Without warning, a swirling purple portal tore open on the outskirts of Dressrosa. From its depths stepped four figures—three upright and alert, the fourth crumpled and unconscious in their arms.
Perona, her usual playful demeanor gone, wore an expression few had ever seen on her: serious, focused. She cast a sharp glance at her two companions, her brow furrowed.
"Alright," she said curtly, her voice cutting through the tension. "We have almost no intel, and even less time." Her gaze dropped to the motionless form at their feet—Ezio, their captain, pale and barely breathing. "Our only lead is a princess. A little princess, apparently."
"How hard can it be to find a princess?" Conis asked hesitantly.
Hina stepped forward, her tone grim. "This is the New World—the second half of the Grand Line. Where I'm from, it's spoken of in hushed legends. Compared to this place, the first half is called Paradise for a reason."
Perona stepped ahead, raising her arms. A pulse of eerie energy surged from her fingertips—and in an instant, hundreds of ghosts burst into existence behind her, a pale, shifting army of spirits floating silently, awaiting her command.
She smirked. "If it's information we need, then this is where I shine."
With a single, dramatic gesture, she pointed toward the colorful but chaotic sprawl of Dressrosa ahead.
"Go," she whispered—and her ghostly army scattered, phasing through walls, alleys, and skies like mist on the wind. "Everything they see, I see. Everything they hear, I hear. Everything they feel… I feel."
She turned to the others, her eyes glowing faintly.
"There's nothing I can't find on an island."
Dressrosa remained blissfully unaware—but its peace had just been shattered by an invisible invasion of restless, vengeful spirits.
…
Violet sat in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, a deep frown etched across her face. Her chin rested lightly on her fingers, gaze distant—yet in truth, she saw everything.
Thanks to her Devil Fruit, there was nothing on this island—or even the surrounding sea—that escaped her sight.
So when a swirling purple portal tore open at the edge of Dressrosa, and four strangers stepped out—three standing, one unconscious—and a swarm of ghosts spilled across the land like a silent plague, she noticed immediately.
Her eyes narrowed.
"What are they up to?" she murmured.
As an assassin of the Donquixote Family, she was supposed to report incidents like this to Trebol without hesitation. That was her role.
But as the former princess of this island, whose blood still boiled at the memory of Doflamingo's coup, her loyalties weren't so simple.
And chaos?
Chaos was always welcome.
"I'll give you a little time," Violet muttered, a sly glint flickering in her eye. "Eventually, I'll have to report you. Wouldn't do if someone else caught wind first. They all know what I can see."
The ghosts were everywhere—drifting through alleys, eavesdropping in taverns, slipping into sealed chambers. Some had even infiltrated the hidden underground facilities beneath the palace—places known only to the highest echelons of the Family.
Violet watched them closely. Occasionally, a ghost would phase through a person, and afterward, the strange gothic girl—clearly the one in command—would interrogate them. The victims didn't resist. Whatever the ghosts did to them dulled their will, left them vacant-eyed and docile.
Then there was the blonde girl—barely a teenager, by the looks of her. When the gothic one pointed, the blonde turned into lightning and vanished in a flash, too fast for the eye to follow.
"A Logia," Violet whispered, stunned. "And not just any—lightning."
That kind of power could rival an admiral. Whoever these intruders were, they weren't ordinary.
Her expression darkened as her gaze shifted subtly—to the wall on her left.
There, half-phased into the stone, a ghost hovered. Watching her. Smiling.
What unsettled her most wasn't its presence—but the fact she hadn't sensed it at all.
She wasn't a master of Observation Haki, but as a Donquixote officer, she was proficient. Yet if not for her Devil Fruit, that specter would've gone completely unnoticed.
That made things... very interesting.
"Or…" Her lips curled into a mischievous grin. "I could just confront them myself. That would count as doing my duty, wouldn't it?"
And if she failed?
What could the Family do? Her powers were too valuable. That's why they tolerated her—why they hadn't silenced her, even knowing full well she hated them more than anyone.
"Alright," she said softly, rising to her feet and brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"Let's go meet our guests."
…
"This fucking place is so screwed up."
Perona already had naturally large eyes, but now they were so wide, Hina was genuinely concerned they might just pop out of her skull.
Even the normally sweet and kind-hearted Conis looked disturbed.
"Rarely do I get the urge to just smash lightning into an entire island and be done with it."
Perona and Hina slowly turned to her, a flicker of fear in their eyes.
…Wasn't that exactly what she did back on Hina's island?
"Crazy bastards," Perona muttered. "What's with all these toys? That weird little girl—guarded by some absolute creep—just touches people and boom! They turn into toys. Then they throw the toys into some underground torture camp like it's normal!"
