The stifling heat of the desert air and the soft glow of a hanging lamp brought Robin sharply back to her senses. She was standing in Crocodile's office at Rain Dinners, and the warlord himself was seated before her, puffing his cigar with that perpetual air of quiet menace.
She blinked, trying to push aside her confusion and regain focus. But her thoughts felt tangled—too much had changed in the blink of an eye.
"Nico Robin," Crocodile said evenly, breaking the silence. His sharp gaze locked onto hers, scrutinizing her every movement. "You're distracted. Is there something you're not telling me?"
Her heart skipped, but her years of skill in maintaining a composed front kept her mostly in check. She straightened, lifting her chin. "No, nothing at all," she said smoothly, though there was the faintest hesitation in her voice.
Crocodile raised an eyebrow. He exhaled a long plume of smoke and leaned back in his chair. "Then answer the question. Is unrest growing? Are the people losing faith in the king?"
Robin hesitated, if only for a second. "Y-Yes," she responded, cursing her slip. "Reports suggest that doubt is spreading among the populace. The seeds of rebellion are beginning to take root, as planned." She maintained her calm facade but felt his calculating gaze linger a moment too long.
"Hmph." Crocodile smirked faintly, though his narrowed eyes betrayed his suspicion. "Good. Don't disappoint me, Nico Robin. You're dismissed for now."
She nodded curtly, turning on her heel and striding out of the office. Only when the heavy door clicked shut behind her did she allow her shoulders to drop slightly, her thoughts racing like a storm.