she slid off the sofa. The little mink doctor hopped over at once, already in work mode.
"Pulse steady. Breathing smooth," the mink said after a quick check, ears flicking. "She's just asleep. A real sleep."
Señor Pink's forehead was about to crack against the floor—
A gust of wind pushed him gently but firmly upright.
White Ghost turned, expression serious.
"I don't like people kneeling to me," he said. "Especially not my own crewmates."
A strangled sound caught in Señor Pink's throat. He bit down hard, forcing the sob back.
The tears came anyway.
He could feel it.
For years, Lucianne had only stared, trapped somewhere he couldn't reach. She'd never truly rested.
Now—for the first time in a very long time—she'd fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep.
It meant White Ghost had done exactly what he said he could do.
White Ghost grabbed him by the arm, hauled him fully upright, and patted his shoulder.
"Come on," he said. "You're a grown man. Don't cry yourself dry."
He grinned.
"I still prefer you in a suit, anyway."
He waved toward the stairs.
"Take her up and let her rest. Little Squirrel, stay with her and do a full check. Then plan a diet for her."
His eyes dropped briefly to Lucianne's thin wrists.
"Her body's been too weak for too long."
"Got it," Stella said immediately. She wrapped Lucianne gently in a bubble and floated her upstairs, the mink doctor trotting along beside her.
White Ghost stretched out on the sofa, a wave of fatigue suddenly washing over him.
Weird, he thought. I only skipped one night of proper sleep. Why do I feel this wiped…?
Kuro walked over.
"Everything settled on Fishman Island?" he asked.
"Yeah." White Ghost flipped his hand, producing a small box. "Got the forbidden drug. With this—and a certain little reindeer's formula—we might be able to push mink warriors into Sulong even under the sun."
Pedro's eyes flew wide. Wanda's ears stood straight up.
"You two can stop staring at it," White Ghost said dryly. "Right now all it'll do is burn through your life force for power. We need time to reshape the formula."
Even so, both of them were trembling with excitement.
"With this, the strength of the Mink Tribe will…"
Kuro glanced from the box to White Ghost.
"And you're not just thinking about the minks, are you?" he asked.
White Ghost smirked and pulled out another fruit.
"The Medical-Medical Fruit," he said. "This one's the real key. Put it in the hands of a top-tier herbal doctor and…"
He snapped his fingers.
"Strength-boosting potions. Speed enhancers. Body-refining tonics.
Stack those with controlled Sulong drugs… and we're talking about an entire army stepping into a new realm."
Pedro's eyes were literally red now.
"Who?" he rasped. "Who is this doctor? Man or woman? Give me a name—I'll find them right now."
White Ghost waved him off.
"Don't hyperventilate, big cat. I said I have someone in mind, not that I know exactly where he is."
"Right now he's… drifting."
He didn't elaborate.
A little while later, Stella and the mink doctor came back downstairs.
"Lucianne's condition is stable," Stella reported. "I'll draw up a meal plan for her. Once she wakes, we'll go slow."
The mink nodded earnestly.
"Her body's very weak, but all the dangerous stuff is gone. It's just recovery from here."
She padded off toward the kitchen—this time not to prepare medicine, but food.
She'd grown a lot.
In her time here she'd devoured stacks of medical texts from the Marine base and spent countless days tending wounded soldiers. The men there called her "Doc Squirrel" with real respect.
She never took a single Berry—just patched them up with a gentle smile and slipped away.
White Ghost had once heard a Marine tried to propose to her.
She'd refused, politely but firmly.
"I'm a mink," she'd said. "I can't marry a human."
The poor man had cried on the spot, saying he didn't mind at all.
She'd patted his arm and said:
"You're a good person."
Then walked away.
He'd cried even harder after that.
White Ghost, hearing the story later, mentally stamped a label on him: hopeless simp.
As for the scum on Sabaody who had tried to lay hands on her… they never got the chance to regret it for long.
Contena had quietly tossed them into the sea.
To feed the fish.
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