Sitting in the IPC-arranged vehicle, the two traveled smoothly, drawing ever closer to the battlefield.
After leaving the city, Robin finally sent a message to her assistants, saying that she had urgent business and had already left Kasbelina ahead of schedule.
Her assistants were also from Penacony.
Without a doubt, if they knew she was heading to the front lines, their reactions would be extreme.
She definitely didn't want her brother to come all the way from Penacony over such a small matter.
"Are the landscapes of every world unique?"
Kiana, who had been staring out the window for a long time, turned back toward Robin with a trace of curiosity.
"There are no two identical worlds, so you're right—every world's scenery is unique."
"No, I mean the scenery itself."
Kiana shook her head and pointed outside the window, exclaiming, "It looks a lot like what I've seen in movies, but it's completely different from where Ruan lives."
Robin tilted her head in curiosity. "Then what were the worlds you visited before like?"
"The sky and the ground were similar... but everything else..."
Kiana recalled the strange plants and animals she had seen before.
...Wait, were those naturally occurring?
"Each planet's natural environment is different," Robin explained. "But places suitable for human habitation often share some similarities."
"I see."
Realizing what she had forgotten, Kiana nodded. The difference between the two worlds' flora and fauna was probably because those creatures had all been created by Ruan's hand.
Ruan was a genius who could create new life out of the most unusual materials.
The war zone was still far from where they were. Though the car had been driving for over an hour, the destination was still a long way off.
The IPC was providing aid to the disaster areas.
Even at the front lines, their personnel were stationed there—such places weren't off-limits for IPC employees.
Traveling by car was just as boring as taking a spaceship.
Kiana wasn't sure whether Robin still cared about hiding her identity. Worried that IPC staff might recognize her, Kiana didn't start a conversation.
After watching the passing scenery for a while and taking a few photos, she opened her pinned chat and started messaging someone to pass the time.
Kiana: Ruan, Ruan! I met a new friend on Kasbelina who sings really beautifully!
Kiana: [Image.JPG]
Kiana: [Image.JPG]
Kiana: This is Kasbelina-VIII. The scenery isn't as nice as your place, and there's a war happening here.
Kiana: I'm planning to go see the battlefield with Robin.
Kiana: Oh right, Robin's the new friend I just met—the one who sings beautifully!
Ruan Mei: Mm. Seems like you've gained quite a bit on this trip.
Kiana: If making friends counts as gains, then yeah, a lot! But I haven't found anything particularly interesting yet.
Ruan Mei: That's fine.
Kiana: I'll keep an eye out for special and interesting things. I'll bring something back for you as a gift!
Ruan Mei: You know what I'm most interested in right now. And... be careful.
After reporting everything that happened, Kiana didn't continue disturbing Ruan, knowing she was busy lately.
She opened her memo app again and recorded today's events—along with the meaningful words Robin had said earlier.
Once finished, she scrolled back to the top and began rereading everything from the start, cross-checking with her memories.
When she remembered an event, the scene would resurface vividly in her mind.
If something had already been forgotten, she would highlight that entry in red and review it daily to reinforce her memory—to remember every moment that had happened.
She had already forgotten almost all of her past. She didn't want to lose any more.
Sitting beside her in the backseat, Robin had finished handling her assistants' messages. As thoughts of the ongoing war weighed on her mind, she glanced at the girl next to her—who was reading her notes with such focus.
Her expression was serious and focused. She stared at her phone, brows slightly furrowed, lips moving faintly as if reciting something.
Amnesia...
What a terrifying illness. Robin couldn't even imagine—if one day she were to forget her brother, or if her brother were to forget her—how unbearable that pain would be.
Kiana hadn't only lost her past, but was also losing her present, bit by bit.
Yet there wasn't a trace of sorrow in her.
Robin knew she could never be as strong as Kiana. What struck her even more was that she couldn't sense any negativity or despair from the girl.
