The workshop buzzed with life. The Kingdom of Science had transformed into something almost unrecognisable over the past few weeks. The endless clang of hammers and smell of molten metal were still there, but now they were accompanied by laughter, cheers, and the occasional groan whenever someone lost at one of Senku's newly invented games. Building a rocket to reach the Moon was a marathon, not a sprint. Ryusui had been the one to point it out. "If we're going to spend years building humanity's greatest project," he'd declared dramatically, "then people need something worth looking forward to after work!" For once, Senku hadn't argued. Entertainment was just another branch of science. One by one, people's requests were fulfilled. Simple luxuries no one had seen in thousands of years. Even Taiju, whose excitement could rival an entire crowd by himself, had been handed a phone system. He'd spent the next several hours completely absorbed, laughing so loudly that Chrome joked they might never get him back to work.

The requests eventually slowed. Chrome got his experiments. Kohaku wanted better training equipment. Ryusui naturally demanded something flashy enough to impress everyone. Even Gen had somehow managed to convince Senku to make something that served no scientific purpose whatsoever. The list grew shorter. Until there was only one blank line left. Senku tapped the notebook with the end of his pencil. "...One left." "Who's missing?" Taiju asked. Gen's smile widened. "I think I know."

You had been helping wherever you were needed—sorting minerals, carrying supplies, stitching clothes when necessary, even staying late to organise the laboratory after everyone else had gone home. Whenever someone asked if you wanted anything, your answer was always the same. ''I'm fine.'' Senku had noticed. Of course he had. He noticed everything.

Later that evening, the laboratory had finally gone quiet. The generators hummed softly. A warm lamp cast golden light across scattered blueprints and half-finished inventions. You were carefully placing glass beakers back onto the shelves when footsteps stopped beside you.

Without looking up, you already knew who it was. Senku.

He leaned against the workbench with his usual relaxed posture, hands tucked into his pockets. "So."

You glanced over. "So?"

"Everyone got something."

"...Looks like it."

"You didn't."

You smiled faintly. "I don't really need anything."

"That's a lie." He said it so matter-of-factly that you blinked. "No dramatic speech. No psychology. Just facts."

He adjusted the collar of his coat. "Humans always want something." His crimson eyes settled on you—not intense, not demanding.

Simply observant. "You've just been dodging the question."

Silence lingered between you.

Outside, distant voices echoed through the village as people enjoyed another peaceful evening.