"Do–Donquixote??!!"
The name alone made Spandine's eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. Others might not grasp what that surname meant, but as a CP officer, how could he not know the name of the gods they served?
"Shh. Keep your voice down." Rosinante whispered, leaning close to Spandine's ear.
"Do you want to die, shouting the name of a Celestial Dragon like that?"
Spandine's entire body trembled as he hastily nodded. "L–Let's… talk in my cabin."
"Lead the way."
Rosinante turned to his subordinates and said, "Turky, Water Duck—collect the heads of those pirates. I'll have a few words with this CP gentleman, then we're leaving."
"Yes, Boss Blue Eagle!"
The two men answered in unison and began gathering up the pirate corpses, while Rosinante followed Spandine into the cabin.
Once inside, he slid his bloodied sword, Bloodcutter, back into its sheath and wordlessly fixed his gaze on the CP officer.
Spandine, after taking several deep breaths to steady himself, finally managed, "You… you really bear the name Donquixote?"
"That's right." Rosinante replied evenly.
"That's impossible! You're lying! The name Donquixote belongs to the gods themselves—those who live in Mary Geoise! How could someone from that bloodline possibly join the Marines?" Spandine glared as though he'd already caught Rosinante in a lie.
But Rosinante's tone remained calm as he spoke a single name.
"Have you ever heard of Saint Donquixote Homing?"
"The traitor of the gods?!"
Spandine's eyes bulged once again. Of course he knew of that fool—one of the so-called gods who had voluntarily given up his divine status! When the news broke years ago, Spandine had been more shocked than when he heard of a Celestial Dragon being assassinated. How could a god willingly fall to the level of mortals? It was something a ladder-climber like Spandine could never understand.
"That's right." Rosinante said quietly. "I'm his son."
"Oh! I see now! You must be Donquixote Doflamingo! The Holy Land reported that Homing Saint had a thirteen-year-old son!"
Rosinante shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint you. I'm not Doflamingo. My name is Donquixote Rosinante—Homing's second son."
"Rosinante? That can't be right! The reports from the Holy Land said the Saint's younger son was only nine years old this year. You're telling me you're nine?"
Spandine looked incredulously at the tall, lean, and strikingly handsome young man before him.
What nine-year-old in the world looked like that?
"That's correct. I just turned nine. Is there a problem with that?"
Spandine swallowed hard and shook his head rapidly. "N–No, none at all."
"Good." Rosinante's tone softened slightly. "And don't worry so much, Mr. Spandine. I'm no longer a Celestial Dragon. The Holy Land erased my name from their records. Which means…"—then, he smiled—
"we can be friends now."
"F–Friends??"
Spandine, who had just managed to calm his nerves, felt his heart nearly stop again.
Friends? With a former Celestial Dragon—an excommunicated one at that? The risk of being associated with such a person was enormous!
"That's right." Rosinante said with an easy grin. "The most loyal kind of friend. What do you say, Spandine? Heh heh~"
"Uh… o–of course." Spandine stammered. Then, carefully, he asked, "R–Rosinante Saint, to be your friend… what exactly do you require of me?"
"Oh, don't be so nervous, Spandine." Rosinante chuckled. "Nothing difficult. Just keep climbing the ranks of CP. When I need you, lend a hand—or pass along a bit of useful intelligence. Simple enough, isn't it… my friend?"
"Uh…"
Spandine wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.
Simple, my ass! He knew exactly what Rosinante was asking: to become his mole within the government—his personal spy. The risk was astronomical.
He quickly decided to feign agreement for now. Once he got out of here, he'd simply deny everything. After all, Rosinante was no longer a Celestial Dragon; it wouldn't be easy for him to cause trouble for a CP officer.
But then—
"Ah, Spandine, my photography skills are just awful." Rosinante said suddenly, pulling out a Transponder Snail camera. "I can't believe I made you look so ugly in this one. My bad…"
Before Spandine could react, 'click'! The Transponder Snail snapped a picture and spat out several printed photos like a Polaroid.
Rosinante waved them in front of him with a playful grin. Spandine's blood ran cold the moment he saw them.
They showed him—kneeling before pirates, begging for his life. Every pathetic gesture, every groveling expression was captured in perfect detail.
A cold sweat soaked his back. CP9 was the World Government's elite assassination and espionage unit—its creed: sacrifice yourself before you ever surrender. To serve the gods until death!
And yet these photos laid bare his cowardice, his disgraceful submission. If the images reached CP Headquarters, he'd be finished—not just his career, but likely his life as well.
"Ah~ Rosinante Saint!" Spandine suddenly dropped to one knee, placing a hand over his chest like a knight swearing fealty. "I see now! To be your friend is my greatest honor. Please… accept my loyalty!"
Rosinante smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Good. I'll treasure your loyalty, my friend. Don't worry—these photos will remain in very safe hands."
"Heh heh… Thank you, Rosinante Saint."
Rosinante waved him off. "No need for formality. We're friends now, aren't we? Oh, and stop calling me 'Saint.' I'm no god anymore. Just Rosinante will do."
"Yes, Lord Rosinante!"
Rosinante nodded in satisfaction. "By the way, Spandine, do you happen to have any single-line Den Den Mushi—secure ones that can't be tapped?"
"I do, my lord."
Spandine produced a pair of small, black Den Den Mushi. "These are anti-interception, one-to-one models."
"Oh, excellent. You're sure about that? Because if anyone were to overhear me discussing your… incident with those pirates, it would be very unfortunate."
Spandine waved his hands frantically. "Rest assured, my lord! These can't be tapped—I swear it on my life!"
"Good. In that case, await my call."
Rosinante pocketed one of the black Den Den Mushi and started toward the door. Then he suddenly stopped, as if remembering something.
"Oh, right—Spandine. Since CP9 is so well-informed, do me a favor and keep an eye out for a particular Devil Fruit. I need it urgently."
"A Devil Fruit? What kind—Logia?"
"No, a Paramecia. The Door-Door Fruit."
(End of Chapter)
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