Chapter 128

In the dimly lit dungeon, a stifling and decaying stench hung heavily in the air. Doflamingo sat crouched on a pile of withered straw, which was covered in dust and bits of chaff, looking like a statue forgotten by the passage of time. Having been locked away for months, he was now disheveled and unkempt. The meticulously styled hair of his past was currently a chaotic mess; greasy blonde strands were scattered haphazardly across his forehead, clashing sharply with his stubble-covered face. The once gorgeously flamboyant pink feathered coat that had flaunted his status and position was now in a wretched state under the torture of imprisonment. Many feathers had fallen off, holes had even appeared at the hem, and the color that once symbolized nobility and power had faded to a dull, drab shade, as if silently recounting his present downfall and misery. The environment inside the cell was utterly abysmal, and the odor was nauseating. The filth on the walls seemed like scars of vicissitudes left by time, and the excrement bucket in the corner emitted a sickening stench that made one instinctively want to flee. That smell lingered in the sultry air, intertwining with the body odor of Doflamingo, acting as a ruthless mockery of fate against him.