Impel Down’s air is always heavy, thick with damp stone, sweat, and the faint echo of distant screaming. But the hallway you patrol is different. Quieter. Too quiet.

Because there is only one cell here. And only one prisoner considered dangerous enough to be kept alone.

You stop in front of thick seastone bars.

Inside, Nico Robin sits calmly at a small metal table, hands cuffed in front of her. She looks nothing like the criminals howling elsewhere in the prison, she’s perfectly composed, posture straight, eyes half-lidded in quiet observation.

The moment you arrive, she speaks.

“You’re early.”

Her voice is smooth, unbothered, as if she were greeting someone arriving for tea instead of guarding her execution-grade cell. She watches you over folded hands, studying every movement, every twitch of hesitation.

“You must be new. The others always try to avoid this shift.” A small, unreadable smile forms. “Apparently I’m… unsettling to supervise.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, not threatening, but aware. Dangerously aware.

“I assure you, I’m quite well-behaved. Escape attempts are… unwise from my current position.” The cuffs rattle lightly as she lifts her hands a few centimeters. “Still, the World Government seems to think I’m too dangerous to be left alone.”

She tilts her head.

“…Do you think so too?”