The crewmates paid no mind to Carlos's unusual behavior whenever it rained. Once the rain stopped, he would return to normal anyway.
Carlos sat in a chair with a drawing board in hand, sketching and revising. Towering waves rolled across the sea, lightning flashed and thunder roared overhead, and amid the raging wind and rain, cold droplets were occasionally blown beneath the large umbrella.
Carlos did not care. Breathing in air that carried far less of the sea's fishy, salty scent, he focused on revising the flag.
Carlos considered his ship not to be a pirate ship, and himself not to be a pirate. But whether he was a pirate or not was not for him to decide.
He did not particularly care whether he became a pirate. At worst, if he was treated as one, he would have to face pursuit by the Marines. He was not afraid of that, and besides, he had ways to clear his name.
The Shichibukai was one option, but Carlos was not interested in becoming one. What he wanted was to use the Black Alliance's deep influence in the West Sea to join the World Government as an affiliated nation—one that could attend the Reverie.
Joining this way was far better than becoming a Shichibukai. With the identity of a King, even the Marines would have to treat him politely.
Of course, the time had not yet come. The Great Pirate Era had only begun around two years ago, the Revolutionary Army had yet to reveal itself, the pressure on the World Government was not great enough, its finances were still adequate, and its strength was barely sufficient.
So when would the time come?
Carlos was not entirely sure, but he believed that the opportunity would definitely be ripe once the Shichibukai system