The opulent casino floor of Gran Tesoro buzzed with renewed activity as a procession of Celestial Dragon retainers flooded through the ornate golden doors. Their pristine white uniforms and rigid postures stood in stark contrast to the casino's usual revelry. Tesoro's staff, led by his various assistants and department heads, scrambled to restore order to the chaos that had erupted mere minutes before.
Gild Tesoro remained seated where Jerry had left him, allowing the medical team to tend to his injuries. His golden outfit was torn and bloodied, a far cry from the immaculate appearance he typically maintained. Yet his physical wounds paled in comparison to the turmoil raging within his mind.
Jerry's audacious actions had struck him like a thunderbolt. The sheer boldness of attacking a Celestial Dragon—even by proxy—right under the noses of CP0 agents was beyond anything Tesoro had ever imagined possible. The memory of Jerry's casual dismissal of Saint Chagama, followed by the perfectly executed frame job on Edward Weevil, played on repeat in his thoughts.
How did he do it so effortlessly? Tesoro wondered, his golden eyes flickering with a mixture of admiration and bitter envy. How could he act with such freedom?
Deep in his heart, Tesoro harbored a burning hatred for the Celestial Dragons that had festered for over a decade. But that hatred was wrapped in layers of fear, caution, and learned helplessness. He had spent years building his empire, accumulating wealth and influence, yet when faced with the World Nobles, he still felt like that powerless young man who had lost everything.
His rebellious acts were limited to small gestures—overcharging them for services, ensuring their accommodations were slightly less perfect than advertised, or arranging for minor inconveniences that could never be traced back to him. Never had he considered the kind of direct confrontation Jerry had just orchestrated.
The irony wasn't lost on him. Here was a man with an 800 million berry bounty, someone who had clashed with Big Mom herself and lived to tell the tale, yet he moved through Gran Tesoro with the confidence of someone who owned the place. Meanwhile, Tesoro, who actually did own this floating city and controlled twenty percent of the world's wealth, still cowered before the very people he despised most.
Why can't I be like that? The thought gnawed at him as the medical staff worked to clean his wounds.
Tesoro was born into a poor family. He liked singing, and admired an entertainment show that he watched from the outside. However, his mother would often yell at him for his singing and his father wasted a lot of their money by gambling, and later died from an illness that their family could not afford the surgery for.
Over time, Tesoro's family grew poorer, and so he left them at the age of 12 years old. He started stealing money, and befriended some people after giving money to them. He spent the money on gambling, liquor, and fighting.
When he was 16 years old, Tesoro suffered a devastating loss in an illegal casino, causing his friends to desert him and nearly resulting in him being enslaved. He managed to escape from the slave dealer, suffering many injuries in the process. He then met a girl named Stella in a human shop, and they fell in love. Since Stella hated criminals, Tesoro started legitimately earning money in order to purchase her freedom.
For three years, he had worked himself to the bone, taking any job that would pay, no matter how dangerous or demeaning. Every berry he earned went toward buying Stella's freedom. He had been so close—just a few thousand berries away from the astronomical sum demanded by her owners.
Then the Celestial Dragon had arrived.
Tesoro could still remember the casual cruelty in the World Noble's voice as he declared that money could buy anything, then purchased Stella with the same indifference one might show when buying fruit at a market. Tesoro's desperate pleas had fallen on deaf ears, and his attempt to physically intervene had resulted in his own capture and enslavement.
The years that followed had been a nightmare of degradation and abuse. The proud young man who had dreamed of the stage was broken down piece by piece, his rebellious spirit crushed under the weight of absolute powerlessness. When Fisher Tiger's rampage freed the slaves of Mariejois, Tesoro had escaped, but the damage was already done.
Learning of Stella's death had been the final blow. The woman who had given him hope, who had believed in his dreams, was gone—another casualty of the Celestial Dragons' casual cruelty. That day, something fundamental had died within Tesoro's soul, replaced by an obsession with wealth and power.
If I had been rich enough, if I had been powerful enough, none of this would have happened, he had told himself. It became his mantra, his driving force.
The acquisition of the Gold-Gold Fruit had been his first real step toward that power. He had orchestrated chaos at Doflamingo's auction, using the confusion to steal and consume the Devil Fruit that would define the rest of his life. From that moment, his rise had been meteoric—from penniless refugee to the world's richest man in less than a decade.
