"Little sister."
"Hmm?"
"Something's off about him."
Sunday watched Anming's back in the kitchen, his voice low as he spoke to Robin beside him.
Today was one of those rare occasions when the three of them could gather. Originally, Anming and Robin were supposed to return home together—but in the end, only Robin came back.
Anming returned alone the next day, still wearing the same coat, soaked and then air-dried, looking as though he had spent the entire night in the rain.
"I'm fine."
He said he was fine, changed into clean clothes—a crisp white shirt that made his face seem almost divine, his halo glowing brighter than ever.
From Robin, Sunday had learned the gist of what happened: Anming had lost someone important. A friend named Ena, though Robin herself had only heard the name in passing and didn't know the details.
"Is now really the right time?"
Though worry clouded Robin's beautiful eyes, she still wanted to give Anming space. She didn't want to intrude on his grief, even with the privileges he had granted her.
Sunday smiled faintly. "If it's you, then yes."
Others might not be welcome—but Robin was always the exception.
As much as Sunday hated to deploy the "Final Weapon Against Anming" (a.k.a. Robin), he had to admit: even if Anming decided to burn the world down, Robin could pull him back.
Ah, my perfect little sister! (Pride swelled in his chest.)
Then Sunday paused.
…Wait.
Since when had he started subconsciously treating Robin and Anming as a pair? This wasn't right.
"Brother~" Robin's cheeks flushed slightly as she defended, "Anming and I aren't at that stage yet."
"...?"
Sunday felt as though he had just watched his precious cabbage gleefully leap into the neighboring pigpen, begging to be devoured.
Sunday, my man. The sky is falling.
He had never seen Robin make such an adorably shy expression before. That was the look of someone hopelessly smitten.
Oblivious to Sunday's internal crisis, Robin padded over to Anming.
"Let me help," she offered softly.
Anming instinctively refused—but with only one hand free, managing both chopping and stove control was impossible. He sighed.
"Alright, superstar. Keep an eye on the flame for me."
"Have you heard of Caspelinat-VIII?"
"...The war-torn planet?" Anming glanced at Robin, surprised. He had expected her to offer direct comfort, not bring up distant conflicts.
"I want to sing for the people suffering there. To give them hope through music."
Her eyes shone with determination. "Come with me. Let's go together—as a break, okay?"
She knew Anming. And she knew that this silence, this unnatural calm, was the most dangerous storm of all.
No one could predict what Anming might do in this state. All Robin could do was stay by his side, letting time soften the wounds.
Even if some scars never faded… at least she could lighten the burden.
"I—"
"Don't refuse yet," Sunday interjected, eyes fixed on the TV as if disinterested. "If Robin were going alone, I'd never allow it."
"Anming~"
Robin tugged at his sleeve, eyes pleading. If she could just get him away from Penacony—even briefly—maybe the pain would dull. She wanted him to breathe.
Frankly, no one in the universe could refuse Robin. (Except, perhaps, the Child of Order.)
Anming opened his mouth to decline—but the concern in her gaze melted his resolve.
Besides, staying in Penacony meant constant surveillance from Goethe.
The Goethe Family had never stopped watching Anming. His identity as the Child of Order was undeniable—what they feared was the "world of happiness" he spoke of.
No one knew what form Anming's "Eden" would take. For years, he had dutifully played the role of the Oak Family head—but the more flawless his performance, the more Goethe distrusted him.
That look in his eyes… it was never surrender. A sleeping lion was still a lion. One day, the fangs would show.
Anming refused to wait any longer. No more sacrifices. This world shouldn't be so cruel.
"Robin."
His touch was gentle as he brushed her cheek, lingering near her eyes.
"All right things come at a price."
"But that doesn't mean we shouldn't do them."
Anming knew. Robin knew. Everyone knew.
But so what?
How could one person change the world? It was absurd. Delusional.
Had Sunday not dreamed of creating that ideal paradise? He had worked tirelessly for it—only to be crushed under the weight of the Family's corruption.
"Just a little more time. One day, my songs will reach across the stars… and change something."
Robin's voice wavered. Would it really be enough?
She knew the answer. She just didn't want Anming to fall alone into that abyss.
"I believe in you, Robin. I always have."
Anming wasn't lying. From the moment he first saw her eyes, he had believed—and he still did.
But he didn't have time.
Countless people were suffering. He could wait—but what about them?
Anming wanted to save this dying world.
What did it cost to defy fate?
Everything.
Robin didn't see the deception. Anming had never lied to her—not once in all their years.
So she smiled, radiant as the stars.
"Then… it's a promise!"
Once they reached that new planet, she'd make sure Anming healed. She wanted to sing for him again, to see his eyes light up just for her.
"Remove your hand from my sister's face."
Sunday materialized between them like a vengeful ghost. He was right here in the living room, and they were already at the face-touching stage? If he weren't around, how far would this go?!
"Brother!"
Robin glared. She was this close to locking Sunday in a closet for three days. Every time things got even slightly intimate, he had to interfere.