Her circumstances weren't good—she might forget everything that happened today by tomorrow—but she still faced the world with strength, optimism, and kindness.
Her spirit was as radiant as her beauty.
That was Robin's impression of her.
After a long journey, they finally stepped out of the vehicle, their legs stiff and weary, and arrived near the battlefield.
They weren't far from the combat zone—after getting out of the car, they could faintly hear the sounds of gunfire and explosions.
The air was thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder and smoke.
An IPC employee courteously explained the situation to them, and after ensuring they had no further questions, he left.
"Shall we meet the person in charge here?" Kiana suggested.
The IPC was aiding the resistance forces, and since the rebels were receiving corporate support, they likely wouldn't view outsiders as enemies—they might be approachable.
"They won't listen," Robin said, shaking her head. "They won't stop the war."
Kiana paused, remembering what Robin had said before they came. "...Then you?"
As if performing magic, Robin transformed—she shed her disguise and became once again the luminous singer who had shone on stage the night before.
"I know it's difficult," she said softly. "And I don't believe a few words from me can make them lay down their weapons."
She gazed into the distance toward the war zone. It had once been a thriving, peaceful city—now reduced to ruin.
She knew her words alone couldn't end the war or make people reconcile.
But she already had a plan in mind.
"But you said it yourself," Kiana reminded her gently, "if you don't try, you'll never know the answer."
Robin didn't seem like the kind of person who would back down out of fear.
Placing her hand over her heart, she took a deep breath and smiled. "Don't worry, I'm not giving up. I just know persuasion alone won't change anything."
"Then what will you do?"
"First, let's meet the IPC staff delivering supplies to the resistance," Robin suggested. "We'll need an identity that allows us to move freely through the battlefield—and we'll also need to understand what caused this war in the first place."
...
"It really is Miss Robin!"
The IPC employee in charge of supplying aid to the resistance forces was a young man named Kerr, who looked to be in his twenties or thirties.
When he heard that Robin had come to visit, he immediately dropped what he was doing and hurried over, his expression visibly excited.
"Miss Robin, I'm such a huge fan of yours!"
Kerr's enthusiasm bordered on fanaticism. "Could I get your autograph?"
Robin hadn't expected the person she came to meet to be one of her fans. She glanced at Kiana, who was watching the scene with amused curiosity, and smiled a bit awkwardly.
"Of course."
Kerr eagerly pulled out a notebook and pen, placing them in front of her.
"I was so disappointed I couldn't attend your concert yesterday, Miss Robin. I never thought I'd have the honor of meeting you here!"
Robin signed her name gracefully and returned the notebook to her admirer.
"Mr. Kerr, we'd like to stay here for a while and learn more about what's been happening up ahead."
"Oh, Miss Robin, this isn't a safe place at all."
Still basking in the joy of receiving an autograph, Kerr's excitement quickly turned to concern when he realized she wanted to remain in the area.
The people here were rough and lawless.
If a stray bullet were to harm Miss Robin—the galaxy's most renowned singer—it would be an unforgivable tragedy!
"It's like this, Mr. Kerr," Robin explained gently. "I'm planning to compose a song opposing war. I heard this world's conflict hasn't ended yet, so I wanted to come here after my tour to find some inspiration."
Kerr's expression turned troubled.
From any standpoint, he didn't want a world-famous singer staying in such a dangerous place.
He knew little about artistic creation, but from what he'd heard, inspiration was essential—and if a refusal from him caused a masterpiece to never be born...
"To call for peace through an anti-war song—truly worthy of Miss Robin," he said after a moment, coming to a decision. "You wish to visit the front lines and see the war for yourself, correct?"
"I do."
"Only then can I capture that spark of inspiration and create something meaningful," Robin said.
"No problem! I'll arrange it!" Kerr nodded. "But Miss Robin, you should know—while this world's weapons aren't that advanced, the fighting is fierce. The battles in this region have lasted for a long time, with no end in sight."
