Chapter 214
**Chapter 214: The Audience**
For a moment, Jona **stared in stunned silence**.
Then—
She **clapped her fist into her palm**.
"**So you're a Devil Fruit user! Why didn't you say so earlier?**"
Monet, still **half-surrounded by drifting snowflakes**, replied quietly,
"**Sister Jona, you never asked me…**"
Jona blinked.
Fair enough.
Devil Fruit users didn't usually **announce their abilities** unless necessary.
Still, she couldn't help but **observe Monet with fascination**.
"**Snow, huh? It's a beautiful ability. Could it be a Logia-type Devil Fruit?**"
Monet hesitated for a moment.
Then—
"**That man, Disco, said my fruit was a Logia-type. He called it the Snow-Snow Fruit.**"
Jona's **eyes widened slightly**.
She had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed still **left her in awe**.
"**A Logia-type, really? Carlos told me that Logia fruits are incredibly rare and powerful!**"
Monet blinked, letting a **small snowflake swirl** around her fingertip.
Powerful?
Honestly… she **didn't feel that way**.
---
### **A Shared Connection**
As Jona continued **helping Sugar bathe**, she casually remarked,
"**No wonder the Young Master took an interest in you. He's a Logia user too.**"
Monet **paused mid-rinse**.
Carl… was also a Logia user?
Jona smirked.
"**It's not exactly a secret—it's even in the papers.**"
Monet, still a child, didn't really **keep up with the news**.
She had heard of the **Black Dragon**, but beyond that, she knew **little else**.
Yet, knowing that Carl **shared something in common with her**…
It made him feel **less distant**.
Less like some **untouchable master**—
And more like **someone she could understand**.
---
### **The Darkness**
While **rinsing herself off**, Monet hesitated before asking,
"**Sister Jona, what kind of Logia fruit does the Young Master have?**"
Jona **glanced at her** before responding,
"**The Dark-Dark Fruit.**"
Monet **frowned slightly**.
Darkness?
Unlike **snow**, which was simple and familiar, **darkness was vague**—
Difficult to grasp.
Even Jona admitted,
"**I don't fully understand it either. But the Young Master's abilities are incredibly potent.**"
Monet thought for a moment.
To her, **darkness** only meant **the night**—
Something that made **Sugar cry** but never seemed **threatening**.
Yet—
Something about the **way Jona spoke** told her it was far more than that.
---
### **Preparing to Meet the Master**
By the time **Jona finished bathing Sugar**, Monet turned off the shower.
The moment the **water droplets touched her skin**, they **froze instantly**, melding back into her body.
She **glistened like frost**, looking even more radiant.
Jona, unfazed, **wrapped Sugar in a towel** before heading outside to retrieve fresh clothes.
When she returned, she handed them **two pristine white uniforms**.
"**Here. These are the Figarland family's servant uniforms.**"
Monet ran her fingers over the fabric.
It was **incredibly smooth**.
Far too luxurious for something meant for **servants**.
Once dressed, she **twirled in front of a mirror**, holding Sugar's hand.
Jona **smirked**.
"**Don't get too full of yourself. I need to take you to meet the Young Master.**"
Monet, **blushing**, quickly **set Sugar down** and fell into step behind Jona.
The playfulness **faded**—
Her heart **sped up**.
It was time to **meet him properly**.
---
### **The White Palace**
The sisters **followed Jona** through the estate, arriving before a **grand white palace**.
At the entrance, Jona's **expression turned serious**.
"**This is the residence of Lord Garling. The Young Master will also be inside.**"
Then—
Her gaze hardened.
"**When you meet them, do not speak unless given permission. Understand?**"
Monet and Sugar **nodded obediently**.
The earlier sense of **ease** was quickly replaced by **nervousness**.
Monet, especially, felt her throat **tighten**.
Her entire **life had changed in a single day**.
From **a slave in a cage**—
To **belonging to the world's most powerful family**.
The weight of it **hit her fully**.
These were **people most would never even see in their lifetime**.
People who could **decide her fate with a single word**.
Her **heartbeat quickened**.
Not just from **fear**—
But from **curiosity**.
And excitement.
She was about to **meet her new master**.
---
### **The Grand Hall**
Inside the palace, Jona **knelt down**, adjusting Monet and Sugar's collars.
"**You look fine. Now, follow me.**"
The grand hall was **immense**—
Every detail **immaculate and regal**.
At its center, two men sat **across from each other**—
Both clad in **identical black robes**.
One was **Lord Garling**, the imposing head of the Figarland family.
The other—
Was **Carl**.
Jona **dared not interrupt**.
Instead, she **motioned for Monet and Sugar to remain silent**.
Monet **lowered her gaze**, resisting the urge to **glance up at Carl**.
She still hadn't **gotten a proper look at his face**.
Instead—
She listened.
---
### **The Weight of Words**
Garling's voice was **calm yet sharp**.
"**Rosward… hmph. Even if he didn't know your identity beforehand, he must face consequences for his words.**"
Carl's voice was **smooth, measured**.
"**Do you want him dead?**"
Garling let out a small chuckle.
"**Death isn't necessary, but he should be penalized.**"
Carl nodded.
"**Agreed. How would you like to handle it, Uncle Garling?**"
Garling's fingers tapped against the armrest.
"**When he comes to confess, let's demand three years' worth of the Heavenly Tribute from him.**"
Carl smirked.
"**Very well. Giving the Heavenly Tribute to someone like him is a waste, anyway.**"
"**He's a fool. Let's not waste our time on him.**"
Then—
Garling's eyes flickered toward the entrance.
"**Are those the slaves you acquired? Is the older one the Logia user you mentioned?**"
Carl leaned back slightly.
"**Yes. I bought her and her sister for three hundred million Belly—a steal, really.**"
At that moment—
Sugar **tugged on Monet's sleeve**.
Then, in a **whisper**, she asked,
"**Sister… are we something picked up?**"