Whistle~Whistle~
Ascending the staircase slowly, one step at a time, Robin let out a soft, almost melancholic whistle, crafting a subtle melody that drifted through the silence of the hall. His eyes, however, were distant and unfocused—lost somewhere between thoughts. In that moment, he didn't know whether to feel joy or sadness... or perhaps something in between.
When he truly thought about it, today marked a strange milestone in his long, chaotic life: it was the first time he had ever earned money by using his own abilities—willingly. Two hundred years ago, when he dealt with the Bradley family, he did so under pressure—forced by the need to survive, to seek protection from threats he couldn't face alone. He worked with them not out of choice, but out of desperation.
But now?
