"Captain," Mista called out, with a confident and composed smile, saying loudly, "Giorno Giovanna is your nephew!!"
Assassination Team: "!!"
Johnson: "!!!"
Risotto: "?!"
Mista spread his hands, seemingly pleased with everyone's shocked expressions.
"I knew it, Captain. I was surprised when I found out too, but Giorno is Johnson's biological brother, your biological nephew!"
Mista said earnestly, even he felt like he was watching a family drama that Monica aired every night at 8 PM.
"Although Giorno is practically a brat, sometimes, seeing that child constantly observing others, looking so troubled, as an adult, I really feel for him."
Mista continued speaking to himself.
"Tsk! Captain!" Ghiaccio was actually the first to react. He deactivated his White Album Stand, clapped his hands together, looking completely enlightened. He was probably the first to believe it. "You have so many nephews!"
Johnson Joffrey finally pulled himself back from his blank astonishment—
Giorno knows I'm his brother, and from Mista's reaction, Bucciarati must know too? Who told him? Has Kujo Jotaro already contacted him? Besides Kujo Jotaro, I can't think of anyone else... Wait!
Could it be? Johnson suddenly felt the back of his neck burning. If he saw the Joestar Family mark on the back of my neck and sensed our familial connection, then it wouldn't be so impossible for him to figure it out.
Johnson swallowed, taking a fraction of a second to compose his reaction, and finally said precisely:
"I don't have any brothers, don't get it wrong."
Johnson's firm rejection left Mista speechless, and then he repeatedly searched his memory.
"Absolutely no mistake. Giorno is practically a human radar; he can find you from a mile away."
Melone's purple eyes scrutinized Johnson, and he suddenly guessed something. He raised an eyebrow slightly, suppressing his smile, and calmly said, "You should ask Captain Risotto, Mista."
The Assassination Team, to be precise, only Prosciutto knew that Johnson was not Risotto's biological nephew.
After a long silence, he said, "Johnson has no brothers, and I am not Johnson's biological uncle. He and I are not related by blood."
Mista blinked, stunned for a moment, then turned his head in disbelief—
"Huh?!"
—
[BOSS, Meg is dead.]
In the dim room, white sheer curtains fluttered. The moonlight from his hometown shone on Diavolo, and he suddenly felt like throwing up. The thought of this place being full of his so-called immature past made him feel sick to his core.
Damn this nightmare land.
Diavolo couldn't help but curse inwardly. He was completely hidden in the darkness, accustomed to it, as if growing in a dark corner. He belonged to this darkness. Beneath his long robe were his well-built muscles. With a slight headache, he pinched his Jingming acupoint. When he lowered his head, a few strands of rose-red hair showed from inside his hood.
Korne's flickering words annoyed Diavolo. His heterochromatic eyes, yellow and green, reflected the text on the computer, flashing with anger. But as a Boss, he still had to reassure his Bodyguard Team, especially someone as stubborn as Korne.
[I know. Mourn him. Don't get agitated, Korne.]
Diavolo sent these messages, his head throbbing.
Diavolo was not lucky today.
Korne's ability could only be activated after his death, which was very bad. For Diavolo, he was like a one-time use item that had to be used at a crucial moment to better assist Bucciarati.
He couldn't make a move yet.
No one can shake my position as Emperor.
Power, money, the fear of others, and his position as Emperor—these things existed in Diavolo's life and were inseparable.
Because he was born for this.
From his birth until now, his darkness needed no education; he was a true Diavolo (devil) from the very beginning.
Tonight's moonlight was sickeningly beautiful.
He pushed open the window. The sea breeze of his hometown couldn't be more familiar to him. He couldn't even recall a single good memory, for this place was his nightmare, a place of his immature past.
Diavolo looked up, an expanse of stars, a high-hanging moon.
Suddenly—
A shooting star flashed by, and something struck him forcefully. He immediately contacted Bucciarati—the man who seemed capable of saving him.
The prophecy book named Heaven's Whisper was not only spread throughout Italy but also in many other places. However, the only one who could interpret it was this person named 'Persephone'.
Why? Why could only he interpret it?
Diavolo was already seventy to eighty percent convinced of Heaven's Whisper's existence. After all, there were too many surreal things in this world. If there truly was a God in this world, then His book of prophecy also belonged to me, Diavolo.
'Persephone' had a part of it, and after he interpreted it, he found that it contained information about me.
Since it could be interpreted, why could only a part of it be interpreted? Heaven's Whisper must have used some kind of encryption method. Since a part could be interpreted, it meant that this interpretation method had been mastered. Why couldn't it be fully interpreted?
What was the encryption method? And how did he interpret it?
Did 'Persephone' only want money?
Ten billion lira to answer Diavolo's most troubling question. Just as Diavolo was wondering how he knew what he was troubled by, 'Persephone' accurately stated what bothered him most.
You want to ask, how to completely eliminate the Assassination Team? Where is your daughter?
It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck him from the sky. Suppressing his trembling hands, he pondered for a long time before asking:
[How to completely eliminate the Assassination Team?]
[Answer: Bucciarati and his team will completely end the Assassination Team.]
Bucciarati? That little punk from Naples? He could defeat the Assassination Team? He couldn't believe the correctness of this matter.
[The Assassination Team's dream will end with Bucciarati and his team.]
With a skeptical mind, he sent Bucciarati to Olbia. The result—
Bucciarati's foolishness stunned him. He actually rashly trusted a man who had just escaped from Prison, just because his eyes had something that resonated with his own?!
He wished he could kill Bucciarati.
But holding onto his last hope, and the ten billion lira he had already spent, he decided to trust them one last time.
Diavolo kept searching his mind for all sorts of information about the Assassination Team, his suddenly appearing daughter, Bucciarati... but still found nothing. He looked up at the dark blue sky, which had already turned completely black.
Humanity, after all, is complex, even for the damned devil Diavolo.