The photo clearly had some age to it. Though overall it was well-preserved, the edges had begun to yellow and curl.
—A silver moon hung bright in the night sky, and under its gentle glow…
A blond-haired boy was clinking glasses with Nao, both laughing heartily.
The boy's clean, radiant face was nothing like his current look—forever buried under thick coats and dark makeup, steeped in gloom. Even acquaintances would struggle to recognize him as the same person without a close look.
That carefree, relaxed smile… for reasons he couldn't quite name, stirred something sour in Doflamingo's chest. A pang of bitterness, even… jealousy toward the black-haired youth in the photo.
Fwoosh.
Doflamingo took a deep breath, suddenly crumpled the entire stack of photos in his hand into a ball, threw it back onto the table, and stubbed out his cigarette.
"Doffy."
At that moment, Vergo finally spoke up softly. "How should we handle it?"
"Handle it?"
Doflamingo lifted his head. His expression had returned to its usual icy calm. The corners of his mouth curled into a chilling, twisted grin.
"Fufufufufu… What do you think, Vergo? Even if he is my own younger brother, betrayal is absolutely… no, more than that. Precisely because it's him, compared to anyone else's betrayal, his is the one I can least tolerate."
"..."
Vergo was silent for a moment. Then he stood, cracking his neck, his voice flat:
"In that case, I understand."
Leaving only those words behind, he turned toward the door.
But just as his hand closed on the knob, Doflamingo called out again.
"No—wait."
He fixed his gaze on the photos lying on the table. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes betrayed no emotion.
"Give him one last chance. Handle it however you see fit. But I want absolute certainty. Even ninety-nine percent isn't enough. Do you understand?"
"..."
Vergo didn't look back. His steps paused for a moment, then he nodded faintly. Pushing the door open with force, he strode out into the swirling snowstorm.
...
A certain secluded, deserted alley.
In the dim light of the corner—
"The transaction location is Patton Island? Huh? I thought it was Cartier Island?"
Rosinante sat cross-legged against the wall, a smile tugging at his lips as he listened to the surprised voice over the Den Den Mushi.
"It's Patton Island, Brother Nao. Cartier Island is just a decoy the Family put out."
"Not only will several top executives be there, but Doffy himself will also show up for the negotiations. If you set out directly for Patton Island, the timing should line up perfectly. You could wipe them all out in one swoop."
"Got it, understood."
There was a brief pause on the other end, before the voice added:
"Oh, right—do you still have that Vivre Card I gave you back then?"
"I've kept it on me the whole time."
Rosinante nodded, patting his chest, a little puzzled. "Why bring that up all of a sudden, Brother Nao?"
"Nothing. Just popped into my head, so I asked. As long as you still have it, that's good."
"Alright then. I'll see you on Patton Island. Rosinante, the more critical the moment, the more careful you need to be. Don't ever let your guard down."
"Relax. Doffy still trusts me completely. I haven't slipped even once."
…
After hanging up, Rosinante instinctively lit a cigarette. He took a deep drag, then stared blankly at the smoke rings drifting apart in the air.
I hope I didn't make a mistake this time…
When he volunteered to take on the mission to infiltrate the Donquixote Family, he initially thought he could use his own power to try and stop Doflamingo, slowly bringing his own brother back to the right path.
But the longer he remained embedded in the Family, the clearer it became: that idea was nothing more than a fool's delusion, a dream with no chance of coming true.
Just like years ago, when his brother had cut off their father's head in order to return to the Holy Land.
His elder brother carried within him a pure, innate evil. It was etched into his very bones. And over the years, it hadn't diminished—only grown stronger, more rampant, utterly beyond saving.
Even though Rosinante had mentally prepared himself before accepting the mission, witnessing the countless atrocities of the Family with his own eyes was still unbearable.
So.
Rather than clinging to those last scraps of fantasy, it was better to let the Donquixote Family be destroyed outright.
