Lord of the Truth

<...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?"

<Is it so strange for us to check in on one of our most significant partners?> the fairy replied with a faint smile, her voice light but laced with a subtle undertone of concern. <Besides, we already told you—we will do everything within our power to protect you. And to do that, we must keep our eyes on you. It's the only way to intervene should something unexpected happen.>

"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.

<We aren't the least bit worried about your identity being discovered through the Soul Society itself,> the fairy reassured, her eyes glinting with calm certainty. <You, as Human, are practically impossible to identify. No one knows who you are. Even your race is nothing more than speculation. True, there are certain individuals with the authority to request identity traces on users, but in your case... even those routes are completely sealed. You've been granted full protection. The highest level.>

A moment of silence passed like a heavy breeze between them.

<But that doesn't mean you're invincible. You're not untouchable—not when billions of sentient beings are actively trying to track you down. There's a growing consensus among the masses that you're very likely human—about a 90% probability. That belief alone has shifted the focus of their search dramatically toward human territories.>

<And more than that, intelligence agencies and espionage sects have already started watching the sale and movement of rare inks, specialized slabs, and tracking the history of any human who's remotely connected to research-based activities.>

Robin gulped unconsciously.

Then she raised a delicate hand and pointed gently at him. <If things stay as they are, they won't find you. Not today. Probably not in a hundred years. Maybe not even in a thousand. But eventually... they will.>

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?"

<Not exactly,> the fairy admitted with a soft sigh. <We know he serves you now. We know he helps you gather resources—essential things you need for your work. But we also know that your acquaintance with him began not too long ago. Even if he's spent what amounts to 120 years by your side, his past loyalty still lies with the Maizer human family. That bond isn't so easily erased. Can you say with full confidence that he has never sold you out?>

<If there's even a 1% doubt—just one crack in your certainty—then…>

"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.

<Oh? So you did bind him in someway? That's comforting to hear,> the fairy nodded in approval. <With that, we can eliminate several paths through which your identity might be uncovered, and he can be removed from the list of suspects.>

Then she tilted her head and said gently, <Alternatively, we would strongly recommend that you consider relocating to the Galaxy. There, you could enjoy access to unparalleled resources, time, protection—everything you might need. You would no longer have to worry about being hunted, or even noticed, by any external force.>

"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?"

<It is merely a suggestion, Mr. Human. A rare offering—one we do not extend lightly nor often. Our sole purpose is to protect you, nothing more. But of course, the decision rests entirely in your hands. You may continue residing where you are now, if that is your will, and we shall remain vigilant, supporting you quietly and faithfully from the shadows,> the fairy replied with a gentle, almost motherly smile that held neither arrogance nor pity—only sincere concern.

Robin's lips curved into a faint, artificial smile—one that didn't reach his eyes.

"Yeah. Do that."

And with a single, fluid motion of his fingers, he closed the link to the Soul Society.

Then… silence.

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…"

He paused.

"…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?"

"No."

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 like this 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."

"..."