"Celestial... Dragons?"
Jora's voice seemed to rise from deep beneath distant waters.
She pressed a hand to her forehead, her knuckles whitening with the force, and closed her eyes. Only after several deep breaths did she open them again. "Abandoning my throne to go to sea was absurd enough... Now you're telling me the people I've been following are-"
"Being born one doesn't mean wanting to be one."
Rossi leaned back into the sofa, and the leather gave a faint creak.
Even if he had been born atop the Red Line, he would have left without looking back.
Some things were enough to turn his stomach just by looking at them.
The man in the seat of honor chuckled, his laughter like rusty gears turning. "Our esteemed father chose to tear up that piece of paper."
Doflamingo's mouth stretched into a grin. The dancing flames in the fireplace reflected in his sunglasses, while the shadows behind the lenses were fathomless. "He thought he could blend into the crowd and live like a grain of sand... Ridiculous."
Diamante's breathing grew heavier.
Vergo stood with his arms folded, his knuckles clenched blue.
They could already smell what came next-fear mixed with greed, the darkness that surged through a crowd when they discovered a sacrificial offering fallen from its pedestal.
"What hunger tastes like, what pain feels like, what color despair is... Rossi and I experienced it all overnight."
Doflamingo's tone was flat, as though he were reading someone else's story. "Our mother didn't make it to the end.
"Sickness, hunger, and the pursuit we could never shake... She died beside a filthy ditch."
His gaze moved slowly, passing over Trebol's twitching face, Diamante's taut jaw, Vergo's statue-like stance, Pica's shadow huddled in the corner, Jora's trembling shoulders, and Pica's lowered eyes.
"So