Especially now that Nao had been dispatched to the North Blue. His brother's power might be terrifying and unfathomable, but compared to Nao, it was nothing…
The pitch-black hell of Impel Down—that was where Doflamingo truly belonged.
"Hmm?"
Rosinante sniffed the air. Something smelled burnt. He glanced down—and realized that a cigarette ember had singed his feather coat. Flames were already licking upward.
"Shit!"
He jumped up in a panic, flailing to beat out the fire. A few moments later, covered in ash and soot, he emerged from the alley, grumbling as he brushed off his charred coat, ready to return to his room to rest.
But suddenly—a shadow appeared before him.
Looking down, he saw Vergo blocking his path.
Something wrong?
Rosinante studied him curiously, raising his hands to sign the words.
Vergo's face was blank as he looked up.
"Tomorrow morning, meet me at the port. Doffy just handed me an urgent, last-minute mission. I don't have enough manpower for it—I need your help. Are you free?"
An urgent mission?
Rosinante's mind whirred. Another shady scheme of the Family? His eyes narrowed, but he quickly made his decision. Curling his lips into a lazy smile, he casually signed back with an OK gesture:
Of course.
...
The next morning.
A large ship, flying the Donquixote Family's flag, sailed at full speed toward the northeast.
Naturally, Rosinante was aboard.
But something puzzled him. Ever since they'd set out to sea, Vergo had locked himself away in the training room, silently drilling his martial arts, never once showing his face.
Only after an entire day and night had passed—when they were already nearing their destination—did Vergo finally summon all the executives on board and gather them into the meeting room.
..
Second floor of the ship's cabin.
Several figures gathered around the meeting table. A sea chart was hung on the wall, and Vergo stood in front of it, explaining the mission situation to the attending executives expressionlessly.
"Cartier Island."
He tapped a point in the northeast corner with his finger and said calmly:
"You should all remember this place. The family is going to trade with Germa 66 on Patton Island in two days, and Cartier Island is the decoy we put out to cover our tracks."
"It seems that the decoy wasn't for nothing."
A mocking curl formed at his mouth. "Those idiots from the North Blue First Branch took the bait. According to reliable intelligence, they already dispatched a team that's been lying in wait on Patton Island, planning to interfere with the transaction."
"The one leading them is a Rear Admiral, a Deputy Base Commander—barely enough to count as a big fish."
Vergo scanned the executives around the table and said coldly: "The fish have taken the hook; we can't just ignore it. Doffy can't spare the time, so he handed the fishing rod to me… So once we go ashore, you all know what to do, right?"
"Understood, Corazon-san!"
The executives responded resoundingly. Rosinante also nodded slightly.
Corazon-san— the title for the highest leader of the Heart Seat. That title didn't belong to Rosinante at the moment; it belonged to Vergo, the first generation.
In truth, even though Rosinante was Doflamingo's real younger brother, after returning to the Family he ranked below the four highest executives. In this operation, he only had the role of obediently taking orders from Vergo.
"As long as you understand."
Vergo's cold voice rang out again: "The ship will dock within an hour. Everyone prepare for battle. These Marines are walking themselves into death—so let the Donquixote Family grant their wish."
…
Cartier Island was a chaotic, lawless city.
Underground forces ran rampant on the island. Hidden within its bustling towns were all manner of dens of vice. Passing pirate crews often stopped here to drink and indulge in debauchery, living it up, while violent incidents broke out frequently.
A true place outside the law. So when word leaked through underground channels that the Donquixote Family and Germa 66 would be trading on the island, nobody doubted the rumor's authenticity.
Precisely because of that, in recent days Cartier Island's various factions had gone quiet and kept a low profile.
The moment Rosinante and the others stepped onto the pier, a bald man in black slipped over stealthily and whispered something into Vergo's ear.
"Good work."
Vergo remained expressionless. He tossed two gold coins over casually. ""If the address is correct, come find me for the remaining half of the reward after the matter is done."
"Yes, my lord!"
