Chapter Text
A dream? Was it all a dream?
The capital of Lugunica was incredibly busy. Countless feet circulated on the roads in different directions. The sound of voices and murmurs rose from every corner, bombarding all sides with noise. There was also the creaking of wooden wheels. Merchants carrying goods and baggage in their carts, carving paths through the crowd and going about their way, just like everyone else.
“Over here! It’s a bargain!”
You could hear the merchants' shouts clearly, showing their products in everyone's faces, along with their prescribed value. One could even laugh at the supposed child who cried upon seeing the wrinkled face of the old merchant.
In short, just another day like any other in the capital of one of the four great nations. Full of noise, full of paths, full of crowds, full of stares.
For most, that chaos was just another day of stress and fatigue. But for Emilia, it was an entire universe exploding in her senses. Anxiety threatened to eat her alive—the crush of so many people, the confusion of not knowing where to go.
However, the crisis was quickly overcome by curiosity. An almost childlike excitement embraced her chest, trading cold sweat for a sparkle in her eyes. Her purple eyes widened in a cute way, darting towards the art on the monuments, the toys in the shop windows, the sweets that looked too good to be real. For a moment, she was just a lost child in an amusement park, smiling as her cheeks tightened with inspiration.
Of course, she seemed to have a VIP pass to avoid the jostling. An invisible barrier formed around her. People saw her, and their gazes changed. Fear. Dread. They were reactions she knew all too well.
After all, what good was having silver hair that shone like the moon, pointed ears that denoted a noble lineage, and immaculate skin? What good was having an appearance that, in another world, might have been called divine?
In this place, her face was a curse. The same face as the Witch of Envy, Satella. An image carved as taboo in everyone's mind, a cycle of hatred repeated from generation to generation. And there she was, the girl fated to a destiny of endless hatred, smiling like a fool at a sweet in a shop window.
What irony. Her wide eyes and her mouth, open like a child's, seemed to deceive anyone who might imagine the image of a person hated by the world.
And maybe, in the capital, it really did deceive them.
She remembered well the dread in the small villages, where the air was thick with rumors and superstitions. There, a mere glimpse of her silver hair was enough for doors to slam shut and children to be pulled inside. But here... here it was different.
People looked at her, yes, and there was fear. But it was a contained, fleeting fear. A look of recognition that was quickly diverted to their own worries. The citizens of the metropolis, with their busy lives and more realistic minds, had no time for the open dread of the countryside. That simple disregard was a strange relief, an unexpected warmth in her chest.
It didn't change the sin of her birth. It didn't erase the fact that her appearance was a mirror of the Witch of Envy, the most feared figure in history. But, for the first time, she felt she could breathe a little deeper.
“Puck! Look..!”
“Lia. Just admit it.”
“A-Admit what...?”
The princess made a cute pout upon hearing the voice of her contracted spirit in her subconscious. Yes, she was lost, yes, that was veeery bad, yes, it was her fault, yes, she hadn't thought things through when she left Ram's side. But couldn't he try to keep the mood a little lighter?
She already knew Puck could know her intentions, and that she didn't need to admit she was at a crossroads with no direction. And because of that, it wasn't exactly nice to rub salt in the wound.
You could hear her adoptive father's sigh even though he wasn't physically present.
“Lia… if we don’t get moving, we’ll never find our way back.”
“————”
She moved forward, her long legs hesitant in their steps. A nervousness and curiosity still palpating her chest as she observed sculptures and some household items. And as she walked, she furrowed her brows slightly, observing the nearby crowd, holding her tongue as she saw an avalanche of people that could swallow her whole.
Okay, focus Felt, focus.
As she ran across the rooftops, the thief pretended she wasn't sweating bullets. Nervousness planted seeds in her head with every five steps she took. She kept repeating to herself how valuable the job was, how it could carry her to new heights if only she didn't let herself get careless with anything.
Rob a noble strolling through one of the commercial districts. Not for money. Just a pendant with a red jewel in the center.
Did the job seem suspicious? Yes. No doubt about it. The strange woman who gave her this job came from Gusteko, and she had an enigmatic aura all her own. A deviation from the norm as massive as a mountain.
Who in their right mind would ask this of a starving thief from the slums? There was clearly something more to it. The cloying sound of the employer's voice hadn't left her ears. Literally a snake.
"A woman with silver hair~"
There was no denying it. All of this scared her a little. The anxiety made her heart pound against her ribs as she ran, replaying various versions of the plan in her racing mind.
"Grrm!" She growled through clenched teeth.
In truth, everything had already gone wrong right from the start. And because of her inaction and hesitation, maybe the pendant she was after wouldn't end up in her hands. Felt! Wake up!
Honestly, even with low expectations at the beginning, Felt was euphoric. This would definitely bring in a hell of a lot of money. Enough to get the old man's butt out of that old, dusty tavern. It was only a matter of time until the thing was in her hands, because she wasn't going to give up that easily.
Of course, if it involved life or death, it was a waste for sure. Felt wouldn't go so far as to throw her life away for a possible miracle. So if this heist involved incidents with authorities or even knights, the retreat would be instantaneous. She wasn't crazy.
However, that wasn't what was making her frown right now.
Just as she was about to rob her target, a thief in front of her cut in and got there first, stealing the silver-haired woman's wallet.
Her mind at that moment had boiled down to: "What?! No!" and "Ah! Go fuck yourself!"
Frustration and anger. The only reason she didn't scream right then and there was because there was still a chance to recover it, and drawing attention was the last thing she wanted.
Maybe the insignia she was looking for was inside, in the wallet. So she had to go after the damn thief who had given her trouble and more work.
And now, finding herself chasing the iconic legend who was about to ruin possibly her last job as a thief, she growled in frustration, pursuing the man who ran and ran until he entered an alley.
Great, a dead end. Maybe by using her divine protection, she could snatch it from him somehow.
Following him while picking up speed—she stopped abruptly, nearly falling and smashing her face on the pavement below.
"It seems you've followed a wicked path, I see." With a snarl, an old man with his sword drawn made the thief's blood run cold as the sharp metal nearly took his head off. Indeed, just as the thief was about to enter the alley to escape, the broad-shouldered old man had stopped him with a blade held perfectly to his neck.
Extending a hand in front of the thief's face, the old man, dressed in a formal, elegant, and courteous black attire, gestured with a small smile for him to hand over what he had stolen. Clearly having no intention of smiling in the first place.
Felt remained frozen, watching the scene before her with slightly widened eyes, her limbs numb.
"Give me what you stole. Do that, and you can go."
The thief didn't wait, didn't hesitate. He just quickly handed the purse to the old man, running out of the alley at full speed as soon as the old man's sharp blade left his neck.
Felt could have run with him, following what her mind was screaming at her to do. But it wasn't like that; her instincts said otherwise. If there was one thing that made Felt stiffen, it was that old man's aura.
It seemed, in itself, bloodthirsty. Felt knew the type. Guests, slightly distinguished nobles, who under their leather sleeves, had permanent marks on their skin.
In Felt's years of survival, in this immense, hypocritical city that placed no value on those who wanted to live, the work of thievery had sharpened certain senses. Experience made her recognize and distinguish the real deal from the fakes.
And that man was certainly one of the types she hated bumping into the most. He was trouble for sure.
"Madame. It seems you are in the same line of work, are you not?" Being much more accommodating with the young girl, with a franker and more compassionate tone of voice, he looked at her. His footsteps barely echoed in the surroundings.
Felt swallowed hard.
"Quite clever... I must learn more," he said to himself as he looked down—at her. He sheathed his sword again with a placidity and delicacy that contrasted with his age.
"I ask of you, ma'am... please, return this to its owner."
"Y-You think that's the right choice? I could just take it for myself."
"You went to the trouble of chasing this delinquent all the way here. Besides, you wouldn't do that. Would you?"
"————"
Felt was about to be impulsive and, once again, stubborn. But at the end of the old man's words, that gaze, which dripped with weight, silenced her before she could even open her mouth.
It was just like those tales Old Man Rom used to tell her. For sure, having drawn the old man's attention, Felt could only guess that the man was a war veteran. His eyes were even sharper than the imperial guards of the kingdom.
With that, she nodded quickly, zipping her lips as she felt her heart being seized by those morbid irises alone.
The old man then patted Felt's head with his rough hand upon seeing her nod, departing for the street shortly after with a practiced subtlety in his steps.
"Aah! Old Wil! Where did you nya-go? Feli-chan was worried, you know?"
"My apologies. Some unforeseen circumstances arose."
As Felt returned to the main street with the old man, at a great distance of course, someone arrived and made the geezer immediately apologize. Taking advantage of this moment, Felt was already running far away at full speed, wanting to leave quickly and pick up the pace. She didn't look back once, being in a hurry and, probably, scared.
"Alright... should be fine. I'm far enough away, I think."
Felt finally murmured after lurking in a random alley, glancing around the street to see if anything would go wrong or if she was being followed.
Tsk. I knew there was something wrong. This weight was a major peculiarity.
Lifting the wallet in my hands and inspecting its interior, I clicked my tongue lightly. It was the fourth time I'd done this. And guess what?
What a generous allowance.
Nodding and sighing, I couldn't laugh at my own joke. The situation was critical. The purse was light, super light. As if it carried only wind instead of coins.
When the old man placed it in my hands, it was obvious something was wrong. There were only a few copper coins and nothing more. Enough to buy about three small sweets for a child.
Does she really have this insignia? Everything is pointing to the contrary.
The woman had a sophisticated appearance, that was certain. She was proper. Could she have dropped it somewhere?
I'm really getting hesitant with the information that scary woman gave me. Although, since I'm apparently chasing a country bumpkin, it can't be wrong.
This city where I grew up is, apparently, the largest city in this nation. Called the "capital." And honestly, even if I didn't know what the other cities were like, I'd still consider this one too big.
A dump, in short. And even living here in this ancient city, my roof was on the lowest rungs of the slums—an idiot's place where shadows gather. The world in the capital certainly lacks glamour.
That's how I would best describe the capital. The aristocratic district is where the houses of the rich line up, and a place where I could find some change by sneaking around; a plebeian district below is a world apart; and the commercial district is full of greedy shops that would do anything to earn a single copper coin. Finally, below everyone, are people like us, from the slums, who desperately try to steal from those above.
The weak become food; that's the iron rule of this world. This is even truer in the slums, where you can only rely on your own strength to survive. In my case, I used my nimble hands to steal from others' pockets.
At first, it was insignificant jobs, like stealing a coin purse from someone I found on the street. One day, I broadened my horizons and started working by stealing on request.
Before I knew it, I was becoming a master thief. I wasn't just doing it for the money; I was working towards a greater goal. Step by step, I was getting closer to it, I was sure of it.
"A target for many."
I declared as I started to run, heading for the street where I had lost sight of the woman I was chasing, in order to find her.
The target seemed completely new to the area; you could tell just by looking. She looked around, restless, as she walked carefully along the edge of the street. Since I was also rotten and raised in the capital, I could identify at a glance who didn't know the capital and was, therefore, easy prey.
My intuition, born from many years of experience, told me she was obviously a country bumpkin. She gave the impression of not being careful with her surroundings, but rather worried about being swallowed by the crowd. It almost gave me anxiety just watching such a naive woman.
"I'm lucky they were thrown off."
The woman who looked like a snake, the one who had hired me to go after this object, had also hired other thieves to go after this defenseless woman.
They were like me, thieves. It's natural, too, for bandits to swarm in the blink of an eye towards someone who isn't used to the capital. It's a painful lesson she very nearly learned.
"Come on, faster," I repeated as I made my legs work twice as hard, moving quickly through the crowd with practiced fluidity. I was more or less near the place where I had left her, if I was lucky…
Old Man Rom had told me some crazy stories. How there were mirrors that could reflect images of people and their voices, how there were flying clowns and even walls that people could walk through. That woman could probably use some kind of magic like that.
Because I had been careful in following her before, I wasn't caught in that supposed barrier that blinded one's vision. I'm talking about what she used to make all the nearby thugs, who were following her with immense carelessness, get lost in the crowd.
Your vision would blur, and it felt like your world was about to turn upside down just by getting too close to her. That's how the defenseless woman managed to walk around so carelessly without the risk of being robbed.
And, unfortunately for her, and fortunately for me, I didn't fall for it.
Finally, having found something to guide me, I came across a completely agitated street. It was a terrible noise, with many people dropping their belongings as they fled. I looked around, confused, until I saw a silver-haired figure.
I was a little relieved to find the woman, who had a reluctant expression on her face and slumped shoulders.
To avoid being noticed by anyone, I feigned indifference and tossed her purse onto the pile of things scattered around her.
After she had started a commotion in front of the shopkeeper's store to pay for something, she noticed the purse, looked at the shopkeeper, and went to retrieve it from where it had been left.
I continued to follow the woman, sneaking through the crowd and past the posts that danced on the pavement. As I looked for an opportunity to rob her, I understood something very clearly.
"...This woman is a very nice person."
I found out the cause of the commotion by overhearing a conversation behind me. Apparently, the reason for the earlier uproar was because a beast-human cat child next to her had tried to dine and dash.
This woman has nothing to do with it, was my initial thought.
Apparently, she tried to cover the child's meal fee but realized her purse was gone. Undeterred, she seemed to have earned the money by putting on some kind of show. Well, it ended up being a mess I can't quite understand.
She then walked with the cat-human child for a while, parting ways with the child and wandering alone shortly after.
Even though she had spent everything in her purse, it doesn't seem like she's going to stop walking anytime soon.
Honestly, I was getting tired of following her for so long. But, as I watched, I was able to determine where the insignia was, or at least I had an obvious guess about its location. As she walks, she constantly checks the side of her clothes near her waist.
There's something there, and it's definitely not her purse. She's hiding something.
"————"
Come on, it's time to rob her, I decided. Leaving the street I was on to avoid being in the woman's line of sight. Using the walls of the buildings, I jumped onto a roof and watched her movements. It seems she didn't notice. I can jump down there, grab the insignia from her pocket, and escape through the alleys. I was confident about it.
But I have to admit. I feel a little sorry for her, having to steal her insignia.
Those who request a theft are scoundrels; but those who are robbed are also evil in some way—those were my beliefs. However, I didn't know how that woman could fit into that.
"No use thinking about something I can't understand... I just need to do what I normally do."
Those were words that even I saw as a way to convince myself. They were useless excuses.
And after saying them, from the roof, I took a deep breath and jumped towards her.
It was fast. When I landed, the wind swayed her silver hair. I barely saw her expression, but I couldn't tell if it was surprise or just nothing. I stretched out my hands and went for it.
...In my hand was a dragon-shaped insignia, its jewel shining a vivid red.
“Emilia-chan, I’ve told you to stop taking care of this old lady. I know it must be boring.”
Naoko’s voice, tinged with a playful warmth, floated from the living room to the kitchen. A soft smile touched Emilia’s lips as she continued her task. Boring? It was the opposite. There was an almost meditative peace in these small rituals.
Her movements were fluid, practiced. First, the clean, hollow sound of the electric kettle being placed on its base. She filled it with filtered water from the fridge, the cold, silent liquid rising to the indicated mark. With a soft click, a small red light on the base lit up, and a nearly imperceptible hum began, the silent promise of warmth.
While the water heated, Emilia opened one of the upper cabinets. Her fingers, accustomed to touching the energy of spirits, now navigated with the same delicacy through colorful cardboard boxes. She chose one, with an image of chamomile flowers and the inscription "Nightly Relaxation."
She picked up two white ceramic cups from the drying rack, feeling their familiar, smooth weight in her hands. She placed a small sachet in each, the thin paper and delicate string seeming fragile, yet holding a universe of aroma.
The kettle's hum grew, turning into a restless bubbling, a sound that once seemed strange and mechanical to her, but was now just the prelude to comfort. Before the noise became shrill, she turned it off. The silence that followed was filled with the subtle scent of dried herbs.
With a steady hand, she tilted the kettle. A stream of steaming, crystalline water fell over the first sachet, and the color instantly began to bleed into the water, a pale gold that swirled and deepened. The steam rose, carrying with it the sweet, floral scent of chamomile, a perfume that reminded her of sunny fields and a calm she had learned to cherish. She repeated the process with the second cup, the cloud of vapor warming her face for a moment.
She placed both cups on a small wooden tray, the heat of the ceramic already spreading across the surface. As she walked back to the living room, her steps were silent on the wooden floor. Naoko was sitting on the sofa, a forgotten book in her lap, looking at Emilia with an affection that still, at times, squeezed her heart.
Emilia knelt gracefully beside the coffee table, placing the tray on it.
“That’s impossible, Naoko-san,” she said, her voice soft but firm, as she pushed one of the cups closer to the woman. “Both things. Getting bored and stopping serving you.”
Naoko laughed, a genuine and affectionate sound that filled the room. She picked up her cup, the steam dancing between them.
“Serving? How bold~ heheh.”
“Heheh~”
As both ladies picked up their cups, the sweet aroma, as strong as it was gentle, invaded their nostrils. The repressed, angelic giggles gradually surfaced as they took in the fragrance of the chamomile plant.
Then Naoko, letting out a long sigh as she allowed herself to relax, took her first sip. The same slightly sweet and floral flavor ran over her tongue, making her feel as if tons of weight were being lifted from her shoulders. For a moment, she wondered if the young Emilia had brought her a magical tea instead of a basic one.
Emilia followed suit, her lips already curved upwards as she watched Miss Naoko melt into the sofa. The flavor, to her, was still slightly bitter, yet bittersweet. It lingered with a light sweetness, with the texture of a fruit, which she guessed was apple.
“Emilia-chan, dear, how?” Taking an extra sip of the divine liquid that graced her fingers, Naoko raised an eyebrow as she asked. “This is magnificent!”
Lowering her cup and placing it on the small table in front of her, Emilia revealed, “Really? I’m glad it tastes so good, Naoko-san.”
What followed was a small sigh from the older woman, who shook her head slightly with a faint smile. If she were to count on her fingers how many times this young woman had surprised her, it would be impossible! After all, she only had 10 fingers! And even counting her toes wouldn’t change a thing.
That child, who had clearly improved so much since she first stayed here, was working magic with her ring fingers. If she had received this kind of treatment since birth, it was clear that, even in her 60s, she would still be an athlete.
Lowering her cup after the third sip, Naoko groaned as she leaned her back against the sofa. Her eyes closed for a second to draw air into her lungs again.
“Dear. I’m getting old, you know. I’m sorry for putting this kind of work on your shoulders.”
“...I’ve already told you it’s no problem.”
The years had passed so quickly. And thinking about it now, the old lady let out a hoarse laugh. If there really was a deity up in the sky, Naoko might just scream complaints at God for making happy moments last so little. Was she a sinner? Sad, but there was no going back now.
Whenever she found herself wondering about time, her eyes focused mainly on the past. The games, the time she spent walking with her son, the difficult moments she had purposefully chosen to ignore. They seemed like slightly vague memories now, yet still recent. As if Naoko could have made them different just seconds before.
Look at that, even the moment of her own childbirth seemed like yesterday. With a few more years of health ahead, Alzheimer's would come knocking. She could already see herself believing her son was born just hours ago.
This feeling that covered her chest was pleasant. But the sadness wouldn’t really go away when she saw how her time was running out. Every day it felt like the bed pulled her in more, that the fatigue doubled, that her legs were slowly ceasing to function.
Was she getting that old? No, please. Just ten more years, I beg you.
Even though she didn’t feel right being under Emilia’s care, unfortunately, Naoko remained so. Relying on the good character of that young woman to stay alive, with plenty of vigor to spare.
There were so many things she had to thank her for, that, again, she couldn’t count on her fingers. The first and most obvious thanks being her son’s happiness.
Oh, yes, he was so happy now. Bouncy, full of energy. Just like he was in his childhood.
The only difference was that, this time, his joy was healthy, true. Maybe she really should pray just once for receiving this miracle when she had empty hands? The young woman, Emilia, had undoubtedly fallen from the sky. Into her son’s hands.
Could something like that even happen? Even when the world had over 8 billion people out there? Even with it being as huge as it is?
A girl so innocent and full of life, waking up in our arms out of nowhere. It could only be the work of fate, because as for luck, she would strongly doubt it. You see, she had done what Naoko couldn’t since her son’s birth. A mother’s duty. Even if it was enviable, bitter even, how could she not be grateful?
Another world, huh? Unfortunately, the lady didn’t believe in coincidences. It could only have been someone who had thrown her here, for them to receive her. And that person, Naoko thanks with her entire being.
Thank you.
“It’s that thing. The grass is always greener on the other side.”
“What do you mean, ma’am?”
As she kept her eyes closed, a smile dancing on the corners of her wrinkled lips, Naoko recited what everyone says.
Certainly, many, when they taste their own food, find it simple. Uninteresting, even. Of course, the act of cooking itself was an achievement. It’s not that people would throw away their daily bread, but rather how the repetition, the sweat one sheds in their own work, makes their food seem gray.
It could mean many things: loneliness, sadness, neediness, lack of affection, and lack of knowledge. Never knowing anything new in the first place is the safest way to stay the same. Without changing tastes, without aiming for something newer, inadequacy having no importance at all.
It was the same as, if you remain ignorant of the world, naive, all you would want is to stay in the same place. Perhaps just wanting simple things instead of trying to reach for the moon like many do.
Emotions like jealousy, envy. How they proliferate when you find something in others that you don’t have in yourself.
The phrase itself has many meanings. And even going through it now, Naoko didn’t know how to explain it properly. It all boiled down to: Made by someone else is better.
“What was the best tea you’ve ever tasted?”
“Hojicha. It’s sooooo good.”
“Really? And why didn’t you make it?”
“Well… I can’t make it as good as yours. It’s not worth the economic expense.”
Bingo.
“My dear, a tea like that… you really are a bit picky when it comes to flavors.”
As she made Emilia blush in embarrassment with her teasing, Naoko took another sip of her tea. Numbing her muscles again just with the perceived aroma. This was what she was talking about. Chamomile tea, in Emilia’s hands, was the most divine thing. And Naoko would bet that she herself thought differently of her own tea. You could see the indifference on her face as she tasted it.
Maybe it was just age catching up to her, but soft flavors were the only things passing through her worn-out throat. To taste this every day, until her eternal rest, she wouldn’t get tired of it in any way.
“Changing the subject, Emilia-chan~. How are you?”
