-Broadcast-
Russian had been gentleness incarnate during her mortal life. She and Senior had met during a heavy rainstorm, fallen in love beneath grey skies, and parted forever in another downpour when fate claimed her in a vegetative state. Her final months had been spent trapped in an unresponsive shell, aware but unable to communicate her love.
The reason Senior had abandoned his dignified suits for ridiculous baby clothes became painfully clear in hindsight—in Russian's final days, only the sight of childlike innocence could still bring the faintest smile to her lips. He had sacrificed his pride and reputation for those precious moments of connection.
Now she hovered before him as a tormented spirit, and not a trace of that gentle love remained on her ethereal features. Her ghostly fists struck out repeatedly in rage, passing harmlessly through his solid form.
"Why don't you just die?" she snarled, her voice cracking with accumulated suffering. "It's because of your sins that we're suffering! Everything we've endured is your fault!"
The inability to make contact—to hold her, comfort her, or even feel the impact of her fury—was perhaps the cruelest punishment of all. Senior could only stand there as his beloved wife's rage washed over him like acid rain.
Years of hidden guilt crashed down on the hardened executive like an avalanche. Every moment he'd concealed his true occupation from Russian, every lie he'd told to protect her innocence, every life he'd taken in Doflamingo's name—all of it crystallized into a pain more excruciating than any physical wound.
As a man, he had failed in his most fundamental duty: protecting his family. The knowledge that he'd lived his entire adult life steeped in blood while they suffered for his choices was destroying him from within.
Senior's voice came out as a broken whisper: "Russian... I've missed you every single day. What happened to you in hell? What could have transformed you into... this?"
The spirit's laugh was sharp as breaking glass, devoid of any warmth. "What happened? Oh, Senior, there's so much to tell. I accepted my fate—I chose to love you, after all. But our innocent child Gimlet has to suffer the same cruel punishments. All because of the sins you committed in life. It's all your fault."
Senior looked desperately toward Brook, whose green soul flickered with something approaching sympathy. Russian's entire spirit was becoming unstable, her form wavering as rage threatened to tear her very essence apart.
"It's all your fault... all your fault..." she repeated like a broken mantra, teetering on the edge of complete madness.
Taking pity on the man's obvious anguish, Brook provided the terrible explanation. Through his connection to the Yomi Yomi no Mi (Revive-Revive Fruit), he'd gained intimate knowledge of the underworld's workings.
"When an intelligent being dies, their soul journeys to Yomi for judgment," the Soul King explained with clinical detachment. "Every deed—good and evil—is weighed before they're assigned to one of the six realms of reincarnation. Your wife and child were condemned to hell not for their own actions, but as proxies for yours."
The underworld's court system was brutally thorough in its accounting. Every murder, every act of cruelty, every broken family left in Senior's wake had been catalogued with meticulous precision. Since Russian had lived a blameless life and Gimlet had died too young to commit any sins, logic dictated they should have been granted peaceful afterlives.
But the spirits of Senior's victims had other ideas.
They had appeared before hell's tribunal in vast numbers, demanding justice for their suffering. Since Senior Pink himself remained among the living, unable to answer for his crimes personally, the court had enacted its most twisted form of divine retribution: his loved ones would serve as surrogates for his punishment.
The system was designed not just to torture the wicked, but to ensure maximum psychological damage to those who had escaped earthly justice. What greater agony could a murderer experience than knowing his innocent family suffered in his place?
Senior's face drained of all color as the full implications hit him. The pacifier fell from his nerveless lips, clattering on the factory floor. His mind raced through decades of violence—the assassinations, the massacres, the countless innocents ground beneath the Donquixote Family's ambitions.
For Doflamingo's dream and the family's dominance, he had committed every conceivable atrocity. Murder, arson, genocide—his hands were stained with enough blood to fill oceans. The arms trafficking, human slavery, and systematic oppression he'd orchestrated had created armies of vengeful spirits, all clamoring for justice in the afterlife.
Russian's spirit gradually stabilized, her fury giving way to cold, calculated malice. When she spoke again, her voice carried the weight of years of unimaginable torment.
"Every wrong has its author, and every evil you've done has been reflected onto me and our child. Do you want to know how those souls you murdered treat the woman you claimed to love?"
Senior saw something that made his blood freeze—a smile playing at the corners of Russian's mouth. But it wasn't directed at him with affection. It was the smile of someone about to deliver a death blow.
"The men you killed—young and old alike—they can touch me in the spirit realm," she continued with devastating calm. "On the first day, countless hands defiled me in ways that would make death seem merciful. For a woman... there are fates worse than simply ceasing to exist."
Senior's legs nearly gave out, but Russian wasn't finished.
"Our baby Gimlet—still an infant, barely past nursing age—watched it all happen. Then they turned their attention to him. Can you imagine my desperation, Senior? Watching our innocent child suffer for your crimes while being powerless to stop it?"
The executive's world collapsed around him as his wife detailed the systematic brutalization she and their child had endured. The tortures weren't limited to a single day—in hell, spirits couldn't truly die, meaning their agony could be renewed indefinitely.
"We're burned alive daily in molten oil," Russian explained with terrifying composure. "I hold Gimlet close as the flames consume us from the feet up, feeling our flesh melt away while staying conscious through every second. The pain never dulls, Senior. It never gets easier."
"Stop..." Senior whispered, falling to his knees. "Please, Russian, stop..."
But the spirit showed no mercy—mercy was a luxury she could no longer afford.
"The creative tortures never end. Your victims' imaginations are... extensive. Sometimes they force me to watch as they kill our child in new ways each day. Sometimes they use me for their entertainment while he screams. And tomorrow, we'll both regenerate so they can start fresh."
"I beg you, stop talking!" Senior's voice cracked as tears streamed down his face. No amount of remorse could wash away the blood on his hands or ease his family's eternal suffering.
Around the world, viewers of the Sky Screen recoiled in horror. Senior Pink in every timeline stared at this revelation of his wife's fate with complete devastation. Even his fellow Donquixote executives fell silent, suddenly contemplating their own loved ones and the potential cosmic prices of their life choices.
In his golden casino, Gild Tesoro's heart clenched with sudden terror. If this was how the afterlife treated the families of criminals, what fate awaited his beloved Stella? The Golden Emperor found himself desperately hoping his own sins wouldn't be visited upon the woman he'd failed to protect in life.
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