One Piece - Life Choice Ask Me to Kiss Marine Goddes Hina

The dignity of the Celestial Dragons is absolute—an unbreakable rule. And Saint Monroe, a high-ranking member, is no exception.

Killing him would mean crossing a line of no return, triggering relentless vengeance from the Celestial Dragons.

Doflamingo, once one of them, had long since become a criminal in their eyes. If caught, he would be a capital offender.

"Doflamingo! I'm your uncle! You wouldn't actually kill me, would you?" Saint Monroe's voice trembled with fear.

"Listen to me! Your mother—she was my beloved sister. If you kill me, she will be heartbro—" Click.

Before he could say another word, Doflamingo pressed the button on the remote.

Tiny spikes shot out from the stinger collar around Monroe's neck, piercing deep into his flesh. 

Unable to use his Devil Fruit ability, he had no defense against the venom now coursing through his veins.

Within three seconds, his body convulsed violently. His veins turned an eerie green, bulging under his pale skin. Foam bubbled at his lips.

In less than twenty seconds, he stopped moving. Dead.

"Congratulations, you made your choice," Lynch said.

He reached down and unshackled the seastone chains binding Doflamingo like a dog.

Doflamingo said nothing. His eyes rolled back slightly, as if trying to convey something.

"I know, I know," Lynch muttered.

A barrel was brought over. Without hesitation, Lynch sliced his wrist, letting his blood drip into it.

When the barrel was one-fifth full of blood, Lynch tore off all the bandages wrapped around Doflamingo's body.

The blood-soaked bandages peeled away along with the scabs fused to his flesh. The sensation was excruciating—sharp, raw, and unbearable.

Fresh wounds, which had barely healed, reopened instantly. Doflamingo gritted his teeth, barely holding his breath through the pain.

But this step was necessary. If left untouched, the bandages would fuse with his skin during the treatment.

Without hesitation, Lynch picked up the half-conscious Doflamingo and tossed him into the barrel. Then, without a second glance, he walked out of the room.

He had no interest in watching a naked man soak in blood. His part was done—Doflamingo would have to handle the rest himself.

Fifteen minutes later, a weak but exhilarated voice came from inside.

"Bring me some clothes," Doflamingo called out.

Five minutes later, he stepped out, now dressed in a sleek black suit. His limbs were whole again, fully restored.

Aside from his pale complexion, he looked as if nothing had ever happened.

He had believed he was doomed if not to death, then to a life of permanent disability.

Yet here he stood, completely healed.

Lynch's blood was beyond miraculous. A true power of life and death, capable of mending flesh and bone.

"Well?" Lynch asked, eyeing him. 

"How does it feel?"

"The feeling of killing a Celestial Dragon... it's exhilarating!" Doflamingo grinned, pulling out a pair of sunglasses from somewhere and slipping them onto his face.

"From now on, we're on the same side. Mind if I check on my subordinates first?"

"Of course," Lynch said casually. "Go out, turn left, then right."

"Fuff, fu, fu~"

Hands in his pockets, Doflamingo strutted out with his signature swagger—the kind that said he had cut ties with the past. Just before leaving, he glanced back.

"Suddenly, I admire you... Boss."

Lynch wasn't surprised by Doflamingo's shift in attitude.

There was no reason to worry about betrayal.

Doflamingo had lost everything—the empire he spent nearly a decade building was gone, and now he had personally killed Saint Monroe.

The only way forward was revenge against the Celestial Dragons, and for that, he needed protection.

The Four Emperors? They wouldn't risk war with the Celestial Dragons just for him.

Only Lynch shared the same ultimate goal.

Following him wasn't just Doflamingo's best option, it was his only one.

Adults always have to learn to compromise with reality.

Even though Doflamingo appeared weak at the moment, he was still a formidable Shichibukai—one of the strongest below the true titans of the sea.

But strength wasn't what interested Lynch the most. What he truly valued was Doflamingo's mind.

As the emperor of the underworld, Doflamingo had a vast intelligence network, global connections, and a talent for conspiracy, organization, and war strategy.

Simply put, he was an all-around genius—someone who could be trusted to handle any critical situation.

Following Lynch's directions, Doflamingo soon found his imprisoned subordinates.

Seeing that they were bruised but alive, he finally relaxed.

For people like Pica, who had been by his side since childhood, he still had a sense of attachment.

His gaze landed on Sugar, who lay on the ground, her swollen backside prominently on display.

"Sugar, have you... grown up?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"What?!" Sugar pouted, eyes brimming with tears. The pain in her backside kept her from moving. 

"It's all that big bad Lynch! He hit me! He's awful!"

A voice from the cell suddenly called out.

"Young Master? Is that really you?"

Everyone snapped to attention, eyes widening as they recognized him.

"It's really Young Master! Young Master, why are you here? You...your body..." Torebol seemed to have guessed something.

"From today onward, our boss is Lynch."

Doflamingo laid everything out for his subordinates.

Silence fell over the group. Their expressions varied—some shocked, some conflicted, others unreadable.

Sugar, especially, looked like she was about to explode.

"Surrender? To that big bad guy?!" she almost shouted.

But then a thought hit her—didn't this mean they would survive?

Her emotions twisted inside her: three parts anger, three parts fear, three parts relief… and one part she couldn't quite name.

The others felt the same. It was a lot to process.

Meanwhile, Lynch had already moved on to another important matter meeting his next guest: Caesar.

Science and technology were the ultimate forces of progress.

At least, that's how Lynch saw it. And for that reason, he held a certain respect for scientists.

Alongside Tom, he arrived outside the cell where Caesar was being held.

Monet stood waiting at the door.

"Uh-huh, Monet," Lynch greeted her with a nod.

It had been a long time, but Monet hadn't changed. She still had that striking figure, standing out in any crowd.

Her long, wavy light green hair framed golden eyes that gleamed with intelligence. But her transformation was unmistakable—her hands and feet had been turned into sharp bird-like claws.

A stunning beauty, if not for the eerie mix of human and harpy.

"Well done, Monet," Lynch said without hesitation, offering praise. "I found your heart. I'll return it to you soon."

He paused before adding, "And your arms and legs. As a reward, I'll restore you to a normal human."

"Thank you, sir!" Monet's face lit up with joy.

Lynch pushed open the door and stepped into the solitary confinement cell.

Inside sat Caesar Clown.

Unlike the others, he had been given far better treatment. Only his ankles were bound with a seastone chain, and the room contained a bed and a desk clear signs of respect.

Back when he worked with Vegapunk, he had boldly declared himself the second-greatest scientist in the world.

Of course, he also possessed the Logia-type Gas-Gas Fruit.

But in terms of reputation, he was little better than Smoker, just another embarrassment among Logia users.

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TO BE CONTINUED

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