"Alright," Kuro said with a nod.
He didn't waste more words—his body swelled and twisted, transforming into a massive seven-ter mantis. The blades on his forearms glead coldly.
"Fuffuffuffu… 'Deadly Mantis-Hand' Kuro, huh? An Ancient Zoan. Impressive."
Doflamingo's sunglasses tilted, his gaze sliding to Jango as well. "Fuffuffu… and another monster beside him. I really am jealous of your subordinates."
"Then go already," White Ghost said, waving his hand.
Doflamingo didn't move. Instead, he stared straight at White Ghost.
"There are still two locations left," he said. "What price do I have to pay for those?"
White Ghost tapped his chin.
"Even if I told you now, it wouldn't do you any good," he said. "You're not getting your hands on them anyti soon. Focus on getting Big Mom's first. She's greedy enough as it is."
He wasn't bluffing. The minks of Zou alone could beat Doflamingo into calling them "Dad."
As for the one on Fishman Island… too bad. Red-Hair would be at Sabaody soon.
"Fuffuffuffu… you definitely have your ways," Doflamingo said, tongue clicking behind his grin. "If you ever feel like trading again, you know how to find ."
His coat flared as he spread string-wings and shot into the sky.
Kuro, still in mantis form, launched after him with Señor Pink on his back, the two of them vanishing into the clouds.
"Co in," White Ghost said, looking toward the gate.
Whoosh.
A slim young man, about nineteen, appeared silently in the yard as though he'd stepped out of thin air.
"Reporting in, my lord," he said, dropping to one knee.
White Ghost rubbed his temples.
"How many tis have I told you not to call that, Contena?"
Contena stayed kneeling, head bowed.
"If you hadn't saved back then, I would've been a slave to those pigs. Probably dead already," he said quietly. "So please… allow this small indulgence."
White Ghost sighed.
Contena. Nineteen.
Paracia: Teleport-Teleport Fruit.
Once the captain of a kingdom's royal guard.
His country had failed to pay the Heavenly Tribute. The World Governnt struck its na from the list of mber nations.
After that ca the pirates.
The nobles and royals fled at the first sign of danger. The people they left behind were… disposable.
The pirate crew rounded up the survivors at gunpoint—n, won, anyone strong or pretty enough to sell. Shackles, chains, collars. A one-way trip to Sabaody's slave auction.
That was where White Ghost first saw him.
He still rembered it clearly: rows of prisoners under harsh lights. Most shaking, crying, or blank with terror.
Contena alone had been calm. Too calm.
After White Ghost smashed the auction and freed the slaves, he'd walked up to the man and asked:
"Why were you so calm?"
Contena had answered without hesitation:
"My ho is gone. My child as well. I have nothing left.
I heard Celestial Dragons like strong slaves. I planned to get sold to one… and kill as many of them as I could."
White Ghost had smiled, broken the cuffs, and said only:
"You're free."
Contena had vanished imdiately in a flicker of teleportation.
The next morning, he was kneeling outside the Marine base gate, covered in blood from head to toe.
He'd gone back.
He'd killed the entire pirate crew—the ones who had threatened his wife and child to force his surrender.
"They used my family to capture ," he'd said then. "So I killed them all.
I understand now—without strength, we're nothing. I can feel how strong you are. Please take in. Teach . From now on… I'll follow you."
White Ghost had asked him:
"You don't even know who I really am. Why follow ?"
Contena's gaze hadn't wavered.
"In your eyes, I saw helplessness," he'd said. "The helplessness of a man who wants to change this world but doesn't know where to start.
I want to walk behind you.
"And… you saved . Twice."
In the end, White Ghost took him in—not into the Marines, but into his own shadow. Contena handled the jobs that were… inconvenient for a Marine officer to handle openly.
Now, Contena held out a wooden box with both hands.
"My lord, the task you ordered is complete," he said. "And about that little reindeer… the quack doctor is dead. He's living with the old woman now."
