Polnareff, where in the world are you?!
Johnson Joffrey unexpectedly began to feel nervous. The story's plot never developed according to his wishes, but the ending always aligned with what he desired.
However, Polnareff, the man who was supposedly waiting online, hadn't contacted him at all.
Why?! If it followed the story's progression, he should have been there, unless fate had already been altered before him.
"I think our Captain and Johnson are right; knowing the Boss's past is meaningless now," Prosciutto analyzed. "After all, he's completely exposed to us."
"Why don't we just go all out and put his information online? Passione will surely fall into chaos."
"You know what, that's actually a great idea, Mista!" Ghiaccio stood up and playfully punched him on the chest, like good buddies.
"No, since the Boss hid his past, it must be because there's a weakness in his past," Risotto said in a low voice. "The Boss is completely unknown to the entirety of Passione. No one would even know if we killed him and then took his place."
"But," Johnson Joffrey interjected, "if we directly reveal his information, Passione will completely disband, because he has always ruled everyone through the unknown."
Johnson and Risotto's words dispelled Mista's idea.
"Then our betrayal would lose half its meaning," Prosciutto concluded.
"In that case," Bucciarati suddenly said, "let's just fight him directly."
"We know his ability, his face, and his past," Bucciarati said. "Let's go to war directly. If we keep delaying, it will only give him more time to gather his subordinates."
Bucciarati's words plunged everyone back into silence, then they cast approving glances. Johnson Joffrey, however, was completely engrossed in the matter of Polnareff.
Where exactly was Polnareff?
"Then does Melone have a way to track him?" Ghiaccio asked boisterously.
Melone's gaze fell upon Trish. His stare was too blatant, making Trish feel a chill all over, and goosebumps appeared on her skin.
"I'm not entirely sure," Melone said, raising an eyebrow. "I've never tracked a maternal bloodline before."
He put down his computer and casually pulled out his Stand—another 'computer.'
Then he walked up to Trish and said with a smile, "Is your body healthy?"
Trish looked at him, her lips twitching slightly, and said, "…What do you want to do?!"
"I want to help you and Johnson have a baby."
"Pfft—" Narancia, who was drinking water, sprayed out a fountain from his mouth. "This…"
Trish's emerald eyes instantly widened, looking at Melone in disbelief.
"It'll be very quick, just a few minutes," Melone said seriously.
"Bu… Bucciarati…" Narancia looked at Bucciarati in horror. "Does having a baby only take a few minutes?!"
Bucciarati also looked at Melone and Trish in surprise and said, "I… I'm not really sure about these kinds of things."
"What's wrong?" Melone pressed closer to Trish and said, "You don't like Johnson, do you? Well, he completely doesn't understand a girl's feelings. Anyway, you can choose any of the men here."
Because she was a key figure, and Melone had never done anything about tracking a maternal body before, generally speaking, women didn't play a very significant role in assassination.
So, Melone was generally treated as just a tool, but Trish was different; she was the key person to track down the boss.
Although Johnson was known to have an excellent physique, Melone really wanted to see what kind of vicious villain his child would turn out to be.
However, he still had to respect Trish.
"Which one do you actually like?" Melone pressed on, backing her against the hospital bed.
"This is too sudden, Melone!" Mista exclaimed, blushing with surprise, "I'm not ready yet, and besides, in just a few minutes, you can't even get 'that' out! Who would be that short!"
He had just joined the Assassination Team and wasn't entirely clear about Melone's abilities, yet he was quite confident in himself, believing that Trish was more likely to choose him than many others.
"Pervert!!" Trish, being a very stubborn girl, slapped Melone across the face.
Melone stared blankly at Trish, feeling the force of her slap, then stuck out his tongue—
"Slurp!"
His agile tongue licked Trish's palm, and Trish shrieked, jumping to the side, a pink Stand appearing behind her, shielding her.
"With the force of that slap, you're the girl with the best physical condition I've ever seen."
"Only Johnson is worthy of you; choose Johnson. The child you two have can be very, very strong."
Trish lowered her head, blushing with anger and embarrassment, unable to tolerate this pervert any longer.
With a thought, she controlled her Stand—the pink Stand with beautiful emerald eyes, just like Trish.
Spice Girl, with a pleasant voice, shouted, "Die, pervert!!"
Fortunately, Pesci's eyes suddenly moved, and he quickly used his Beach Boy to reel Melone back.
Spice Girl's small fist hit the wall, instantly softening it.
"Melone," Risotto said sternly, "Explain things clearly. Don't be rude to Trish, and don't cause unnecessary misunderstandings."
It was Risotto's words that brought Melone back to his senses.
He nodded to Risotto and then said to Trish, "My Stand can give birth to a new Stand for you; its ability will be very strong, and it can also remotely track the boss through bloodline."
"That's it," Melone shrugged.
"I still don't want it!" Trish insisted, "I'm only thirteen, you pervert!"
"Trish is only thirteen," Bucciarati said righteously, "Even for a Stand, this is not acceptable."
Formaggio seemed to understand something and then said with a smile, "We'll take responsibility. Besides, this is necessary; otherwise, how can we track the boss? Melone's Stand will accelerate the process; it will only take a few minutes, I guarantee it. And all of us men are willing to sacrifice!"
Johnson couldn't help but shake his head as he looked at Formaggio, who was only deepening the misunderstanding when he knew others had already misunderstood.
"You also want to avenge your mother, don't you?" Formaggio said with a devil-may-care smile.
Trish broke out in a cold sweat, looking at the floor in disbelief, then her gaze swept over the group of men, and then she looked at her mother.
I'm also thirteen, and my mom was only fifteen when she had me, she thought to herself, then slowly began to waver.
Afterward, she looked at her mother again; if Diavolo wasn't truly found, then she and her mother would never have a day of peace.
Seeing Trish so conflicted, Bucciarati felt a pang of heartache and wanted to speak up to stop it.
But Trish seemed to have made up her mind.