The bald man left grinning; Vergo turned back and ordered coldly, "The Marines of the North Blue's First Marine Branch are hiding in the Vidona Hotel in District 12. Everyone, move out immediately! I want the entire hotel surrounded in ten minutes, not even a pigeon should be able to fly out!"
"No problem, Corazon-san!"
The executives grinned ferociously, barking orders to the pirates under their command. Closely following Vergo, they marched menacingly toward 12th Street.
Rosinante was mixed in among them. His face was calm, but his heart was tight—Vergo's actions were as cautious as ever, only informing them of the target's identity after arriving at the location.
He wanted to warn the marines of the First Branch, but by the time the whole process had been carried out there was no chance to slip away and get a message ahead…
He could only leave it to fate.
Soon they entered District 12 and the gilded Vidona Hotel loomed before them.
Vergo gave a signal; the executives dispersed at once to seal off every exit of the hotel.
But just then—
"Donquixote Family?"
A furious shout came from above. Rosinante looked up toward the sound and saw the third-floor windows of the hotel shatter all at once. More than a dozen figures burst through the broken glass and landed at the hotel entrance.
Each was tall and muscular. The one who spoke was a middle-aged man in a striped suit with a mohawk. His gaze swept across the crowd, and he gave a cold snort, exuding an authority that inspired fear:
"Seems I underestimated your intelligence capabilities. To pinpoint our location so quickly. But, Donquixote Doflamingo didn't come himself? What, does he think a bunch of scum like you can deal with me?!"
"Deputy Base Commander of the North Blue First Branch, Rear Admiral Jabe…"
Vergo's eyes locked calmly onto the man. "I recall something about you—if I'm not mistaken, that idiot Trebol suffered losses at your hands not long ago. No wonder you've got the nerve to sneak in here with only a handful of men."
"But unfortunately for you…"
He clenched his fists, joints cracking like firecrackers. "My strength isn't something Trebol's can compare to."
Swoosh!
In an instant, his figure vanished, and when he reappeared, he was already above Rear Admiral Jabe. Without so much as a glance, he raised a leg and kicked downward.
Smash!
The flying kick struck like lightning. Jabe had no chance to react—his skull took the blow full force. With a scream, he was hurled over ten meters, crashing into one of the hotel's ornate pillars.
"What terrifying speed."
"As expected of Corazon-san."
The Donquixote pirates jeered with laughter. Rosinante pressed his lips tightly, silent, watching as Vergo cracked his neck and strode coldly into the swirling dust.
Jabe struggled to his feet, only to be kicked down again.
One blow after another, relentless as a storm. Under Vergo's onslaught, Jabe could barely block; there was almost no chance to counterattack.
He's also a top executive, but his strength is so much higher than that Trebol guy?
Jabe's heart quaked. After being knocked flying again, dozens of meters this time, he abandoned all thought of holding the line. He turned and roared to his stunned Marines:
"What are you standing around for? Scatter and retreat! I'll cover your escape!"
"But, Rear Admiral—"
The Marines' faces changed, but before they could finish, Jabe cut them off with another roar:
"Shut up and move!"
Seeing their Commander grip his sword with grim resolve and charge once more, the dozen or so Marines faltered, exchanged looks, then stomped their feet bitterly before bolting toward the hotel gates.
"They're trying to slip out the back!"
A pirate officer barked: "Half of you, with me, chase them down! The rest split up—the hotel has at least four exits! Block every one of them!"
"Yes!"
The men roared in response. Leaving Vergo to deal with Jabe alone, the rest scattered, swarming after the fleeing marines.
This is my chance!
Rosinante's eyes lit up. Without a word, he rushed to the front. When he reached the corner on the right, he gestured to the two pirate executives following him.
He indicated that he would personally handle the northernmost exit, and they only needed to guard the eastern ones.
"No problem, we'll leave it to you then, Lord Rosinante!"
The two executives didn't think much of it, called their subordinates, and parted ways with Rosinante.
Watching the pirates' figures recede into the distance, Rosinante took a deep breath. Alone, he arrived at the northernmost exit and peered inside, feeling somewhat nervous and apprehensive.