"Saint Charlmaco."
"Seven Warlords of the Sea."
"Warlords…" Gion murmured, disbelief filling her eyes. "That plan… it's actually been put into motion?"
"You know about it?" Rain asked.
"…Vice Admiral Tsuru mentioned it before," Gion said, drawing a deep breath, expression complicated. "To respond to the Great Pirate Era, the World Government plans to 'recruit' certain powerful pirates. But I never imagined… the kind of trash they'd approach!"
"Victor Hugo—just for a Warlord title—he's turning living people into statues to offer to Celestial Dragons?!"
"Then it makes sense," Rain said calmly, analyzing. "No wonder they call this a model branch, and there are no pirate raids for hundreds of miles."
"The Marines and pirates are already in bed together. Pirates don't rob merchant ships—they come here to trade. The Marines don't arrest pirates—instead they arrest ordinary civilians."
"That's their 'peace.' They use innocent flesh and blood to keep their surface prosperity."
"Bastards!!"
Gion slammed the letter onto the table so hard the teacup jumped.
"Unacceptable! The Marines cannot tolerate this!"
She spun around and strode toward the inner room, ready to contact Headquarters on a Den Den Mushi.
"I'll contact HQ—contact Vice Admiral Tsuru! Even if it involves Celestial Dragons, even if it involves the Warlord plan, none of it can be built on crimes this brutal! I refuse to believe Headquarters will just watch!"
Righteous fire burned in her eyes—her line in the sand as a Marine rear admiral.
But—
Tap.
A hand pressed down firmly over hers, stopping her from lifting the Den Den Mushi.
Gion froze, then looked up, furious. "Rain! What are you doing?! You're stopping me now?!"
Rain stood beside her, his palm like iron, pinning both her hand and the Den Den Mushi in place.
"Rear Admiral Gion," Rain said, his voice frighteningly calm, "if you make that call… that's when this becomes impossible to solve."
"What?" Gion stared at him. "You think Headquarters would cover for—"
"Headquarters will most likely compromise."
Rain cut her off. His dark eyes held hers, as if trying to strip away the filthiest rules that governed the sea.
"Do you really think Nelson has run this place for years, built a spectacle this large, even turned a base into a palace—and Marine HQ has never caught a whiff of it?"
Gion's body went rigid.
Rain's voice tore away the fig leaf without mercy.
"This is the golden route—one of the World Government's major tax sources. As long as G-17 pays its astronomical taxes on time, as long as it maintains the appearance of model security…"
"Even if some people sense something's wrong, they'll choose to turn a blind eye."
Rain gave a cold laugh. "And this business involves Celestial Dragons. The moment you get through on that Den Den Mushi, it becomes a political incident."
"To preserve the Dragons' face, to keep the Warlord plan from being stained by scandal—"
"The best outcome is they transfer us away, replace us with someone 'sensible,' and erase every trace."
"And the worst outcome—" Rain released her hand and pointed first at Gion, then at himself. "As the ones who pulled the curtain back, we become 'traitors' trying to sabotage the Warlord plan… maybe even accused of colluding with pirates."
"Then the ones who suffer won't be Nelson."
"It'll be us."
Gion's hand hung frozen in midair.
She wanted to argue, but she'd been at Headquarters long enough to know her reason was losing.
Rain's scenario… was the most likely reality.
Her hand dropped. The strength seemed to drain out of her. She sank into the chair.
"Then what do we do…?" Her voice carried confusion and pain. "Just watch Victor swagger in and keep trading?"
"Of course not."
Rain smiled.
It was a smile that carried the scent of blood—yet somehow felt reassuring.
"If 'procedural justice' won't work—and might even get us killed—then we play a different game."
He walked to the window, looking out at the brightly lit harbor.
"Victor arrives the day after tomorrow. To meet the Celestial Dragon's demand for top-grade 'materials,' Nelson has to have the raw stock ready before the deadline."
Rain turned back. In his eyes danced a dangerous, sly light.
"But this island's already been cleaned out. The only way to bring in new raw stock is by sea."
"If tomorrow morning we stroll down to the dock where he receives the shipment—maybe even act like we're going to open the crates and inspect them—what do you think a cornered, skittish Nelson will do?"
Gion's eyes narrowed. "He'll lash out? But… attacking a Headquarters rear admiral is a capital offense!"
"For someone about to lose everything and be ruined, capital punishment isn't frightening," Rain said coolly. "Losing hope is."
He dissected human weakness with clinical calm.
"If we make him believe killing us is his only way out—if we make him believe that with pirate Victor, CP0, and his own loyal troops, he can erase us without anyone noticing—"
"Then he'll pull the trigger without hesitation."
Rain spread his hands, mouth curling into a thin, cold smile.
"And once they strike first, everything we do becomes self-defense… and suppression of rebellion."
"Under that banner, it won't matter how many we kill. If we wipe them all out, the dead can't speak. And then the truth… becomes whatever the living say it is."
As Gion listened, the fog in her eyes slowly cleared, replaced by deep shock.
The plan was insane—and terrifyingly perfect.
Use the enemy's fear and greed to force them into making the first wrong move, then stand on the moral and legal high ground and execute a thunderous purge.
But there was one massive risk.
"Rain—your plan depends on one condition," Gion said, brows tight, tone grave. "We have to survive their ambush… and counter-kill."
"Victor Hugo is being nominated for the first Warlords. His strength will be monstrous."
"And besides CP0 and Nelson's loyal troops, there'll be an entire ship of pirate elites. With only our strength, killing our way out of that kind of trap won't be easy."
"If we fail to hold, we'll really be dead."
It wasn't fear of fighting—Gion had confidence as a Headquarters rear admiral. But facing enemies several times their number, plus a pirate who might become a Warlord… it was dancing on a blade.
Rain looked at her concern, his smile unchanging.
He stepped closer and patted her shoulder lightly—natural, like reassuring a comrade.
"Don't worry, Rear Admiral."
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried steady confidence, as if he could hold up the sky himself.
"I've got this."
~~~
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