But wealth, he had discovered, was a double-edged sword. The more he accumulated, the more he had to lose. The more powerful he became, the more careful he had to be about challenging those who could strip it all away. The Celestial Dragons represented the ultimate threat to his empire—beings who could destroy everything he had built with a single word to the World Government.
So he had learned to play their game, to smile and bow while seething inside. He told himself it was strategic patience, that one day he would have enough power to make them kneel before his golden throne. But deep down, he knew the truth—he was still that broken slave, too afraid to truly fight back.
Jerry's actions had shattered that comfortable lie. Here was someone who faced the same threats but chose defiance over submission. The pirate had looked at a Celestial Dragon and seen not an untouchable god, but simply another obstacle to be removed.
A soft knock on the ornate door interrupted Tesoro's brooding. His assistant Baccarat entered, her usual graceful composure intact despite the chaos that had just unfolded.
"Sir," she said, her voice carefully neutral, "the situation has been contained. The Celestial Dragon and his retinue have been escorted to the medical bay, and our staff is attending to their needs. The CP0 agents have begun their investigation, but Marine in charge has assured them that the incident was clearly the work of Edward Weevil."
Tesoro nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And our guests?"
"Jerry and his crew appear to be moving freely through the city. There's been no indication that the authorities suspect their involvement." Baccarat paused, then added, "Your instructions regarding the... special surveillance?"
"Maintain it," Tesoro said after a moment. "I want to know everything about Jerry and his crew. Their capabilities, their weaknesses, their goals. That man..." He trailed off, his golden eyes distant. "That man might be the key to something I've been searching for."
Meanwhile, Jerry had successfully located his crewmates after parting ways with Issho.
He found Deuce, Skull, and Kotatsu in one of Gran Tesoro's many side streets, all three looking distinctly frazzled. Skull was practically running in circles, his usual composed demeanor replaced by obvious panic. Steam seemed to be rising from his head as he muttered to himself and searched every nook and cranny of the nearby area.
"What's wrong?" Jerry called out as he approached, noting their obvious distress. "Did someone end up getting collected?"
The reference to their earlier encounter with the Big Mom Pirates drew a brief smile from Deuce, but Skull's expression remained one of pure anguish.
"Boss Jerry! Thank God you're here!" Skull exclaimed, rushing over with an expression of desperate relief. "I'm looking for my bag—it had all my chips in it!"
"More importantly," Skull continued, his voice taking on a tone of genuine distress, "my precious dagger was in that bag too—it's irreplaceable!"
Jerry looked around and confirmed that indeed, none of them were carrying anything. Skull, who had been practically weighed down with his various bags and collections earlier, now had nothing but the clothes on his back.
"Your bag went missing? What happened exactly?"
Deuce and Skull exchanged glances before launching into their explanation, often talking over each other in their eagerness to describe the events.
It had happened as they were leaving the casino after Jerry's dramatic confrontation with Tesoro. The crowds had been massive—word of the commotion had spread quickly through Gran Tesoro's communication systems, and curious onlookers had flocked to the casino from all over the entertainment city.
The press of bodies had been overwhelming. Deuce described it as being caught in a human tide, with people pushing and shoving from all directions as they tried to get a glimpse of the aftermath. Security personnel were attempting to establish order, but the sheer number of people made crowd control nearly impossible.
In the chaos, Skull had felt his grip on his precious bag suddenly lighten. One moment it was there, clutched tightly in his hands, and the next it had vanished into the swirling mass of humanity. By the time he realized what had happened, the crowd had already carried the thief far from the scene.
"We tried to follow the trail," Deuce explained, gesturing toward the various alleys and side streets they had explored. "Skull caught a glimpse of someone moving through the crowd with what looked like his bag, but we lost them in the maze of streets around here."
"I found some traces," Skull added, pulling out a small piece of fabric. "This was caught on a corner back there—it matches the clothing I saw on the person who took my bag. We've been following the trail, but it goes cold around this area."
Jerry examined the fabric scrap, noting its quality and style. It was definitely from Gran Tesoro's fashion district—expensive but not so much as to draw attention. The kind of clothing a professional thief might wear to blend in with the upper-class crowds.
"This kind of thing actually happens here?" Jerry mused, though he wasn't entirely surprised. Gran Tesoro attracted wealth from across the world, making it a natural hunting ground for thieves and con artists.
