"You're out already?" Nojiko froze mid-motion, startled.
"As predicted—no discrepancy between expectation and result. Luck's on my side." Ren smiled faintly.
"I called you here just to prevent any unexpected accidents."
"So now… everything's fine?"
"For today, yes. Tomorrow, we'll see."
"You're incredible." Nojiko sighed with genuine admiration. "You move too fast. It feels like no matter how hard I try, I'll never catch up to you."
"Well, I am the captain," Ren said with a grin, sweeping his hand to melt the frost in the room. "If a captain can't shoulder the weight of the crew, what right does he have to lead?"
He drew her close by the waist and bit lightly at her lips. Nojiko, far from shy, wrapped her arms around his neck in return.
For them, such intimacy was nothing new. Once a forbidden fruit had been tasted, one always craved another bite.
But still—Now wasn't the time.
Thud.
A heavy sound broke the deepening tension.
Ren arched a brow. He and Nojiko opened the door—only to find Vivi standing there, righteous indignation radiating from her, while Monet was on the receiving end of her "justice."
"She—she looked like she was about to do something bad!" Vivi stammered, gesturing awkwardly, then pointed toward the furious, bewildered Monet.
Her gaze, however, couldn't help flickering toward Ren's hand still resting around Nojiko's waist. A strange feeling welled in her chest.
"Still not giving up, huh?" Ren's brow twitched as he met Monet's glare.
"Heh, you won't control me forever! I'll kill you sooner or later!" Monet's voice dripped venom. She didn't even try to deny Vivi's accusation.
She hadn't yet decided what she was going to do—but she had definitely been thinking about it. If she couldn't strike at Ren, perhaps one of his crew instead? That was what had crossed her mind.
Unfortunately for her, the seemingly gentle Vivi had sensed that malice almost instantly and acted without hesitation.
"So that's how it is?" Nojiko tilted her head slightly, her eyes meeting Vivi's. The latter flinched and averted her gaze as if caught doing something wrong.
Hmm… there's more to this than it looks. Could it be…? Nojiko's eyes gleamed subtly.
Vivi's small face was stiff, but her heart was a storm of conflicting thoughts. She didn't notice I was jealous… right?
Uneasy, she stole a sidelong glance at Monet, masking it well.
To protect the crew, Vivi had scattered a bit of sand in the room earlier—and sensed strange movement within it. So she had attacked.
Partly to defend her comrades. Partly… for reasons she couldn't quite explain. Or maybe didn't want to admit.
Logically, she shouldn't have that emotion.
The little incident in the hallway soon ended. Ren took Monet away—to study her condition more closely.
Nojiko and Vivi had no objections.
Nojiko had seen enough of Ren's interactions with Nami to know better. Even if Monet was beautiful, it was nearly impossible for Ren to lose control and act purely on lust.
Vivi, on the other hand, had her own experience. Since boarding the ship, Ren had never truly crossed any lines. Most of the time, he merely looked.
Progress on the "research" was slow—Monet was far from cooperative. Ren wasn't well-versed in the mental or spiritual sciences, so he had to fumble forward through trial and error.
Still, one thing was certain—Monet posed virtually no threat to him anymore.
Even if he poked her in the chest, she'd respond only with a contemptuous glare and a few scathing remarks.
To exaggerate: If Ren lost control and took this "experiment" all the way, Monet probably wouldn't be able to resist in any meaningful way.
A strange result indeed.
After all—Monet was fully conscious of being affected by some power. Her memories and body were under her own control.
Yet, she could not raise her hand against Ren. Not even a flicker of hostility.
That paradox intrigued him.
In a small test chamber, Monet sat seiza-style on the floor, glaring coldly at the man before her.
"What exactly do you want?" she asked icily, her voice like a prisoner awaiting torture.
But curiously, her posture leaned slightly forward. If this were a real enemy, she'd at least lean back, increase distance. That was a subconscious reflex for self-preservation.
