The offer came from Cipher Pol.
Not an agent, not even a commander. A director.
He arrived unannounced at my estate with no escort, no warning, and a smile carved from the same substance as guillotines.
"Saint," he bowed low, "may I enter?"
I was in the middle of watching Ash play with acid.
"No," I said. "But you may amuse me."
He remained outside. In the sun. For twelve minutes. Didn't sweat once.
I finally allowed him in.
He handed me a folder. Thick. Bound in marine leather. Stamped with seven seals.
Winter stood beside me, silent and humming.
Ash clung to the wall like a nervous fungus.
The folder contained everything about the upcoming Reverie—and a name.
Monkey D. Dragon.
"I assume this is a joke," I said.
The director smiled. "Not in the slightest. He plans to make contact with someone during the summit."
"Let me guess—he's going to wear a big hat and dance through the front door."
"No, but he may have people inside."
"Inside what?"
He didn't answer.
Typical.
Cipher Pol never gave you the real map. Just a list of cliffs and cheerful suggestions to jump.
The name itched in my mind.
Dragon. Revolutionary. The son of Garp, the father of Luffy, the man who moved shadows with words.
He wanted to tear it all down.
I didn't care about that.
But if he could reach the Holy Land… if he had agents here already…
That meant opportunity.
I began to dig.
Not personally, of course.
I sent three of my quietest staff to every dry archive in Mariejois. I wanted everything on the Revolutionary Army—movements, symbols, whispers, vanished soldiers.
Ash, naturally, offered to eat someone. I declined. For now.
Winter followed me through the halls as I paced.
"Are you worried?" she asked.
"No. I'm excited."
She frowned. "Excited?"
"Revolutions are like storms. I like storms."
She looked out the window. "And if they strike here?"
"Then we make sure we're the ones selling the umbrellas."
That night, I received a second guest.
Uninvited.
He stood in the garden, alone, his cloak billowing despite the windless air.
Tall. Pale. Eyes like infinity had gotten bored and decided to blink.
Imu.
I bowed.
He did not speak.
He stared at Winter.
She stared back.
Lightning danced behind her eyes.
"Your pet," he said at last.
"My heir," I corrected.
A pause.
Then: "She is unstable."
"She is devoted."
"Devotion bends."
"Not hers."
He looked at me for a long time. Then turned. Then vanished.
The grass where he stood withered to ash.
I didn't sleep that night.
I counted Winter's heartbeats through the wall.
Steady. Strong.
Like a drum calling war.
Ash slept curled in the chandelier.
I began writing letters.
To brokers. To mercenaries. To one former Warlord of the Sea who owed me five ships and a favor.
If Dragon was coming, I would be ready.
Not to stop him.
To profit.
Winter entered my study at dawn.
She carried a book of Skypiean hymns. Burned at the edges.
"I had a dream," she said.
"Oh? Did it involve lightning and subjugation?"
She ignored me.
"There was a tree. Tall. Glowing. Reaching into the sky."
"And?"
"It was bleeding."
I closed the book I hadn't opened.
"We're going to need a better answer."