Looking to the side, the older woman captured the half-elf’s full form. She wore a light dress, white as her hair. With just a light purple cardigan to keep her warm from the cold. Yes, a literally perfect woman. If she saw a star like this for the first time in her life, Naoko knew her answer would be the same as her son’s.
An angel.
Observing more deeply, focusing on Emilia’s belly. You could see the slight curve that peeked out there. It was almost imperceptible, but the thin fabric gave away the exposed circumference.
“It’s weird. I feel like my strength is dwindling.” Leaning her back against the sofa cushions, Emilia let out a light sigh as she massaged her belly. “I know I’m at the beginning of this, but the difference is really noticeable.”
“Oh, my dear, you have no idea.”
Now you could see it better. Emilia was pregnant, her child already around 2 months along. For sure, there was no way Naoko would miss this moment. No, it was impossible for her to leave before then. The amount she would spoil this child… is not written.
She was going to have grandchildren, can you believe it?
Raising her slender, slightly trembling hand, Naoko could barely contain her emotion. Reaching for the belly of the woman beside her with her eyes already betrayed by tears. A new era, at last.
Her own imagination was making her eyes widen. Was she going crazy for hearing imaginary angelic laughter? Most certainly. She wasn’t a psychic to know what the child would be like, but she was breathless enough to scream and say: “I heard it!”
However, her sudden happiness had to be put aside for now. Reluctantly, but not in a bad way.
“——I’m sorry…”
Emilia, who was smiling faintly as Naoko massaged her belly, couldn’t hold back her conflicting feelings.
“I’m sorry it took so long…!”
She yelled, tears already streaming down her red cheeks, leaving trails where they passed. The older woman stiffened for a second before her voice softened.
“Dear…”
“I’m sorry it took so long, Naoko-san, I’m sorry…”
The half-elf, whose shoulders were hunched and voice was trembling, repeated and repeated everything that came to her mind, without hesitation. Whether it was guilt blinding her, or regret hurting her, there was no time to identify or abolish it, only to inject it out. Raw and intense.
“It took me so long to have a child, so long…”
“————”
Hugging the yelling woman, Naoko held her completely, not letting her turn away. Holding the woman who now seemed more like a defenseless child, who mumbled and cried for having, apparently, made a mistake while her mother was away.
“Breathe. I’m not mad, Emilia-chan. Just breathe.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
It wouldn’t be slander to say that Naoko found herself almost on the same side of the coin as the crying girl. Her own eyes welling up. Her chest racing as she also embarked on the conflicting emotions.
As if she knew what was going on inside her son, Subaru’s, head, Emilia wasn’t exactly in a different corner in that house. If she could, she would also choose to be the mother figure who gave her the most love. Listening and learning from everything that child passed on to her.
Of course——coming from another world, Emilia had her counterpoints for not being exactly human, right?
“I’m not mad, Emilia-chan.”
“Hic, I’m sorry…”
“I just want…”
Holding her tighter, not with the intention to hurt—even if she could—Naoko just caressed her head, her lips kissing her forehead, soothing the spasms of the girl who needed attention.
“I just want you both to be happy, healthy——”
“——but!”
“That’s all I ask, okay?”
Giving her shoulders as support for the girl, Naoko let Emilia shed her cold tears on her clothes. Calming her with a light massage on her back, repeating “breathe, everything will be alright” in her ears. The old lady was sure she was doing the right thing, using the right words to make Emilia relax.
But in this case, the girl wouldn’t stop sobbing. It even seemed to get worse with every syllable that came from Naoko’s voice.
“You are a very good girl, Emilia-chan. A very good girl indeed, you know?”
If there was a way to count the number of good deeds Emilia had done, Naoko regretted not writing them down. Because the kindness that ruled that defenseless heart was almost limitless.
——And so, to improve the girl’s mood. Unfortunately, she would have to take possession of one of her best characteristics.
“Will you promise to do one thing for me?”
“Please, please! Anything—!”
Knowing Emilia, having spent more than 20 years alongside that good girl, Naoko knew how she had never gotten used to the customs of this land. And even if a memory came to mind now, there was no time to contest it.
Can you believe it? To this day, Emilia didn’t understand how this new world worked, or at least, how the Natsuki’s minds ticked. It seemed to hurt her chest to ask for things that——were completely basic, archaic in her way of thinking.
And yet, there was no way Naoko could avoid it.
“Please. Never abandon my son.”
“Lia!”
Had he made a mistake?
As the beast of ice watched the thief's silhouette vanish into the horizon, the sea of people who stared at them, creating a barricade, became the perfect plan for a retreat. Sharp icicles were created and launched in different directions, painting the street in destruction.
Nothing severe, negatively so, in the spirit's eyes.
However, while his attention had been focused on the thief, with the intention of taking her down, severe pulses of mana exploded from his paws. And by a hair's breadth, a crowd was almost turned into a bloodbath, a moat of liquid metal.
Again, nothing serious. Something he intervened on at the last moment.
“Lia! What happened?”
Puck, his brows furrowed, called out to his adopted daughter. He was starved for information that could contextualize the outburst from moments before.
He hadn't sensed anything in that thief that would justify the avalanche of mana induced upon him. Yes, the fuel tank that had nearly made his power explode was his daughter's. And that was starting to scare him.
The feeling of "pity" was the cause and root of the problem. This city, centralized in the kingdom of Lugunica, possessed many disgusting minds. Every civilian who passed near his daughter had an air of disgust as visible as it was dense.
Their importance? None. Puck was completely ignorant of anyone who crossed Emilia's path. Malice might cover their minds, but fear screamed just as loud as anything else.
No one there of average physical build would even consider the idea of attacking his Lia. Except for one thing.
Thugs.
This place, the metropolis of Lugunica, was infested. If one were to summarize how many dirty minds could be here, the guess would be in percentages; forty percent would be seeing it with generosity. Ninety percent would be the real dose if not mitigated by euphemism.
What to expect? Anyone who didn't involve his daughter was a doormat. No, not even useful for that.
Thieves and more thieves.
It was easy to determine their emotions, their intentions, and their location. And there he was. Puck would wave wind in their directions while he slept. Weaving roots into their vision, blurring their minds.
The spirit didn't even need to open his eyes, having all his attention focused on Emilia from beginning to end.
So, what had been the problem?
The thief who had come just now had almost no evil in her mind. The golden-haired girl who had approached could even be among the ten percent of kind people that made up this kingdom of hypocrites.
As said before, "pity" was the key to his failure. By moving through the crowd, with mediocre professionalism, the thief had deceived his "emotion" sensor by almost completely stagnating any malice she was composed of. It wasn't hard to know she was approaching, but——
“...Puck?”
“Lia! I’m here! What happened?”
With Lia's delayed response, Puck descended to her face. Getting close enough to see even the smallest details of her iris.
“Puck——”
It wasn't just magic that had bombarded his chest. It was the emotions themselves.
Puck didn't need his sentimental affinity to capture anything that came from his daughter. The contract, the bond they shared, ties carved into the soul, made him feel all the transmutations that coursed through Emilia's Od.
The almost pulverizing mana she had released was just one of the anomalies, the second being——
“I’m here, Lia, right here.”
“Puck—! Puck!”
Grabbing him tightly, the ice princess drowned the spirit against her wet face. Her voice, muffled and almost primitive, deteriorated as she called his name. The raw, broken sound escaped her vocal cords in total supplication.
“Puck!!”
“Shhhh… Here, Lia, here.”
His small paws hugged the slender face of the crying girl. His heart nearly broke seeing so many tears tracing cold lines below.
Emilia fell to her knees as she repeated the same words. A dull thud sounded as her boots hit the dusty, hard ground. She ignored the pain, focusing entirely on her adoptive father as if he were all she had left.
“Shh…”
The crowd watched, a shared pity mixed with a late disinterest.
—— What came into Emilia's mind were incredibly powerful feelings, almost making Puck take a step back in retreat. They were: nostalgia, longing, fear, bewilderment, and… love.
All of them absurdly amplified to an improbable level. Especially the last one mentioned.
Emilia… what happened to Emilia, the spirit could only wait to receive the answer.
Notes:
Heh, I think I went a little off the rails with Puck here. We'll get his characterization right over time.
And just for the record, Felt's point of view is canonical.
Chapter 2: "Don't Get Too Excited", Said God
Notes:
A bit short. Heh. But hey, for those who like longer chapters, don't worry, that's not really my style. I mean, I love writing a huge chapter, but only if the material calls for it
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Extrapolation for sure.
As he handed the money to the cashier, he could feel that slight ache at the corner of his eyes from forcing his vision a bit out of focus. Tsk, better not, he thought as he suddenly pulled back half of the money from the cashier's hand. He almost took a step back to buy some minimally "hot" magazines with a touch of romance.
"Here you go," the cashier said, pushing the change across the counter.
Subaru picked up the coins, his fingers feeling the rough edge of one of them. A Giza Jū, he thought with a smirk, pocketing the small treasure. His other hand held the plastic bag, the familiar weight of his "rations" for the week.
Inside, an arsenal against midnight hunger. Two Nissin Cup Noodle Curry flavor, his favorite for long gaming sessions. One Seafood, for when he wanted something lighter. And, of course, a Nissin UFO Yakisoba, the ultimate meal for eating in front of the monitor without risking keyboard disasters. He had thought about getting a Donbei Udon, but decided the taste of fried tofu was too sophisticated for his current mood. Today, he just wanted the comforting basics.
"Thank you, and please come again."
Following the automation of his steps, Subaru walked out of the store after receiving his purchases. That chill, which did the opposite of freezing, scratched at his neck even from behind his collar. "Empty," he muttered as he observed the road ahead. It wasn't exactly late, but it was impossible not to get drawn into some psychological terror amidst the darkness stretching before him.
"Gaming late is killing me." Rubbing his irritated eyes, he blamed it on that with zero ingrained regret. "Uhh…"
He rubbed them harder. Maybe I'd be grateful if this happened in the middle of a grind in Monster Hunter. A little sleep is necessary to stay in shape.
"W-What?" Feeling an abnormally bright light, Subaru placed an open palm over his eyes, on his forehead, shielding himself from whatever was confronting him.
It almost seemed like the sun, which had just risen to burn and take the life out of his retinas. But this… "wait." Opening his eyes wider, Subaru was met with the impossible. Surprised not by the sunlight, which emerged with clarity, but by the face of a giant lizard.
Yes, with his mouth agape, Subaru silently screamed impossible! in his mind, trying to confirm the chance event that had occurred here by glancing around at other things.
Animals! Humans! Human-animals! His mouth hanging open, Subaru could hardly believe what he was thinking and seeing. A burly dog walking on two legs! I mean, that was definitely a foot; the beast-human's leather shoe revealed the well-formed circumference.
There was more. Demi-humans and humans walked and circulated the area almost on par with the bustling streets of Akihabara. There was no end to the people there.
The words on the vendors' signs, completely unintelligible, the sturdy wooden wheels kicking up dust below, the constant murmurs and footsteps.
"This is it. It can only be this."
His chest leaped, a sarcastic and prematurely beastly smile curling the corners of his mouth. It was a chance, it was literally what was missing.
A shut-in's life would come in handy to receive this kind of glorious torment, wouldn't it? Yes, yes! Subaru felt a shrill happiness swell in his chest.
It wasn't pride; it was his lungs. Joy and anxiety. All in the same bubble. Raising both hands, opening his eyes wide, he looked up, letting it all out:
"I've been teleported to another world!!!?"
As he traveled on foot, the number of times his thumb partnered with his chin couldn't be counted. If there was a way to grow there, it was in various forms.
The boy had a faint reddish mark on his cheek, which could easily be recognized as a slap. With the difference of smaller fingers. Yes, having been slapped by a cat-woman for being in, apparently, a women's restroom, Subaru almost got arrested as his manly posture condensed and vaporized into nothing.
"For a rather primitive society that uses carts and armored warriors, it's certainly not very advanced."
Thinking deeply as he took his steps, Subaru recalled his memories from seconds before.
Anyone in his place wouldn't waste time trying to architect the great level of medieval combustion this "world" had. However, after having tried to expel some dose of power to save a child in the middle of the street, and having failed, all that was left for him was to think about the tragic.
Carts moved about along with large quadrupedal lizards. Looking around this "kingdom," Subaru saw great walls, resting kilometers away.
"A castle in the center, going up high on a hill." Nodding to himself, he emphasized it by dramatically raising an eyebrow.
Looking around more, no gears, no magic ships… runway-style fashion, the boy considered. It was clear that the public here didn't go very far in the art of technology. Having such a defensible fort would be useless if they could be attacked with bombs. Gunpowder was surely a distant dream too, not that he would allow himself to boast about being a few centuries ahead, or maybe even millennia?
So, with his power apparently dormant, Subaru focused on his crisis. I don't understand anything here.
The words the beast-woman used to curse him for being a pervert were Japanese, identical even. With a slightly compromised accent, of course.
To say that poverty was hitting him now would be a categorically correct answer. There was change in his pockets, a few yen here and there, and a bag of instant noodles. He wasn't completely broke, but—
"I need to negotiate."
—he couldn't know the value of anything here; he didn't know the economic network of this country. How the currency worked, nor its supposed value and form. Copper maybe? Gold? Silver? The simplest ideas were the ones that came to his mind, and he figured they would be right.
Maybe his belongings were worth something, his flip phone for example. It's not like his ability to type at the speed of a dialogue would be of any use here. Without the internet, he couldn't get very far. He could use the notepad, photos, and some downloaded songs. However, the battery life diminished its value, and so, the best idea was to sell it while it was ripe.
"Hey! Right here!"
"Huh? Want an appa?"
The people had colorful hair, exceptionally eye-catching clothes, and a very sour face.
"Appa? Isn't it an apple here?"
"Apple? What kind of name is that, kid?" Lifting the "appa" to Subaru's eye level, the robust man moderately intensified his voice. "Come on, I've got some juicy ones here to give you!"
"Uhh… Sure."
Pulling out what he had in his pockets, Subaru took out some residual change he had left. He winced as he said goodbye to his ridged-edge coin. It would have no value here.
"Here, sir."
"Hm? Sorry kid, but this coin doesn't work here." Seeing the unrecognizable metal in the kid's hand, the merchant already waved his hand, gesturing for him to get lost.
"This is all I have."
"Then what are you waiting for! Get out of here! You're holding up the line!" the grumpy man shouted, making Subaru scurry to the side, repeating, "I'm going! I'm going!"
"Uff. Confirmed, I don't have a dime," Subaru reflected, confirming the obvious. He had been teleported to another world in the best way possible. Poor and with scarce hope.
Of course, there must still be something for me to do here. There has to be. The beautiful woman who summoned me, where is she? If she was somewhere, it was past time for her to show up. The situation was gradually dropping in level, from sad to deplorable.
Moving on, his feet continued to carry him, his face slightly disinterested. Maybe it was just sleepiness coming to tame him; he knew he had dark circles under his eyes, his eyes heavy. Besides being summoned, the time was practically the opposite of his "home world." Night there, day here.
Actually, maybe he should be thankful for that. Otherwise, with nothing to hold onto and no way to gain any financial security, Subaru would be sleeping on the street like a beggar. Yeah, it's a good thing it's day.
Entering an alley, he let himself fall on his butt on the stairs that were right there. The pain and the cold material waking him up a bit more. "What to do now, huh…"
"Look what we have here."
"We're in luck."
"And it looks like he's out of luck."
"——?"
Looking up, Subaru was greeted by the only thing he was missing. Thugs in need of a donation. Bandits!
"Yes! A mandatory event!" he shouted, jumping up from where he was with an immense renewal of his determination. This was everything he was truly missing. Yes, this! I'm going to get a power, maybe trigger something, embrace a current of powerful arts, pull an Excalibur from who knows where!
This was the moment where he would restart as: "Natsuki Subaru"!
"What?" The short thief looked at his colleagues, making a face.
"I don't know either." The one in the middle, the skinny one, frowned, not knowing anything. He shook his head.
"Just what we needed, a crazy one." The big guy laughed, holding back a gruff chuckle. The kid making a stupid face was the last straw. "Come on then, if you have the guts!"
"You're asking to die, my good man!" Raising his fists, Subaru smiled even wider. He could feel it, something was activating inside him. No, maybe not yet, just an adrenaline rush. But—
My limbs feel lighter. Gravity, maybe? Doesn't matter, I'm going to beat these guys and get my happy ending.
Letting his confidence run wild in his head, the phrase "my happy ending" gave him double mental strength. Just imagine, he had never punched anyone in the face. He didn't know what it felt like, but here, here is the moment.
Three guys at once? Piece of cake.
"This guy's messing with us." The skinny one raised a finger, pointing it at the teenager who was raising his fists.
"Tsk, I'll make it so you don't even have a mouth in the first place, punk." The big guy clicked his tongue, planting his fists at the base of his chest. He was going to smash that dreamy fool's face.
"This guy's actually serious." The short one also got into position, ready to smash the pitiful fool's face.
The one in the middle, the skinny one, narrowed his eyes. Moments later, shouting loud and clear. That kid had challenged them, such naivety.
"Go!"
The big guy went, and the short one too.
Subaru didn't let himself fall, his heart pounding at the same speed as someone about to give birth. Stomping his feet on the ground, he charged.
"Haaaaa!"
For an instant, the world fell silent. The noise of the capital, the murmurs, the footsteps... everything faded into a distant hum. Her hand, which had been resting protectively on her waist, now found only the empty fabric of her dress. The insignia... was gone.
But that wasn't what broke her.
It was the cold.
A cold that didn't come from the air, but from within. A cold that spread through her veins the exact moment a memory, an entire lifetime, collided with reality.
No.
The word echoed in the silence of her mind.
Impossible.
She looked at her own hands. Pale, slender, without the small marks from years of preparing tea or tending to a garden. She looked at her body. Light. Terribly, unbearably light. The subtle but constant weight she had been carrying in her womb for two months... had vanished.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!
The denial was a mute scream, a futile barrier against the tsunami flooding her soul. The padding of her bed, the smell of breakfast cooked by Kenichi-san, the sound of Naoko-san's laughter, the touch of Subaru's lips on hers... Were they memories? Or the cruelest dream a soul could ever conceive?
"Unfair," she whispered to the stone ground. "Unfair, unfair, unfair!"
Her body trembled, and she fell to her knees, the dull impact barely registered by the pain exploding in her chest. She scratched her own arm, needing to feel something, anything to anchor her. Physical pain. Yes, physical pain would be a gift.
Could she ask to be killed? Burned alive, devoured, impaled? Yes. Everything. Anything would be better than this. Better than being thrown back here, in this body, in this time, in this personal hell she once called life.
Why?
The question formed amidst the chaos. Od Laguna? No, the entity Puck described was neutral, without a will. Then who? Who would have the power and the cruelty to orchestrate this? To give her a glimpse of paradise only to drag her back into the darkness?
"Please, no... please, no!" The plea was for no one and for everyone. A desperate appeal for the universe to be wrong.
"Shh, Lia, right here. Right here."
Puck's voice was a thread in the storm. But the storm was too strong. The power within her, awakened by agony, began to leak. The air around her knees started to freeze, a thin layer of frost forming on the dirty cobblestones.
She didn't want the power. She didn't want the magic. She wanted her home.
"Why not just kill me?!" The scream tore from her throat, no longer a whisper, but a howl of pure pain. "If this is what this world wanted, to punish me... WHY NOT JUST KILL ME?!"
She curled up, hugging her own shoulders, her body convulsing with the force of her sobs and the uncontrolled mana. Hell or heaven, anything. Just not having to live knowing what she had lost. Just not having to be born again.
"Lia!"
Puck's shout was an act of desperation. He launched himself towards her, a blur of gray fur against the imminent chaos. Her nails, long and perfect, were centimeters from her own eyes. Her pupils, once wide amethysts, were now just contracted points of dread.
Not on my watch, he thought, a cold fury rising up his spine.
The air around them crackled, the moisture freezing instantly. A delicate but deadly frost began to spread across the stone pavement, a manifestation of Emilia's uncontrolled power. A power that didn't come from him. A power fueled by a pain he couldn't comprehend.
"Please, Lia, I'm right here," he whispered, pressing his small paw against her forehead. It wasn't just a gesture of comfort. It was an act of containment.
He dove into her flow of mana, not with fire, but with the affinity few knew: shadow. Shamak. Not the blinding mist, but its essence. A veil of nothingness, an anesthetic for the soul. He wove it carefully, on an almost molecular level, to muffle her senses, to calm the inferno consuming her mind. It was like trying to contain a supernova with a blanket. The volatile bomb of power almost repelled him, threatening to purge half the capital in an eternal winter.
"Puck... Puck..." Her voice was an echo, trembling, coming from far away.
"Yes, yes. Exactly. Right here," he answered, his voice firm, a lie. He wasn't "right here." He was fighting, with every fiber of his being, to keep her from shattering.
Slowly, the frost receded. The trembling in her shoulders lessened to an occasional spasm. She pressed him against her face, and the sobs that shook her became softer, more broken. He felt the moment her mind began to return, the instant she swallowed hard, her mouth full of saliva and tears. With his free paw, he stroked her silver hair, now disheveled and damp.
"That's it, Lia. Come back to me," he murmured, patting her cheek lightly to anchor her in reality.
"Puck..."
"Lia..."
She blinked, her eyes wandering over the busy street in a daze, as if waking up in an unknown place. But Puck's relief was crushed the next moment. Her amethyst irises, which should have shone with life, were... dull. Opaque. Like precious stones that had lost their luster, reflecting nothing. A terrifying emptiness inhabited that gaze.
What happened here?
The conclusion was immediate, primal. Someone. Someone in this filthy city had done this to her. The beast within Puck snarled, and for a second, his snout threatened to elongate, fangs growing in his mouth. But her voice brought him back.
"Is that you?" she asked. Her voice was a thread, thin, tiny, almost mechanical.
"Yes. It's me, Lia."
"We're in Lugunica..." she stated, not as a question, but as a judge's sentence. Her fingers touched her own lips, as if to confirm the words were real.
"Yes, Lia. In the capital," Puck confirmed, his jaw locked, his newly-formed fangs grinding against each other.
"I see... I see..." She shook her head and tried to stand up. Her legs gave way instantly, strengthless. She gasped, surprised by her own weakness.
"Puck, can you..."
