The air in the grand hall of Dressrosa's royal palace was thick with intoxicating euphoria. Tall stained-glass windows cast a muted glow, bathing the opulent room—veined marble, plush carpets, baroque furniture—in a golden, slightly surreal haze. Around a massive table laden with exquisite dishes and rare wines, the Donquixote Family feasted, their raucous laughter and clinking glasses echoing off the high ceilings.
"And that Kairoseki shipment to Wano?" Diamante chuckled, a slice of Iberian ham dangling from his fork. His flamboyant pink firecracker coat gleamed, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I told the negotiator if the price didn't double, we'd cut him off… literally! Hahaha!"
"Double? You're too soft, Diamante!" Trebol shot back, his slimy form wriggling in his seat. A dribble of mucus oozed onto the velvet armrest. "With Kaido's demand, we could've tripled it! I'd have threatened to turn his island into a mushroom farm! Behehehe!"
Doflamingo, seated at the table's head, flashed a wide grin behind his pink-tinted glasses. He sipped a dark red wine, almost languidly. "Subtlety, my dear brothers, subtlety…" His drawling voice cut through the laughter. "We doubled the price and took his daughter as 'quality assurance.' Charming girl, I hear. Very useful for future negotiations."
A murmur of approval rippled through the group. Pica, hulking and silent in his stone armor, let out a low rumble that vibrated the glasses.
"And the Devil Fruits?" Giolla's shrill voice pierced the din as she fidgeted with a paper rose she'd just folded. "I heard about a Mythical Zoan floating around the New World… a real gem for our collection!"
"Ah, that old dream!" Lao G exclaimed, slamming the table with surprising vigor for his apparent age. "But Marco guards it jealously! We'd need a plan… a plan of perfect martial elegance!"
"Elegance?" Gladius sneered, adjusting his oversized goggles. "A good explosion would do! KABOOM! Problem solved! Whitebeard's crew is history."
The conversation veered gleefully, blending sordid schemes, boasts, and veiled threats. Baby 5, transformed into a firearm for the occasion, let Buffalo stroke her barrel while whispering compliments. Sugar, tiny and deceptively innocent, played with her dolls at the table's base, an enigmatic smile on her lips.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the hall burst open. A soldier from Dressrosa's army staggered in, face ashen, armor dented, panic radiating from him. His breathing was a ragged wheeze. "B-Boss! Family! It's… it's an emergency! He… He…"
The jovial mood froze. Trebol's laugh died in a gurgle. Doflamingo's eyes, hidden behind tinted lenses, turned slowly toward the intruder. A chilling, menacing silence blanketed the room.
"Emergency?" Diamante's voice, stripped of its cheer, was a guillotine. He sprang to his feet, his coat quivering like a beast ready to pounce. "Didn't they teach you to knock, scum? To interrupt the Family's Feast?"
The soldier swayed, terrorized by Diamante's murderous glare and the sudden hostility of the entire family. "I-I'm sorry, Lord Diamante! But it's… it's…"
"Shut it!" Diamante roared. A silver flash—his hidden razor-sharp thread—and a sickeningly wet sound followed. The soldier's right arm, still clad in iron, sailed through the air in a crimson spray, landing with a sinister thud on the Persian rug. The soldier screamed, a gut-wrenching cry of agony and horror, collapsing sideways, clutching the gushing stump with his remaining hand.
"Now," Diamante growled, flicking a drop of blood from his thread-blade with utter disdain, "you've got our attention. Speak. But if this is about a bird shitting on a statue, I'll slice you so thin Sugar can make a new doll out of you."
The soldier, gasping, face contorted with pain and fear, managed to lift his head. His glassy gaze met Doflamingo's, still impassive. "It's… it's him…" he choked, a blood bubble forming on his lips. "Dracule Mihawk… He's here… At the city gates… He… He walked through our port like it was a park… He's coming…"
The name hit like a sledgehammer. Mihawk.
The effect was immediate, electric. Trebol jolted, spilling his wine, staining his green robe purple. "WHAT?! Hawkeye? HERE? Behehe?! No way!"
Sugar looked up from her dolls, her innocent smile replaced by sudden coldness. Baby 5 and Buffalo exchanged a glance of pure panic. Diamante's brutal nonchalance vanished like smoke, replaced by taut alertness.
The silence that followed was heavier, more charged than before. The shadow of the Hawk—the man who'd bested Whitebeard's forces, worth billions of berries, who'd recently defied an Admiral and was thought to be on the run—loomed over Dressrosa. Over their kingdom.
All eyes turned to the table's head. To their King.
Doflamingo hadn't moved. His wineglass still hovered halfway to his lips. Then, very slowly, he set it down on the pristine white tablecloth.
A smile stretched across his face. Wide, exaggerated, baring all his teeth. But it wasn't the feast's joyful grin.
"Mihawk…" he murmured, voice almost caressing. He rose slowly, his pink-feathered coat rippling like waves. "Fufufu… So, the hawk has decided to sink its talons into my kingdom." He stepped toward the writhing soldier, his invisible strings quivering in the air. "You did well to speak, even if you ruined my rug."
With a casual flick, he slit the soldier's throat with a thread, ending his suffering. The body slumped, and Doflamingo turned to his family, smile still fixed but tighter, more calculating. "Looks like we have an unexpected guest."
He stood with feline grace, his feathered cape trailing slightly on the floor. He ignored the dying soldier's whimpers at his feet.
"Diamante," he ordered, his voice regaining its drawling tone but with a metallic edge. "Get rid of this trash. And clean my rug." He gestured carelessly at the severed arm and spreading blood pool.
Diamante, still reeling but obeying instinctively, nodded. "Right away, Doffy."
Trebol, regaining his composure, squirmed in his seat. "Neh neh neh! Doffy, you sure? Mihawk's… he's not just anybody! What if it's a trap? We should call Kaido now!"
Doflamingo raised a hand, silencing Trebol's panic. "Oh, don't worry. Kaido will be informed. Send a Den Den Mushi to Wano. Tell him the hawk's here… just in case." He paused, his gaze sweeping the room. "But I want to see this with my own eyes. Mihawk doesn't act without reason."
Gladius, his hair practically bristling from his Devil Fruit, leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "Young Master… are you… afraid of him?"
The bold question made the family flinch. A shocked murmur rippled through the room.
Doflamingo turned slowly toward Gladius. For a moment, the silence was so oppressive you could've heard a pin drop. Then he burst into laughter—a deep, guttural roar that echoed like thunder. "Afraid? Fufufu… Oh, Gladius, you're adorable."
He approached, resting a hand on Gladius's shoulder, strings dancing around his fingers.
"But tell me… Have you ever seen Mihawk draw his sword? Truly draw it? Not a warning swing, not a casual flick… but when he decides something must be cut?"
Gladius shook his head, mute, breath shallow.
"No, of course not," Doflamingo continued, his voice dropping to a chillingly intense whisper. He leaned closer, his glasses reflecting Gladius's fear. "Those who have… understand. Do you understand, Gladius? The day you see his sword leave its sheath with that intent… that's the day you'll get it. You'll see why even a Pirate King must sometimes… take precautions."
He straightened, grin still in place, but his fists, hidden in his trouser pockets, were clenched white. "Now, if you'll excuse me…" He adjusted his glasses with a sharp flick. "It's time to greet our illustrious visitor. In person."
Without a backward glance, Doflamingo strode across the hall, his cape billowing behind him. He passed the dead soldier Diamante was already dragging toward a service exit and pushed open the grand balcony doors. The sea breeze whipped his face, carrying the first faint echoes of unusual unrest in the streets below.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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