"Doflamingo, Rosinante... I'm sorry..."
"No! Brother—!"
'Oh, for fuck's sake! What is all this noise so early in the damn morning?!'
Doflamingo instinctively clenched his fist, itching to punch the source of the disturbance that was interrupting his sleep.
BANG!!
"Aaaaaah—! Father! Brother!"
The agonized wailing, the gut-wrenching cries, and the chaos of jumbled memories in his head made Doflamingo's mind throb with unbearable pain. He pressed his left hand against his temple, veins bulging as he tried to ease the pounding inside his skull. Slowly, his vision focused.
Something wasn't right.
The scene before him was one he had never witnessed before.
The lifeless body of Donquixote Homing, a former Celestial Dragon, lay sprawled on the ground, while a grief-stricken Rosinante sobbed beside it as though his world had crumbled.
Doflamingo glanced at his small, youthful right hand, then at the still-smoking pistol he was holding.
'What the hell is this? Starting off by killing my own father—what a way to kick things off.'
His eyes swept the surroundings, trying to match the place with his memories. But all he saw was filth—garbage everywhere, a damp and gloomy environment, piles of scraps that he and Rosinante had scavenged. Only a few slivers of light managed to seep through from above Homing's corpse. The air reeked of rot.
Instinctively, he sniffed the air.
The scent of decayed food and the metallic tang of blood filled his nostrils, making him gag.
"Ugh, fuck..."
'Damn it, this reincarnation is one hell of a treasure chest opening experience. Two and a half years of looting trash—what kind of bullshit start is this? And I've already eaten the String-String Fruit?! How the hell am I supposed to survive in a world this dangerous? This is like sending a package under Big Ben—with the sender on top and the package on the bottom.'
His chaotic memories gradually merged, and his mind began to recall the lavish indulgences of his past life as an evil Celestial Dragon.
He savored the thought for a moment.
'And now you expect me to endure this suffering as a test?'
'Who wouldn't turn into a monster after living like this?!'
Wait.
'How the hell did I die last time?'
'Let me think... Signed an order, had a crocodile banquet, drank some fine liquor, then went to the club...
And then—
A f*cking truck.
Goddamn it, was I the protagonist of an isekai manga?!
No, wait—I was the designated driver!
Letting his thoughts run wild for a moment, Doflamingo finally decided to stop overthinking.
'Whatever. I'm already here. Might as well make the best of it. Look at the bright side—becoming a king sounds a lot better than being just another cog in the machine. This current hardship is only temporary. And this little brother of mine? No way I'm letting the Marines take him away this time.'
Determined, Doflamingo holstered his smoking pistol behind his waist. A gun that had slain his own father deserved to be kept as a trophy.
Turning his gaze toward Rosinante, who was still sobbing over Homing's corpse, he spoke in a soft, almost soothing voice.
"Rosinante, what hurts more—the wounds on your body or the pain in your heart?"
At the sound of his brother's voice, Rosinante's body trembled. His world had just been shattered—his mother had passed away not long ago, and now his father was dead.
And the person who killed him was none other than his own brother.
Sorrow, agony, fear, hatred—all these emotions swirled in Rosinante's young heart, leaving him speechless, unable to respond.
'Time to mold him into my shape.'
Seeing Rosinante still burying his face against their father's corpse, Doflamingo grabbed him and yanked him up, snapping him out of his grieving trance.
"Rosinante, look at this man you call Father. It was his naïve idealism that tore our family apart."
"It was his foolish kindness that forced our mother to suffer through her illness, helpless and in pain. It was his weakness that left you and me no better than stray dogs, starving and alone."
"Kindness is a privilege reserved for the strong. Without our Celestial Dragon status, we are nothing but powerless prey at the mercy of others."
"Right now, Rosinante, our priority is to survive."
Doflamingo sneered as he looked at the corpse of his so-called father.
A powerless idealist.
No, not powerless—he had power but chose to forsake it. A self-righteous fool.
In this world, a Celestial Dragon choosing to be kind and live among commoners was an extraordinary display of morality. It was a rare, commendable trait, one that truly shined with the brilliance of humanity.
But if you wanted to be kind, wouldn't it be better to remain a Celestial Dragon and use your influence to change things? Or at least grow stronger first before preaching about equality? Maybe even join forces with someone like Queen Otohime of the Fish-Men?
Instead, he stripped himself and his family of their status, willingly throwing them into the jaws of the common folk. He didn't even understand the depths of hatred the world bore toward the Celestial Dragons.
Did he really think people wouldn't chase them down and butcher them?
Even if Doflamingo hadn't exposed their identities, this outcome was inevitable—it was only a matter of time.
At the very least, he could have chosen a World Government-affiliated nation, where they might have had some protection.
But no.
He was a gambler who went all in and lost everything. And in the end, his choices cost his wife her life and left his children to suffer.
If it were up to Doflamingo now, he wouldn't have killed Homing so quickly. No, he would've let him live—long enough to make him experience the agony of losing his wife, the guilt of his family's downfall, and the despair of watching his son become a monster.
Now that would've been a fascinating study in human suffering.
Fueled by these thoughts, Doflamingo's voice grew sharper, his body surging with energy. Thin strings began to emerge from his fingers as he gripped Rosinante's hands tightly.
"Do you remember how they hunted us, burned us, strung us up on the city walls? Did we ever harm a single person here?"
"Do you remember the so-called 'nobles' of Mary Geoise who stood by and did nothing? It was them! They were the ones who drove our mother to her death! They are the ones who forced our father's hand!"
"Rosinante, look at me! Look at the scars on our bodies! Look at this filthy, wretched place we've been reduced to! Look at these disgusting, squirming worms beneath our feet!"
"Who did this to us?! The innocent people here? The nobles in Mary Geoise? Or the man who called himself our father?!"
"And yet, it was I who saved you, Rosinante. You are my only family now."
Tugging at his heartstrings, distorting the truth, shackling him with guilt—Doflamingo was pulling every trick in the book.
Because no matter how young Rosinante was, there had to be a part of him that resented their suffering.
There was no way he was some saint.
Doflamingo could barely keep his own murderous rage at bay.
Rosinante, staring at his brother, recalled the times Doflamingo had stolen food for him, scavenged the streets, struggled to keep them alive.
And their father...
'Guess talking people into submission really is a protagonist's privilege.'
Doflamingo watched as Rosinante remained silent.
No longer suppressing the storm raging inside him, he let his emotions loose.
A flash of black and red lightning crackled in the air.
SMACK.
Rosinante's eyes rolled back as he collapsed, unconscious, onto Homing's corpse.