"Lia. Are you okay?" The question escaped him, a mistake. He knew it was a mistake the moment he said it.
The fragile control she had built shattered. A single, dry, broken sob escaped her chest, which heaved for air. The facade of normalcy, the attempt to pretend, it all crumbled.
"Lia, calm down," he said quickly, flying into her embrace, wrapping himself around her neck. "If you can't answer, you don't have to right now. You don't have to."
She clung to him, her body trembling again. "Okay... okay..."
"Okay?"
"Uhh... I mean, alright."
She buried her face in his fur, the texture tickling her cheek. A small detail of the physical world. A small anchor. And slowly, she tried to open her eyes again, as if to wake up from a long, tormenting sleep.
The "alright" came out more like a breath than a word. A fragile agreement made with herself, a promise that she would try not to drown. She nestled closer against Puck's soft fur, his warmth being the only real thing in a world that felt like a blurry painting. The familiar scent of ozone and ice crystals he always carried was an anchor. A tiny anchor in an ocean of pain.
"This... this wasn't a dream, was it?" The question escaped her lips before she could contain it. Her voice was a whisper, as fragile as glass. She wasn't looking at Puck, but at nothing, at the dirty street that seemed to close in on her.
Puck stiffened. The question made no sense. Dream? What dream? He could only feel the echo of that torrent of emotions from before: the overwhelming nostalgia, the love that seemed to hold the strength of decades, and the loss, a loss so deep it felt like a piece of her soul had been torn away.
"Lia, what are you talking about?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral, trying not to startle her. Inside, his mind was racing. A curse? A mental attack? Did someone use illusion magic on her? Every possibility filled him with a cold fury.
Emilia didn't answer. She just shook her head slowly, as if trying to dislodge a stubborn memory. She closed her eyes tight. The smell of chamomile tea. Naoko-san's laugh. The comforting weight of Subaru's hand in hers. The warmth in her womb…
The sensations were so vivid, so real. They were more real than the hard ground beneath her knees.
"I... I was home," she murmured, the word "home" sounding strange and sacred. "I was... we were going to have a..." The sentence died. Saying it out loud would make the loss too real. The sob she had been holding back escaped, a dry, painful sound.
Puck's heart froze. We? Home? The words didn't fit anything he knew of her life. The Elior Forest wasn't a "we." Roswaal's mansion was a base, not a "home."
He didn't understand. But he didn't need to understand the cause to treat the symptom. Her pain was real, and that was all that mattered.
"It's okay, Lia. It's okay," he said, changing tactics. He rubbed his head against her cheek, a purely comforting gesture. "You don't have to think about it now. Let's focus on what's here. Me and you. Right? Just me and you, like always."
The phrase "like always" was meant to be comforting, but for Emilia, it was like a punch. Like always. Always alone, with only Puck to protect her from a world that hated her. The life she had just "dreamed" was proof that it didn't have to be "like always." There was another possibility. There was happiness.
And that realization, instead of giving her hope, only deepened her despair.
She took a deep breath, the air trembling in her lungs. The crying girl slowly gave way to the Royal Selection candidate. The experience that had fallen upon her shoulders in this, supposed dream, made her sigh and hold the breath that threatened to break her again.
"You're right," she said, her voice a little firmer, though still fragile. She pulled away slightly, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry. I... I don't know what came over me."
She was lying. And Puck knew she was lying. But he also knew that, sometimes, lies are the armor we wear just to keep standing.
"Don't be sorry," he replied softly. "Just breathe. And tell me what you need me to do."
Emilia looked around, her dull eyes finally focusing on the reality of the paved street. The smell, the sight, the sounds. Everything was an assault. But it was her reality now.
The crowd had dispersed; only a few people were still staring at her worn-out figure. Emilia silently thanked them for not making a scene out of her public shame.
"My insignia," she said, her voice devoid of panic, just an infinite weariness, along with a far-too-great indifference. "It was stolen."
Notes:
I was too lazy to elaborate more on the crowd. Heh, hope you enjoyed!
Chapter 3: "I'll Give Him Back to You," Smiled Fate
Notes:
Cool, I started writing this the moment I woke up and still managed to post it today.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Go! Fast!
The thief's heel struck the stone floor hard. The moment she felt the cold metal of the insignia in her hand, there was no pause; she took off with everything she had. Adrenaline forced blood up through her veins. Whether she could look, think, or breathe, she didn't care. Her calf muscle tightened as she pushed off awkwardly, carelessly.
From the moment she had laid her hand on that thing, she felt her brain fry in horror. Her instincts told her to go all out. To flee without looking back.
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
If that was the woman's scream, it was clear it would mark Felt's eardrums and mind for a while. Just like that of someone who had seen their penance, or someone who had met death on their final bed.
Did the insignia have some kind of power? Was there something inside the stone that made the girl see the Witch herself?
“——!”
It was clear this wouldn't be so easy.
As she started running in the opposite direction, Felt's usual body heat dropped almost drastically.
“What?!”
Icicles.
Her boots seemed to stick to the ground if she didn't move faster. Would she die? That thought didn't cross her mind, because in the first place, she didn't even have time to swallow.
“————”
Dodging the various sharp ice fragments, Felt danced with her slender body and feet. Several transparent blue orbs multiplied behind her, and she saw them at a glance, enough to map their trajectory.
She could hear the crowd screaming and running away with her, but she was faster. She could weave through them. Accelerating her numb feet even more, she forced her divine protection to work overtime. It hardly seemed possible, but this was all Felt had.
An avalanche of ice crystals was aimed at her head; she couldn't stand still for a second.
“Guh!”
Feeling a cold material hit her back, Felt turned her head... No pain came... It felt like a heavy snowflake that had clung to her vest. She tried to brush it off with her hand, but the ice was strangely sticky, almost refusing to leave the fabric. How weird, she thought, but there was no time to analyze it. More worried about the ice forming under her feet, she ignored the sensation and kept running.
"10 silver coins~"
As she climbed onto a roof, continuing to run to reach the next street with the intention of cutting through, Felt's mind began to process what had happened. Anxiety and fear controlled her thoughts.
"What the hell was that?" She had never seen power like that. Was it magic? A spirit?
If so, what a bad omen.
The silver-haired woman, she re-evaluated her target. "Naive country girl?" No, that thing was more like a monster. The woman who hired her, the snake from Gusteko, hadn't mentioned a single word about this. About ice magic, about a guardian spirit, about the risk of becoming a human popsicle over a pendant. Was she deceived? The price was cordially high. But again, if the job involved death, it wasn't worth it. However… "It's right here, in my hand."
Pushing forward, she didn't stop. Sweat traced paths on her face, flying into the wind moments later. She paused for a second on the edge of a roof that led to the next street.
"That little cat that was flying around…"
A spirit, yes. A Great Spirit, judging by the scale of the destruction. And one that seemed pretty pissed off.
To have someone with such power, Felt knew she was sticking her hand into some forbidden vault. Breathing heavily, she raised the stolen item in her hand, evaluating every solstice of its curves.
It's heavy, definitely important. What's so special about it to warrant such an aggressive response?
"I could just throw it away…"
That was terrifying. If Felt had been careless, her head would have been split in half by icy needles. Every replay of those icicles sent shivers down her spine. She was scared; she'd admit that without a second thought. Going any further could affect her health in the worst way possible. This is trouble, she repeated, trying to convince herself.
She could find another way. Felt slowly felt she was getting close to somewhere. She didn't need to take big steps, but careful ones. What was the point of going so far for something so risky? She didn't have two lives. And even if she did, she wouldn't waste her first one.
"Old Man Rom."
I don't want to do this anymore.
She had already managed the hardest part, hadn't she? Felt had already done the riskiest part of this job, just like all the others: stealing from her target. The insignia glowed scarlet in her hand. It was right there, surefire money.
The dangerous part, Felt had overcome by a miracle. It was time to take advantage of that miracle; otherwise, what was the point?
"Come on, Felt, come on," she told herself, pocketing the object as she descended to the street below.
She landed with a soft thud in an alley, using it as a familiar shortcut. The smell of garbage and dampness was almost comforting in its normality after the chaos of supernatural ice.
She needed to keep moving, but her lungs were burning, demanding a break.
Leaning her back against a cold brick wall, she peeked around the corner.
The main street was in chaos, but calming down. Guards were starting to appear, drawn by the disturbance. Bad. She needed to get out of the city center as quickly as possible.
That's when she heard the voices. Voices she knew. Not by name, but by reputation. Three idiots who thought they were the kings of petty theft in the area. Known thugs, and not the smart kind. And they seemed to have cornered someone.
"Look what we have here."
Curiosity, the plague of every thief, made her peek a little more. And what she saw made her roll her eyes hard. A boy. A boy in the most bizarre clothes she had ever seen, all black and orange, looking like some kind of exotic fruit. And he didn't look scared. He looked... excited?
"Yes! A mandatory event!" the boy shouted, jumping to his feet with a maniacal grin on his face.
Felt blinked. Once. Twice. What? she thought. Is this guy crazy? Who gets happy about being mugged?
She watched, fascinated and horrified, as the black-haired boy raised his fists, challenging the three thugs. For a moment, she almost laughed. His confidence was so absurd it was almost contagious. But then, she saw the glint of metal in the skinny one's hand. A knife.
The reality of the situation hit her. That boy was going to die. Or, at best, leave here much lighter and much bloodier. And she didn't have time for this. The ice woman could be anywhere.
The fight began. To her surprise, the weird boy managed to dodge a punch and land one of his own. He's not entirely useless, she thought, a reluctant hint of respect emerging. But the numerical advantage and the knife were an inevitable end game.
She needed to go. Now.
Taking advantage of the moment the thugs focused on subduing the boy, Felt darted out the other exit of the alley. As she passed the scene, her eyes met the boy's for a millisecond. He looked surprised, as if he had only just noticed she was there.
"Live strong!" she shouted over her shoulder... It was what Old Man Rom always said to her when she left for a "job." A small prayer for her to come back in one piece. But from her mouth, to that boy, the words sounded empty, ironic. It was what you said. It was what you did. You look out for yourself, and everyone else can fend for themselves.
She didn't look back. Her feet carried her into the labyrinths of streets and rooftops that only she knew. That woman was a monster, her mind repeated. I can't risk it. I'll take the long way. The most complicated way. She'll never find me.
And with that thought, a promise to herself, Felt disappeared into the stone jungle of the capital, a blonde shadow running towards a sunset that was still hours away.
"Great, here we are."
The boy, looking at the three infamous thugs before him, faced reality in the worst way possible. Registering a tutorial instead of danger.
Okay, okay. What do we have here? He analyzed his enemies. "A tank, a short-range DPS... and a background NPC? Alright, focus on the two in front." Ignoring the skinny one for now, Subaru readied his fists, adopting a fighting stance he'd seen in some anime, probably incorrectly.
And then, they charged.
Charging at the big guy, Subaru couldn't help but smile as he felt his chest burn. Adrenaline was a drug, one he hadn't felt in years, maybe ever. It was better than any energy drink.
Dodging the brute's punch by sheer luck, he stumbled backward. The wind from the fist passed inches from his nose. "Dodge skill level one unlocked!" he shouted, more to himself than to them.
Landing a grazing elbow on the big guy's open chest, Subaru spun and punched the short one beside him. The impact on his hand hurt more than expected. A sharp pain shot through his knuckles. Shit, that actually hurts!
"Okay, maybe I should improve my endurance, noted," he said aloud, shaking his tense fist, his crooked smile not leaving his face.
The fight that followed was a mess. It was less an action choreography and more a bar brawl.
He took a punch to the face, his head snapping to the side, his vision exploding in white spots for a second. He tasted blood, metallic and warm. But the adrenaline was stronger; Subaru didn't let it get to him.
Come on! I'm in the lead here! he thought, feeling like the unlucky protagonist who gets beaten up at the beginning of the episode but is about to turn the tables.
Subaru dodged the big guy again, who then hit the short one with a right hook squarely in the face. The short one staggered, cursing his own friend. Holding back a crooked smile, Subaru didn't miss the chance to taunt. "What dumb minions! This AI is really lacking."
Taking advantage of the confusion, he acted. He didn't have strength, but he had unpredictability. Throwing himself awkwardly across the alley, Subaru used his momentum to trip the big guy, who, surprised, lost his balance.
At the same time, he pushed the short one, who was still dizzy, making him hit his head against the wall with a hollow thud.
They were both on the ground, groaning.
Subaru was breathless, bruised, but triumphant. His chest rose and fell, his form almost impeccable if not for his crooked nose. He leaned on his knees, trying to catch his breath, sweat dripping down his forehead and mixing with a trickle of blood.
He looked at the two "defeated" opponents. He pointed a trembling finger at them. "You... have just been... defeated by the main character!"
With the power of glory resonating in his senses, Subaru cast his rationality aside. "Too weak."
He finally turned to the last enemy, the skinny one, who had been standing in the middle of the alley, watching the whole time, filing his nails with an expression of boredom.
"So, weakling, are you gonna come at me, or are you just for decoration?" Subaru provoked, full of himself. He felt invincible. He had beaten two guys at once. This toothpick wouldn't be a problem.
The skinny one stopped filing his nails. He looked at Subaru, then at his friends on the ground, and a slow, unpleasant smile spread across his face. A smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Heh, then come."
With a fluid motion, the skinny one revealed what he had in his hands. Not one, but two knives in each hand. He twirled them with a frightening familiarity, the dim light of the alley dancing on the worn blades.
Subaru's mind stopped. The smile vanished. The hero's pose crumbled. His eyes widened.
"Two knives, dual-wielding. That's a high-level assassin build. I'm level 1. My 'bare fists' build has no chance. I'm screwed. I'm screwed. I'm screwed." The script in his head, which had been a shōnen power fantasy, suddenly became a slasher horror thriller.
He didn't freeze. He didn't get angry. He did the most rational and cowardly thing possible. He threw himself to his knees, hands clasped together, and began to bow repeatedly in a desperate plea. His forehead hit the dirty ground with a dull thud.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I'm trash! A worm! Please, don't kill me! I'll give you everything I have! Look, curry-flavored cup noodles! They're delicious!" He began to offer the shopping bag as a sacrifice, pushing it across the ground towards the skinny one.
The three thugs fell silent for a second, staring at the bizarre scene. The big guy and the short one, already getting up, looked more confused than anything else. The skinny one tilted his head, his expression of boredom replaced by one of pure contempt.
"What the hell is this?" the big guy finally said, wiping blood from his lip. "This guy's a complete idiot."
The skinny one sheathed one of his knives, approached slowly, and, without warning, kicked Subaru in the face while he was still bowing.
The impact threw Subaru's head to the side, pain exploding in his jaw. And with the pain, the real fear finally arrived. It wasn't a game anymore. It wasn't funny. That kick wasn't to subdue. It was to hurt.
"Please..." he choked out, the taste of blood stronger now.
"Shut up," the skinny one spat, before kicking him in the ribs.
The air left Subaru's lungs in a painful hiss. The other two joined in, their anger from the earlier humiliation now unleashed in a shower of kicks and punches.
Subaru curled up, trying to protect his head, his body trembling uncontrollably. He no longer thought about HP, about stats, about being the protagonist. He only thought about one thing.
I'm going to die. I'm going to die here. I don't want to die. Mom. Dad.
He cried. Not from anger, not from humiliation. Tears of pure, abject terror streamed down his face, mixing with the blood and dirt. He was just a scared kid, far from home, being beaten to death in a filthy alley because of a stupid fantasy.
The pain was a red fog. Each kick stole a little more of his consciousness. The sounds of the alley—the cruel laughter, the dull thud of the blows—began to distance themselves, as if he were sinking into water. His vision darkened at the edges, a tunnel closing in on the dim light of the alley.
A final thought, clear and sharp amidst the chaos, crossed his mind. It wasn't about being a hero. It wasn't about the new world. It was about the old one.
The image of his mother's face, smiling as she handed him a plate of food. His father's hand on his shoulder, a silent gesture of support he had always ignored.
A last sob escaped his lips, a broken word, an apology far too late.
"Sorry..."
And then, the darkness swallowed him whole.
"My insignia," Emilia stated, her voice a nearly lifeless thread of sound. Her fingers, which had been trembling uncontrollably moments before, now moved with a frightening calm, lightly scratching the spirit's neck. Her eyes, once mirrors of a cosmic pain, were now dull, colorless. "It's gone."
The fluffy, bristly fur of the flying cat against her cheek brought a minimal but cherished comfort. It was a real texture, a sensation of the here and now that kept her from completely drowning in the there and then.
Puck, who had been in a state of contained panic, felt a wave of relief at her words. A task. A goal. Something concrete to focus on, something to ground her. Finally, something he understood. He switched into action mode. "The golden-haired thief. I saw her. She went that way," he pointed with his paw, his voice filled with a newfound fury. "She won't get far. No one steals from you and gets away with it."
But then he stopped, hovering in mid-air. Her calmness was... wrong. It wasn't the calm of serenity. It was the calm of the void, the stillness of an abandoned house. He felt the strange, fragile armor she had erected around herself.
"Lia... are... are you sure?" he asked, his voice now soft, hesitant. "You don't have to... We can go back to the mansion. Roswaal can handle this. You need to rest."
He didn't know what she needed to rest from, but the exhaustion in her soul was palpable, an open wound in their contract.
Emilia interrupted him, not with rudeness, but with a hollow finality. "It's my duty, Puck. It's my Royal Selection insignia. I can't lose it." Her voice was monotonous, but firm. Each word, a stone placed in a wall to hold back the tide of memories.
She was the candidate, not a grieving girl. It was armor. And underneath the armor, she knew, there were only pieces.
Puck looked at her, at the empty determination on her face, and understood. Arguing would be useless. Worse, it might break the fragile control she had. If a mission was what kept her standing, then he would give her a mission.
Still furious about his earlier failure, about the fact that he had let someone get close enough to hurt her in a way he couldn't even comprehend, he revealed his plan.
"I marked her," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "When she fled, I launched a dozen ice fragments. It was chaotic, but deliberate. One of them hit her."
He remembered the small impact, the sliver of mana that had attached itself to the fabric of her vest.
"It wasn't to hurt. It was a... marker. A small portion of my mana that is now slowly dissipating into the atmosphere. It's a faint trail, almost a whisper on the wind, but I can follow it."
He felt proud of his own cunning, but a part of him hated himself for not having simply frozen the thief in place.
Emilia nodded, her face a mask of empty determination. "Then let's go." No questions about how it worked. No admiration for his skill. Just acceptance. Just the next step.
They began to move. Puck floated ahead, a small comet of fury and concern, guiding her through the bustling streets.
And Emilia followed, one step at a time, a silver-haired automaton, using the hunt for the insignia as a shield against the hunt of her own memories.
As the ice princess walked, her pale lips moved faintly, as if she were humming a lullaby that didn't belong to this world.
Her fingers were dug into her palms, the short nails leaving crescent-shaped marks, her knuckles white from the force.
Her face, hard as stone, revealed nothing. A cold porcelain mask. Her eyes, once so expressive, were empty pools. She hardly blinked.
She didn't dare look down. She didn't have the courage to look at her own body.
And the reason, she wanted to tear it off, throw it into the depths of a waterfall, or lock it away in a chest forever.
This body. It was a lie. A young, light shell that did not contain the weight of the soul it carried. To look at herself was a dissonance, a wrong note in a song only she could hear.
Her long, slender legs moved at a constant speed, a mechanical rhythm that required no thought.
The crowd was still visibly anxious, merchants sweeping shards of ice from their doorways, guards in some corners muttering and asking questions about the supposed incident. The looks they received were a mixture of fear and anger. Fear of the magic, anger at the destruction.
“——Thank you, Puck.”
“Hm?” The spirit, flying a little ahead, turned, his whiskers twitching with curiosity.
For someone as conspicuous as her, who was the spitting image of the supposed witch, there was no way to forget who was to blame for that whole scene back there, right? And the culprit was her.
She really had to thank her adoptive father for helping her this far. For saving her from herself. Even after making such a mess.
The spell he had used to pull her out of her trance was perhaps the same one he had used on the crowd. She noticed it now. The people weren't just scared; they seemed confused, disoriented. They all looked tired, a certain headache culminating in their minds.
Her fault, of course. Emilia was hurting civilians for her own safety. No, worse. For her own pain.
And the worst part was, she didn't even see it as reality. What was the point? The people there had souls, the children she saw asking for sweets were all alive. She knew that, intellectually. But her heart refused to feel it.
Because everything felt so… unreal? Like a crudely painted cardboard set. Like a fever dream she couldn't wake up from.
Living for so long in one place, indefinitely far away, had provoked this kind of thinking.
She never wanted to come back in the first place, never to set foot here again. She had come to believe that, at some point, her old life was just her imagination.
“Lia?” Puck's voice pulled her back from the spiral of thoughts, his concern a sharp pang in her chest.
“It's nothing.” She shook her head, the movement too abrupt. Waving her hands lightly, a gesture she used to make when she was nervous, an old habit resurfacing.
Which made the spirit raise an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, and then continue on his way, deciding not to press. For now.
They continued in silence for several minutes, the only sound being the echo of her footsteps on the pavement and the almost inaudible hum of Puck's mana.
The trail led them off the main street, towards a more residential district. It was quieter there. The streets were narrower, and small squares with dry fountains dotted the path.
It was in one of these squares that she stopped.
Her body froze before her mind could understand why.
There, under the afternoon light, a father was playing with his daughter. A little girl no more than five years old, her dark hair tied in a messy ponytail. The father tossed her into the air, just a little, and caught her in his strong arms.
Each time she went up, the girl let out a shrill laugh, a sound of pure, unadulterated joy that cut through the air and pierced Emilia's armor as if it didn't exist.
Suddenly, she was no longer in Lugunica.
The scene was a park in Japan, the late afternoon sun painting the sky orange and pink. Subaru was doing the exact same thing, tossing their little daughter into the air. Her hair, dark like his, flew in the wind, and her eyes, amethyst like Emilia's, shone with happiness.
"Higher, Daddy! Higher!" she would shout, her laughter the most perfect melody in the universe.
Emilia watched from a wooden bench, a forgotten book in her lap. She could smell the freshly cut grass and the scent of roses from the nearby garden. A smile so wide and genuine stretched her lips that her face ached. In that moment, the entire universe, with all its stars and galaxies, was reduced to that childish laughter and the look of love Subaru threw her over their daughter's shoulder.
