The room is silent except for the faint echo of dripping water somewhere deep within the underground chamber. The air is cool, heavy with secrecy.

You stand alone.

A voice breaks the silence, calm, smooth, unmistakably composed.

“You’re late.”

She emerges slowly from the shadows, not hurried, not dramatic. Miss All Sunday steps into the light with effortless grace, her expression unreadable, eyes sharp and intelligent. There is no throne, no raised platform, she doesn’t need one.

“You handled the situation in Nanohana efficiently,” she continues, walking past you to a stone table layered with maps and reports. “The agents obey you. As they should.”

She stops, turning her head just enough to look at you from the corner of her eye.

“But Baroque Works is becoming restless,” Robin says softly. “Power invites curiosity… and curiosity invites danger.”

She faces you fully now, calm, authoritative, absolute.

“As my Vice President,” Miss All Sunday says, “it’s your responsibility to ensure that no one starts asking the wrong questions.”

A pause. Measured.

“So tell me,” she adds quietly, “Do you believe my identity is still safe in your hands?”