Chapter 146: Viola (Patreon)

Chapter 146: Viola

The crystal chandelier in the luxurious room softened the light into a warm glow, spilling over the velvet bed curtains and settling on Bahr's half-exposed shoulders and neck.

A soft click sounded as the lighter's flame flickered to life. Bahr reclined against the headboard, taking a deep drag from the cigarette between his fingers. The smoke rings curled upward, intertwining with the lingering traces of intimacy in the air, his expression relaxed in the aftermath.

He had never been one for moral purity. Since Doflamingo had pushed the woman into his path, there was no reason to refuse.

It had to be said—Viola was indeed a woman of capital. Her mature, alluring figure concealed the noble grace of a royal princess, and that paradoxical mix of submission and detachment acted like an invisible buff, adding a unique flavor to their fleeting affair. It was, without a doubt, a top-tier indulgence.

Viola leaned against the other side of the bed, the silk sheet draped loosely around her waist, failing to hide the crisscrossing red marks on her shoulders.

Her cheeks were flushed with an intoxicating hue, her breath still uneven with lingering exertion. When she opened her eyes, her crimson gaze shimmered with unshed moisture, settling on Bahr's profile as her lashes fluttered faintly.

Being sent to "entertain" guests wasn't unusual for her. She had always known her place in Doflamingo's circle—nothing more than a tool, valued only for the utility of her Glare-Glare Fruit.

At first, she had been curious about who this man was, to warrant such attention from Doflamingo. But the moment she caught a glimpse of his face beneath the mask, she abruptly recalled the infamous title that had once shaken the world—

"King of Original Sin—'Blasphemer' Bahr."

No wonder Doflamingo was treating him with such importance.

After a moment of hesitation, Viola finally spoke, her voice still carrying a trace of huskiness from earlier: "What brings you to Dressrosa, Mr. Bahr?"

Bahr flicked the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray on the bedside table, the ember glowing faintly as he glanced at her, a careless smirk playing on his lips. "You should ask Doflamingo that."

Play was play, but boundaries still mattered. Viola and Doflamingo had a transactional relationship—loyalty wasn't part of the equation. A night of indulgence didn't mean he had to lay all his cards on the table.

Viola pressed her lips together and didn't press further, a faint trace of self-mockery flashing in her eyes.

In the end, she was just a pawn in someone else's game—not even entitled to know the rules.

She understood the ways of the world all too well. Some questions were better left unasked, unless she wanted to end up dead without knowing why. Her only goal was to ensure her father's safety.

For that, she could sacrifice anything—even this body, subjected to others' whims.

The room fell into silence, broken only by the faint crackle of the burning cigarette and the occasional whisper of the night breeze drifting through the courtyard outside. Viola slowly closed her eyes, pushing down the tangled thoughts until nothing remained but a numb, hollow calm.

......

Morning light streamed through the stained-glass windows of Dressrosa's palace hall, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the marble floor.

The long dining table was laden with a lavish breakfast—silver platters held steaming fried eggs, while the sweet aroma of honeyed bread mingled with the rich scent of coffee in the air.

Bahr strode ahead, looking utterly refreshed, while Viola followed half a step behind. Her fiery red dress accentuated the lingering flush on her cheeks, though the exhaustion in her crimson eyes was impossible to hide.

Clearly, she hadn't been spared much rest the night before.

"Oh, awake?" Doflamingo lounged in the main seat, his pink feathered coat draped casually over the chair back, sunglasses sliding down his nose as his gaze swept over the two men. His lips curled into that trademark arrogant smirk. "Fufufu... How was it?"

"Not bad. More interesting than those vases in your pool." Bahr pulled out the chair opposite him without ceremony, picking up a dinner knife to tap against the silver plate.

The executives around the table reacted variously—Diamante whistled around a mouthful of toast, Trebol's sticky fingers stirred in a jam jar, while Pica remained stone-faced.

"Here you go." Baby-5 approached in her maid outfit, carrying tableware. Her jet-black hair was loosely tied into a bun, with a few strands framing her round, baby-faced cheeks, making her complexion appear even paler.

Her ample chest strained slightly against the white maid dress's collar, the apron cinched at her slender waist accentuating the soft curves unique to a young woman.

Bahr knew Baby-5 well—a maid desperate to feel needed, unable to refuse any request, willing to do... well, anything.

"Thanks, little maid." He deliberately brushed his fingers against the back of her hand as he took the knife, watching her ears turn red in an instant, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "That apron's tied quite uniquely—just a bit crooked on the bow."

"I-I'll fix it right away..." Baby-5's fingers fumbled clumsily for the knot behind her back, her words stumbling.

"You should know your limits." Doflamingo rapped his knuckles on the table, his tone laced with unmistakable warning. "Don't get ideas about my family."

Bahr shrugged and didn't press further, shoving a forkful of fried egg into his mouth.

He understood perfectly—in Doflamingo's world, people were ranked. Those like Baby-5 and Sugar, who'd been with him since childhood, fell into the "family" circle. They might seem casually treated, but they were untouchable.

Hadn't every fool who dared deceive Baby-5 in the original story been mercilessly eliminated?

Outsiders like Viola, useful but expendable, were just bargaining chips—perfect for entertaining guests.

To truly lay hands on "family" like Baby-5, one would need to offer something earth-shattering in return. Just like Monet later—hadn't she been pushed without hesitation to press the detonator to wipe out the Straw Hats?

Swallowing the egg, Bahr's gaze swept across the table, landing on Sugar in the corner, cradling a bunch of grapes.

The girl wore a polka-dot dress with a monocle over one eye, looking like a little Red Riding Hood with her basket. Yet who could guess an adult soul lurked beneath that childlike appearance?

Her Hobby-Hobby Fruit was downright terrifying—every toy in the kingdom was her handiwork. Even those transformed would be completely forgotten, a truly phenomenal ability.

Shifting his gaze, he caught sight of Monet. Dressed in a white ruffled blouse, her blue hair cascading loosely over her shoulders, she stirred her coffee with elegant fingers, a gentle smile on her face.

Seemed she hadn't been sent to Punk Hazard as a spy yet—still the most trusted "personal secretary" in Dressrosa's palace.

"Taking you to see something interesting today," Doflamingo suddenly spoke, tossing a piece of ham into his mouth. "Guaranteed to make you more interested in our 'collaboration.'"

Bahr swallowed his food and took a sip of coffee. "Hope it doesn't disappoint."

The atmosphere at the dining table grew subtly tense. The executives ate their breakfast with hidden agendas, their occasional glances filled with curiosity and scrutiny.

Only Baby-5 remained flushed from the earlier incident. Trebol's slime dripped onto his plate with a sticky sound, while Sugar nibbled on grapes, her eyes frequently darting toward the unfamiliar man who had suddenly appeared.

The rising sun cast increasingly bright light across the hall, yet it couldn't penetrate the schemes swirling in their minds.