As Stussy's silhouette vanished through the towering red-lacquered doors of the Chamber of Deliberation, silence descended once more. The doors shut with a deep, resonant boom, sealing in the weight of authority.
Only the soft hiss of boiling water and the rising wisps of tea steam disturbed the stillness of the opulent hall.
"Do you believe her story?" Saint Saturn rasped at last, his voice low and hoarse. The brim of his black flat cap shadowed his eyes, but the thin curl of a smile played about his lips.
The other four Gorosei exchanged brief, knowing looks.
"Lone Wolf is dead," said one, voice cool and precise. "With no evidence left behind, her accusation can't be disproven. Still, given his temperament, I doubt he'd ever have dared leak the list."
"Indeed," another murmured. "If anyone within CP had reason—or the access—it would be her."
"That hardly matters," Saint Peter said, sipping his tea with serene indifference.
Saint Mars gave a thin smile. "Yes. She now holds the new list. If she truly was behind the previous assassinations, she'll show her hand again soon enough."
"Then the truth will reveal itself," Saturn concluded.
Saint Warcury's deep, rumbling chuckle broke the tension. "Whether she's guilty or not, the outcome benefits us. If her loyalty holds, she remains an asset. If not…" His eyes darkened to a blade's edge. "…she'll receive a fitting surprise."
The faint reflection of firelight flickered across his teacup, and the room fell still again.
---
Led by a Holy Land Guard, Stussy descended the grand staircase of Pangaea Castle and stepped into the pale light beyond.
Only when the heavy gates of Mary Geoise were far behind her did she finally allow herself to breathe.
Her body trembled slightly as she sank into the soft velvet seat of her carriage. She leaned back, every muscle slack with exhaustion, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
The oppressive aura of those five men—their absolute, godlike authority—still clung to her skin like a second shadow.
And the knowledge that she had stood before them, lying through her teeth, knowing that the smallest misstep could have meant her death…
It had been nothing short of torture.
"I did it…" she whispered, exhaling shakily. "I actually pulled it off."
The corner of her lips lifted into a tired smile. Her fingers tightened around the newly issued document.
Now that she held the new list in her hands, the balance had shifted.
"Just you wait, Darren," she hissed softly, her eyes flashing with renewed determination. "I'll win this bet. No matter what it takes."
As the carriage rattled down the marble-paved road, she unfolded the list once more, her sharp eyes scanning its contents.
---
Far from the Holy Land, a Marine battleship cut steadily through the waves, its hull slicing a white scar across the dark sea.
Inside the captain's quarters, an oil lamp burned low, its trembling flame throwing shifting shadows across the room.
Darren sat half in light, half in shadow, his features calm yet unreadable. The Den Den Mushi in his hand crackled to life, projecting Momonga's low, steady voice.
"So, the World Government has launched an investigation?"
Darren took a slow draw from his cigar before replying, voice laced with amusement. "That's right. And you'll never guess who's leading it."
A pause. Then, flatly: "…You."
"Bingo." Darren chuckled.
Momonga let out a weary sigh. "Somehow, I can't even pretend to be surprised."
"Don't be," Darren said, the corners of his mouth curving into a smirk.
Momonga hesitated before speaking again. "If the investigation's begun, should we suspend our current operation?"
Darren leaned back, exhaling a thin ribbon of smoke. "No. There's no rush. The World Government's likely swapped the old list for a new one by now."
He tapped ash into the tray, his voice turning thoughtful. "We've made too much noise. They'll be expecting another strike."
Momonga's eyes narrowed as realization dawned. "So you suspect the new list might be bait?"
"Maybe." Darren's smile didn't waver. "But who can say what those old fossils are plotting? Better to assume the worst."
He took another drag, the cigar's ember glowing in the dark. "For now, keep your men quiet. If any of the new candidates are traps, we'll know soon enough. I'd rather not have one of you stumble into CP0's little welcoming party."
Momonga straightened at once. "Understood. We'll halt all movements until further notice."
"Good," Darren said. "Return to the North Blue. Manage the fleet. I'll take it from here."
A brief silence followed. Then Momonga's tone sharpened slightly. "You're making your move, then?"
Darren's grin widened. "That's right. I think it's time for a little heart-to-heart with our promising new generation."
With that, he hung up and pocketed the Den Den Mushi.
He stepped out of the cabin and onto the deck, the wind tugging at his coat.
There, stretched out lazily on a deck chair, sunglasses gleaming, was Borsalino.
The golden Marine was, as always, the very picture of indolence—sunbathing in the middle of an official mission.
The investigation had been deemed significant enough that Sengoku had personally dispatched Borsalino as his representative—though Darren couldn't help but suspect the old man simply wanted to keep the nuisance off his own hands.
"Think we'll find anything this time?" Borsalino drawled as Darren approached, not bothering to lift his head.
Darren shrugged, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "Who knows? I'm just following orders, same as always. Isn't that right, Vice Admiral Borsalino?"
"Ohhh, of course." The man chuckled, tilting his sunglasses up just enough to glance at him. "But whoever's behind those bounty list killings would have to be a fool to make a move now."
"If they try anything," Borsalino added lazily, his smile turning thin, "the World Government's bound to have… a rather unpleasant surprise waiting."
The hint behind those words made Darren's eyes narrow slightly.
He chuckled under his breath. "I figured as much."
"Mm. Then you understand."
Borsalino yawned, settling deeper into his chair. "Well, no reason for me to rush around. If you've got other business, I'll mind the ship."
Darren eyed him for a long moment—then laughed softly. "I'll hold you to that, Vice Admiral. Try not to nap through the apocalypse."
With that, he turned toward the bow, the horizon stretching endlessly before him—bright, calm, and full of storm.
To be continued...