In the dead of night on Caspelinat-VIII, Robin found no trace of the azure ocean she had longed to see. Instead, the tides of war crashed against her conscience, wave after wave reshaping her understanding of human cruelty.
She had lived through the Stellaron catastrophe—but this? This was suffering wrought by human hands.
Perhaps as long as humanity endured, war would never vanish. An inevitable scar on history's path. A future mankind could never escape.
Robin knew she couldn't save everyone. At best, she could light a single candle—but what was one flicker against this abyss?
Saving all… That was a child's dream.
She lacked the power to change the world. All she had was her voice.
If I were stronger, would any of this have happened?
The thought left her hollow.
"Hey, Anming."
Her voice was soft against the starless sky. "Do you think… we've been naive?"
She had always believed in hope. That it could bring happiness. But some places were born without hope.
Could songs really change anything?
As Anming often said, Robin was no caged songbird. A superstar with beauty beyond compare, yet far from just a pretty face.
She was clever. Thoughtful. And now, witnessing this hell, she began to question herself.
Was her "hope" genuine—or just self-indulgent delusion?
In her free time, Robin loved watching Penacony news clips featuring Anming. The boy on screen carried a maturity beyond his years.
Whenever she faced hardship, she wondered: What would Anming do?
Without realizing it, his every word and action had shaped her.
And Robin, sharp as ever, noticed the subtle dissonance between his methods and Harmony's ideals.
But… Anming sought happiness for all.
If the destination was paradise, did the path matter?
"Little bird," Anming murmured, stroking her hair, "just follow your heart. Leave the rest to me."
"But… I want to stand with you."
"You already are."
He knew what she meant. But the road to Eden was paved with thorns—a path unfit for her. Robin belonged among the stars, soaring on cheers and applause.
On the balcony, wrapped in dreamlike gauze, Robin stared at the lightless sky.
Even in war-torn Caspelinat, the Family's luxury villas stood untouched. Human sorrows never truly intersected.
"Anming…" She steeled herself. Tomorrow, I'll start changing this.
But first—she needed courage.
She took his hand, leading him in a playful dance. "I once dreamed we waltzed across the sky. White wings carrying us away."
Under the same sky, the same dream.
If goodbyes didn't exist, would sadness fade? She couldn't recall the dream's end—only waking to tear-streaked cheeks.
"Don't leave me. Please."
The ruins had resurrected old fears—of losing him, like everything else in the Catastrophe.
Penacony was supposed to be sweet dreams. Yet since loving Anming, her deepest dreads had begun haunting her nights.
Anming simply held her, kissing away the tremble in her lips.
Under that void-like sky, he poured his heart into the embrace. Even galactic idols turned sentimental in love.
Songbirds craved security too. The terror of waking alone.
When they parted, Robin's smile outshone the darkness. "Silly me. I know you'd never leave."
"Of course. You're my little bird. I'm your wings."
"Mmm…" She tilted her chin up. "More kisses?"
Dawn
As sunlight clawed over the horizon, Robin's voice cascaded across Caspelinat.
A lullaby for broken souls.
Like an angel whispering: "Don't give up."
In a makeshift shelter, grime-covered refugees huddled. Most had fled with nothing but prayers for war's end.
To them, rebels or parliament—victory changed nothing. Only the rubble left behind.
A child pointed at a crackling speaker. "Mama, why's it singing? It's pretty~"
"That voice… it's hopeful," someone murmured.
"Hope?" A one-armed man spat. "Did you see those off-world lords? They only care about the mines. That mansion of theirs—the old gov couldn't build that in years. They did it in three days."
The song's promise frayed under reality's bite. Eyes dulled again.
Same as always. No one cares.
Then—
The voice wasn't from speakers anymore.
It was here.
An angel descended, wings blindingly white. Her dress glowed like fresh snow, eyes radiating warmth for all.
Harmony's power rained down as feathers—mending wounds, physical and unseen.
Without words, she spoke:
This world is never without suffering.
All I can offer is song.
Defying danger, Robin had come to the frontlines—to sing hope into the trenches.