Who was this man?
Young Donquixote Doflamingo trembled from head to toe, utterly terrified by the stranger looming in his dark room.
"I ask, you answer," the man said calmly, the blade glinting faintly in the moonlight. "Make a sound, and I'll have to kill you."
Doffy nodded like a bobblehead. "D-Donquixote… Donquixote Doflamingo."
"How old?"
"E-eight…"
Dimon's brow lifted. Eight, huh?
According to his memory, Doffy killed his father at ten and ate the String-String Fruit soon after. Two years before that, his idiot father would abandon the family's Celestial Dragon status and descend to live among "commoners."
Which meant—that's happening soon.
"How interesting," Dimon murmured. "Your father's going to renounce being a Celestial Dragon and drag you all down to the surface."
"Huh?" Doffy blinked, confused. What nonsense was that? Who in their right mind would give up being a god?
"W-who are you? Why are you in my room?" he whispered, too afraid to move. A runaway slave, maybe?
"Name's Dimon."
At once, Doffy's pupils shrank. Fear iced his veins.
Dimon smirked. "Oh? You know me?"
"R-Rocks Pirates!?" Doffy stammered, breaking into cold sweat.
The name was legend—terror itself. Seven years ago, the Rocks Pirates had kidnapped a Celestial Dragon at Sabaody and ransomed them to the World Government. Even as a toddler, Doffy had grown up with bedtime threats: 'Sleep, or the Rocks pirates will take you.'
And among those pirates… Dimon, the "Winemaker."
Doffy's mind raced.
"You're here to kidnap me, aren't you?"
Quick as lightning, the boy's schemer's instinct kicked in.
"My family's not rich among the Celestial Dragons! But— I can give you a better target!" he whispered eagerly. "A few years ago, the Commander of the Holy Knights brought home a child—Figarland Shamlok. Kidnap him! He's worth far more than me!"
"…?"
Dimon blinked. When did the Rocks Pirates' name turn into a ghost story for kids?
The little brat was trembling yet still trying to redirect disaster—a born manipulator. No wonder he'd grow into the man who'd later kill his own father.
And Shamlok… yes, Shanks's twin brother, the one brought back to the Holy Land after God Valley.
Dimon couldn't help but grin. Not a bad idea, actually. Easier than robbing Fruits, too.
"You've met him?"
"A few times!" Doffy said quickly. "He plays in the Celestial Park almost every day!"
Dimon nodded faintly, then shifted gears. "Where do you nobles keep your Devil Fruits?"
"We don't have any!" Doffy shook his head fast.
So he did know about the Wine's recipe.
Among the Celestial Dragons, rumors about Eternal Life Wine had long spread—a liquor brewed from Devil Fruits. The Five Elders themselves had eternal youth, but ordinary Celestial Dragons didn't. They all dreamed of buying that power.
"If you want a lot of Fruits," Doffy said, "go to the Five Elders! They'd gladly make you a Celestial Dragon if you brought them Eternal Life!"
Dimon chuckled. "You don't know what you're talking about, kid."
He pressed on. "Which family keeps Fruits at home?"
"I—I don't know! Maybe my father?" Doffy blurted, desperate to shift the threat. "We're just a low-ranking family. But those in the Holy Knights outrank us! And the Five Elders' clans—they're the top of the top!"
Dimon listened, mildly disgusted. Even among so-called gods, there were castes. The Holy Knights could execute lesser Celestial Dragons at will.
So even gods have gods above them, he thought dryly.
Going door-to-door would be tedious. The better option?
Infiltrate Pangaea Castle. The real treasure—Fruits—had to be stored there.
Still… the kid's plan had merit. Kidnap Shamlok, demand ransom, reap rewards. Classic old-school piracy.
Dimon smiled. "All right, little schemer. I'll take you up on your idea."
He raised two fingers, touched Doffy's chest. Dark runes flickered into being.
"Wh-what did you do!?"
Doffy yanked open his pajama collar—and froze. A black pentagram glowed faintly on his chest.
"What is this!?"
"Tomorrow, you'll take me to Shamlok," Dimon said. "For now… sleep."
His eyes glinted. The boy's mind went blank—he toppled over, unconscious.
Dimon stepped to the window, pushed it open, and slipped into the night.
He'd verify the brat's story himself.
Next Morning —
Doflamingo jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat.
"What a nightmare… awful dream…"
He stood before his mirror, rubbing his temples—then remembered. Slowly, he lifted his shirt.
The black pentagram was still there.
"Not a dream!?" he hissed. "What—what is this? Should I tell Father?"
He hesitated, chewing his lip. Reporting it might invite disaster.
"Damn it… that monster picking on a kid like me!"
He cursed Dimon under his breath—then a voice came from outside.
"Young master, time to rise. The lord awaits in the dining hall."
"Fine!"
He dressed and went down. His family sat at breakfast—Father, Mother, and baby brother.
Doffy had just lifted his spoon when Homingo Saint looked up gravely.
"I had a nightmare last night," he said. "I've decided to renounce our Celestial Dragon privileges. We'll leave the Holy Land… and live among commoners."
The spoon clattered to the floor. Doffy froze.
'Your father will soon renounce being a Celestial Dragon and take your family below.'
Dimon's words echoed in his mind like thunder.
That man… how did he know?
Was he a demon… or a god?
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