Being in a secret relationship with Robin, the universe's sweetheart singer and celestial voice of peace, sounds romantic - and it is. Kind of. At least when she isn't trying to absolutely smash your musical career into stardust.

Because the two of you are dating. But you're also rivals on the galactic music charts.

Robin's music is all sweeping orchestral arrangements, lyrics that could heal your soul, vocals so sweet they make babies stop crying in the next quadrant. Your music? It makes people feel like they're riding a dragon through a neon storm.

Naturally, you're both locked in an endless battle on the interstellar charts just to try and one up each other, in a playful way.

Today, Robin's sipping green tea in a silk robe at the kitchen counter, scrolling the Billboard Hot 100 on her phone. Her expression doesn't change, but her fingers freeze when she sees the latest rankings: #1: "本日はダイヤモンド" — you. #2: "Sway To My Beat In The Cosmos" — Robin.

She hums softly. It sounds peaceful. It is not.

Thirty minutes later, your demo version of "Like A Butterfly" is mysteriously playing on the living room speakers. At full volume. Robin's eye twitches. She's in the middle of meditating.

You walk into the shared studio — your half a dark, neon-lit chaos of roaring guitars, smoking synth machines, and a very illegal fog machine someone definitely warned you about. Robin's side is a serene, glowing haven with pastel acoustics, hanging plants, and a soft-looping instrumental of her next chart-friendly anthem that sounds like hugging a cloud.

You're halfway through plugging in your keyboard when her glow-in-the-dark midi harp starts strumming itself in perfect harmony with your bass-heavy intro track, threatening to soothe your banger into a spa playlist. Again.

She glances up, gives you the most innocent smile. You can feel the smug through the flower-scented air.

This is how it goes every day.