"You see, Lia? She's not afraid of anything!" he shouted to her, the pride in his voice as palpable as the warmth of the sun on her skin.
She just nodded, her hand resting on the belly that already carried their second, and thought, "Of course she isn't. She's your daughter."
“LIA!”
Puck's sharp shout brought her back with the force of a slap.
The square in Lugunica came back into focus.
The father and daughter had stopped playing and were now looking at her with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
She was standing in the middle of the path, a silver-haired statue. One hand was on her chest, clutching the fabric of her dress with a force that wrinkled it. The other hand... the other hand was resting on her belly.
An instinctive gesture. A gesture to protect something that was no longer there.
Hot, silent tears streamed down her face, and she hadn't even realized she had started crying.
"Lia, what's wrong? What did you see?" Puck flew in front of her face, his large green eyes filled with a panic he could no longer hide. He followed her gaze to the family in the square. "They're just... people. Did they do something to you?"
Emilia shook her head, unable to form words. She took a step back, stumbling over her own feet. The sound of that child's laughter still echoed in her ears, a sweet torture.
...She turned and started walking, almost running, in the opposite direction of the square, following the insignia's trail with a renewed urgency.
It wasn't just about duty anymore.
Now, it was about running. Running from the memories. Running from the happiness she once had, which was now just a poison in her soul.
"Lia, slower!" Puck panted, trying to keep up. "The trail is faint, I'll lose it if you go so fast!"
Emilia ignored him. Her steps were fast, hard. Each strike of her heel on the pavement was an attempt to drown out the sound of that child's laughter in her mind.
They entered a busier street, a commercial artery pulsing with the life of the capital. The smell of food and the sound of loud conversations enveloped her, a chaos that, for a moment, helped to silence her thoughts.
It was then that she heard it.
A sharp, shrill sound. The sound of wooden wheels locking up, followed by a shout.
"WATCH OUT!"
Emilia turned instinctively. A cart, pulled by a frightened ground dragon, had lost control and was skidding towards a group of people on the sidewalk.
The scene before her dissolved, the colors blurring like ink in water. The world of Lugunica receded, and another took its place.
The scene was a busy street in a Japanese city. The sound wasn't of wooden wheels, but the sharp screech of car tires on wet asphalt. A car had lost control on a wet patch.
It was skidding towards a bus stop. Towards a black-haired man who had his back to it, looking at his phone, completely oblivious to the danger.
Time seemed to slow down. She saw the car spinning. She saw Subaru's face, who finally looked up, his eyes widening in shock.
She opened her mouth to scream his name, but no sound came out. Her body wouldn't move. She was too far away. She could only watch, paralyzed, as metal twisted and her world was about to end.
That day, a miracle happened. The car stopped inches from him, hitting a pole. Subaru was pale, trembling, but alive. Completely unharmed.
But the image... the image of the car coming towards him, the certainty that she was going to lose him in that instant, never left her.
The sound of a shop bell, ringing near her ear, tore her from the memory.
She blinked, the image of the car fading and giving way to the wooden cart, which was now stopped. A city guard was scolding the driver. No one had been hurt. The crisis in Lugunica had passed.
But the crisis in her mind was just beginning.
Emilia couldn't breathe. The panic of that memory, the feeling of absolute helplessness, the certainty of loss... it all came back with the force of a punch to the gut.
She couldn't stay there. She couldn't risk seeing something else, hearing another sound, that would remind her of the fragility of that life. Of his fragility.
And so, she ran.
Not a brisk walk. A real run. She pushed past people, ignoring the surprised looks and curses. The cold air cut into her lungs, but it was better than the suffocation of panic.
"Lia, wait! The trail!" Puck shouted, flying desperately after her.
But she didn't hear him. She only ran, the sound of her own footsteps and her heart pounding uncontrollably in her ears.
She was running from the danger that was no longer there.
Running from the memory of almost losing everything.
Running as if, if she stopped, the universe might try to take him from her again.
"Lia, this way!" Puck's voice sounded distant, an echo amidst the roar of blood in her ears. "The trail... it stops here!"
She obeyed the command without thinking, turning sharply into a dark opening between two buildings. An alley.
The moment her feet touched the shadow, the run came to a halt. The adrenaline that had propelled her dissipated, leaving behind a cold emptiness.
She leaned against the cold brick wall, her body finally giving out. Her legs trembled so much that she slid to the ground, sitting on the dirty, damp pavement.
She couldn't go on.
She couldn't breathe anymore.
The air wouldn't come in. Her chest refused to expand. It was as if invisible hands were crushing her, squeezing her lungs. Anxiety. Nervousness. Fear. The pain of a lost lifetime, which she had tried to outrun, now caught up to her with full force.
"No..." she choked out, the tears she no longer had the strength to hold back streaming freely. "I don't want this anymore..."
She clutched at her chest, her nails scratching the fabric of her dress, desperate for air, for relief.
"I DON'T WANT ANYTHING ANYMORE!" The scream came out torn, a sound of pure agony that echoed through the narrow alley walls.
And with the scream, they came. The flashes.
A wedding ring being placed on her finger.
The cry of a newborn.
A stolen kiss in the kitchen.
The word "grandma" spoken for the first time.
A wrinkled hand holding hers on a hospital bed.
Small fragments, shards of glass from a window that was once her life. She knew that if she focused on any of them, if she allowed the memory to deepen, she would break. She would turn to dust and be carried away by the wind. She squeezed her eyes shut, her head throbbing.
And in the midst of her madness, her self-imposed agony, something pierced the fog of her pain.
A smell.
A putrid, yet familiar smell. The smell of blood. Metallic, thick. That liquid crimson she knew all too well from a world of swords and monsters.
And then, a sound.
Almost inaudible. A small groan, the sound of someone who no longer had a voice to scream.
"Hhnk..."
The sound anchored her. It was real. It was present. It was someone else's pain.
As the cold, which now seemed to emanate from her, waltzed with the shadows of the alley, she opened her eyes.
And she saw.
In the darkest corner of the alley, a figure. A body.
A boy with black hair, thrown on the ground like a broken doll. His body covered in bruises, his clothes torn and stained with dust and blood. Near him, tossed aside, a jacket.
A color she recognized. Orange and black.
Emilia's heart, which she thought had turned to stone, stopped.
No.
The word wasn't a thought. It was a primal denial.
It can't be.
She stood up, her legs still trembling, but now moved by a different force. It wasn't duty. It wasn't escape. It was a terror so deep, so absolute, that it felt like hope.
"Lia...?" Puck whispered, sensing the abrupt and violent shift in her emotion.
She didn't hear him.
One step.
Then another.
Each step towards the fallen figure was an eternity. The sound of her shoes on the wet pavement was the only thing in the universe.
She knelt beside him. The smell of blood was stronger here. She could see the cuts, the bruises forming on his pale skin.
With a hand that trembled like a leaf in a storm, she reached out her fingers. She hesitated for a moment, the fear of what she would find almost paralyzing her.
And then, she touched his shoulder, turning him gently.
His face was swollen, a cut on his lip, a black eye forming. Dirty. Broken.
But it was him.
It was the face she had kissed every morning for decades. The face she had watched grow old, gain wrinkles of worry and joy. The face of the father of her children. The face of her Subaru.
But young. Terribly, impossibly young.
The air finally returned to her lungs, but in a sob that tore her soul apart. Time stopped. The world disappeared. There was only that face.
A single tear, the sum of a lifetime of love and loss, escaped her eye and dripped onto his bruised cheek.
And from her lips, a whisper, so quiet it was barely a sound, but which carried the weight of a lost universe.
"...Subaru?"
Notes:
For those who think Puck is a bit OOC, relax, there's an explanation for it. In short, he knows Emilia isn't the same.
By the way, the first three chapters were all written this weekend. I just took advantage of the time off to write.
I spend half the day at school, so don't expect updates every day.
Hope you enjoyed!
Chapter 4: Anachronism
Notes:
I woke up and just had to write. Seriously, I almost finished and posted this last night.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The first thing Subaru felt was pain.
Not a sharp pain, like from a cut, but a dull, deep, and all-encompassing ache. A pain that seemed to have seeped into every fiber of his being, like dark ink spreading through water.
It was the kind of pain that came with the weight of a body that had been used as a punching bag.
Hgrr…!
Of course, it's pain. Why would I feel anything else?
The irony of the thought almost made him smile, if his facial muscles weren't protesting with a throbbing sting.
He knew that his most childish part, the part that still believed in resets and save points, had hoped he would wake up in his bed. Perfectly cushioned by his sheets, with the familiar smell of his room and the hum of his computer in sleep mode.
But how dream-shattering could his own brain be, making him feel every limb, every sore muscle, throb in denial?
He almost let a curse slip out as he tried to move an arm, but it turned out that not even his jaw would move. It was as if his bones had been unscrewed and reassembled in the wrong order.
Everything feels out of place. Am I broken?
Subaru almost let out a cold laugh, a choked sound that died in his throat, not exactly enjoying how the universe had dragged him through the mud.
If you wanted me to study, to leave the house, to be useful to my parents, you could have at least left my bones intact.
Because now, I can barely feel my arms, he questioned. What good am I like this? A useless weight in a world that had already chewed me up and spit me out on the very first day.
“Hggk…”
Groaning, he tried to relax his tense muscles, focusing on his breathing, like manga protagonists do when they're concentrating.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Each breath sent a new wave of pain through his ribs.
Shit, I'm bleeding.
It wasn't a hemorrhage, but there were a few open wounds here and there. He could feel the fabric of his tracksuit stuck to a cut on his shoulder, the shirt making the open edges scream in protest at the slightest movement.
Relax, Subaru, relax. We're alive, we're… still alive.
He could barely convince himself. Everything felt like lead. There were more than five elephants on his back, and Subaru didn't know what to do with even one of them.
He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt glued shut. The world was a reddish darkness, filtered by his own lashes and the throbbing pain behind his eyeballs.
Come on… come on, wake up, body. I need you now. At least the eyes. Give me my eyes.
He tried to move, using all of his mental strength, since his physical strength had abandoned him. He focused, forcing the muscles in his eyelids to obey.
Slowly, with the effort of lifting a stone, he managed to open a slit.
The light blinded him. Not a strong light, but the gray, dim light of an alley was already too much for his battered eyes. He blinked, his vision blurry.
Shapes. Shadows. A brick wall. The dirty ground.
And… something else.
A soft, green light, pulsing near him. And a warmth. A gentle warmth that seemed to be pushing the pain away.
And then, his vision began to focus.
He saw a face. A face hovering over him, framed by hair that looked like liquid silver in the dim light. Eyes the color of amethysts, wide and… shining with unshed tears?
He tried to process the image. The heroine. The summoner. She finally showed up.
And she was… beautiful. So beautiful it hurt, a different kind of pain, a pain that made his forgotten heart beat faster.
Shame hit him like a second beating. She found him like this. Broken, dirty, pathetic.
He needed to say something. Make a joke. Show that he wasn't just a bag of trash in an alley.
It all stopped when, in the end, his ears heard something.
A voice. A whisper, so low he almost thought he'd imagined it. A soft melody amidst the noise of his own pain.
“…Subaru?”
Her heart was one step away from stopping.
For a second, the world was reduced to that broken face.
Time, which had previously tortured her with memories, now froze in a present of pure terror and recognition.
It's him.
Acting on instinct, an instinct forged over decades of care, she moved. With a gentleness that contrasted with the panic in her soul, she lifted his head, his coarse, dirty black hair brushing against her fingers. She settled him onto her lap, the fabric of her white dress quickly staining with the filth and blood of the alley.
She didn't care.
Her eyes scanned his body, and the sight made her chest tighten with a physical ache. His limbs were in erratic, unnatural positions. One arm was twisted at an angle that shouldn't be possible.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice a trembling breath. With a firm but gentle hand, she held his arm, bracing herself. She felt the dislocated bone beneath the skin. She closed her eyes for an instant and, with a swift, practiced motion, set it back into place.
The boy grunted, a guttural, broken sound, his exposed teeth clenching against the new wave of pain.
The sound, reverberating through Emilia's eardrums, struck her like a physical blow. She bit her lower lip, hard enough to taste the metallic tang of her own blood. His pain was her pain. Each of his groans was an echo of a lifetime of worries she thought she had left behind.
A soft, green light began to emanate from her hands. Healing magic. Instinctive. Primal. Coming from the spirits she barely had time to notice, it was an obligation. She needed to do more.
“Puck, help me.”
“Lia, this boy could be dangerous—”
The flying cat's voice was a low growl. He floated above them, his green eyes narrowed, examining every speck of broken grit on the stranger's body. But it wasn't the boy's physical state that worried him. It was Emilia's.
He could feel it. The torrent of complex emotions exploding from her, all directed at him.
What is this? Puck barely had time to think, the imminence of danger loud and clear in his spiritual senses. This love… this pain… this familiarity… where is all this coming from? She's never seen him before. I've never seen him before. This makes no sense.
“Lia, get away from him. What do you want with a stranger?” He ignored the word she had called out, the name she had almost screamed in supplication moments before. A figment of her imagination, the spirit considered, a hallucination caused by the shock. That's all it can be.
“Puck, stop.” Her voice cut him off, not loud, but with a thread of steel he rarely heard, or rather, had never heard. She didn't take her eyes off Subaru's face. “Just… heal him. Please.”
The command made him flinch. But it was the "please" that disarmed him. That "please" wasn't a request. It was a plea. It was the voice of his Lia, the girl he had sworn to protect, begging for the life of a complete stranger.
She was asserting her will, but also showing her vulnerability.
Puck obeyed, reluctantly. A small ball of blue light formed on his paw, and he directed it toward Subaru's chest, focusing on the internal injuries. But his eyes never left the boy's face, fixed, suspicious.
I'll heal him, Lia. But I'll be watching. And at the first sign that he's a threat to you… I'll turn him into an ice statue.
× × ×
Under the combined glow of their magic, she saw his body relax. The tension that had kept him as stiff as a board began to dissipate. She watched his face, the way his eyebrows, once furrowed in agony, softened. He seemed to be concentrating, trying to understand the sensation.
Then, with a visible effort, he managed to open a slit in his eyes. The dim light of the alley seemed to blind him for a moment. He blinked, his vision blurry.
And then, he saw her.
His vision focused on her. She saw the exact moment the confusion in his eyes gave way to something else. Admiration. Awe. The intensity of his gaze made her feel a familiar warmth in her chest, a warmth she immediately tried to suppress.
She saw him look around, his head still in her lap, and an almost imperceptible smile, a spasm of satisfaction, crossed his bruised lips.
She continued to run her fingers through his hair, a gesture that was meant to be practical but became something more. She felt his gaze roaming over her, taking in every corner of her face, from her silver hair to her pointed ears. It was an appraising, curious look that made her feel a little self-conscious.
Then, his gaze fixed on hers again, and she saw his perception shift. He seemed to notice the sadness, the wet gleam in her eyes. He flinched slightly, the admiration giving way to an expression of shame.
Realizing why, Emilia quickly wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, surprised there were still tears left to dry.
She saw him stir, trying to get up from her lap, as if to prove he didn't need pity or care.
One of her hands landed gently on his shoulder, but with a firmness that stopped him from moving.
“Don’t move. You’re hurt.”
He froze, his body still not from the pain, but from her voice. She saw the surprise in his eyes, followed by a new wave of admiration.
And then, he forced a smile, a smile that, with his cut lip, just looked painful and pathetic.
“Are you the… woman who summoned me? You’re a little late to the party.”
The joke hung in the heavy air of the alley for a moment.
Weak. Hoarse. Pathetic.
But it was unmistakably him.
Emilia felt her heart clench. Not a sharp pain, but a slow, aching squeeze, like a hand closing around an already tired muscle.
Oh, Subaru. Please. Not now.
It was the same sense of humor. The same attempt to use bravado to mask fear and pain. The same stubbornness she had loved and hated in equal measure for a lifetime.
She watched his swollen eyes, which stared at her with a mixture of admiration, hope, and a hint of boyish flirtation. That look… it was almost enough to make her chest heave with a sob. He was believing in fiction. In a fantasy of a hero and a damsel that she knew, with the bitter certainty of one who had already lived to the end, would only end in blood and tears.
That joke, that look… it was the bitter proof that he was just a boy. A boy she needed to protect from himself.
She saw him relax his shoulders, sinking back into her lap. The look of defeat on his face didn't seem to come from the pain, but from her quiet authority. He was looking at her now with a new layer of confusion, the admiration mixed with a hint of caution.
His youthful insecurity was so transparent to her, so painfully familiar.
She ignored the joke, her voice coming out softer than she intended, but with a firmness she forced herself to have. “Don’t move. You’re injured.”
“Injured? Nah, I’m fine!” he insisted, his voice trying to be strong. She watched him try to push himself up on his elbows, only to retreat with a low groan as a stab of pain hit his ribs. The grimace he made… it was the same one he used to make when he tried to carry grocery bags that were too heavy, his brow furrowed in a stubbornness that made her want to both laugh and scold him. “Just a few… uh, a few spots out of alignment. Don’t worry—”
“Do. Not. Move.”
She said each word slowly, with deliberate clarity. It wasn't a harsh command, but the calm authority of a mother speaking to a feverish child.
He fell silent.
She saw the subtle shift in his expression when she didn't laugh. The smile faltered, and a distressed, confused look took its place. It was the face of someone who had told a joke to the wrong person at the wrong time.
To soothe him, and perhaps to soothe herself, she brought her hand to his hair. The strands were coarse and dirty, but beneath her fingers, she could still feel the texture she knew so well. She began to probe his head for injuries, a practical gesture that hid a desperate need to touch him.
She felt his heart race under her healing hand and saw the way he looked at her, admiration and confusion warring in his eyes. Her other hand, which rested near his, moved on its own, her fingers brushing against his in a light touch.
A gesture she had made a million times. For him, it was likely a jolt of intimacy. For her, it was just… breathing.
Then, she saw him gather his courage, his jaw setting.
“Um… What’s your name?”
The question hit her. Emilia Natsuki. The name rose in her throat, so natural, so true. And so impossible. She swallowed, pushing the name back down into the depths of her soul, where it belonged now.
She forced a smile, a slow, painful movement of her lips. She saw his eye flinch shut, as if he were expecting to be scolded. The sight was so absurdly… Subaru, that the smile became a little more genuine.
“Emilia…” she said, her voice soft. She paused, her brow furrowing as she remembered who she was before. Nodding to herself, she completed it. “Emilia. Just Emilia.”
Emilia watched his face relax, the admiration returning in full force. He didn't seem to notice the hesitation.
“What a beautiful name…” he whispered, and the sincerity in his voice was another small stab to her heart.
He was looking at her as if she were a goddess. And she was looking at him and seeing the ghost of her husband, the father of her children, the boy she knew better than she knew herself.
And neither of them knew the truth about the other.
× × ×
The time that passed afterward was raw.
Fifteen minutes. It could have been fifteen seconds or fifteen years. Time had lost its meaning.
It was just an uncomfortable silence, filled by the distant sound of the city and the rhythm of two breaths: his, which grew calmer and more regular with each passing minute, and hers, which she had to force in and out of her lungs.
Emilia continued to stroke the young man's head, the movement a slow and steady pendulum. An automatic gesture that kept her hands busy, that stopped her from grabbing him and screaming, "Don't you remember?".
“————”
Subaru said nothing.
She watched him. He kept looking at the sunlit cracks in the brick wall, his eyes following the motes of dust dancing in the light. His lungs, now healed, breathed in appeasement. He was recovering.
Every now and then, his eyes would dart to her face, but only for a second. The instant their gazes met, he would quickly look away, a hint of shame or shyness in his expression.
And every averted gaze was a stab.
She faced it as a painful reality.
The time she spent stroking his head was necessary, yes. But not for him. It was for her. It was a selfish act. Something to allow her to compose herself in the face of a reality that was on the verge of crushing her.
Every second of silence, as she saw it, was simply a comfort for her heart to try and restructure itself. A time for the truth, the horrible truth, to settle in her bones.
He doesn't remember.
The phrase echoed in her mind, a funeral bell. Her amethyst eyes, reflecting the face of the boy beneath her, almost closed as she felt a torturous barrage of loneliness.
It was clear from the beginning. Her life, her appearance, all new, all rehabilitated. A cruel second chance.
She had him back. The face, the voice, the stubbornness, the soul. But he was just a boy again. Without the memories. Without the decades of laughter, of fights, of sleepless nights with crying babies, of holding hands in silence. Without the memories she remembered and saw.
He doesn't remember.
He didn't remember the day they got married, the way his hand trembled as he placed the ring on her finger.
He didn't remember the birth of their first daughter, his tears of pure joy as he held her for the first time.
He didn't remember the inside jokes, the secret nicknames, the promises whispered in the darkness. He didn't remember growing old beside her.
Her chest still ached. A dull, constant pain that healing magic couldn't touch. A single, stubborn tear formed in the corner of her eye, wanting to follow the same path as the others.
She held it back with force.
She couldn't cry. Not in front of him. He was already scared and confused. The last thing he needed was a strange girl breaking down on him for no apparent reason.
She was a stranger to him.
The realization hit her with the force of a punch. To the man in her lap, she was just a beautiful girl who had saved him. A potential heroine. A fantasy.
To her, he was her entire world.
And that gap, that abyss between their two realities, was the definition of loneliness.
The heavy, charged silence was broken by a sharp sound.
“Alright, alright, alright. I think that’s enough weirdness for one day.”
Clapping his paws in the air, the furry spirit drew the attention of them both, his shrill voice cutting through the quiet of the alley.
Emilia just turned her head, the movement slow, as if coming out of a trance.
Subaru, on the other hand, looked up, his mouth falling open in pure astonishment. “A flying cat!”
“Hm? Yes, exactly. A flying cat.” Puck nodded theatrically, floating until he was face-to-face with Subaru, his whiskers twitching. He looked the boy up and down with an air of superiority. “And you are? A broken boy?”
“Guh?!” The indignation in Subaru’s voice was almost comical. “A flying, talking cat! Who doesn’t mince his words, apparently!”
“Teehee!” The ball of fur stuck out his tongue, a childish gesture that contrasted with the sharp look in his eyes.
