"Ahem! Sorry, it's just that look in your eyes was a little..."
Gern cleared his throat, then steered the conversation back on track.
"I didn't expect Vice Admiral Garp to tell you even that."
"Not just him." Dragon sighed, his voice low.
"Everyone at headquarters is talking about you now.
After all, you dared to challenge Whitebeard head-on and even forced him to use Conqueror's Coating... You've got guts."
Gern chuckled. "Having guts doesn't mean you're strong enough. Otherwise, I wouldn't be sitting here right now-I'd be at the bottom of the sea."
Dragon said nothing. After a brief silence, he suddenly asked, "Do you really believe... justice can arrive late?"
Gern narrowed his eyes.
There was a great deal behind that question.
By now, Dragon had probably already begun questioning the World Government.
Especially after the God Valley Incident. Having witnessed the Celestial Dragons' brutality firsthand, his faith in so-called "justice" had likely been shaken long ago.
"I asked my father about your file. You took part in the battle at God Valley too.
The Celestial Dragons' killing game..."
"I don't know whether justice can arrive late." Gern abruptly cut Dragon off and continued slowly.
"But I do know that if even the people who carry out justice begin doubting themselves, then that so-called justice really will become nothing but empty talk."
At Gern's answer, Dragon's pupils contracted slightly.
Then he stared at Gern and countered in a calm voice.
"The Marines exist to maintain order.
But if that order itself is twisted... then what does their so-called justice amount to?"
The air seemed to freeze.
Dragon's gaze deepened as he stared intently at Gern, as though trying to discern the meaning behind his words.
But Gern was no fool. Though he didn't yet possess Observation Haki, as a Logia Tremor-Tremor Fruit user, he could clearly sense certain faint vibrations.
Such as Zephyr, who was standing against the wall beneath the left window, eavesdropping right that moment!
So Gern pretended to ponder for a long while before slowly asking, "Then what about your justice?"
"You call it twisted, but to me, the fundamental purpose of the Marines and whether they are just depend on whom they serve and how they act, not on some abstract notion of order.
Tying the Marines entirely to order ignores the complexity of their duties.
Your criticism should really target the power structure that abuses the Marines-the World Government-not reject the core value of justice itself."
"Dragon, your father is Vice Admiral Garp, the 'Hero of the Marines'...
Putting our justice into practice is an ongoing process. We can't deny all its value just because the order we uphold is imperfect."
Faced with Gern's words, Dragon asked no more questions. He simply gave him a long look, then turned toward the door.
In a voice only Gern could hear, he murmured, "I have no justice."
Once the door closed, silence returned to the office.
Shortly after the office door shut, someone pushed open the window on the left from outside.
Zephyr vaulted nimbly into the room, his short purple hair unmoving in the sea breeze, his eyes fixed on Gern from behind his sunglasses.
"Eavesdropping isn't a good habit, Vice Admiral Zephyr." Gern spoke without raising his head, lightly tapping his fingers on the desk as Zephyr climbed through the window.
"Ha!" Zephyr gave a snorting laugh and strode toward his desk.
"Testing a subordinate's convictions is a superior officer's prerogative." He removed his sunglasses and scrutinized Gern with a sharp gaze.
"Your answer... was satisfactory."
Seeing the corners of Zephyr's mouth rise, Gern shrugged in feigned helplessness. "I was only telling the truth."
"That's precisely what makes it so rare." Zephyr tossed a document in front of Gern. It concerned one of the matters he had left the office to handle.
The document listed some pirates who had been causing trouble lately, much like the Supernovas of later years. That term didn't exist yet, though, so they were all simply called "troublesome" pirates.
"When faced with a question like Dragon's, most people either blindly agree or argue vehemently.
But you, Gern, can see the heart of the problem-that's good.
The Fleet Admiral even said that, since you were born in the West Blue, your understanding of justice was terribly vague, and that you needed to study at the Marine academy.
Heh. As far as I'm concerned, you're the one with your heart truly in the right place!
Your background doesn't matter. I, Zephyr, am an exceptionally good judge of character.
You! Gern Reginald Sigma! Your commitment to justice is exceptionally strong!"
Gern ignored Zephyr's self-satisfied enthusiasm and instead opened the document to read it, then casually looked up at him.
"So, Captain Dragon..."
"Just a lost lamb." Zephyr interrupted him, a rare trace of regret in his tone.
"Ah, that Garp. He's so busy chasing Roger that he can't even raise his own son properly."
At that thought, he walked over to Gern and clapped him heavily on the shoulder. "But you're different."
The pride the "Black Arm" Vice Admiral showed at that moment was a world apart from his usual sternness.
"After work this afternoon. Training Ground One." Zephyr withdrew his hand and put his sunglasses back on.
"It's time you saw what true strength looks like."
Gern closed the document, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. "Haki training?"
"Not training." Zephyr's voice was low and forceful.
"I'm going to make you understand that no matter how powerful your fruit is, it's still only an external aid.
A truly strong person..." He pointed at his chest. "Draws their strength from here."
"So... a beating?"
"What kind of talk is that?! I'm helping you understand strength! What do you mean, a beating? What Garp does is a beating!"
The noon sunlight streamed through the window, casting dappled light and shadow across Zephyr's cape.
As Gern watched the future Marine Admiral, he suddenly realized he was standing at a crucial turning point.
Fuck it. If it's a beating, so be it!
"I'll be there on time." Gern rose and gave him a solemn military salute.
Zephyr nodded and turned toward the door.
Just as he pushed it open to leave, he paused. "Oh, and Gern."
"Hmm? Any more instructions about the beating?"
"That sword of yours..." Zephyr's voice suddenly grew grave. "Eight Desolations, right? You're not allowed to bring it this afternoon."
The door closed, leaving Gern standing alone in the middle of the office.
He reached back and brushed his hand over the Black Blade. A faint tremor ran through it, as though it were responding to something.
"Great. I'm not even allowed to bring my one cheat of a weapon!"
Before you continue