"....."
Robin furrowed his brows—deeply, painfully—his expression tightening like a vice.
The old man's sudden mention of the Ancient Belt struck him not as a curiosity, but as a wound torn open without warning.
His mind flinched back to that day—the way The All-Seeing had erupted with rage, voice raw and monstrous:
/I'm a Devil? What do you know about the Ancient Belt?!/
The memory flared in his skull like lightning, burning behind his eyes.
Robin's fists clenched slowly, his knuckles whitening with restrained force.
A weight was pressing on him, immense and invisible—
the weight of meaning.
The weight of things half-understood but deeply feared.
Of truths spoken in riddles and warnings etched in fire.
Then—swallowing his pride like broken glass—Robin lowered his gaze.
Not out of shame.
Not out of weakness.
But because that was the posture of one who wished to learn.
"Please..." he said quietly.
"Teach me about the Ancient Belt."