"Once you enter the city, please be careful. Those people are blinded by bloodlust—they won't care who you are."
"It sounds like Mr. Kerr knows a lot about what's been happening on Kasbelina?" Robin asked.
"Of course! Ahem, I mean, ever since the first shots of the war were fired, I've been in charge of coordinating corporate aid for the war refugees."
"That's wonderful. I have some questions about this war I'd like to ask you..."
...
From Kerr, Robin learned a great deal about the conflict. With his assistance, she and Kiana successfully joined a convoy delivering supplies to the front lines.
"I feel like I didn't help at all," Kiana said with a hint of guilt.
Robin had handled all the talking on her own, while Kiana had simply stood by and watched.
"You've already helped me a lot," Robin said, gently taking her hand. Just having someone willing to accompany her on this dangerous journey was already a great comfort.
She had been prepared to come here alone, but with a friend by her side—even one who said nothing—she felt at ease.
Emotional support, after all, was worth more than she realized.
"But I really didn't do anything," Kiana murmured, glancing down at their joined hands, unsure if she should pull away.
Ruan had once told her she was like a ticking time bomb.
When traveling, it was best to minimize contact with others. Whether it was Nihility or the other power within her, both were dangerous to those around her.
"It's not only doing something that counts as helping," Robin said softly.
"...I don't get it," Kiana replied after thinking it over, shaking her head honestly. "But if I can help you, that's good enough."
"By the way," she added, tilting her head slightly, "didn't Mr. Kerr mean something different earlier? He said they were aiding refugees, but they're also supporting the resistance."
"...The resistance was likely backed by the IPC—people willing to cooperate with the Interastral Peace Corporation," Robin said quietly. They were the only two riding in the supply truck, wedged among the convoy, so she didn't need to hide her thoughts.
"The other faction fighting against the resistance," she continued, "is made up of the old aristocrats—the traditionalists of this world. I heard their negotiations with the IPC fell apart..."
Her tone grew heavier, her heart tight and uneasy.
"So this war... was stirred up by the IPC?" Kiana asked, eyes wide.
"Not exactly," Robin sighed. "The IPC merely gave those who were oppressed a bit of support—though it wasn't really help at all."
And that was what made it so hard for her to accept—what filled her with disappointment and helplessness.
Could she call a rebellion against oppression and injustice... wrong?
The IPC's perfect image began to crack.
Kiana had thought it was just a simple corporation—one that did business across the galaxy, nothing more.
"...So what do we do now?"
"We'll stay with the convoy and visit the refugees first," Robin said. "The civilians suffering under this war are the most innocent of all."
"You're right," Kiana nodded. "Let's take it one step at a time."
As they chatted, the convoy rolled into the city still engulfed in conflict.
Not long after entering, the supply trucks were ambushed. Gunfire and explosions tore through the air.
The lead vehicle hit a landmine—its explosion blocked the road completely. A storm of bullets followed, raining down on the drivers and the cargo trucks alike.
"Ambush!"
Their own truck screeched to a halt, trapped between the wreckage. Realizing the danger, Kiana's instincts kicked in—she grabbed Robin's hand, pulled her off the truck, and ducked behind nearby cover.
Behind them came the sharp metallic clatter of bullets striking the truck's frame.
The convoy vehicles were all small, locally made Kasbelinian transport trucks, with minimal armor. The drivers and guards were mostly volunteers from Kasbelina themselves.
The attack had come without warning.
Clutching Robin tightly, Kiana peeked out from behind the cover—only to see the volunteers resisting desperately, one after another, cut down by gunfire. Blood sprayed across the street as bodies fell heavily to the ground.
They were dying. So many were dying.
Her heart pounded faster than it ever had before.
Maybe it was fear—or maybe it was rage—but she gripped Robin's hand tighter, eyes burning with fury.
"I'm going to help!"
So this... was war.