Inside the restaurant, Doflamingo finished his dinner and wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin.
Across from him, Vergo had once again managed to cover his face in crumbs and scraps of food.
“So Ohara’s expedition leaves tomorrow,” Vergo said curiously.
“And within six months, they’ll bring that Devil Fruit back to you?” “At least, that’s what the woman named Olvia told me.” Doflamingo set down the napkin, picked up his glass of red wine, and took a sip.
He had no intention of traveling elsewhere during those six months.
He would simply remain in Ohara and wait.
Six months was neither especially long nor especially short, but when sea travel was involved, it amounted to little more than a single round trip.
If he returned to the North Blue now, he would barely have enough time to accomplish anything before needing to sail back.
The return journey itself would consume a considerable amount of time.
It was far more sensible to remain in Ohara until the Devil Fruit was delivered.
“Once you get the fruit, will you leave Ohara alone?” Vergo asked.
Doflamingo paused and looked at him strangely.
“Why would you ask something like that?
You know exactly what kind of man I am.” “If Ohara is no longer useful to me afterward, then naturally, I’ll leave them alone.” His smile sharpened.
“But if I still have a use for them, why would I let them go?” Donquixote Doflamingo had never pretended to be a good man.
Vergo nodded in understanding.
“I suppose that was a foolish question.” The two spoke for a while longer before Doflamingo rose to leave.
“Doffy, are you coming to train?” Vergo asked.
Ordinarily, after dinner and a brief rest, the two of them would find somewhere quiet to meditate.
Meditation trained the mind and sharpened one’s senses, making it useful for strengthening Observation Haki.
Doflamingo waved him off.
“I’m going to visit the Tree of Knowledge.
I want to see whether the so-called greatest library in the world contains anything worth reading.” “You seem far more interested in books lately,” Vergo observed.
“You weren’t like this before.” Having grown up alongside Doflamingo, Vergo understood his habits better than almost anyone.
For most of the past seven years, Doflamingo had spent nearly every free moment training.
Aside from matters that required his personal attention, almost nothing had distracted him from becoming stronger.
During the past six months, however, he seemed to have eased his pace slightly.
“My Haki has reached a bottleneck,” Doflamingo explained.
“Forcing it will only make me impatient.” “Besides, knowledge and ideas are also forms of power.” He smiled.
“Books are one of the ways people climb higher, and I still have a long way to climb.” That was only partly a joke.
Doflamingo had begun reading because he wanted to understand this world from perspectives beyond his own.
He possessed knowledge of events that had yet to occur and could, in a sense, foresee much of the future.
But during the seven years he had lived here, he had gradually realized that this world was far more complicated than the story he remembered.
It was not merely a collection of familiar characters and major events.
It was a living world filled with nations, cultures, institutions, conflicts, and histories that had never appeared in the original narrative.
If he continued viewing everything solely through the knowledge he had brought with him, his understanding would eventually become narrow and outdated.
He needed to adapt to the age in which he now lived.
Reliable sources of information were limited in this world.
Books therefore remained one of the most important ways to acquire knowledge.
“You do seem rather eager to improve,” Vergo said.
“But I thought only scholars were permitted to enter the Tree of Knowledge freely?” Doflamingo laughed and waved dismissively.
“At this point, Ohara has no choice but to treat me like royalty” “I’ll go wherever I please and do whatever I like.” The Tree of Knowledge was ordinarily closed at night, even to Ohara’s scholars.
The reason was simple.
A scholar using a lamp after dark might accidentally start a fire and destroy countless irreplaceable books.
But Doflamingo’s description of his current position was not entirely wrong.
Until Clover and the others found some way to neutralize him, they had no choice but to accommodate him.
If he wished to enter the Tree of Knowledge, no one would stop him.
After enduring repeated warnings from the scholar stationed at the entrance, Doflamingo took an oil lamp and entered the library.
The Tree of Knowledge did not contain only books about history.
If it did, it would hardly deserve its name.
Ohara was more than the world’s archaeological center.
It was also one of humanity’s greatest repositories of culture.
Its collection covered astronomy, geography, literature, biography, philosophy, art, and countless other subjects.
There were even ancient illustrated manuscripts among its shelves.
Many of the books were priceless because they were unique surviving copies recovered by Ohara’s scholars from ruins scattered across the world.
Not every scholar on the island participated in the forbidden study of the Poneglyphs.
Most devoted their lives to restoring, copying, preserving, and reproducing fragile texts that might otherwise disappear forever.
Doflamingo had not entered with a particular book in mind.
He intended to wander through the library and read anything that caught his interest.
He circled the first floor but found nothing appealing, then began climbing through the higher levels of the Tree of Knowledge.
When he reached the uppermost ring of shelves, he discovered that the entire section had been dedicated to philosophy.
“They placed humanity’s greatest ideas at the top?” Doflamingo spoke quietly to himself.
“I would have expected the history collection.” He reached toward the shelf and pulled out a book titled The Way of Stillness.
After reading several pages, surprise entered his eyes.
The ideas described in the book strongly resembled the Taoist philosophy he remembered from his former world.
“That text came from the Kano Country in the West Blue.” A voice suddenly spoke beside him.
“Many years ago, the country practiced an indigenous faith known as the Way.
That book explains some of its central ideas.” Doflamingo’s eyes sharpened.
This man was dangerous.
Someone had appeared beside him without Doflamingo sensing the slightest trace of his presence.
Judging by the calm voice and the circumstances, however, the newcomer did not seem immediately hostile.
Within moments, Doflamingo steadied himself.
“You seem familiar with the book.” “I’ve read it,” the stranger replied.
Doflamingo turned toward the voice.
The man stood only a short distance away.
Doflamingo was certain that no one had been there when he first reached the top floor.
The stranger had appeared without a sound.
Moonlight poured through a skylight behind him.
Combined with the flame of Doflamingo’s lamp, it revealed the man’s features in faint outline.
The instant Doflamingo saw his face, genuine surprise flashed through his eyes.
“Dragon?” At this point, Dragon was still young, perhaps around thirty.
Long, unruly black hair fell down his back, and the red markings that would later cover the left side of his face were not yet present.
Dragon raised an eyebrow.
“You know me?” Then, after a pause, he added, “And you are?” “Donquixote Doflamingo.” Doflamingo quickly concealed his surprise and smiled.
“You could call me a criminal from the North Blue.” It was clear that Doflamingo recognized Dragon.
Dragon, however, had no idea who he was.
At present, Monkey D.
Dragon was not widely known.
Although he was the son of the Marine hero Garp, he had always kept a low profile.
Those with enough status to know of his existence did.
Everyone else remained completely unaware.