After the villa was reduced to rubble, Rita dug out the cats' nests and immediately summoned the old blacksmith. Though house rebuilding wasn't exactly his line of work, the promise of triple pay from Shadow.Q made him sit right down and start sketching blueprints on the spot.

Rita's requests weren't complicated: the essential rooms needed to be there, and the backyard and rooftop—favorite haunts of the stray cats—had to be expanded. Once she confirmed the blacksmith understood what she wanted, she took Shadow.Q to the alchemy workshop to talk business.

Even indoors, the golden rain continued to fall through the ceiling, landing softly on her. But under her control, it caused no harm to Nivalis or the others—just a light, tingling sensation that was easy enough to endure.

This time, Shadow.Q had brought along a thousand items that boosted attribute points, and Rita didn't refuse them.

At this point, every player knew she was closely tied to Eclipse Vanguard. The benefits that connection brought them were worth far more than those thousand points.

After finishing the formalities, Shadow.Q finally brought up the matter of the arcade machines.

"That's not urgent," Rita said. "I'll handle it. No need to assign guards. I'll set the rules myself."

Now that she had become the Judgment, everything was much easier to manage.

She brushed her hand across the table, and two tiny constructs appeared—a Ferris wheel and a pirate ship.

"These two will be placed next to the arcade," she said. "They both have built-in combat games. I'll set them so that when a player's HP drops below twenty percent, they'll be automatically ejected."

She flicked the Ferris wheel lightly, and it began to rotate slowly. That was one of the new pieces of information she'd learned since becoming the Judgment.

Her greatest gain from the role was access to knowledge no ordinary player could reach—Divine Game data, hidden records, systems only the highest ranks could access.

The change in identity had also reshaped how she viewed the world.

Just as BlueStar had once hoped, now that the world truly belonged to her, she felt an unshakable responsibility to nurture it.

"All players can queue for these projects," Rita continued. "Each round costs just one coin. My plan is to use the coins as a reward pool. I can post public missions—any player who meets a certain professional standard can claim coin rewards directly from the system. Do you have any suggestions?"

They spent the entire afternoon discussing infrastructure and management.

When it came to combat, no one in BlueStar surpassed Rita. But when it came to political balance, administration, and keeping people calm, Shadow.Q was the expert. She was the kind of person who could handle the fine details.

As BlueStar's Judgment, Rita only needed to know how to use the right people.

By the time Shadow.Q left the alchemy workshop, she walked with the confidence of someone newly promoted. Her profile now displayed a new title—BlueStar Councilor.

The position came with built-in skills and a steady salary: two attribute points per day, plus a random skill box at the end of each month guaranteed to contain at least a B-tier skill. Altogether, the role offered more than eighty privileges.

Eclipse Vanguard? Just an old employer. Nothing more.

She opened her legion panel, clicked "Leave," and exited without hesitation. She belonged to the Judgment now. No more outside affiliations.

She had barely closed the page when a message popped up from Avery.

[Shadow.Q]: I had no choice.

Avery: ??????

Then a BlueStar announcement cut in.

[BlueStar Announcement: Player Shadow.Q appointed as BlueStar Councilor, acting on behalf of the BlueStar Judgment to manage BlueStar affairs.]

Avery stared at the message for several seconds, then laughed bitterly.

She'd promoted Shadow.Q precisely because she was capable, clever, and sharp at reading people—someone who always performed her duties to perfection.

She excelled in human relations, could get along with anyone, yet when it came time to act, she never let personal ties cloud her judgment.

A subtle hint was usually the most she'd ever give, and even then, it was hard to say whether those hints were her way of leaving herself an escape route.

As a friend, she wasn't sincere; as an ally, she wasn't loyal. But as a subordinate—she was every leader's dream.

Show her a future worth chasing, and she'd work hard for it.

And now, that ideal subordinate had found a higher purpose.

What could possibly top serving the Judgment of BlueStar?

...

Shadow.Q never once asked about her missing wings.

Rita smirked softly. "Tsk."

Only now did she turn toward the little robot, B8017913, who sat cross-legged on the table, head bent over a handheld console.

B8017913 set the device aside and stood up, straightening an imaginary collar. "Finally, it's my turn, huh?"

Rita couldn't help but smile. "Didn't you want freedom back when you followed me out of there? You're already free."

"That doesn't count!" the little robot said immediately, then fell silent for a few seconds before explaining, "You only broke our contract because you thought you were about to die. That doesn't count as real freedom."

From across the room, Nivalis, busy fighting monsters on another console, chimed in, "So... freedom with an asterisk?"

"Exactly!" The little robot nodded firmly. "Not pure freedom."

Rita was about to tease it for picking up this strange, stubborn logic from who-knows-where—but the memory of what she'd seen upon returning home softened her heart. She held back.

Golden strands of rain gathered in the air, forming the glowing rune of an equality pact. The golden threads stretched out, winding around both Rita's and the little robot's wrists. "You sure about this?" she asked gently. "Once it's sealed, it won't be easy to break. What's mine tends to stay mine."

B8017913 froze for a moment as it read the terms of the contract, then quickly responded to the rune's glow. "I'm willing to forget freedom for a while."

The light faded.

B8017913 exhaled in relief, unguarded for once.

"So why the rush?" Rita asked, amused.

She'd expected to have to coax it into agreement.

The robot shot her a look she couldn't quite read. "Do you even realize how much trouble you've stirred with the mechanical race?"

Rita blinked.

She had no idea how chaotic things had gotten among the mechs. If it were just a small rebellion, the gods would've tossed the reawakened machines back into the scrap sector long ago. But this? This was on the scale of a workers' strike.

Sure, some of it was due to agitators like Y1130, but the spark—the root cause—was her.

Whether it was that incident with L12185511 or the fact that she'd pulled B8017913 out of the scrap zone before her fame in Divine Game skyrocketed... it all traced back to her.

Without her, the mechanical race wouldn't have launched another collective strike.

Wait. Did it just say "stirred up"?

Rita decided to skip the topic entirely. She had work to do.

She didn't rush to spend her new attribute points or claim her rewards. Instead, she took out the Snowfield Pact.

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