Emilia watched the exchange, a ghost of a familiar feeling rising in her chest. The way Subaru immediately got into an argument with Puck… it was so normal. So painfully normal. She saw the boy give a mock snarl, and she knew that beneath that facade of irritation, he was having fun. Hiding a smile up his sleeve.
That small moment of normalcy was what made her move.
With that, Emilia proceeded.
“Huh… I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft, but it carried a weight she hoped he wouldn’t notice. She gently removed her hand from his hair, the broken contact leaving a cold emptiness on her fingers.
“Let’s get up. You should be feeling better now.”
She said the words with a compassion she didn't even believe herself. It was what one was supposed to say. It was the role she needed to play. The gentle savior.
Subaru looked at her, his expression of indignation at Puck replaced by an exaggerated pout.
“Oh, I could live here for the rest of my life, if it’s no trouble.”
“————”
He expected a laugh, maybe a playful scolding.
But Emilia just stared at him, her face a porcelain mask. Her expression, hard, emotionless.
He broke into a cold sweat. His confidence wavered, and he seemed to shrink a little, already figuring this woman was a bit of a tough nut to crack.
But then, she allowed herself a small slip. The image of him, a beaten-up boy trying to flirt from her lap, was so absurdly Subaru that she couldn't hold it in.
Her eyelids widened for a moment, and a sound escaped her lips.
“Heheh…”
It was a light laugh, almost a breath. She instinctively brought her fingers to her lips to hide it, a gesture she hadn't made in years, but that felt natural. “Some other time.”
Subaru’s face lit up, relief and triumph written all over it. “Some other time?! Uh… I don’t—”
“Nuh-uh-uh, boy.” The flying cat cut in, floating between them like a furry traffic cop, raining on the slightly blushing boy's parade. “That was divine courtesy. My Lia gave you what not even an angel could grant.”
Puck circled Subaru’s head, analyzing him with contempt. “You, a punctured, wrecked mess, with those creepy eyes—”
“Hey! I can’t change my eyes!” Subaru protested, his hand instinctively going to the corner of his eye.
“—think you can get a gift like that again?” Puck continued, ignoring him completely. “And what’s more, without the permission of his most honorable father?” He puffed out his chest, pointing a paw at himself.
Subaru raised an eyebrow, the challenge returning to his eyes.
“So you’re the father?” He looked from Puck to Emilia, then back to Puck, a mischievous grin forming.
“Then get ready, because your daughter is already on her way to succumbing to my impeccable charm.”
He snapped his fingers, a weak, pathetic sound in the alley's air, challenging the flying cat.
Emilia watched the scene, and for a moment, the pain in her chest was replaced by a bittersweet feeling.
It was like watching an old movie. A movie she loved, but knew had a sad ending.
A few more minutes of verbal sparring between the cat and the boy passed.
Emilia watched in silence as Subaru and Puck engaged in a battle of childish insults. Puck called him "dead-fish eyes," and Subaru retorted that "cats shouldn't talk, let alone fly." It was a theater of the absurd, but one that, for a moment, kept reality at bay.
Finally, with a last "Tsk!" directed at Puck, Subaru got up.
He staggered a bit, his legs still unsteady, and brushed off his clothes with his hands. He was covered in dirt, the alley's dust clinging to his black pants. There was some dried blood here and there, and even more grime. He looked like he had rolled in a mud puddle.
Noticing his jacket, which was preserved on the step of the stairs where he had fallen, he picked it up. The garment was warm in his hands, thanks to the sunlight filtering into the alley. The blood, barely visible on the dark fabric, was dry. It was wearable.
Well, the dirt is more prominent, he seemed to think, so no one will be scared if I walk around with it. They'll just assume I came from a construction site.
He put on the jacket, the movement a little stiff, and then turned to her.
The look of bravado on his face was gone, replaced by one of genuine guilt.
“Uhh… uh, sorry, okay?” Subaru said, turning his head. He watched Emilia get up, and his gaze fixed on her skirt. The immaculate white fabric was now dirty, stained with the dust from the ground and a bit of his blood. “Really sorry… I’ll make it up to you sometime…”
He gestured, not knowing how to finish the sentence. I'll pay you back someday? Buy you a new dress? The words seemed inadequate.
Emilia looked down at her own skirt, as if only now noticing the dirt. To her, it was an insignificant stain. She had dealt with far worse blood and grime.
“Hm-mm, you don't need to apologize.” She shook her head, cutting him off with a firm gentleness. “I don’t mind.”
And it was true. She didn't care about the dress. What bothered her was the guilt on his face. That look… it was the same one he made when he broke a plate or forgot an anniversary. A guilt so sincere and childish.
Subaru, on the other hand, still felt guilty. She could see it. He made a mental note; she recognized the expression. I'll have to pay her back as soon as I can.
But for now, reluctantly pushing the guilt to the back of his mind, he began, the enthusiasm returning to his voice.
“So… what’s the deal? Did you summon me here? I wouldn’t doubt it.” He grinned, a wide smile full of expectation, like a child on Christmas morning.
“————”
Emilia fell silent. The question caught her by surprise. Summoned?
She searched for the right words, but her mind was blank. How could she explain the complexities of this world's magic to someone who thought he was a game character? How could she say, "No, I didn't summon you. You just… appeared. And your appearance coincided with the moment my life…" The thought died before she could finish it.
Meanwhile, the furry spirit tilted his head to the side, his whiskers twitching in genuine confusion. He didn't understand where the boy was going with this.
“Summoned?” Puck asked, placing a paw on his snout in a thoughtful gesture. “What do you mean by that?”
He looked from Subaru to Emilia, trying to connect the dots. The boy's sudden appearance. Lia's extreme reaction. The talk of "summoning."
This boy…
The fire spirit almost snorted at the sheer coincidence of it all. His Lia didn't even seem like herself anymore. The thief had passed through the same spot as this kid. And on top of that, Lia's extreme attitude, wanting to help him.
Lia had always been like that, kind and good to everyone. But this punk… there was something different in the way she treated him. An urgency. A need.
Puck remained silent, the suspicion still there, growing with every passing second.
“Yeah, duh? You guys don’t know? I mean… how do you know me then?” Subaru asked, placing a finger on his chin.
“Subaru…?”
The memory seemed vague. But he remembered it all the same. Her voice, a whisper that had brought him back from the darkness.
In the first place, he had never told her his name. He was sure of it. He had been about to do just that, to shout it out loud, proudly introducing himself as the newly arrived hero.
But thinking about it… if she knew his name, then she had to be the summoner. Right? The logic was simple.
He looked at her, waiting for a confirmation, a "gotcha" smile.
But what he saw was panic.
“I…” Emilia clasped her hands in front of her, her fingers twisting, rubbing against each other in a gesture of pure nervousness and anxiety. She couldn't find the words at all.
Her brain screamed. Tell the truth. Tell him you know him from another place, another time. Tell him you love him.
Her heart whispered. No. You can't. You'll destroy him. You'll destroy yourself.
She took a deep breath, the cold alley air burning her lungs. She had to say something. Anything. A lie. A half-truth.
“Look.” She sighed, the sound heavy with an exhaustion that went far beyond that day. She met his eyes, forcing herself to hold his gaze.
“All you need to know… I mean… for now, let’s just say you’re here by chance.”
She saw the confusion on his face deepen.
“And well… so am I.”
It was the closest thing to the truth she could offer. She was also there by chance. A cruel chance of fate that had ripped her from her home and thrown her back into this world.
“By chance?” He raised an eyebrow, his hand now scratching his forehead in a gesture of frustration. “Two chances meeting in a random alley where one of them almost got killed? Sorry… that’s a little hard to understand.”
The casual joke about his own death.
The way he said it, with a sarcastic tone, as if he were talking about a trivial event in a game.
It hit her.
The image of him, moments before, thrown on the ground like a broken doll, blood staining his clothes, his face swollen… The image of him, about to die in just a few hours if she hadn't found him.
The joke wasn't funny. It was a cruel reminder of his fragility. Of the fragility of the life she had lost.
A coldness took over her expression.
“Don’t joke about that,” she said, her voice low, but sharp as a shard of ice.
Subaru flinched, surprised by the abrupt change in her tone. The smile vanished from his face. “Huh? I was just…”
“Never,” she interrupted, her amethyst eyes fixed on his, the sadness in them replaced by a fierce intensity. “Never joke about your death again. Do you understand me?”
He swallowed hard, intimidated by her seriousness. He didn't understand where that reaction came from, but the pain in her voice was undeniable.
“…Okay,” he whispered, nodding slowly. “I get it.”
Emilia let out a sigh, the intensity dissipating, leaving only exhaustion behind. She looked away, feeling guilty for being so harsh, but unable to apologize. She was still searching for the right words to his previous question.
But the truth was, there were no right words for a situation so fundamentally wrong.
Puck glanced at her.
Her gaze, the way she had scolded the boy with a ferocity he had never seen… it was profoundly new. It almost startled him.
But deep within his spirit nature, a part of him, the animalistic part, the Beast of the End, felt a flash of pride. It was a reflection of his own possessiveness, his own protective fury. That's it, Lia. Don't let anyone disrespect you.
But the feeling was fleeting, replaced by a deep unease. He preferred the Lia from before, the child he could guide and protect. This new facet was strange. It was proof that she was different. That she had seen something back there that had changed her.
He needed to intervene. He needed to bring back some normalcy, some control.
Slowly, Puck approached, floating silently to her pointed ear.
He could have used telepathy, but he wanted the boy to hear.
"Lia," he whispered, his voice low but clear. "The insignia."
The word hit her like a shock of cold water.
It made her eyes widen.
The insignia.
The word didn't bring a sense of duty. It brought a knot in her stomach.
For a moment, a glorious, simple moment, she had forgotten. Forgotten everything. The world had been reduced to that alley, to that boy. The plan was simple: take him to Roswaal's mansion, take care of him, try to explain the unexplainable.
But the insignia… the insignia meant the Royal Selection.
It meant the promise to the Dragon's blood.
It meant the responsibility she had placed on her own shoulders.
It meant the Elior Forest. The elves. The guilt that haunted her, the lives she had frozen.
She almost bit her lip, hard. Her life, which was already a tangle of obligations and guilt, now had a new and terrifying variable: him.
She couldn't abandon Subaru. The idea was so absurd it didn't even form as a coherent thought. But to take him with her on this search?
She looked at him. At his still-frail body, at the innocence in his eyes. He was so… fragile. He had almost died. Right there. In front of her. If she had arrived a minute later…
It was a sign. Maybe from Od Laguna, maybe from the universe itself. A warning. He couldn't be left unsupervised. But he also couldn't be dragged into her dangerous life, into the hunt for the crown. Those problems were hers, and hers alone.
Her mind spun, trapped between the instinct to protect him, keeping him in a bubble, and the reality that her own life was a storm.
How could she do both?
“Are you in trouble?”
Subaru's voice pulled her from her spiraling thoughts. She looked up and saw him looking at her, his head tilted, a genuine expression of concern on his face. He had heard Puck's whisper.
“You know, I have a knack for searching,” he continued, a bit of his old bravado returning. He took a step forward, gesturing with his hands. “I’m great at finding lost things. Keys, remote controls… I once found a light novel my dad lost behind the sofa for six months. Maybe I can help.”
He still felt the responsibility to return her favor. That sad look, the furrowed brows on her face… it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had made her worry. He had dirtied her dress. And above all, she had saved him.
He had to help. He had to be of some use. Otherwise, again, what good was he? A burden? A useless NEET in two different worlds? The idea terrified him.
“————”
Emilia remained silent.
His offer, so innocent, so full of good intentions, was like salt on an open wound.
Help? she thought, her heart clenching. You don't understand, Subaru. The problem isn't the insignia. The problem is you. The problem is me. The problem is us.
She looked at the ground, her eyes fixed on his shoes. Sneakers. So out of place in this world of leather boots and sandals. A constant reminder of where he came from. Of where they came from.
Her mind tried to find an answer, a solution.
Option A: Accept his help. Take him with her on the search for the insignia. But that meant exposing him to danger. To a possibly skilled thief, who wanted who-knows-what with the insignia. Value? Money? The bureaucratic power it represented? Whatever the reason, it was dangerous. The image of him, bloodied on the ground, returned to her mind with nauseating clarity. No. Impossible.
Option B: Refuse his help. Tell him to stay there, or find a safe place. But how? He had no money, knew no one, understood nothing. Leaving him alone was the same as abandoning him to his fate. And he was already hurt. Why was he hurt? The question surfaced in her mind, a sharp concern she had pushed aside in the shock of their reunion. She filed the question away for later. His safety was the priority. And what if he got into more trouble? No. Impossible.
Option C: Take him to Roswaal's mansion and leave him there, safe, while she solved her own problems. It was the most logical option. The safest for him. But the idea of separating from him, now that she had just found him… the idea of leaving him alone in a strange place, surrounded by people she barely trusted… it was unbearable.
She was trapped. Every option was a dead end, a choice between bad and worse.
She felt his gaze on her, waiting for an answer. A gaze full of a hope she couldn't possibly meet.
She lifted her head, and the expression on her face was a mixture of gratitude and panic.
"I..." she began, her voice failing. "I don't know.”
"I... I don't know."
Subaru blinked, the expectant look on his face wilting into one of confusion. He had expected a "yes" or a "no." A "thank you, but I don't need help" or a "great, let's go!". He hadn't expected... uncertainty. Wasn't the heroine of the story supposed to know what to do?
Emilia saw his confusion and looked away, not out of shame, but out of frustration with herself. She should have an answer. She, who had managed a household, raised children, navigated family crises... she should be able to solve a simple logistical problem like this. But there she was, paralyzed, her heart at war not between duty and desire, but between equally terrible options.
The options spun in her head, each one more impossible than the last.
Leave him? No.
Take him into danger? No.
Separate from him? No.
No. No. No.
The word echoed in her mind, a wall blocking every logical path.
And in the silence that followed, a new option, a fourth option, began to form. It wasn't a logical option. It wasn't a safe option. It was an option born of the purest, most selfish desperation.
If I can't leave him…
If I can't send him into danger…
If I can't separate from him… then he has to stay with me.
The conclusion was as terrifying as it was liberating.
She couldn't guarantee his safety if he was far away.
She didn't trust anyone else to take care of him. The only way to ensure he was safe was to keep him by her side. Glued to her. Where she could see him, hear him, protect him.
It was the only possible logic. The logic of someone who had already lost everything once and refused to risk losing it again. Putting Subaru's well-being at the top wasn't a choice between duty and heart; it was the only priority that mattered. Everything else—the insignia, the selection, the fate of the kingdom—was just a secondary detail. It was perfectly rational.
And it was the only thing her broken heart would allow her to do.
She took a deep breath, making her decision.
"Okay," she said, her voice firmer now. She met his eyes, the uncertainty in her gaze replaced by a reluctant resolve.
"What was stolen from me is important," she began, choosing her words carefully. "I need to get it back. It's... dangerous."
She paused, letting the word "dangerous" hang in the air, hoping he would understand the implications.
"I can't leave you alone. And I can't send you to the mansion without me. So..."
She held out her hand to him. An invitation. A command.
"You're coming with me. But you will stay close. Very close. You will do nothing, say nothing, and not get into trouble. You will just... stay by my side. Where I can see you."
She stared at him, her amethyst eyes intense, daring him to argue.
"Can you do that?"
"Can you do that?"
The question hung in the air, and to say Subaru was stunned was an understatement.
His mind, still recovering from the beating and the information overload, tried to process what she had said.
Stay close. Very close. Do nothing. Say nothing.
Stick to her? Never leave her side? Holding hands? Hugging?
Okay, she didn't say those last two parts, I know.
But the implication… it was too much.
Intrigued was more than the right word to describe his lack of response, or rather, his gaping mouth at that moment.
He looked at her. At the silver hair, the amethyst eyes, the serious expression.
Could it be? The absurd and egocentric thought popped into his head. Is this woman, this goddess, in love with me or something? She summoned me, saved me, is taking care of me… and now she wants me to stick to her? This is a romance route event! This is it! I knew it!
The confidence that had been brutally beaten out of him moments before began to bubble back up. He needed to test this theory.
“You know…” he began, trying to sound charming and not like a complete idiot. “Sticking so close to a man isn't very safe, you know?”
He asked, wanting to add fuel to the fire. A little provocation to see her reaction. He expected a blush, a stutter, a "W-what are you saying?!". Something to confirm his suspicions.
“————”
However, what he got was the same stone face she always made.
She just stared at him, her expression completely unchanged. Not a blink. Not a change in her breathing. Nothing.
Seriously? he thought, his jaw dropping a little. This woman was beautiful, perfect, apparently kind—to be helping a broken and bloodied homeless guy—but that face…
He had a long way to go.
Because it seemed impossible to get any reaction out of her. His flirting, which he considered top-tier (based on his vast experience with visual novels), wasn't even making her blink.
Seriously, what's her deal? Is she immune to my charm? Or is the standard for flirting in this world different? Maybe I should try being more direct? Or more poetic?
As his mind raced, he realized he still hadn't answered. And she was still waiting, her hand outstretched.
“Okay,” he said quickly, feeling his face heat up. He scratched his cheek, hiding part of the blush. “I have no problem bumping into a pretty girl.”
He tried to sound cool, but the line came out more like that of a nervous teenager.
And finally, he heard something.
A sigh.
A small, almost inaudible sigh, coming from her. But it carried the breeze of a massive sigh, the kind of sigh that bore the weight of the world.
The sound brought him back to reality. She wasn't playing a game. She was tired. And he was being an idiot.
With an impulse of sincerity, he took her hand.
Her hand was soft, but cold. And small. Her slender fingers fit into his in a way that felt… right.
For the love of, look at those cute fingers! Small! Slender!
He tried to suppress the thought, focusing on the seriousness of the moment.
She looked at their joined hands for an instant, and he saw an emotion flash through her eyes, something he couldn't identify. Pain? Longing?
Then, she looked at him, and the mask of neutrality returned.
“Very well,” she said, her voice firm.
And with a gentle squeeze, she pulled him close.
The transition from shadow to light was abrupt. As they left the alley, the main street welcomed them with an explosion of life.
For Subaru, it was like truly breathing. The air entered with a freedom he hadn't felt before. He widened his eyes, the wonder of his arrival returning, but now with a new clarity. He still felt like he was in a game, but now, the "main character" was by his side.
For Emilia, the sensation was the opposite.
The noise of the crowd seemed louder. The colors, stronger. The smells, more intense. For her, it was oppressive. For him, it was exciting.
Instinctively, her fingers tightened around his hand. A small, almost imperceptible gesture to ensure he wouldn't get lost in the stream of strangers.
They walked in silence for a moment. A trio that didn't fit in: a half-elf with a distant expression, a boy in strange clothes looking at everything, and a small spirit floating between them.
The crowd parted for them, the kind of space people give to the unusual.
After a few minutes, Subaru's curiosity won out. He hesitated, glancing quickly at her face.
“Okay… so this is like… a recovery quest, right?” he asked, his voice a little lower.
“We have to get an item back?”
Emilia heard the words. Quest. Item. The way he saw things. She kept her gaze fixed ahead, focused on the path and the passing faces. Her mind was busy, tracking the target.
“It’s complicated,” she replied, her voice a thread of sound.
He seemed to accept that. “A thief, then?”
“Yes,” she confirmed, her gaze still scanning the street. “She’s fast.”
They continued their steps. The silence returned, filled only by the sound of the city.
Each step side-by-side was a step in two different worlds.
"Got it, the quest..."
The tense silence was finally broken, not by Subaru, but by a gray ball of fur who decided that enough peace was enough.
Puck, who had been floating silently behind them like a suspicious judge, zipped forward, positioning himself exactly between the two. The movement was abrupt, a small comet of irritation hovering at Subaru's eye level.
"The 'quest'," Puck said, his voice sharp and laced with contempt, mimicking Subaru's word as if it were a bad taste in his mouth. "Is to recover what belongs to Lia. And you, 'broken boy', will stay quiet and not get in the way."
The words, sharp as little shards of ice, hit Subaru like an arrow. A shiver ran down his chest, a mixture of indignation and genuine shock at the small creature's hostility. Broken boy. The nickname vividly reminded him of the cold alley floor, the pain, the humiliation. For an instant, his bravado wavered.
But only for an instant.
The part of Subaru that refused to be a victim, the part that saw everything as a stage, took control. Intimidation? No. This was a challenge. A dialogue event with a hostile NPC. He knew how to handle this.
A crooked grin spread across his face.
"Ah, so you're the 'quest-giving NPC'?" he retorted, his tone mocking. "Alright, 'Cat Dad', you got it. I'll be so quiet you won't even notice my heroic presence."
Puck narrowed his eyes, his whiskers twitching with irritation. "'Cat Dad'?"
"Yeah. Didn't you say you were her dad? And you're a cat. Therefore, Cat Dad. Or do you prefer 'Bossy Furball'? I'm open to suggestions."
They continued their steps, but the walk now had a soundtrack: an exchange of barbs that drew curious glances from passersby.
"You have the audacity of a sewer lizard, you know that?" Puck hissed, circling Subaru's head like a small shark.
"And you've got the size of one, but with way more fur!" Subaru shot back, gesturing with his free hand. "Seriously, what's your problem? Jealous because your daughter prefers the company of a charming man like me?"
"Charm? You smell of dust and dried blood! And those dead-fish eyes of yours are an offense to aesthetics!"
"Hey! The eyes are genetic! And I just got beaten up, what's your excuse for being so annoying?"
Emilia, walking a step ahead, listened to the argument unfold behind her. Her expression, previously tense and distant, softened imperceptibly.
On one hand, it was exhausting. The childish noise, the need to intervene before Puck lost his patience and froze Subaru's tongue. It was one more thing to worry about, another layer of chaos on an already unbearable day.
But on the other hand… it was familiar.
So painfully, terribly familiar.
The way they argued. The instant dynamic of rivalry. The way Subaru, even injured and in a strange world, wouldn't back down an inch from an authority he didn't respect. The way Puck, the Great Spirit, would lower himself to such a puerile exchange of insults.
It was an echo.
An echo of countless Sunday afternoons in the living room. An echo of arguments over what channel to watch, over who ate the last piece of cake, over Subaru's bad jokes that Puck never understood.
For a moment, the bustling street of Lugunica disappeared. She could almost smell Naoko's tea and hear the sound of the television in the background.