White Ghost took the box and set it aside.
"That kid ever lose control?" he asked.
Contena shook his head.
"No. After I got what you wanted, I observed him for a month. Aside from learning dicine from the old woman, he spends all his ti experinting with herbs and treatnts. No rampages. No signs of it at all."
White Ghost's mouth curled.
"Good. Looks like fate still favors a little. Sit and eat."
Stella ca over and placed a steaming bowl of noodles in front of Contena.
"Thank you," Contena said formally, bowing his head before picking up the chopsticks.
Stella sighed inwardly. He'd said those exact words so many tis she'd lost count. Old habits from serving as royal guard, she guessed.
White Ghost opened the box.
Inside lay two Devil Fruits.
"The Swallow-Swallow Fruit," he said. "Lets you eat anything and turn it into part of your body—or rge it into new shapes. You can even 'eat' your own body to reshape yourself. Bulk up, slim down, adjust your build however you want."
He picked up the second fruit.
"And this is the Fungus-Fungus Fruit," he went on. "Lets you produce and control spores of all kinds—poisonous, binding, or just tricky."
He flipped the fruit in his hand, ntally sorting through the possibilities.
"Poison Scatter Dance—impact spores you can fling like bullets.
Great Proliferation—non-toxic spores that make purple clones; the clones can't use the ability, but they're good decoys.
Walking Fungus—binding spores that stick, harden, and pin targets in place.
Toxic Spores—nasty ones. Ordinary people die on contact."
"Not bad," White Ghost murmured. "If you give this to the right doctor, they'll turn it into a nightmare for anyone who fights us."
He closed the box and looked back at Contena.
"Once we leave the Marines," he said, "we're going traveling. The whole world."
Contena swallowed the last bite of noodles and nodded firmly.
"My lord, wherever you go, I'll go," he said. "Unless one day… you no longer need ."
"There won't be such a day," White Ghost replied, smiling.
He stood.
"Alright, I'm heading out. You get so rest too. When I'm back, we'll go to Marineford together, hand in my resignation, then head to Water 7 and build our ship."
He stretched his shoulders, gaze turning to the sky.
"After that… we sail."
"Co back soon," Stella said with a shy but warm smile.
Looking at her face, White Ghost finally acted on impulse.
He leaned down and kissed her.
"Mmh—!"
Stella's eyes flew wide, her mind going completely blank.
At the sa instant, Contena flickered and vanished in a blink of teleportation, tactfully removing himself.
White Ghost finally let her go after a long mont. Stella's cheeks were bright red, her breathing a little uneven—partly from surprise, partly from lack of air.
"I'm off," he said, ruffling her hair gently.
He stepped out into the yard, then jumped.
Golden scales rippled over his skin as he transford, wings spreading wide. A heartbeat later, a golden dragon was soaring up into the sky.
Stella watched him go, hands pressed over her burning face. Only after a while did she slip back inside.
She opened the door to her room—
—and found Ain there, leaning against the wall, smiling like a fox.
"So?" Ain asked, eyes gleaming. "How did it feel?"
"Y-you saw?!" Stella squeaked, ducking her head as her ears and neck went red.
"Hehe. You two weren't exactly being subtle," Ain said. "White-bro definitely noticed . You were the only one not using Observation Haki."
She stepped closer and slid an arm around Stella's waist, resting her head lightly against her shoulder.
"So?" she repeated, softer this ti. "How was it?"
"S-stop teasing …" Stella mumbled, wriggling free. She dove onto the bed and pulled the blanket over her head.
Ain, in a thin nightgown, slipped under the covers after her with a rustle of sheets.
"Don't be shy," she laughed quietly. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. Just… don't run away from being happy, okay?"
Stella didn't answer, but the tips of her ears peeked out from the blanket, glowing red.
Under the covers, the two of them ended up half-wrestling, half-giggling, their muffled laughter spilling softly into the night as the house settled into its usual, warm chaos.
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