<...The human youth, Pitsu—are you truly certain you can trust him?> "Pitsu? How do you kno—" Robin's expression shifted instantly. The surprise that had colored his face just seconds earlier evaporated without a trace. Now, seriousness carved itself into his features. "Are you watching me?" the fairy replied with a faint smile, her voice light but laced with a subtle undertone of concern. "You mean I'm in that much danger? To the point that I need to be watched constantly?" Robin asked, his voice dropping with gravity. the fairy reassured, her eyes glinting with calm certainty. A moment of silence passed like a heavy breeze between them. Robin gulped unconsciously. Then she raised a delicate hand and pointed gently at him. Her small arms folded across her chest. Robin's eyes dropped to the ground. "…Have you seen something? Something specific that makes you say that about Pitsu?" the fairy admitted with a soft sigh. "Then what? You want me to kill the kid just because of some vague feeling of unease?" Robin scoffed, a bitter grin tugging at his lips. "I may be the villain in the minds of billions, but I'm not some heartless monster." He let out a sigh, but this time, it was one of calm assurance. "Besides, I know something like that would never happen." The truth was, only a few weeks into Pitsu's stay—after Robin realized that the clingy, persistent boy wasn't going anywhere—he'd made the conscious decision to stop worrying about him. He simply gave up. Still, Robin couldn't bring himself to give the boy a formal soul contract or force him to swear an oath. Swear on what, exactly? The boy had latched onto him after a traumatic event that left him shaken to his core. He owed Robin nothing. He wasn't bound by duty or debt. So instead, Robin entered the Soul Society, searched meticulously, and eventually bought a verified, stable technique for crafting soul shards safely. He then created one with a power of thirty thousand units and implanted it deep within Pitsu's soul domain. He told the boy it was for his own protection—especially when going out to buy supplies. Pitsu cried tears of joy that day. Real, unfiltered happiness. the fairy nodded in approval. Then she tilted her head and said gently, "You mean the galaxy of Morpheus the Dreamer?" A wide grin stretched across Robin's face, mischievous and sharp. "I always thought this was a neutral network—a place where all could participate without interference or pressure. Are you showing your true colors now?" Robin's lips curved into a faint, artificial smile—one that didn't reach his eyes. And with a single, fluid motion of his fingers, he closed the link to the Soul Society. A heavy, unnatural quiet fell across Robin's soul domain like a thick blanket smothering all motion. Birds paused mid-chirp, perched motionless atop crystalline branches. The fish beneath the surface of the tranquil lakes stilled completely, no longer dancing in playful spirals. The wind dared not rustle the leaves. Every living being in that domain—even those that did not understand language—could feel it: the cold shift in their master's aura, the heavy fog of frustration and contemplation cloaking his presence. "…Owner," Neri's voice came at last, soft and cautious like dew sliding off a blade. She approached slowly, each step echoing subtly through the tension that ruled the air. "Is this truly something worth disturbing your peace over? It's not like you entered the Soul society blind to the stakes. You knew the dangers." "You're right." Robin's voice came with a tired exhale, deep and drawn-out. It was the sound of a man who had fought too many battles in too short a time. "Still… everything just spiraled. It slipped out of my hands before I even noticed. And now…" "…Now I don't even know what the right path is anymore." A long, painful quiet passed between them before Neri broke it again—her words slower this time, as if picking each one carefully from the fog of thought. "…If you could return to that moment—when you first came to the Middle belt… would you have done anything differently?" Robin lifted his head, firm and unflinching, as though he were anchoring himself to the very essence of that choice. "No hesitation. No regret. I needed the pearls then, and I still do. Billions of them." He shook his head, slowly, almost bitterly. "If I hadn't done what I did in the Soul Society, I'd have been forced to go elsewhere—to search for other patrons, new sponsors. I would've had to negotiate, beg, manipulate, run circles around people far more dangerous than they appear, all just to buy myself a sliver of safety. And for what? For the same uncertain outcome." A sardonic smile played across his lips, heavy with irony. "Yes, that fairy—and the ones running the Soul Society—they're greedy, undeniably. But their greed is structured, professional. They chase profit like wolves chase the scent of blood. I am, to them, just a new opportunity. A new vein of gold. But compared to the immense treasure hoarded by Morpheus the Dreamer and his kin over tens of millions of years… what am I? A footnote? A curious little insect drifting across their eternal stream." He looked off into the distance. "They may try to extract value from me, may try to push me to my limits—but they have no real reason to kill me. Not yet. Not while I'm still useful." "If you feel no regret…" Neri said gently, folding her arms across her chest, "and if you believe there was never any other path… then what are you waiting for? Why hesitate now?" Her voice wasn't accusatory. It was calm. Grounded. "Keep going. Keep building. But… draw a line somewhere. Remaining in the spotlight without the power to match the attention? That's foolish. Let the world forget you—just for a while." "…You're right." Robin nodded slowly, once… twice. "Fifty years from now, the Planetary Displacement Tool Auction will be held. Once that concludes… I'll take a break. Maybe for a long while. Maybe forever." Then, turning toward her, he gently reached out and ran his fingers through her silver-blue hair, ruffling it with the affection of an older brother. "Anyone who hears you talk would swear you're some wise ancient spirit—an oracle cloaked in centuries of knowledge. They'd never imagine you're the same chaotic creature who recklessly spawned dozens of sentient races and accidentally attracted the wrath of the Red Plague with your mischief."