As Skull and Deuce continued their explanation, Jerry's mind was already working through the possibilities. A professional thief operating in Gran Tesoro would need to be skilled, connected, and very familiar with the city's layout. There weren't many people who fit that description, but one name immediately came to mind.
Carina, he thought, remembering the purple-haired performer he had spotted earlier. If his knowledge of the original timeline was accurate, she was indeed a skilled thief with a particular talent for blending in and disappearing into crowds.
Jerry activated his Observation Haki, extending his senses outward in an expanding circle.
Sure enough, he detected a familiar presence moving through the alleyways not far from their current location. The person was carrying something heavy and moving with the practiced efficiency of someone very familiar with the area's layout. More telling was their emotional state—a mixture of excitement, satisfaction, and underlying nervousness that screamed "successful theft."
"Found our thief," Jerry announced, a grin spreading across his face. "You guys follow behind me, but keep some distance. Let's see if we can catch her before she disappear completely."
"You found her already?" Skull's expression brightened considerably. "You're amazing, Boss Jerry!"
Without waiting for further discussion, Jerry took off through the streets, his enhanced speed allowing him to move like a blur through Gran Tesoro's winding pathways. Behind him, he could hear Deuce, Skull, and Kotatsu doing their best to keep up, though at a more reasonable pace.
Jerry's pursuit led him through increasingly narrow alleys and side streets, areas of Gran Tesoro that tourists rarely saw. The buildings here were still made of gold, but they lacked the ornate decorations and perfect polish of the main entertainment districts. This was where the city's workers lived, where the less glamorous but essential functions of the floating metropolis took place.
Using his Haki to track his target, Jerry moved with precision through the maze-like streets. His enhanced physical capabilities, honed through countless battles and training sessions, allowed him to take shortcuts that would have been impossible for ordinary people—leaping between buildings, sliding down drainage pipes, and vaulting over obstacles with ease.
Finally, he spotted his target: a figure in an elegant but understated outfit, carrying a large bag that definitely matched Skull's description. The person was approaching what appeared to be a residential building, key already in hand.
Jerry landed silently in the street behind them and called out in a cheerful voice: "Hey! Did you take our stuff?"
The figure froze mid-motion, the key nearly slipping from suddenly trembling fingers. After a moment's hesitation, they turned around slowly, clutching the bag protectively and trying to hide it behind their back.
Jerry found himself face-to-face with exactly who he had expected: Carina, though she was clearly in disguise. Her usually vibrant purple hair was hidden under a wig, and her clothing was designed to help her blend into Gran Tesoro's wealthy crowds. But her distinctive features were unmistakable to someone who knew what to look for.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said with a bright smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "but I don't think we've met before."
"You're right, you don't know me," Jerry replied, his own smile taking on a slightly predatory edge. "But I definitely recognize the bag you're carrying."
Jerry's gaze fixed pointedly on the bag she was attempting to conceal. Even from this distance, he could make out Skull's distinctive skull logo embroidered on the side—a custom design that made the bag instantly recognizable.
Noticing where his attention was focused, Carina's expression didn't waver, though Jerry's enhanced senses picked up the spike of adrenaline that indicated rising panic.
"You mean this old thing?" she said, her voice maintaining its cheerful tone. "I found it lying in the street earlier. Figured someone must have dropped it in all that commotion at the casino."
"Is that so?" Jerry's grin widened as he took a step forward. "Well, if you found it in the street, then I guess I'll just take it off your hands right now."
The casual way he began approaching her clearly caught Carina off guard. She had probably expected more negotiation, more back-and-forth. Instead, Jerry was simply planning to walk up and reclaim what was stolen.
"Hey!" she called out, backing toward the building's entrance. "You can't just force me to give you something! I'll scream for help!"
Jerry paused his advance and chuckled, his expression taking on an exaggerated villainous cast as he rubbed his hands together. "Go ahead and scream. Nobody's going to come save you even if you yell your throat out! Hehehehe!"
The theatrical delivery was intentional—Jerry was genuinely enjoying himself. After the intense confrontations with Tesoro and the stress of framing Weevil for attacking a Celestial Dragon, this felt almost like a vacation. A simple case of theft and recovery, with a skilled but ultimately non-threatening opponent.
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