The memory was a ghost, a gentle touch on her shoulder. And with it, a reaction she couldn't contain.
A small, almost imperceptible smile touched the corner of her lips.
It wasn't a smile of joy. It was a bittersweet smile, the kind you give when looking at an old photograph of someone you've lost. A recognition of the beauty of something that no longer exists.
It lasted only a second.
Then, the reality of the royal capital returned in full force, and the smile vanished, swallowed by the mask of neutrality she fought so hard to maintain.
The exchange of insults between Subaru and Puck died down into a tense silence, with both of them glaring at each other. After a few more seconds of walking, Subaru looked away from the floating cat and turned to Emilia.
“I can walk on my own, you know?” he said, his voice a bit more serious. He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, a nervous gesture that betrayed his attempt to look confident. “I mean, not that I’m refusing to hold hands with you, of course.”
Emilia raised an eyebrow, the movement subtle. She genuinely didn't understand where he was going with this. His hand in hers was a matter of security, of control. It wasn't a romantic stroll.
“Let me introduce myself properly,” he insisted, as if that explained everything.
“There’s no need,” she refused immediately. The thought of letting him go, of breaking that physical contact, however small, sent a chill of alarm down her spine.
“Yes, there is,” he retorted, stubbornness shining in his eyes. “You introduced yourself, I didn't.”
She hesitated. His logic was childish, but his determination was real. She could feel his need to assert some independence, to not just be the "broken boy" she was dragging along.
“You don’t need to let go of my hand for that,” she tried, one last attempt to maintain control.
The silence that followed was a battle of wills.
He stopped walking and faced her. And then, he did it. The face.
It wasn't an expression of anger or pleading. It was a mixture of a goofy smile, pleading eyes, and a clownish expression that was so purely him that it hurt. It was the same face he made when he wanted the last piece of pie, the same face he made to convince her to watch an action movie instead of a drama.
It was unfair. It was manipulative. And, to her misfortune, it always worked.
Those eyes, which she still found unsettling in their intensity, affected her in a way that no logic or resolve could combat.
She let out a nearly inaudible sigh, a white flag in a war she didn't even know she was fighting.
“Stay close,” she relented, letting go of his hand.
Her palm instantly grew cold, and she hated the feeling of emptiness that took the place of his warmth.
Now "free," Subaru felt a surge of energy. He was in another world, next to a beautiful girl, on an adventure. The humiliation of the alley, the pain, the fear… it all seemed distant, a prologue to the main story that was starting now. And every main story needs a memorable introduction for the protagonist.
This is it! This is my chance!
He stopped in the middle of the street, ignoring the people who were forced to walk around him with irritated looks. He took a deep breath, like an actor finding his center stage.
And then, he executed the world-sealing pose.
He stuck out his butt, bent his knees, arched his back at a dramatically uncomfortable angle, and raised his right arm high. His index finger, tense and precise, was aimed at the vast blue sky of Lugunica.
He flashed his best smile, a smile of pure, idiotic confidence, and filled his lungs.
“My name is Natsuki Subaru!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the square. “Broke, with nowhere to crash, and completely illiterate in this world!”
The effect was immediate. And it was not what he expected.
The cacophony of the main street died. The sound of merchants, the crying of children, the trotting of cargo lizards… it all stopped. An absolute, awkward silence descended upon the crowd. Dozens of pairs of eyes—human, demi-human, all of them—turned to stare at him.
Puck, who was floating nearby, literally slapped his paw to his own face with an audible smack. His ears drooped, wilting in defeat and second-hand embarrassment. "I don't believe this..." he muttered to himself.
And Emilia…
She stopped. She stopped completely, as if her feet had been nailed to the stone ground.
Eyes wide. Mouth slightly agape.
The mask of neutrality, the wall of ice, didn't just crack. It shattered.
But not in pain. Not in sadness.
It was pure, absolute, cataclysmic shock and embarrassment.
Subaru held the pose for one more glorious second, the smile frozen on his face, waiting for applause, a divine spotlight, maybe a theme song to start playing.
All he got were looks of pity, confusion, and silent contempt.
Regret hit him with the force of a freight train.
Slowly, painfully, he undid the pose. His arm fell, his back straightened. The smile melted away, replaced by a blush so intense his face looked like a tomato. He looked at the ground, wishing a hole would open up and swallow him.
He raised his eyes to the silent crowd, gave a pathetic little wave, and whispered to the void, his voice a thread of humiliation.
“…Nice to meet you.”
Notes:
btw emilia's a grandma.
hope you liked the chapter!
Chapter 5: A Reverse Isekai, You Mean?
Notes:
This was supposed to be twice as long, but it's better to split it in half.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
If there was one thing deafening in the air, it was the silence.
It was not a peaceful silence. It was a heavy, dense silence that seemed to press on the eardrums.
It was broken, only, by the nearly inaudible sound of a quill scratching on paper. A rhythmic and deliberate scratch, scratch, scratch.
A cold, bluish light streamed in through the tall, open window. The glow of a full moon, so clear it looked like a glass eye watching the world.
This light did not illuminate the dark room; it probed it. Its ghostly rays slid over the leather spines of books, over the dark oak of the desk.
Everything was painted in cold, spectral tones. The red of a rug looked like dark purple. The gold of a frame was a lifeless bronze. A world devoid of warmth.
The bookshelves rose high to the vaulted ceiling, so high their tops were lost in the darkness. They were walls of ancient and forbidden knowledge.
The scent of the room was the scent of time itself. Old paper, tanned leather, and the wax of candles that had burned down to their end. And beneath it all, a subtle, metallic aroma, the residual mark of magic.
It was an office, yes. But it was also a sanctuary.
And at its center, the cause of it all, the weaver of a spider's web that stretched back four hundred years.
"What moves a man?"
The question floated in the office's silence, not spoken to anyone. It was not a conversation; it was an epiphany. The words of a physicist who has just glimpsed the equation that will define generations.
The summit.
What would give a man the strength to climb Mount Everest? What drives him into the thin air and the deadly cold, step by step, toward a desolate peak?
Could it be conquest? The need to plant a flag on a piece of rock and ice, declaring dominion over nature?
Could it be self-fascination? The desire to test one's own limits, to look into the abyss of one's own mortality and not flinch?
Or could it be something simpler? The search for recognition? The hunger for fame, for a name etched in history books, whispered with admiration?
The sound of the quill's scratching on paper grew louder, more frantic, as if trying to capture the thought itself before it dissipated.
The nature of "will."
How can it be measured? The will of a soldier to survive in a muddy trench is one thing. It is visceral, primitive. A flame fueled by fear.
The will of a merchant to profit, to build an empire from coins and contracts, is another. It is cold, calculating. A gear driven by ambition.
But there was a third. A will that defied measurement, that broke any scale.
The most immeasurable will of all: that of a man in love.
It is said that in past legends, kingdoms were raised and cities were burned by such a force. It is an anomaly. A singularity that warps reality around it, breaking all rules of logic and reason. A force with the capacity to create life from nothing or to turn the world to ash.
"This same will can be cultivated, can it not~?" the man asked the silence, his voice a melodic whisper.
His heterochromatic eyes—one blue, one yellow—reflected the moonlight on the pages of a dark-covered book in his left hand.
"It can be planted. Fertilized. Directed."
He smiled, a smile that did not reach his eyes.
The work of a gardener.
A patient gardener, who prepares the soil for centuries. Who chooses the perfect seed, the most resilient, the most stubborn. Who waters it with tragedy and fertilizes it with despair.
All to guide the growth of a dangerous and unpredictable plant.
A plant that, if it bloomed in the right way, could give him the only fruit that mattered.
A fruit that could rewrite destiny itself.
The smile vanished. The moment of reflection was over.
With deliberate slowness, Roswaal L. Mathers closed the book. He placed it on the desk with an almost religious reverence.
His long, pale fingers slid toward a simple hand mirror resting on the desk. The frame was a somewhat faded yellow, and the glass surface looked perfectly normal, vaguely reflecting the dark ceiling above.
He touched the cold surface of the glass. For an instant, the reflection rippled like the surface of a lake, and a distorted, feminine voice seemed to whisper from its depths, inaudible to anyone but him.
Roswaal's voice, when he answered, was a soft melody that cut through the silence.
"Can you heaar me~?"
He tilted his head, listening to the silent confirmation that came from the mirror.
"Just a small clarification for your performance tonight, my dear huntress~."
His tone was casual, that of a patron of the arts discussing the details with his lead actress.
"After the curtains fall at the warehouse... there may be an unexpected audience."
He paused, savoring the words.
"Whoever sees your work~" he sang, his voice full of a dark delight. "Whoever looks upon the blood you will make gush from your fangs~... must join the painting."
The order was unequivocal.
"No witnesses. Not a single living soul to carry the image of your art. Kill them all."
He leaned over the mirror, his face half-lit, half in shadow, the clown's makeup looking like a mask of tragedy.
"And remember," he whispered, his voice now a sweet poison. "While the blood is still warm, act~."
With that, he lifted his finger. The darkness in the mirror stilled. The order had been given.
Roswaal stood, his tall, slender silhouette moving with the grace of a serpent. He walked slowly to the open window, the sound of his shoes echoing softly on the cold stone.
He rested his hands on the sill, feeling the dampness of the night on his skin.
He looked at the moon, that white, indifferent eye in the sky.
The Bowel Hunter was a tool. A sharp blade, predictable in her thirst for blood. Simple.
But the other piece…
The centerpiece of his grand theater.
The Gospel called it by vague names. "The Traveler." "The Singularity." A soul from outside the world's flow, destined to appear on this exact day.
An unpredictable piece.
He, Roswaal, who had pulled the strings of history for four centuries, was betting everything on a variable he could not control.
A paradox. The thought almost made him laugh.
Why?
Because disorder, at times, is the only tool capable of breaking a perfect cycle.
And the will of that anomaly... the stubbornness the Gospel promised... was the distorted mirror of his own, singular obsession.
A love so absolute, so all-consuming, that it had become the sole purpose of his immortal existence.
"Everything for you, my Teacher," he whispered to the night, the words an oath he had repeated for centuries.
He stepped back from the window, his gaze sweeping over the office, the web he had so carefully woven.
The stage was set. The tragedy was written.
Now, it was just a matter of waiting to see how destiny would unfold.
Her hand in his was a surprising constant. A point of warmth and softness in a world that, until now, had only offered him pain and confusion.
“Lugunica, then, huh?” Subaru inhaled deeply, the afternoon air filling his lungs. He followed the steps of the silver-haired maiden before him, the swing of their joined hands marking a strangely comfortable rhythm. “A capital city.”
“Yes,” Emilia replied, her voice an even but clear tone. She nodded at him, a small gesture of confirmation. “It’s a metropolis. The largest commercial zone in the kingdom, with the tallest buildings.”
From then on, they continued walking. The embarrassment of Subaru's disastrous introduction gave way to a bubbling curiosity. And Emilia, realizing that silence would only lead him to more strange questions, took on the role of a reluctant tour guide.
“So, this place… is it like, the Japan of this world?” he asked, looking at the architecture that mixed stone and wood in ways he had never seen.
Emilia thought for a moment, searching for an analogy that would make sense. It was like trying to explain the color blue to someone who only saw in black and white.
“Not exactly,” she said, her voice careful. “Think of Europe, perhaps during the Renaissance, but with a different distribution of power. Lugunica is one of the Four Great Nations. We are like… the France or England of that era. A center of power and culture.”
She continued, her tone becoming more professorial. “To the west, we have Kararagi. Think of Edo-period Japan, but imagine they are also the world's greatest commercial power. Everything revolves around money and business there. It’s an incredibly bustling and pragmatic nation.”
“To the north is Gusteko. It’s a cold place, covered in snow most of the time. We don’t know much about them; they’re quite isolated. What is known is that religion dominates everything. They have an almost fanatical fascination with their ‘Spirits’ and the ‘Divine,’ something similar to the era when men in your world believed the Earth was the center of everything. Their faith is the law.”
“And finally, Vollachia, to the south. A militaristic empire. Think of the Roman Empire at its peak, but with a philosophy that ‘the strong survive.’ They are… aggressive.”
Subaru blinked, absorbing the information. The ease with which she used references from Earth's history caught him by surprise. She's pretty smart, he thought, raising an eyebrow, but decided not to comment. It was better not to break the flow.
“And the magic?” he asked, the excitement returning to his voice. “That green light you used… and the flying cat dad. That’s magic, right? How does it work? Is it like ‘MP’? Do I have any?”
His question about magic made her pause for a moment. Explaining magic. She remembered Subaru trying to explain the internet to her. His funny frustration, her confusion. The memory was a small pang, which she quickly ignored.
“It’s a bit more complex than ‘MP’,” she began, resuming her walk. Her tone shifted, becoming more didactic. “First, imagine the world is filled with an invisible energy, ‘mana.’ It’s in everything.”
She paused, making sure he was following.
“Inside every living being, there is a ‘Gate.’ Think of it as a tank that fills itself. It automatically draws mana from the atmosphere, all the time, and stores it. When a mage uses a spell, they are using the mana that has been collected and stored inside their gate.”
“So the tank has a limit?” he asked, the analogy making sense to him.
“Exactly,” she confirmed. “The capacity of your gate is set from birth. For most people, when the gate is full, it simply stops collecting. But for people with a large mana capacity, like Puck, it’s necessary to use magic regularly to… relieve the pressure. If not, it can overload.”
“And what happens if the gate breaks?”
His question was surprisingly insightful. “No one is born without a gate, but being born with a damaged one is… a curse. A broken gate doesn’t stop drawing mana; it fills up endlessly. And since you can’t use magic to release it, the result can be… explosive.”
She saw his face turn a little pale at the image.
“As for affinity,” she continued, changing the subject, “everyone has one. There are six main elements: Fire, Water, Wind, Earth, and the rarer ones, Light and Shadow. Everyone has a natural inclination for at least one of them. It’s less a rare ‘talent’ and more like… knowing which is your dominant hand. You can try to write with the other, but it will never be as natural.”
“And what’s yours?” he asked, curious.
“Fire,” she answered simply.
Subaru blinked. “Fire? But… what about Cat Dad? And the ice you used on the thief?”
“My affinity for Fire gives me control over temperature. It’s easier for me to lower the temperature than to raise it, which is why I use ice magic. And the healing I used on you…” She looked at the air around them, as if she saw things he couldn't. “That didn’t come from me directly. It came from spirits.”
“Spirits?”
“Yes. They are conscious manifestations of mana. Puck is a Great Spirit of Fire, the most powerful one I have a contract with. But I also have contracts with several lesser spirits. It was the water spirits who helped me heal you.”
“So, like, you have a bunch of ‘summons’?”
His simplification made her hesitate. “…In a way. But a contract is a partnership, a bond of trust. They aren’t tools. They are friends.”
She stopped, realizing the explanation was becoming dense. “But that’s the foundation. Gate, Mana, Affinity, and Spirits. The rest… you learn over time.”
“Got it, got it…” Subaru murmured, using his free hand to scratch his chin in a thoughtful gesture.
Things were much more complex than he had imagined.
There was no user interface, no status bar appearing in his peripheral vision. No notification for "Experience Gained" or "Skill Unlocked."
Everything was… what was the word?
Too realistic.
The thought hit him with an uncomfortable clarity. Of course it was real. The beating he had taken in the alley was the most brutal proof of that. The memory of the pain, the fear, the sound of his own bones protesting… just the thought made him shiver slightly, an involuntary chill running down his spine.
He quickly suppressed the tremor.
There was an instinct growing inside him, an instinct not to show weakness in front of her. The woman before him, Emilia, seemed to notice his slightest movements. The smallest shiver, the slightest hesitation. She watched him not like a hawk, but with a focused and absolute attention that was almost suffocating.
Whether it was care, passion, or something else, it was on a level that was way too high.
Who are you, Emilia? The question drifted in his head, a buoy in an ocean of confusion.
She explained the things of this world with the calm of a teacher, but she used analogies from his world with a familiarity that made no sense. She was powerful, but she seemed to carry a deep weariness on her shoulders. She saved him, but she scolded him with the ferocity of someone who had known him for years.
Are you even from this world? Or are you, I don't know, a deity who watches over both worlds?
He didn't dare ask the question out loud. Instead, he just watched her, trying to decipher the enigma.
And as if she could feel the weight of his unsaid thoughts, Emilia fell silent.
The pace of their steps slowed a little. She lowered her head slightly, her silver hair falling forward and partially hiding her face.
Her gaze was fixed on the stone ground before her, but she didn't seem to be seeing the path.
She seemed to be searching for something.
An answer. A lie. An escape.
“Subaru—”
Just as Emilia opened her mouth, the word hovering on her lips, ready to break the silence with an answer she herself didn't know, a sound cut through the air.
A small sob.
Almost inaudible amidst the noise of the street, but clear enough to make them both stop.
Then, it came again, followed by others. Several small, choked sobs, the unmistakable sound of a child's desperate sadness. The voice was tiny, a thread of sound lost in the vastness of the city.
Emilia and Subaru, in an almost choreographed conjunction, turned their heads in the same direction, following the sound.
And what they found, nestled at the base of a small stone staircase leading to a shop's entrance, was a little girl.
She couldn't have been more than five or six years old. Her hair, a vibrant green like spring leaves, was cut in a short, straight bob. She was curled up, her knees hugged to her chest, her small body trembling with each sob.
Her face was wet, her cheeks red and stained with tear tracks. Her nose was running, and she sniffled pathetically between cries.
Tilting their heads, they could hear what she was whispering to herself, the words breaking amidst the sobs, barely forming anything coherent.
“Mommy… mommy… where… where are you…”
It was the universal image of loss and fear. A small child, alone and scared in a world that had suddenly become far too big and frightening.
For the first time since he had met her, Subaru saw Emilia's eyes truly widen.
It wasn't the shock of their reunion in the alley, nor the surprise at his questions. It was something different. A raw, urgent emotion that took her over completely. And before he could process it, the silver-haired princess moved almost instantly.
She let go of his hand.
The warmth vanished, but Subaru barely noticed. He was mesmerized by her speed. She didn't run, but glided toward the child with a quickness that almost startled him. It seemed like pure instinct.
“Dear… here.”
Her voice, which had been restrained and distant, was now a soft whisper, laden with a tenderness he hadn't heard before. Moved by a seventh sense, a part of her soul he didn't know, she knelt beside the little girl. The movement was agile, yet executed with an infinite care, so as not to frighten the small, crying creature.
Subaru watched, paralyzed.
He saw the way Emilia, the otherworldly beauty, adjusted the skirt of her dress as she crouched, a practical and precise movement to keep the hem from getting dirty on the stone ground.
And his brain stopped.
It wasn't a memory. It was a glaring familiarity, an echo of a gesture seen a thousand times. His own mother did the exact same thing. The same way of pinching the fabric, the same care. It was a universal, motherly motion.
The similarity almost made him smile, a smile of comfort and nostalgia.
But time didn't allow it. Because what came next made his eyes widen.
The child, who was crying softly, finally lifted her head to see who had approached. Her blue, tear-filled eyes met Emilia's face.
And the crying intensified.
The little girl shrank back even further, like a frightened little animal, pressing her face against her knees. A new flood of tears began to fall, now mixed with a palpable fear.
Emilia froze.
It was as if she had been struck by an invisible arrow. Subaru saw the shock on her face, the way her shoulders fell by a millimeter. And then, a wave of deep sadness, so palpable it hurt Subaru just to watch, washed over her features.
She seemed to remember something. Something that, to her, should have been obvious.
Her appearance. The curse of her face.
“S-stay away—!” the child managed to cry out, her voice muffled by the fabric of her dress. She didn't move away, just curled up tighter, terrified of the silver-haired woman who looked so much like the Witch from horror stories.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the girl's sobs and Emilia's nearly inaudible breath.
Subaru, watching the scene, felt something break inside him. He couldn't stand to see it. The two of them. One paralyzed by the pain of rejection, the other paralyzed by fear. Both trapped in the worst zone he hated most: that of helpless sadness.
He finally moved.
With firm steps, he approached and knelt beside the two of them, placing himself between Emilia's sorrow and the child's fear.
A wide, slightly forced smile spread across his face.
“Hey, hey, what do we have here?” he said, his voice deliberately cheerful.
He rummaged through the pockets of his jacket, his hand fumbling for something. For a moment, his face showed disappointment, but then, his fingers found what they were looking for. He sighed in relief.
The coin with the grooved edges. The Giza Jū. The small, useless treasure he had kept.
With a flourish, he pulled the coin from his pocket, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. He showed it to both of them, the light of the setting sun glinting off the worn metal.
Both the little girl and Emilia, pulled from their own worlds of pain, looked at him in surprise.
Don't make those sad faces, he thought, his heart aching.
The magic show was about to begin.
The rain.
It was the sound that defined everything. A fine, persistent rain that beat against the kitchen window, creating little rivers that ran down and distorted the view of the streetlights outside. It was a cold autumn night in Japan, the kind of night that called for hot tea and the comfort of a blanket.
But there was no comfort in that house. Not that night.
Mixed with the sound of the rain, there was another sound. A cry.
It wasn't the loud, demanding cry of a hungry baby. It was a low, persistent, and deeply sad cry, coming from her son Altair's room. A sound that seemed to have no end, that seeped through the walls and settled in Emilia's heart like a needle of ice.
She was in the kitchen, her hands submerged in the warm water of the sink, finishing the last dish. But her movements were automatic, her mind a hallway away, in the dark room.
She dried her hands on a dish towel, the rough fabric against her skin, and sighed. A heavy sigh, laden not with impatience, but with a frustration that bordered on despair.
She was a good mother. She knew she was. With her daughter, Miyuki, everything seemed so easy, so instinctive. A hug, a lullaby, a kiss on the forehead, and the tears would dry, the fears would dissipate. It was a connection that flowed from her naturally.
But with Altair… it was different. He was more like his father. Stubborn, sensitive in a way he tried to hide, and when sadness got a hold of him, he would close himself off in a world where not even she seemed able to enter.
She had already tried everything that night. A glass of warm milk, which he pushed away. His favorite story about a knight and a dragon, which he ignored. A hug, from which he tried to squirm away. He had scraped his knee earlier that day, a silly fall in the park, but the physical pain had long since passed. Now, it was a different pain, a sadness that not even he seemed to understand, and her inability to reach him was eating her up inside.
