Yahn skimmed through the documents, noting how Robin had already organized the logistics and resource allocations with precision. He couldn't help but feel satisfied.
This is great… having a secretary to take care of all the tedious details feels amazing.
He didn't hold back in praising her a few times and even reminded her to pace herself, not to overwork.
Robin gave a gentle smile.
"It's nothing. Helping to share a little of Brother Yahn's workload is no trouble at all. This way, you can focus on more important matters."
Just then, the Den Den Mushi in her pocket began ringing.
"Buru buru~ buru buru~"
Robin glanced at it, picked up, and answered smoothly.
"This is the Secretary Office of the Chief of Staff."
"Mm, I understand."
"Yes, go ahead with that plan. I'll report the matter to the Chief of Staff."
...
Despite still having a youthful, almost delicate look, Robin spoke with the calm confidence of someone seasoned in command. Her tone was sharp, efficient, and practiced—truly competent.
When she hung up, Yahn finally realized something and frowned.
"Wait. Since when do we have a Secretary Office for the Chief of Staff? Why wasn't I informed?"
Robin's dark-blue eyes glinted with intelligence as she gave him a sidelong glance, her voice soft but teasing.
"Isn't that Brother Yahn's true intention made manifest?"
Yahn blinked.
"…Nonsense. When did I ever say that?"
Robin's reply was calm, matter-of-fact.
"Little Gold told me it was your sleep talk. Isn't sleep talk just another form of inner voice?"
"???"
Yahn turned in shock to look at the golden bird perched on the coffee table, pecking at birdseed.
What the hell?
My own bird sold me out?!
Little Gold noticed his gaze and chirped anxiously as if trying to defend himself. "Chirp! Chirp!"
Yahn narrowed his eyes.
"Wait… but you can't even talk. How could you tell her anything?"
"Chirp! Chirp-chirp!"
To his horror, Little Gold spat out a piece of paper and a bowl of ink, then dipped his claw in, scratching across the sheet with jerky strokes.
[Stupid Master!]
Four crooked characters appeared on the paper.
Robin calmly took a sip of milk tea and said with a faint smile,
"Brother Yan, Little Gold doesn't just understand human speech—he even learned how to give massages. Isn't it perfectly natural that he can also write?"
…
That… sounded weirdly reasonable.
Yahn's mouth twitched. Without another word, he scooped up the treacherous bird and marched out of the office.
This dumb thing betrayed me? Leaking my secrets? Absolutely unacceptable. He needs some serious education, or he'll be staging a rebellion next!
After a good while, Yahn finally returned. Little Gold looked pitiful: head drooping, feathers ruffled, eyes watery, and sporting what looked suspiciously like bruises.
"Cough." Yahn cleared his throat.
Little Gold, trembling, dipped his claw again and wrote hurriedly on the paper:
[Sister Robin, everything I said before was slander. I only made it up to scam snacks from you. It was all fake.]
Robin's heart softened instantly. She scooped him up gently and stroked his head.
"It's alright, it's alright. Whether you were lying or not, I already knew."
"Chirp… chirp…"
The little bird's eyes welled up like he was about to cry, looking wronged but not daring to complain. Yahn's head throbbed just watching it.
Robin continued soothing him, "Be good. Don't cry. Later, I'll buy you your favorite treats."
Yahn nearly choked when he saw tears literally dripping out of the bird's beak.
"Cough, cough… Enough of that." Yahn forced the conversation back on track.
"Robin, who was on the call just now? What was it about?"
Robin nodded, set Little Gold back by the birdseed, and answered.
"It was news from our contacts collecting Devil Fruits. They've managed to link up with five sellers in the black market. But the total cost for the five fruits will be about 1.3 billion Berry."
Yahn's face twitched. A pang of pain hit him deep inside.
But of course—Devil Fruits weren't cheap cabbages from a marketplace. They were called the Secret Treasure of the Sea for a reason, granting humans powers beyond imagination. You didn't just stumble across them on a stroll by the beach.
"So that's the total number available right now in the North Blue black market?" he asked.
"Yes." Robin nodded.
"…Buy them." Yahn forced the words out, suppressing his heartache.
According to his calculations, those five fruits would be more than enough to awaken the third Zanpakutō .
What he needed next was the right seedlings—strong individuals with potential, or people like Robin whose existing powers could synergize with the blades. From them, he could cultivate a circle of elites truly his own.
The battle at the White City of Flevance had made him painfully aware of his weakness. One CP0 operative had nearly unraveled everything.
Outwardly, it looked like Yahn had suppressed the agent. But in reality, wasn't he the one forced into a corner?
Yes, part of it was that he couldn't go all out without exposing his identity. But Yahn wasn't the type to hide behind excuses.
Weakness was weakness.
Now, as the Revolutionaries began to sprout and expand rapidly, infiltration by government spies was inevitable. That's why Yahn started erasing his traces within the organization, letting Robin handle most affairs, while planning to build a proxy figurehead for himself—layer upon layer of concealment.
In this world, nothing was more important than caution.
From now on, the name Yahn would exist only within the Navy. Inside the Revolutionary Army, there would be only the faceless title: Chief of Staff.
...
Just as Yahn was anticipating the arrival of those five fruits—costing him nearly half his fortune—news suddenly reached Robin.
Her face shifted. She looked at him carefully.
"Brother Yahn… the merchant ship carrying the Devil Fruits was raided… by pirates."
Yahn's teeth clenched. His voice came out like ice, each word forced through his jaw.
"Who?"
Robin's reply was quiet but heavy.
"The Donquixote Pirates."