And yet—She didn't. Her body even leaned closer, inch by inch. Something beyond her mind and muscles was steering her.
A soul, perhaps?
Ren's eyes flickered thoughtfully. After a pause, he reached out his hand."Shake hands."
"...?"
Monet's face twisted in anger, her chest rising and falling sharply—Yet her pale, delicate hand still landed in his palm.
The silence that followed was deafening. They stared at each other, locked in that wordless exchange.
"Seems like your body's a lot more honest than your mouth," Ren said with a smirk, squeezing her hand lightly.
Monet's eyes flared. She jerked her hand back like lightning.
"You know what you did! Stop mocking me with this nonsense!"
She shifted backward slightly, as if realizing her own posture had been too compromising.
"Is that so? Then—shake hands again."
Ren repeated the motion. Once again, the same thing happened.
He ignored her dagger-like glare—there was no true killing intent behind it.
In fact, if viewed objectively, her fury only made the scene look more like… flirtation.
Interesting reaction, Ren mused.
He withdrew his hand, pondering. Was the command only effective momentarily? Or was the link too shallow?
As the cause of Monet's transformation, Ren sought to identify the root.
What was influencing her—Not nerves or brain chemistry, but something that transcended both.
By all logic, only one force fit that description: The soul.
The soul affects thought… and thought directs the body, he reasoned silently.
Monet sat quietly, not wanting to even look at him. Her golden eyes turned upward toward the ceiling.
Trapped like this, she didn't know how to escape. Even if she somehow fled, she couldn't be sure this man wasn't just pretending to be harmless.
And what if the change in her ran deeper than she realized? What if she was already a sleeper agent—unaware, obedient, leaking information without knowing it?
The thought chilled her. It sounded absurd—But not as absurd as being changed by a power in the first place.
She could feel the wrongness inside her clearly. Not only in her posture… but in subtler ways.
For example—That man's scent.
It wasn't perfume, but something raw, unfamiliar—and somehow… intoxicating.
Yet she knew he hadn't bathed in over a day. So why did she find it pleasant?
The only explanation was what Caesar once told her: "Love isn't some grand emotion—it's genetic selection.If someone's natural scent feels comforting, if you just want to be near them for no reason—then congratulations, your genes chose them."
At the time, she'd tried smelling Doflamingo to test the theory. Nothing.
She hadn't been disappointed—her loyalty was to her Young Master and the family, not to romance. Love was a luxury she had no need for. Besides, Caesar might've been lying just to tease her.
Never had she imagined that one day, she'd prove that statement true.
Silence stretched between them again—until Ren suddenly asked, "Tell me—can you promise not to harm anyone connected to me?"
Monet's eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a cold smile. "I'll make you pay, one way or another. Don't waste breath trying to reason with me. Even if you've somehow altered my mind—so what? If you don't kill me now, I'll make sure you regret it!"
"But last time," Ren said mildly, "you handed over Pica."
Monet froze—then clenched her fists and glared daggers at him. Moments later, she relaxed and let out a low, bitter laugh.
"I've thought about that a lot," she admitted. "If I had no desire to gain anything from you…then no offer, no matter how tempting, could ever make me submit."
Ever since surrendering Pica, she'd questioned herself endlessly. Why had she betrayed her family? Why had she done that?
Then she realized—It wasn't control. It was curiosity.
She'd wanted to know the truth. And when Ren offered knowledge, her will faltered.
In other words—If she had no desires, he might never have been able to use her. It wasn't certain, but she believed it.
"Even if the price," Ren said softly, "is your sister—Sugar?"
Monet's pupils trembled violently.
"The Toy-Toy Fruit user who remains in a child's form," Ren continued calmly. "She's one of the Donquixote Family's top officers—your little sister, and one of their most valuable assets. She can turn people into toys and erase all memory of their existence. I trust… I'm not mistaken?"
Monet's eyes widened in shock. For an instant, she felt as though her heart had been gripped by an icy hand.
Who betrayed the Family…?!
(End of Chapter)