"Other than that matter, there's one more issue," Gunit said cautiously. "Your Majesty, in order to build the City That Never Sleeps, you'll need a massive amount of materials. I was wondering if we—the World Governnt—might be given priority for those supply orders?"
Rosinante chuckled. "You can talk to Doflamingo about that. I've already left the entire procurent matter in his hands. You're familiar with him, aren't you?"
"Heh… of course," Gunit replied awkwardly, forcing a smile.
Familiar? Oh, he knew him all too well.
The Dark Broker of the underworld, the man whose hands reached into nearly every shady deal—even the World Governnt wasn't completely free of his web.
The irony was rich: the sa governnt that publicly hunted the underground trade often did business with it behind closed doors. And when they needed sothing that couldn't be obtained through "official" channels, Doflamingo was usually their first contact.
So yes—Gunit knew him. Intimately.
After so more polite words, Gunit finally left. But Admiral Sengoku remained behind.
Rosinante looked at him curiously. "Oh? Does the Admiral have private business with ?"
Sengoku handed him a docunt. "Rosinante… I imagine the Gray Country must be running a little tight on funds after such a huge investnt, right? I have an order here—you might be interested."
Rosinante glanced over the papers and couldn't help but laugh. The order listed various Sky Shells from Sky Island—impact shells, jet shells, even the rare and nearly extinct laser shells.
"Admiral Sengoku," Rosinante said with a grin, "just because I've spent a trillion doesn't an I'm broke. Most of these Sky Shells are military-grade. We don't sell those. But so civilian types will be available at the Sky Island specialty store once the City That Never Sleeps opens. Don't worry, I'm not that desperate for money."
Sengoku wasn't surprised by the refusal. He gave a small nod, then added casually, "I don't need the combat-grade ones. What about Wind Shell guns? I'd like to purchase a batch for the Navy."
Rosinante raised a brow. "Wind Shell guns?"
He was surprised. Those weapons weren't particularly powerful—they worked by compressing air, and while the concept was clever, the shells were fragile and the damage limited. In the Gray Country, they were already being phased out, replaced by far superior Impact Shell rifles.
Still, selling so outdated models wasn't out of the question.
"How many do you need?" Rosinante asked.
"Ten thousand units," Sengoku replied flatly.
Rosinante's expression froze. "Too many. The most I can offer is one thousand."
"One thousand? That won't even arm a single battleship crew! At least nine thousand," Sengoku countered imdiately.
And so began a lengthy bout of haggling between the forr Marine hero and the king of the Gray Country.
In the end, Rosinante reluctantly agreed to sell five thousand Wind Shell guns.
Watching Sengoku leave with that smug look of victory, Rosinante couldn't help gritting his teeth in frustration. But when he imagined Sengoku's face the day he saw the Gray Country fully ard with brand-new Impact Shell rifles, his mood instantly brightened.
The proceeds from the sale, he decided, would go straight into expanding their Impact Shell cultivation program.
Soon, the entire Sabaody Archipelago was bustling like never before. Construction on the City That Never Sleeps had officially begun.
Doflamingo summoned several of his top officers from the Donquixote Family—especially Pica. His Stone-Stone Fruit powers were invaluable for the massive project.
As for how Doflamingo negotiated the material contracts with Gunit and the World Governnt… Rosinante didn't bother to ask.
Half a month later, to Rosinante's surprise, Gunit returned—with three hundred billion Berries in hand.
The Five Elders had agreed to take not just the 10% share Rosinante offered, but to invest directly, putting up an amount equivalent to 30% of the profits—bringing their total stake to 40%.
Gunit, however, looked miserable. He couldn't understand why the Five Elders would sink so much money into what he considered a foolish venture.
A trillion-Berry investnt—just to build a city? Sure, the returns would be substantial once completed, but compared to that initial cost, it seed utterly irrational. With that kind of capital, they could dominate entire industries across the world!
So yes—he thought the deal was idiotic. But an order from the Five Elders wasn't up for debate.
Rosinante, on the other hand, was not pleased. "Forty percent profit share? What am I then, your employee? Forget it!"
In the end, he took only two hundred billion Berries, agreeing to give them a total of 30% profit—but no interference in the city's affairs.
Gunit left with a baffled look.
He had just witnessed one man turn down billions of Berries, while another insisted on giving them away.
Sotis, even soone as thick-skinned as Gunit began to question the logic of this world.
With everything in place, Rosinante sent in teams from Sky Island, offering design input when necessary—and then, true to form, handed off all responsibilities and went back to training in swordsmanship with Rayleigh.
Truth be told, Doflamingo was far better at managing and executing complex projects.
A trillion-Berry gaproject required massive logistics—materials, labor, coordination, contracts—and Doflamingo handled it all with frightening efficiency.
If Rosinante had been in charge, the entire project would've fallen apart within days. Doflamingo, however, kept the entire machine running smoothly, though it left him utterly exhausted.
To put it bluntly, he was miserable.
Yes, it was a mark of Rosinante's trust to hand him everything, but watching Rosinante relax and train while he juggled endless etings and construction deadlines made Doflamingo want to strangle soone.
The man had fallen for Rosinante's "motivational pitch"—the promise that once the City That Never Sleeps was complete, the Gray Country would stand shoulder to shoulder with the World Governnt. That line had lit a fire in Doflamingo's heart… and now he was paying the price.
He hadn't realized just how massive the project was. The workload was terrifying. Even with his excellent organization, he was sleeping less than three hours a night.
He had to et engineers, foren, and managers daily, coordinate materials from all over the world, and ensure every phase stayed on schedule.
And to make things worse—Rosinante wasn't just being lazy. He was ddling.
Every now and then, he'd drop by to "suggest improvents," adding endless layers of design changes and new requirents. Doflamingo's forehead veins practically popped each ti.
After one grueling month, Doflamingo had lost weight, his usually immaculate appearance replaced by dark circles and dry skin.
When Rosinante saw him, he actually felt a pang of sympathy.
For three seconds.
Then he rembered the mountain of paperwork and exhaustion that ca with it, shuddered, and decided—nope. Better to stay a carefree king and let Doflamingo keep suffering.
Still, Rosinante wasn't completely heartless.
To ease Doflamingo's workload, he decided to send him a super assistant—soone who could handle the details and help manage the chaos…
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