26
The outfit carried the distinctive air of a desert nation.
Noticing his gaze, the man raised his wineglass slightly in silent greeting.
He had guessed correctly.
Nefertari Cobra.
The guardian of Alabasta, and the father of its future princess.
The princess had yet to be born, and Cobra himself was still in his prime.
The surname Donquixote was rare to begin with. Combined with the special attitude the highest authorities had shown Rossi, it was enough for intelligent people to deduce certain facts.
Some things were best left as an unspoken understanding.
A faint, peculiar odor drifted through the air.
Snap.
Rossi's hand abruptly closed around the back of a red-haired boy's neck.
The murmurs around them stopped short, and several gazes converged on them.
"A cheap trick like this,"
Rossi said evenly, reaching his other hand loosely to the side. A tuft of white, cottony material appeared in his palm. "And you thought it worth showing off?"
"Is that... mycelium?"
"My deepest apologies, Lord Rossi!"
A middle-aged man bundled in a heavy fur coat and fur hat hurriedly pushed through the crowd, bending low at the waist and speaking so quickly his words were almost unintelligible. "This is my son, Mushul. He relies on that paltry ability of his and has no sense of restraint-"
"Oh?"
"He attacked me with a Devil Fruit ability,"
Rossi's tone remained level, yet the temperature around them seemed to drop several degrees. "And you think 'no sense of restraint' is enough to brush it aside?"
The muscles in the middle-aged man's cheeks tightened.
He drew a sharp breath, and his knees struck the floor with a dull thud.
"Please quell your anger.
Whatever punishment there is, please let me bear it."
Their surroundings fell so quiet that the rustle of clothing could