"What's even more disturbing," Hina added, arms crossed, "is that they built a factory down there and had the audacity to call it SMILE."
Perona sighed. "Anyway, after all the intel gathering, it turns out there are two princesses on this island. One's a former princess—and strangely enough, she's walking straight toward us. Like she already knows we're here."
"And the second?" Conis asked.
"The second…" Perona grinned darkly. "I kidnapped with one of my ghosts."
"Perona!" Conis looked absolutely scandalized. "You can't just kidnap people! That's not okay!"
"Relax, you shiny little terror angel." Perona waved her off. "She was being held in that underground horror show. So technically, we rescued her. You're welcome."
"Wait," Hina raised an eyebrow. "Your ghosts can carry people?"
"Oh, they can interact with the physical world very well," Perona replied smugly. "Ah, and there she is now!"
Floating toward them, carried in the cold, semi-transparent hands of a ghost and screaming at the top of her lungs, was none other than Princess Mansherry—a tiny, blonde-haired Tontatta with big teary eyes.
"AAAAAAHHHHHH!" she shrieked as the ghost set her down. "I'M HAUNTED! GHOOOOOOSTS!"
Perona sighed, crossing her arms. "I never understand why people are afraid of ghosts. Aren't they… cute?"
"No," said Conis and Hina in perfect unison.
Perona ignored them and pointed dramatically at the terrified princess. "You! Princess! Can you heal this guy?!"
Mansherry, still trembling, turned and saw Ezio lying unconscious on the ground. Her eyes widened even more.
"N-No?! H-How am I supposed to h-heal him? I-I'm not a doctor!"
"Huh?!" Perona, Conis, and Hina all stared at her.
"Wait wait wait," Perona leaned in, squinting. "You don't have some miraculous Devil Fruit that can heal people or anything like that?"
"N-No?" Mansherry blinked, still shaking.
There was a long pause.
"…Hina is not impressed."
"I knew it wouldn't be this easy," Perona groaned, throwing her arms up. "Alright… what would Ezio do?"
And then, it hit her.
A strange, sudden urge—like a pull from somewhere deep inside. She didn't know where it came from, only that it was tied to that weird, miraculous power Ezio had awakened in her before he left. She closed her eyes and focused.
Ghost Number 237.
She linked her awareness to it. Whatever the ghost saw, she saw. Whatever it felt, she felt.
The ghost was still lurking in the underground facility, right near the place she'd snatched the terrified little princess. And beneath that very spot… something pulsed. Something that called to her. It felt right, like it was meant to be hers.
A Devil Fruit.
"No. Way," Perona whispered, eyes wide. "That's how he finds them. They literally call to him like stray puppies!"
"What the hell is that strange power?" she muttered, glancing over at Ezio, still unconscious. Trying to describe it in words was like trying to explain color to the blind—it was impossible.
A few minutes later, Ghost 237 floated up from the ground, holding the Devil Fruit in its eerie, transparent hands.
Perona, Conis, and Hina all stared at it in silence.
It was unlike any Devil Fruit they'd seen—swirling patterns, a dark lavender hue, almost as if the thing was alive.
Then, suddenly, Hina jumped.
Literally jumped—with a roar.
"FINALLY!" she shouted, grabbing the fruit and taking a massive bite. "So this is where you hid the Black Cage Fruit! It was you, Perona! You sneaky little gothic rat!"
Perona blinked, utterly baffled.
"Eh… Hina? Why are you so obsessed with a fruit that makes cages? Who even wants to create cages?!"
Hina stopped mid-chew. Her eyes glazed over.
"…Huh?"
And then it hit Hina. The fruit's information surged into her mind, raw and unfiltered. The truth of her new power.
She paused. Then, she crumbled to the ground.
"But… But I wanted to cage all the evil people…" she whimpered. "Lock them behind bars… forever… let them suffer…" Tears streamed down her face. "Why does the world hate justice?!"
Perona and Conis stared at her, stunned. The stoic, unshakable Hina—was having a full-blown meltdown.
"T-Take a tear," Hina choked out, curled up like a ball. "And give it to the bastard…"
Innocent as always, Conis nodded, caught a falling tear with care, and gently touched it to Ezio's forehead.
The result was immediate.
Ezio's eyes snapped open. He took a deep breath, sat up, dusted off his coat, and smiled like he'd just finished a nap.
Completely healed.
"You did it," he said with a grin and a thumbs-up. "Nice job!"
Then, he turned and saw Hina—curled on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.
"…Perona," he said flatly. "What did you do to Hina?"
"WHY ME?!"