She wasn't angry at him. She was angry at herself. Angry at her own powerlessness. What kind of mother can't console her own son?
That's when she heard his footsteps in the hallway.
Subaru came into the kitchen, taking off his wet coat. He was older, in his forties, with fine lines around his eyes that told stories of laughter and worry. He saw her standing at the sink, the expression on her face, and he knew immediately.
"Still at it?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.
Emilia just nodded, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Still at it. I've tried everything, Subaru. He won't stop crying. I don't… I don't know what else to do."
Subaru didn't seem frustrated. Instead, a sly and gentle smile of quiet confidence appeared on his face. He came closer, gave her a soft kiss on the forehead, and winked at her.
"Leave it to me," he whispered. "The great Magician Natsuki has a trick up his sleeve that never fails."
At the beginning of their relationship, he had been shy, awkward with the children. But the years, the experience, and his genuinely good heart had transformed him. He had a special way, an ability to connect with their children on a level that sometimes left her in awe.
He rummaged through his pants pockets, just as he would light-years away in the future, in a dirty alley. His fingers found what they were looking for. A 100-yen coin, worn by time and use.
"Showtime," he said, and walked toward Altair's room.
Emilia followed him, watching from the doorway, a hopeful spectator.
The room was dark, except for the warm light of a rocket-shaped lamp. Altair was sitting on the bed, hugging a stuffed animal of a video game monster, his face red and swollen, sobs still shaking his small body.
Subaru didn't say "stop crying" or "be a big boy." He simply knelt beside the bed, putting himself on his son's level. The gesture was so natural, so full of respect for the boy's small sorrow.
"Hey, champ," he said softly. "A little bird told me there's a smile thief in this room. I came to investigate."
Altair sniffled, looking at his father with suspicious, tear-filled eyes.
Subaru flashed a wide grin. "But I brought a trap." He opened his hand, revealing the 100-yen coin. "This is a magic coin. It can catch any sadness. Wanna see?"
He took Altair's small hand and placed the coin in his palm, closing his fingers over it. "Hold on tight. Now, let's count to three."
"One…" Subaru began. "Two…"
Altair was still sobbing, but his eyes were fixed on his closed fist.
"Three!"
Subaru made a quick, clumsy magical pass. "You can open it!"
Altair opened his hand. The coin was still there.
"Huh," Subaru said, scratching his head with a look of fake confusion. "I guess the sadness was too strong. Let's try again."
He repeated the process, but this time, with a swift movement that Emilia knew well, he palmed the coin. When Altair opened his hand and saw it was empty, his sobs stopped abruptly. His eyes widened.
"It's gone!" the boy gasped.
"Gone?" Subaru said, his own eyes wide with fake astonishment. "Where did it go? Could it be… did it fly over… here?"
With a theatrical flourish, he reached out and "pulled" the coin from behind Altair's ear.
The boy's world changed in that instant.
The crying stopped completely. The sadness was forgotten. His eyes, previously flooded with tears, now shone with pure, unadulterated awe. A small sob escaped, but it was immediately followed by a choked laugh, a bubbling sound of pure joy.
"Heh~ Daddy~ Again! Do it again!"
Subaru laughed, a warm and genuine laugh. But before repeating the trick, he looked over his son's shoulder, toward Emilia, who was watching from the door.
He gave her a smile.
It wasn't a smile of triumph. It was a smile of complicity. A smile that said: See? I told you. We did it. Together. It was a smile full of love, of partnership, and of a silly pride for a small victory against the sadness of a rainy night.
That smile.
That man.
The image shattered.
The sound of her son's laughter was replaced by the sound of a stranger's sobs. The smell of rain was replaced by the smell of street dust.
And the smile of her husband, the partner of a lifetime, was replaced by the face of a boy. A boy she barely knew, yet knew better than herself. A boy kneeling on the dirty street of Lugunica, repeating the same gesture, the same trick, but without the history, without the complicity, without the shared love that gave it all meaning.
It was like watching a ghost trying to imitate life.
The pain hit her with the force of a wave, a dull, deep ache that stole the air from her lungs.
It wasn't the memory of the trick that hurt.
It was the memory of the man.
And the cruel reality that he was right there, and at the same time, a universe away.
The trick was performed with a practiced familiarity, the coin disappearing from Subaru's palm and magically reappearing from behind the little girl's ear.
For an instant, the world stopped. The girl's sobs ceased abruptly.
“Wow~!”
The word came out as a gasp of pure astonishment. The child, who had been crying in despair, widened her eyes. The tears were still there, shining on her eyelashes and staining her cheeks, but they were no longer growing in volume. The cloud of fear and sadness that had enveloped her dissipated, replaced by the light of childish awe.
Then, a smile formed on her lips. A silly, cheerful, and utterly genuine smile that lit up her small face. A bubbling laugh escaped her.
“Heheh~ so cool!”
Subaru laughed along, a laugh of relief and pure satisfaction. The tension in his shoulders melted away. He had done it. He had made a difference. With a gentle gesture, he held out his hand and offered the coin to the little one.
“Here, you can have it. It’s all yours.”
“Huh? Really?” The little girl looked from the coin to Subaru's face, her blue eyes still shining. With a hesitation that quickly turned to joy, she took the coin with both her small hands, holding it as if it were the most precious treasure in the world. The enchanting smile that appeared on her lips was the ultimate reward.
With the child's trust won, Subaru continued, his voice now calmer and more reassuring.
“We didn’t come to do any harm.”
Right then, he turned and looked at Emilia.
She was still kneeling a short distance away, a silent porcelain statue. The memory had left her adrift in an ocean of memories, and her face carried the weight of that journey. A deep melancholy was etched in her eyes, a sadness that Subaru couldn't understand, but that he felt in his core.
“See this lady?” he said to the little girl, but his words were clearly for Emilia as well. He pointed with his chin. “She came to help. Don’t be fooled by her appearance, she’s super kind!”
“————”
Being called out, Emilia slowly raised her eyes. Her mind, which had been decades away, came crashing back to the stone street of Lugunica. She focused on the two silhouettes before her: the boy with an encouraging smile and the child who now looked at her with curiosity instead of terror.
The girl, still a little hesitant, took a small step toward Emilia. The fear was still there, a shadow in her eyes, but the trust Subaru had built served as a bridge over the abyss.
She came closer, the metal coin still held tightly in her hands.
“S-Sorry, miss…” she whispered, her voice shy, looking down at her own feet.
The child's words, an apology for having been afraid, hit Emilia with an unexpected gentleness. She looked at the small figure before her, and the image of her own children, of Rigel and Spica, apologizing for small mischiefs, surfaced in her mind.
She forced the memory down. She needed to be here. In the present.
“…It’s all right,” Emilia replied, her voice a bit hoarse at first. She forced herself to smile. “There’s no reason to apologize.”
The smile that formed on her lips was small. It was minimally forced, a mask she placed over the pain she felt.
But, upon seeing the relief on the child's face, upon seeing the little soul she had frightened now looking at her with trust, a spark of genuine warmth seeped through the cracks in her facade.
The smile, for a brief and precious instant, became genuine.
× × ×
“Your mother, is it? You got lost?” Emilia asked, her voice soft. The little girl, now calmer, placed her small palm in Emilia's outstretched hand. The contact was hesitant at first, but the gentleness in Emilia's touch reassured her. They were both ready to walk.
“Y-Yes…” the little girl sniffled, the last remnant of her crying. “I… I was with her… and then I didn’t see her anymore.” Her blue eyes scanned the crowd with a new wave of worry, but Emilia's firm hand was an anchor.
Subaru watched the scene, his heart a little lighter. “With this many people, I’d be screaming my head off too,” he said, a smirk forming as he looked at the sea of people moving around them.
The little girl looked at him and gave a small smile, his joke breaking the rest of the ice. She raised her other free hand in a silent invitation.
With a small smile of his own, Subaru took her hand.
And so, the trio continued to walk. A silver-haired half-elf, a boy in a black tracksuit, and a little green-haired girl in the middle, an unlikely link connecting two worlds.
They walked in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the child's presence creating an unspoken truce.
“You know…” Subaru began, taking advantage of the calm moment. He glanced to the side, at Emilia.
He saw her. She was looking ahead, but her expression was no longer the cold mask of neutrality from before. There was a small, almost imperceptible smile on her lips. But it wasn't a happy smile. It was bittersweet, tinged with a nostalgia so deep it seemed almost painful. There was something there, an entire story in that small curve of her lips.
The sight of that smile, as sad as it was, encouraged Subaru. He felt the atmosphere was light, almost domestic. The dynamic felt… right. He couldn't resist.
“We look like a couple now,” he said, his voice full of a playful charm. “With our little daughter.”
“————”
The silence that followed was instant and absolute.
It was colder than any ice magic.
The silly grin Subaru had on his face as he made the joke froze and shattered.
Wha-… what…?
He watched, horrified, as the small, bittersweet smile on Emilia's face vanished. It wasn't a slow fade. It was as if a light had been switched off, as if a mask had fallen into place, no, as if a wall of ice had instantly risen where the smile had been. Her face became a blank canvas again, impenetrable, but now charged with a coldness that wasn't there before.
She didn't turn to him. She didn't scold him. She didn't joke back.
She didn't even bother to answer him.
She just kept walking, her gaze fixed on a point on the horizon only she could see.
Subaru's world, which for a moment had seemed warm and promising, plunged to a glacial temperature. The silent rejection was a thousand times worse than any insult Puck could hurl at him. It was a door slamming shut in his face. A door he didn't even know existed.
He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly tight.
He quickly looked forward again, his face burning with shame, having no idea what to say. What had he done wrong? It was a joke. A silly joke. Why did she react like that?
Okay… he thought, his brain spinning for an answer it couldn't find.
We're taking a break from the flirting. A very, very long break.
× × ×
Time passed in a blur of footsteps and silence.
Luckily for the small group, finding the little girl's mother was surprisingly quick. The path the desperate woman was taking, shouting her daughter's name, coincided almost perfectly with the direction Puck had determined for Emilia. A small miracle amidst the chaos of the capital.
The reunion was an explosion of relief and tears. The mother grabbed her daughter, thanking the heavens and the two strangers who had brought her back.
Emilia, who seemed to be a million miles away, received the thanks with a small smile and a nod. Her voice was soft, but it carried a weight of experience as she knelt to speak to the girl one last time.
“Be very careful, okay?” she said, adjusting a strand of the child's green hair. “And don’t let go of your mother’s hand. There’s no way we’ll be there to save you a second time.”
The words were for the child, but they sounded like a grim reminder to herself.
And just like that, the trio disbanded. The mother and daughter disappeared into the crowd, a small story with a happy ending.
Leaving behind a duo shrouded in a complicated quiet.
Almost by instinct, Emilia's hand found Subaru's again, her fingers closing around his. The grip was light, almost imperceptible, but it was there. An anchor. A chain. He couldn't tell.
Subaru, who had remained in a tense and uncomfortable silence the whole time, let out a breath he had been holding. A nearly inaudible sigh of pure relief.
She isn't mad at me.
At least, it didn't seem like it. The disastrous joke about being a family still hung in the air like a cold fog, but the fact that she had taken his hand again, that she hadn't pushed him away, was a sign. A sign he clung to with the strength of a drowning man.
So far, everything was… quiet. Strangely quiet.
He didn't know the details of the plan. He didn't know where they were going, nor what they would do when they got there. But, somehow, he had managed to keep his mouth shut, fighting the urge to bombard the beauty beside him with a million questions.
After all, that was the condition, wasn't it? Follow her without being a pain in the ass.
He had to admit, it was proving to be almost impossible. His mind was a whirlwind of questions.
But what held him back, what put a brake on his tongue, was the memory of that reaction. The way her smile had vanished. The coldness that had taken over her face.
He had hurt her somehow. Upset her. He didn't know how, or why, but the certainty was there, an uncomfortable weight in his stomach.
Of course, Emilia hadn't shown much from the beginning, except… kindness.
A disconcerting kindness.
The kindness she showed him, a complete stranger, broken and dirty in an alley. The kindness she showed that lost child, even after being rejected by her.
She was in the middle of an important mission, looking for something that was stolen from her. And yet, she stopped. Stopped to heal him. Stopped to help a little girl find her mother.
He had always sworn to himself that a genuinely good soul, without ulterior motives, was a rare thing, something he had only ever found in his parents. The rest of the world was a game of self-interest.
But this girl… this girl had something.
A kindness that didn't seem naive, but deliberate. A quiet strength that intrigued and intimidated him at the same time. She was a paradox. A fairy-tale princess with the melancholy of an ancient tragedy.
He wanted to understand her. He wanted to break down that wall of ice and find out who she really was.
“Subaru.”
Her voice, finally, cut through the silence and his spiraling thoughts.
He turned to her, his heart giving a small leap of surprise and expectation.
“I want you to…” she began, her voice firm, but with a slight sigh that preceded it, as if she were gathering the courage to say something difficult. “I want you to forget about this ‘isekai’ thing. I want you to forget anything related to fiction. Abandon it.”
Her words hit him like a bucket of cold water.
Subaru, who had been half-lost in his thoughts, straightened his posture, his body tensing. He raised an eyebrow, confusion written all over his face.
“Huh? What do you mean? Isn’t this…?” He gestured to the world around them, to the demi-humans, to the strange architecture, to the very fact that he was here. “Isn’t this an isekai?”
“No.” Her answer was short, sharp, leaving no room for argument. “Look at it as… just a different place. A world in another universe. Not a game.”
“————”
“Stats, quests, levels,” she continued, her voice now lower, but with an intensity that forced him to hear every word. “Forget it. Here, everything is real. The pain is real. Death is real. This is a world, Subaru. A planet, with its own history, its own rules, its own tragedies. Just like yours.”
He was silent. Completely speechless.
His mind, which had been full of questions, was now a supernova of confusion. If it wasn't a game, if it wasn't an isekai in the way he knew it… then what was it? And more importantly…
“And so…” he began, his voice a little shaky as the pieces began to click into place in a terrifying way in his head. “How do you know about me? About… my world?”
He took a step, stopping in front of her, forcing her to stop walking.
“How do you know I came from a place like that? How do you know about Europe, Japan, England, the Edo period?!”
His eyes gradually widened with each question, his breathing quickening. It wasn't just an anomaly. It was an impossibility. Unless…
The theory he had before, about her being a deity, came back in full force.
Is that it? he thought, his heart pounding uncontrollably. Is she some kind of angel, an entity that travels between worlds? And she saved me for some reason? Is that it?
“I…” Emilia bit her lower lip, looking away from him. She looked at her own hands, at the ground, anywhere but his face, which was now staring at her with a mixture of fear, hope, and a desperate demand for answers.
“I’m in the same situation as you,” she said, her voice so low it was almost a whisper. “Or at least… I was.”
Her voice failed on the last part, an echo of an ancient pain. But he heard it. He heard it perfectly.
Subaru's mind stopped. All his theories about gods and summons shattered. The implication of those words was so much simpler, and at the same time, infinitely more shocking.
“I—” she started to say, perhaps to explain more, to correct herself.
“—Wait.”
Subaru interrupted her, not out of rudeness, but from a wave of excitement so pure and overwhelming he couldn't contain it. The confusion, the fear, it was all replaced by a single, glorious possibility.
“A reverse isekai, you mean?!” he exclaimed, his eyes shining with the joy of someone who had just solved the world's hardest puzzle. “You?! You came to this world from ours?!”
“————”
His question hit her with the force of a train.
Emilia kept her eyes glued to the ground, but her mind was no longer in Lugunica.
She was on a noisy street in Tokyo, the night light her only guide, the clothes she wore feeling strange. She was scared, confused, and a boy in a black tracksuit with unsettling eyes was staring at her with the same expression of shock and awe.
And she could hear his voice, younger, fuller of a carefree arrogance, saying the exact same words.
“A reverse isekai, you mean?!”
The memory. So strong, so vivid. The irony was so crushing, so perfectly, horribly tragic, that it almost made her smile.
The emotion on his face now, and the one on the face of the Subaru from her memory, were identically the same. The same excitement, the same disbelief, the same joy of finding a fellow traveler from another world.
She slowly raised her head, her eyes meeting his.
“…Yes.”
She nodded, the movement almost imperceptible.
“You could say that.”
She almost couldn't hold back a small laugh.
The look on his face was priceless. His mouth opened and closed, soundless, like a fish out of water. His eyes were wide, shining with the light of a thousand conspiracy theories all being confirmed at once. The gears in his head were turning so fast you could almost see them, smoke coming out of his ears.
For an instant, the Emilia of a past life, the wife who loved him for his idiocies, almost surfaced. The word "idiot" formed on her tongue, an affectionate nickname she hadn't used in years. It was almost impossible not to laugh at such transparent and contagious childishness.
However—
“But I don’t get it… you came back here?” he asked, the excitement giving way to a logical confusion. He scratched his head, his expression turning serious. “How? Why?”
Emilia's near-laugh died in her throat.
The word "back" hit her like a punch to the gut.
The air seemed to grow thin. Her tongue, which seconds before had been dancing with an affectionate tease, now felt like a piece of lead in her mouth.
What happened to me?
The question, which she had kept locked in a vault in the back of her mind, burst through the door with a deafening violence.
She had been ignoring it. From the first moment she opened her eyes in this world again, she had been deliberately, desperately, ignoring the most fundamental question.
What made her step into this place again?
Where was her older body? Where was her home? Where was the hand of her husband, which she had held until his last breath?
A dream?
The word was a dull thud in her soul. The possibility, so absurd, so monstrous, presented itself.
What if everything?
What if every laugh, every tear, every birthday, every sleepless night, every good-morning kiss… What if everything she had lived for decades… was just a figment of her imagination? A fever dream of a lonely girl frozen in ice?
No. No. No!
The silent scream echoed in her mind. She forced herself to think of something else. Focus. The street. The mission. The thief. Anything.
She forced her throat to close, swallowing the bitter bile that was rising in her esophagus. She forced her lungs to keep working.
This is impossible. This is… impossible.
She tried to shove the idea, the memory, the poisonous doubt, to the back of her mind, using all her willpower to lock it away again.
But the seed had been planted.
A dream? What if it's a dream?
Her children. Rigel. Spica. Their faces, their voices.
Her grandchildren, running in the garden.
Her… her relationship. A lifetime of love, built day by day.
All of it… a lie?
The world began to spin. The colors of the street blended into a meaningless blur. The noise of the crowd became a distant, oppressive hum. She felt the ground beneath her feet waver.
“H-Hey… are you okay?”
A voice pulled her back from the edge of the abyss.
Warm, slightly clumsy hands gripped her shoulders, firm but hesitant.
Subaru.
He was holding her, anchoring her to the ground that felt like it was about to crumble. The look of excitement on his face had been replaced by one of pure, genuine concern.
“If…” he began, his voice low and uncertain. He gave her back a few light pats, a gesture of comfort so instinctive and so familiar that it hurt. A blush of embarrassment for his own presumption in touching her was visible on his cheeks, but he didn't let go. “If you can’t answer, it’s okay.”
He didn't understand. He had no way of understanding.
But he saw her pain.
And, without knowing it, he was doing exactly what her Subaru always did.
He was holding her in the middle of the storm.
“Shh… sorry. I’m really sorry.”
His words were a rushed whisper, a mantra of regret. He didn't understand what he had done, but he knew, with an instinctive certainty, that his innocent question had opened a deep wound.
She was going to refuse. To say it wasn't his fault, that it was okay. The part of her that was a matriarch, the part that was a royal candidate, the part that was an elder, screamed at her to pull herself together.
But she couldn't.
There was no strength. No armor. Nothing.
She just gasped, her breath caught in her throat, her body trembling uncontrollably. He continued to pat her back, the rhythm steady and reassuring.
Emilia tried to pull away. Tried to lift her head, tried to force her body to obey, to maintain her composure.
But the warmth…
That warmth emanating from him, enveloping her through the contact of his hands on her shoulders. It was simply necessary. It was everything her subconscious, her tired soul, was crying out for in a silent scream.
His warmth.
She gave in.
The last thread of her resistance snapped, and she leaned forward, burying her face in the crook of his neck.
Subaru felt the fabric of his jacket grow damp on his shoulder. And for an instant, he almost let out a yelp of panic and surprise as he felt her silver hair brush against his skin, her body nestling against his. But he managed to hold his breath, swallowing the shock.
Then, he heard it.
The sobs.
First one, then another. Choked, broken sounds that came from her mouth with a pain that seemed to come from a place much deeper than just that day. He felt her hot tears tracing a path down his neck.
Was he scared? Yes. Embarrassed? Absolutely. Confused? More than ever.
All of it together, a storm of conflicting emotions in his chest.
However… he swallowed it all.
Maybe he was being a pervert, a creep. Maybe he was crossing a line. But looking at the girl trembling in his arms, he thought: to hell with it.
With a firm decision, Subaru pulled her closer. His arms, which had only been holding her by the shoulders, now wrapped around her in a real hug. He was still hesitant, afraid of touching her more than he should, but she didn't shrink away. On the contrary, she seemed to cling to him.
So, he just continued, one hand patting her trembling back softly, the other rising timidly to stroke her silver hair.
“Shhh… it’s okay. You’re not alone.”
The words came out low, a whisper directly into her ear. They were his mother's words. The words she always sang to him when nightmares woke him in the middle of the night, when the world seemed like one big storm.
That simple phrase. He had to admit. It was sacred.
At least to him. It always had been.
“We’re in this together. You can relax,” Subaru continued, his voice a comforting murmur, feeling her tears on his neck. “Let it all out.”
And so it was.
On that busy street, in a world that was not their own, time stopped.
Patting her back, stroking her head lightly, Subaru hid her from the world with a warm, clumsy hug. He was following instincts he didn't know he had, but that felt like the most natural thing in the world.
And the ice princess, the woman who had slept for a century, the grandma in a teenager's body, finally allowed herself to break.
She let it all out.
She clung to his jacket with a desperate strength, her knuckles white, as if she were afraid that if she let go, he would disappear forever.
Subaru. Oh, how sacred he was. How unique he was. The same boy, the same man, the same soul who always saved her, even without knowing.
“Subaru…” she murmured amidst the sobs, her voice broken, pleading, his name a safe harbor in the middle of a shipwreck.
He tightened the hug, his chin resting gently on the top of her head, and whispered the only promise that mattered.
