The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History-Chapter 242 - 144: Momonga’s Dilemma

"You're back?"

Momonga's guarded expression vanished the moment he saw the Marine commodore sitting on the couch beside him, one leg casually crossed over the other. Replacing it was a flicker of surprise, followed by genuine delight.

His hand slipped away from the hilt of his sword.

"Didn't you just return to Headquarters not long ago?"

Darren smiled.

"What, not happy to see me touring the North Blue again?"

He reached out and opened the cigar box on the coffee table without hesitation, plucked out a stick, clipped the end with practiced ease, bit down, and lit it. He took a long drag, eyes narrowing with satisfaction.

"Ah... Nothing hits like a North Blue cigar."

Momonga grumbled.

"I thought you were still recovering at HQ."

His gaze swept over Darren's face, a faint crease forming between his brows.

"You don't look too good... Thinner than before. You sure your injuries are fully healed?"

Darren's lips twitched slightly, but he didn't answer. Instead, he changed the subject.

"How's the situation here in the North Blue?"

At that, Momonga's expression shifted back to a serious one. His voice dropped, solid and composed.

"Same as when you left. Not much has changed."

"Even after your departure, your name alone continues to deter those restless nobles and ambitious officials."

"Especially now—with news spreading about you taking first at the training camp and destroying the Beasts Pirates' main base—I've been flooded with invites..."

He sighed.

"They're like sharks who've smelled blood. Throwing money, gifts, endless parties, banquets, card games. All of them trying to dig up intel on you."

"Some even seem ready to offer up their wives and daughters to get in your good graces."

Darren raised an eyebrow, amused, watching Momonga's long-suffering expression.

"Sounds like you're living quite the life."

"—The hell I am!"

Momonga snapped.

"It's torture!"

He slammed his fist on the desk.

"All I ever wanted was to be a proper Marine! Sharpen my skills, fight pirates, uphold justice!"

"But they bribe my resolve with gold, try to wear down my body with women, test my principles with liquor and fine tobacco!"

"Damn bastards!"

Darren let out a low chuckle.

"Don't like it?"

Momonga turned bright red. Opened his mouth. Closed it.

"It's... not all bad. I guess."

Darren laughed aloud.

"Work-life balance matters, you know. You're still new to the role. It's normal to feel conflicted."

He exhaled a smooth ring of smoke.

"Those parties and gifts? Attend if you want. Ignore them if you don't. You owe them nothing."

"In the end, it's strength that speaks on these seas."

Momonga nodded. Darren was right.

That had always been their plan. The higher Darren climbed and the louder he made waves in the Grand Line, the more stable the North Blue became in his wake.

"As for the underworld, the Donquixote Family has unified the region's criminal syndicates under their banner. They've grown fast—already expanding into the Grand Line and even the New World."

Momonga leaned back.

Per their agreement, a cut of the Donquixote Family's profits flowed directly to the North Blue Fleet under the title of "franchise licensing fees."

Through high-end accounting and clever paperwork, the funds appeared legitimate even under Marine HQ scrutiny.

"Your judgment was razor-sharp," Momonga admitted. "Doflamingo's shown a level of poise and cunning well beyond his years. Strength, leadership, business sense—he's got it all."

He looked at Darren with admiration.

Before Doflamingo, several powerful mafia families had tried to gain control of the North Blue's underworld. They had the skills and means. Darren refused them all.

Until Doflamingo came along.

To be honest, Momonga had thought Darren's decision was risky. A twelve- or thirteen-year-old kid running the underworld?

It sounded absurd. Other kids that age were still playing in the dirt.

But out of trust for Darren, Momonga kept his doubts to himself—and followed orders without question.

Now, seeing it all unfold...

Darren had been right.

"Yeah," Darren nodded. "That kid turned out well. I didn't train him for nothing."

"I owe my recent escape to one of the officers he dispatched."

He gave Momonga a sideways glance.

"But... you're starting to feel the pressure, aren't you?"

Momonga's lips pressed into a thin line.

After a long pause, he gave a small, reluctant nod.

"He's growing too fast."

Yes. Too fast.

Faster than was natural.

On his last visit to Rubeck Island, Momonga remembered sitting across from the golden-haired boy lounging on a sofa, eyes sharp, posture relaxed.

He had felt the gaze of a beast beneath the surface. Caged—but dangerous.

He wasn't afraid of the Donquixote Family's influence. No criminal empire could outgun the North Blue Fleet.

But Doflamingo himself? That boy was a different matter.

Every time they met, he seemed more powerful, more composed.

It unsettled him.

That's why, last time, he had surrounded the island with warships—ready to execute a miniature Buster Call if anything went wrong.

If Darren were to fall in the New World... Momonga wasn't confident he could hold Doflamingo back alone.

Darren understood. He gave a wry smile.

"That's why I came back."

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To be continued...