Peace Prize and Medicine Prize

No! Money! Left!

Those three simple words pierced everyone's hearts. Queen and the others sprang to their feet as if launched.

"What did you say?! No money left? Did you bastard embezzle all the funding?!"

Caesar angrily slammed the table, only to find everyone staring at him. Even Queen and Judge were no exception; their eyes all conveyed the same message.

Who could possibly be better at embezzling research funds than you?

Everyone knew perfectly well what Caesar did behind the scenes. But since the funding had already been handed over to him, and he was willing to squander his own research budget, no one could be bothered to interfere.

Besides, when Caesar failed to produce results, it only gave them more opportunities to mock him. His current outburst, however, felt more like a guilty attempt at concealment.

"What money-burning project did you start this time? Vegapunk, even if you're in charge of allocating the funds, you can't spend them like this!"

Judge's expression darkened further. His research had reached a critical point; if the funding was cut off now, all his previous efforts would be wasted.

"Looks like we'll have to rob someone. I say we should've done it long ago. Didn't that freeloader used to be a pirate? That counts as experience, right?"

Queen did not complain. He even offered a solution. MADS was never a legal organization to begin with, and by the standards commonly accepted on the seas, it would not be wrong to classify them as pirates.

"Shut up! Punk, finish what you were saying. What exactly happened to the funding?"

Oran successfully quieted them down, more efficiently than Vegapunk had managed.

Queen and the others were unconvinced by both Oran and Vegapunk, but they feared Oran more. The reason was simple: Vegapunk could at most withhold their money, while Oran would genuinely beat them up.

They could not outtalk Oran, outdo him, or beat him in a fight. And if they were careless, the little catgirl would set her sights on them. After two years, the results had been obvious.

"Our sponsor has run into a slight issue. He seems to think he's invested enough already and is considering withdrawing his funding."

Good news: no one had embezzled the funding.

Bad news: the sponsor was preparing to pull out.

Everyone present had functioning brains, so they immediately realized that the issue lay at a more fundamental level.

"What's the reason?"

"'It's already enough.' Those were his exact words."

In Doflamingo's eyes, MADS had always been little more than a vanity project. He was not sincerely doing charity work. It did not matter if more than two years of investment had yielded little; part of MADS's reputation had already spread.

All Doflamingo had to do was pour the remaining money into publicity, and he could achieve the same effect. Compared to the bottomless pit of scientific research, buying public opinion was far cheaper.

"Why now, of all times? Didn't we publish some papers earlier? That bastard—"

Judge was gritting his teeth. Of everyone there, his experiment was at the most crucial stage and could not be paused at all.

"So he only said he would stop sponsoring us. He didn't say whether he would reclaim the ship, when exactly he would put it into effect, or whether he would send anyone over. Is that right?"

Oran did not find this surprising. He had seen plenty of people like this. The Alchemical Barons of Zaun, the great families of Piltover, and the Demacian royal family all pulled similar moves when conducting business.

Their goal was not to flip the table, but to demand a higher price.

"That's right, just as you said. Oran, do you have another idea?"

"A little. By the way, Punk, how is your GP research coming along?"

GP Flowers were one of Vegapunk's recent research projects: fast-growing flowers that consumed gunpowder as nutrients. With this substance, gunpowder could be turned into flowers in an instant.

"It's basically complete. We're in the final adjustment stage."

"Then there's no problem. Leave it to me. I was just starting to feel that our funding had been a little insufficient lately."

With that, Oran stood and headed outside. Queen and the others assumed he was going to do something, so they followed him out, only to discover that he had merely come up to the deck for some air.

"What's your plan? Didn't you say you'd handle it?"

"Don't be so impatient. Just wait. Doflamingo has poured an enormous amount of money into MADS. With that sunk cost, the losses from suddenly withdrawing would be huge. More likely, he wants something else. At a time like this, whoever speaks first loses the advantage."

"But we don't have much funding left. If it really gets cut off..."

Thinking of his experimental results, Judge felt a little panicked.

Whenever something major threatened his own interests, Judge always appeared weak. Caesar was much the same in that regard; neither of them compared to Queen.

"It's only a few days. If he has patience, we'll contact him first. It's not like we'd lose anything."

If they could negotiate, they would negotiate. Even if the table was truly flipped, Oran knew where to get money.

Still, it was easier when someone else delivered it to them voluntarily.

Over the next few days, Vegapunk continued his research as usual. That was his trust in Oran; since Oran said he would handle the matter, Vegapunk was at ease.

Judge and Caesar worried every day, but it did nothing except add to their troubles. Queen, meanwhile, gorged himself in the kitchen, consuming vast amounts of sweet red bean soup with rice cakes every day, seemingly intent on eating his money's worth.

After waiting like that for several days, when the ship docked once again for supplies, Doflamingo himself arrived aboard the MADS ship with a group of subordinates.

A cigar hung from his lips, and he wore a luxurious cape. A small flower was pinned to his purple suit. This was Doflamingo himself. Every part of his attire radiated wealth, yet it could not conceal the viciousness about him.

But when he saw Oran already waiting for him in the conference room, he suddenly smiled.

"Dr. Siderial, this is our first meeting, isn't it? I'd only heard Vegapunk mention you before. It seems you guessed what I had in mind?"

"Two years of investment with little obvious return. Although you were using charity to polish your image, you still felt it was a losing deal. So you wanted to obtain something more valuable from us, didn't you?"

Oran toyed with a fingertip spinning top, looking entirely at ease, without the slightest hint of tension.

"Hahaha, you're sharper than those people. But you're not entirely right. I really was prepared to withdraw my funding. I'm serious about that."

"No. I'm sitting here waiting for you because I'm certain you won't withdraw your funding. On the contrary, after today, you'll invest even more."

Feld's expression became extremely complicated. Even the scar on his face twitched. Then he pulled out a chair and sat down, deeply curious why Oran could say that so confidently, as though he had him completely figured out.

"The Ibel Prize is about to begin. Double the investment, and Punk and I are confident we can take this year's Peace Prize and Medicine Prize.

If your ambitions are big enough, afterward, we can swallow up all of Grand Undertaker Piekro's business as well."

The spinning top at Oran's fingertips continued to rotate, but the room suddenly fell silent. Only Feld's slightly excited breathing remained loud.

This was the noon chapter. Today was an exception, so it was posted early.

(End of chapter)