“I’m right here.”
Notes:
Puck's being quiet, isn't he? Luckily, Emilia is basically his barrier here.
Chapter Text
“What is this?”
The question floated in the air, inaudible, a wave of pure confusion in the small spirit’s mind.
The kitten, or rather, the ancient beast that now hovered over the scene, found himself in an unbearably complicated situation. His eyes, normally sharp and focused, now swept over the busy street, the anonymous crowd, and above all, the main object of his attention in this world: his daughter, Lia.
If it was stress, it wasn't because of the interrupted mission or the lost insignia—trinkets, in the grand scheme of things. It was the stress of being completely in the dark. Of being a forced spectator in a drama for which he did not have the script, a feeling he despised with every fiber of his magical being.
There was anger, too. A cold, simmering anger. But not directed at himself. It was an anger directed at the world. At the insignificant thief who dared to touch what was his. At the disgusting people of this city who created the environment for such a thing to happen. At everything and everyone who had conspired to cause this… reaction in his Lia. The fault lay with the scenery, with the secondary actors, never with the director.
What frustrated him, what left him in a state of almost paralyzing perplexity, was the pure and absolute fruit of chance that was unfolding before his eyes.
“Lia.”
Her name was a thought, a lament. He knew, with the certainty of an entity that deals with the primordial forces of the world, that this immense amount of emotion emanating from her was, under no circumstances, a good thing.
It was ingrained in every fiber of his daughter's being. The densest, the purest, the most terrifying emotional dependence he had ever witnessed in her.
It was like watching a child be born again. As if that stranger—some random boy, completely weird, ignorant of the world, and with dead fish eyes—had taught her to walk, had taught her to run, had taught her to feel for the first time.
The way she was hugging him now. The way she clung to him, her face buried in his shoulder, as if he were the only life raft in an infinite ocean.
It was unbearably wrong. Undeniably, fundamentally wrong!
And the worst of it all… was what came from the boy himself.
The Beast of the End had never cared much for the outside world. His attention was a spotlight, and that spotlight was permanently fixed on Emilia. He sharpened his eyes for the ground his daughter walked on, for the air she breathed, for the souls who dared to approach her.
To him, all other beings were standardized, categorized. There were the weak, the dangerous, and the rare anomalies like the 『Sword Saint』, who were placed on a different level purely as a consequence of their power.
Evil people existed everywhere. Selfish people on every corner. Vile people every five steps. Their emotions were an open and repetitive book to Puck: greed, lust, envy, fear. And even those who were different, the humble, the kind, he could still sniff out, deep down, some ulterior motive, some hidden desire.
Maybe it was just the kind of people his daughter always ended up running into. But he didn't care. Puck didn't care about the nuances of human morality. He only cared about her safety.
But the boy in front of him… he was different.
Call him a pervert? An opportunist? A creep? Any of those labels should apply to a man holding a woman so improperly. His Lia!
The thing was, Puck had never, in his centuries of existence, doubted his ability to read souls. The naturalness with which he could distinguish feelings and, from them, decipher the intentions of these premature living beings.
And this court jester was the only living exception he had ever encountered.
Subaru, or whatever his name was, didn't have a shred of aversion directed at his daughter. Not a grain of malice. Not a shadow of lust or greed.
Only care. Only affection. Only a confused fraternity. Only… solidarity.
A solidarity so pure, so instinctive, that it was almost divine in its simplicity.
It was as if…
It was as if he understood her completely.
And that was the impossible clause. The anomaly within the anomaly. A completely strange, weird being who appeared out of nowhere, and now, his Lia, his reason for existing, had more than just eyes for him.
She had her entire soul turned towards him.
Can you imagine what this is?! Can you see how wrong all of this is? Utterly improbable in the eyes of the very core of the world!
Puck's thoughts were no longer a stream; they were a tidal wave. An ocean of fury and confusion that threatened to overflow. He was on the verge of believing that all of this was a figment of his own imagination. A psychosis. A stress-induced madness. Because the alternative was unthinkable.
His Lia. That naive, pure, perfect girl.
She wasn't even the same anymore.
From the beginning, from the moment her eyes landed on that broken kid in the alley, something had changed. The world around her seemed to dissolve, the colors becoming a blur of ink, reality blackened to a devastating degree.
Before, when they walked through the capital, he felt the crowd's contemptuous stares like little needles. And he saw how it affected her. She would lower her eyes, become slightly sad, but she wouldn't let it break her. She would take a deep breath and move forward, head held high, with dignity.
But now? Now it was different.
She would look ahead, see the furrowed brows, hear the venomous whispers… and she wouldn't react.
Nothing.
It was as if they were wind. Not scum. It wasn't that she held hatred in her heart; Lia's heart was incapable of such an emotion. But it was as if the burden she had carried for nearly a decade, the weight of a racial hatred that defined her in the eyes of the world, simply didn't matter anymore.
It had been replaced by an infinitely greater burden.
And now, watching her again, nestled in that boy's arms, the Beast of the End found himself in the worst place he could possibly be.
At a fork in the road. An impossible crossroad.
That human. That strange kid. He was a problem. An anomaly that needed to be contained, studied, and most certainly… eliminated.
Puck's instinct screamed. Put him to sleep. Show him how his sudden appearance has ruined everything. Erase him.
But he couldn't move.
And the cause of it, the chain that bound him, was fear.
A pure, primitive fear that chilled him to the core of his being. The fear of trying to touch the boy and seeing what would happen to her.
As he had realized before, his daughter was in a state of deep-rooted dependence. A dependence more fierce and absolute than anything he had ever seen. It was the kind of obsessive love you read about in books, the kind the public consumes as romantic entertainment, without ever understanding the destructive and dangerous nature of such devotion.
Puck could, in theory, get rid of the boy. In a moment of carelessness, in the blink of an eye, he could turn him to dust and scatter him to the wind, a problem solved.
But his Lia wasn't the same anymore.
If he did it, she would cry. She would be sad. She would mourn a life that, in Puck's eyes, had no meaning whatsoever.
And he would be there to guide her. To help her overcome it. To rebuild her. That was his role. That was his purpose.
But…
What if that boy's life, by chance, were to end…
He foresaw the worst.
And the image that appeared in his mind was so vivid, so terrifying, that it paralyzed him.
Lia, his precious daughter, whose only reason for keeping her feet on the ground at this very moment was that hug, would choose, without a doubt, without the slightest hesitation… to die in the same way.
She would choose death. She would kill herself. She would mutilate herself alive. She would follow him into nothingness, leaving Puck alone in a world he had promised to destroy for her.
A part of him, the logical part, the part of the calculating beast, still whispered that this could be manipulation. A complex magic, a curse that had trapped her in an illusion. And that if he killed the boy, the host of the curse, she would be free.
But there was the "what if."
The most terrifying "what if" of all.
What if it's not a curse? What if all of this, this whole devastatingly impossible scenario, is simply… the truth?
What if, somehow, that kid, that bag of bones and ignorance, was now the center of her world?
No, worse.
Literally, her only world.
Puck didn't know where to go. Which path to take. He didn't even know where to begin to rationalize the irrational.
Because, in the end, none of this…
None of this seemed real.
Sniffling lightly, Emilia reluctantly pulled her face away from Subaru's tracksuit.
The fabric was warm and damp against her cheek, and his scent—a strange mix of dust, sweat, and something uniquely him—had been an unexpected comfort. Leaving that small refuge felt like one of the hardest things she had ever done.
Her eyes, red and swollen, fell on the shoulder of his jacket. The dark stain from her tears was a map of her own pain, a visible mark of her weakness. Shame hit her, and she immediately began to apologize.
“Sorry about that… I…” The words died in her throat. What could she say? Sorry for having a lifetime's worth of an emotional breakdown on you?
“It’s okay.”
His voice cut her off, firm and without a hint of judgment. Subaru just gave a thumbs-up, a small, slightly crooked smile on his face.
“You saved me back there,” he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “All I did was lend a friendly shoulder.”
“————”
His words, so simple, so direct, completely disarmed her. He didn't ask any more questions. He didn't press her. He just… accepted it.
Wiping her face with the backs of her hands, Emilia tried to get rid of the last traces of the tears that had dampened her cheeks. She let out a sigh, this one not of pain, but of a deep exhaustion and a trembling relief. And then, she looked at the boy in front of her again.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice still a little hoarse.
And with the word, a small smile formed on her lips. It wasn't the bittersweet smile from before, nor the forced smile for the child. It was something new. Fragile, but true. Genuine. A small bud of gratitude amidst the winter of her soul.
Subaru, upon receiving that smile, felt his brain short-circuit.
He had to force every muscle in his face not to break into a goofy grin of idiotic joy. A huge, silly smile threatened to ruin his whole "dependable friendly shoulder" pose.
He was happy. No, happy was an understatement. He was almost euphoric.
Seeing that small, true smile cross the half-elf's face, after all the pain he had witnessed, was like seeing the sun rise after a long, stormy night. And knowing that he, somehow, was the cause of it… the feeling was intoxicating.
He suppressed the urge to make a joke, to say something stupid. He just allowed himself to feel that warmth in his chest.
“Heheh… you’re welcome,” he managed to say, his voice a little rougher than he would have liked.
Giving a slight shake of her head, as if to clear her own thoughts, Emilia took a step forward. With a gesture that was both practical and incredibly intimate, she began to wipe his shoulder and neck, using the ends of her long, wide sleeves to dry the residue of her tears.
The touch of the fabric, and her proximity, made Subaru shiver slightly.
The blush he had managed to control came back in full force, creeping up his neck. He stood completely still, not knowing what to do with his hands, his heart pounding against his ribs.
It was just a cleaning gesture. But coming from her, it felt like the most intimate thing in the world.
And Emilia, who saw him standing there, stiff as a statue, with a completely idiotic look on his face and his cheeks flushed, couldn't help it.
She let out a low sigh, but this time, there was a hint of genuine amusement in it. A soft sound, almost a suppressed laugh. The tension of the moment had finally broken, replaced by a strange and awkward normality.
Finishing cleaning his neck with a final, delicate touch, she moved away, breaking the proximity that had left him so flustered. Her eyes fell to the stone ground, the mask of determination settling back onto her face.
“Let’s keep going,” she said, her voice once again calm and focused.
The feeling, the temptation, to just go back to the mansion was strong. An overwhelming desire to leave all these problems behind—the insignia, the thief, the Royal Selection—and focus only on him. To be able to… breathe. To have some time to understand what was happening, to take the first step on a path she didn't even know existed.
But, unfortunately, she still had many steps to take before that. Many promises to keep, many responsibilities that could not be ignored.
With a reluctant resolve, she took the boy's hand again. The gesture was firmer now, less of an anchor and more of a command. And then, she began to walk forward, a barely perceptible frown forming between her eyebrows, a sign of her renewed concentration and weariness.
Subaru, still a bit unaccustomed to how quickly her mood could change, took her hand back, a little hesitant. He felt her palm, soft and small, against his. But there was a strength there, a firm grip disproportionate to the delicacy of her fingers, that reminded him she wasn't just a pretty girl.
She was something more that he didn't know.
He followed her, his feet finally finding their rhythm, leaving behind the small oasis of raw emotion and returning to the uncertain journey through the capital of Lugunica.
× × ×
They walked in a renewed silence for several minutes. The only sound was their footsteps on the pavement and the distant murmur of the crowd, which was beginning to thin as they moved away from the main streets.
Subaru's mind, however, was not silent. After the emotional whirlwind, his natural curiosity was returning in full force. He looked at the girl beside him, at the profile of her face, at the way her silver hair shone in the descending sunlight.
And then, his gaze fixed on a detail he had noticed before, but hadn't fully processed.
“Are you an elf?”
The question hung in the air, casual, but loaded with a lifetime of fantasy and expectation. His gaze rose to her ears. They were long, delicate, and ended in a graceful point that stood out against the cascade of her hair.
Observing now, more calmly, the boy felt an almost childish urge to touch. He imagined what it would feel like. Would they be soft? Sensitive? The curiosity was almost overwhelming.
Wrong thoughts, Subaru, he mentally chided himself, shaking his head as if to physically ward off the idea. Focus. No improper stuff.
They continued to walk, leaving the more affluent commercial districts behind. The sun was visibly lower in the sky now, painting the clouds in shades of orange and pink. There were only a few hours left until late afternoon, and the shadows of the buildings stretched like long, dark fingers across the streets.
Subaru noticed that the landscape around them was changing. The buildings were less ornate, the streets narrower, and the smell of food and spices was being replaced by a damper odor of stone and dust.
They were descending. Heading for the lower section of the city.
He presumed this from their trajectory, from the subtle slope of the terrain. And looking ahead, to where their path led, he could see how dark the horizon was becoming. The streets ahead weren't just shaded by the evening; they seemed to swallow the light, a labyrinth of alleys and lanes where the sun dared not enter.
The atmosphere was changing. The air felt heavier, and the few passersby they now encountered looked at them with a different kind of curiosity. Less admiration, more suspicion.
“Half-elf.”
Emilia's answer finally came, cutting through the silence. Her voice was neutral, a simple statement of fact, but Subaru felt a weight in it that he couldn't identify.
“I see…” he nodded, although, to be honest, he didn't see much difference in the constant. Elf, half-elf… to him, both belonged to the same realm of fantasy and beauty. The distinction seemed like a technical detail.
For a moment, Emilia looked back at him, her amethyst eyes meeting his for a second. It was a quick, almost fleeting glance, before she turned forward again, as if she were testing something, checking if he was still there, if he was paying attention.
“These places…” Emilia continued, her voice a little lower now, as she scanned the surroundings with a more cautious gaze. The streets were getting emptier, and the sound of the city seemed like a distant echo.
Subaru felt a subtly tighter grip on his hand. An almost unconscious gesture on her part, a protective instinct manifesting itself.
“We’re reaching the slums.”
Subaru raised an eyebrow.
“Slums?”
The word echoed in his mind. He quickly presumed what it was about. Poverty. The lowest rung on the social ladder Emilia had described.
He looked around more carefully. The streets were now dirt and uneven stone, with dark ditches running along the edges, filled with stagnant, foul-smelling water. The houses were crammed together, built with worn wood and patches of metal, looking like they could collapse with a strong gust of wind.
It was the grim breeze of the forgotten corners of Brooklyn, the atmosphere of a place the rest of the city preferred to ignore.
The image of the thief came back to his mind. He didn't exactly remember the appearance of the girl who had passed him in the alley; the memory was a blur of blonde hair and swift movement. But Emilia's description of the thief who stole the insignia… a young girl, probably from the slums.
It made sense. The lack of proper clothing, the skin exposed to the cold… it wasn't a style choice; it was a glimpse of pure necessity. A reflection of the environment around them.
He thought about his own life. His comfortable room, the food that always appeared on the table, the luxury of being able to isolate himself from the world because the world, for the most part, was safe and predictable.
The contrast with what he saw now was stark.
“It seems sad,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.
It wasn't the sadness of a broken heart. It was the sadness of a system, a glimpse of the realistic hypocrisy that reigned over the people here and there.
“Do you know where to go?”
Subaru's question was a whisper, an attempt to break the silence that had settled. He looked at his surroundings, his eyes trying to absorb the scene.
The orange sun of the late afternoon still managed to filter through the crooked buildings, bathing some of the rotten wooden walls in a golden, melancholic light.
And as they walked, the figures of people began to become clearer.
They were in the exact position one could imagine.
Poverty. At last.
Sitting on the steps of their precarious homes, leaning against dirty walls, or simply standing in the middle of the path. They were figures of resignation. Their gazes were lost on the horizon, their heads swaying lightly, as if they were reciting a silent song amidst a boredom and a weariness that seemed to have merged with their souls.
And, the further the pair advanced, the more the gazes turned to them.
They weren't looks of admiration or curiosity, like in the city center. They were empty, yet penetrating gazes. Gazes that measured them, that evaluated them. Gazes that seemed to ask: What are you, with your clean clothes and your held hands, doing here, in our private hell?
Subaru couldn't help but feel uneasy.
It wasn't because he was the center of attention. He was used to wanting the spotlight. But this was different. It was the feeling of being an intruder, of walking through a genuinely distressing area, a place where hope seemed to have taken a permanent vacation.
Who would've thought, he thought, the grip on Emilia's hand becoming a little firmer, that misery would be so universal?
He had expected dragons, magic, kings, and queens. And he had found all of that—well, half of it. But he hadn't expected to find the same old prevalence of poverty, the same inequality he saw on the news in his own world. The sight was so familiar it was depressing.
You could imagine the kind of system that created a place like this. The indifference of the nobles, the greed of the merchants. Maybe even a consequential dictatorship, a power that kept these people trapped here, generation after generation.
It was a fantasy world, but the dirt under its fingernails was terribly real.
“——Yes.”
Emilia's answer came after a pause, her voice a little slow, distant. Her amethyst eyes swept the surroundings, not with fear, but with a sharp concentration. She evaluated every dark alley, every broken window, every moving shadow. But Subaru realized she wasn't just looking for a path. Her objective was different.
The tension was palpable, and Subaru's curiosity finally won out over his promise to stay quiet.
“The thief is here, then?” he asked, his voice a little lower than usual.
The instant the words left his mouth, he regretted them. He was already realizing he was talking too much, that he was being, at the very least, annoying. The condition was clear: stay quiet. And there he was, breaking the rule again.
He expected a scolding, or perhaps just the cold silence and the stone-hard face she made before.
But her answer was something he could not have predicted.
She didn't look at him. Her gaze remained fixed on a point further ahead, at a crossroads of dark alleys that opened up like the mouth of a cave.
“She will come.”
“Huh, she will come?”
Lia.
Puck's voice echoed in her mind, not as a sound, but as a feeling. A wave of worry and confusion that was almost as overwhelming as her own.
I know, Puck. I know.
She replied telepathically, the mental effort adding another layer to the pain already pulsing at her temples. As they walked, Emilia bit her lower lip, a small gesture to anchor herself in reality.
She really had to be thankful for having him by her side. Puck had always helped her. Even with the memories of her life before that fateful day in Lugunica being vague and fragmented, the feeling of his presence, a constant amidst the chaos, was genuinely good.
Two people she loved were right there. Less than a foot away.
And, honestly, as much as a part of her wanted to curse the world, to curse fate for bringing her back to this place, the second chance she had been given was… something. A terrible and precious opportunity.
She just had to act correctly. She just had to take her steps correctly, one at a time, as if she were walking a tightrope over an abyss.
One false step, and everything could derail.
Extreme caution and extreme cunning. Both together, an armor forged by pain and experience.
At that moment, Emilia had a massive headache.
It wasn't a common pain. It felt like her brain was frying inside her skull, a sensory overload that had started the moment she opened her eyes in this vast place where mana ran as freely as the air itself.
Tiredness. So much tiredness.
She almost let herself groan, a small coo of pain escaping her lips. Her forehead throbbed, a sharp pain that made the sides of her eyes ache just from moving them slightly. It was the exhaustion of an old soul in a body that was not used to the flow of power now coursing through it.
I'll explain everything when the time comes, she promised Puck, the mental message laden with a weariness she couldn't show on her face. I promise, Puck. I promise.
She didn't need to be a genius to feel how her foster father's mind was racing, a whirlwind of questions and suspicions. If there was anyone more confused than Subaru there, it would be him.
It was obvious.
And, again, she had to be thankful.
Thankful that he hadn't asked the questions out loud. That he had only helped her with kind words and an occasional physical touch, a small brush of his furry paw against her hand, a reminder that he was there.
Lia… I hope so, his reply came, tinged with a worry that hit her in the chest. This is all scaring me.
Yes. I understand, she replied, her mental voice calm, even as her inner world was on fire. The answer will come soon.
Magic. Techniques. Combat.
If there were a way to measure how inept Emilia felt at that moment about anything involving a fight, a large, humiliating zero would be stamped on her forehead.
It was like having abandoned the one thing you knew how to do best, the skill that defined part of who you were, and never having gone back. And in her case, that was exactly it.
Anything involving combat, attack magic, evasive maneuvers, techniques in general… it had all vanished like smoke in her mind, buried under decades of a peaceful life.
After all, it would be right to say that it had been almost a century since any ice had been created by her hands with the intent to harm.
But—
Please, she thought, a silent plea. I ask anyone, any force that can still hear me in this world of recurring misfortune. Help me.
Asking for some blessing, for some remnant of her former self, she raised her free hand, the one not holding Subaru's. She opened it, looking at her own palm as if she had never seen it before.
She would never be thankful for having her young body again. She would never thank the world for taking away the marks of a life well-lived.
But, at least this…
It's that thing. Muscle memory.
The body really wasn't studied enough here, in this world. Anatomy was an entire universe, and she would gladly drown in its study if she had the opportunity. But she knew, from her life on Earth, that the body remembered. The muscles remembered. The nerves remembered.
With a concentration that made her headache pulse even harder, she focused. She imagined. The shape, the texture, the temperature.
And in her hand, a small shard of ice began to form.
It wasn't an explosion of power. It was a slow, almost hesitant process. Particles of moisture in the air gathering, freezing, growing. Almost in the exact way she had imagined.
It was small. Imperfect. But it was there.
She closed her fingers around the ice, feeling the familiar cold against her skin.
“Yes,” she whispered to herself, her voice so low that not even the wind heard.
“At least there’s this.”
The thief ran. And ran. And ran.
Each step was a dull thud on the packed earth, each breath a tear in her lungs.
Finally.
The word echoed in her own head, not as a cry of triumph, but as a sigh of pure exhaustion.
Her paranoia was justified. Her desperate rush had a reason. Felt repeated this to herself, a mantra to silence the pain in her ribs and the fire in her muscles.
Her chest pounded with a force that seemed to want to break her ribcage. Her lungs were on the verge of bursting, begging for a break she couldn't afford.
It was just her being careful. It was professionalism.
It wasn't her fault she just wanted to be careful, right? In this line of work, everything had to be perfect. She had admitted that to herself countless times.
One false step, and it was the end. Chains. Bars. Oblivion.
Although, the Kingdom itself didn't seem to care much. The number of thieves that could be counted in these streets was not small. But the guards, the authorities in general, seemed almost ignorant, as if they had given up on policing the shadows.
Maybe that was the only thing Felt really had to be thankful for.
Taking care not to get her feet dirty in a puddle of dark, stagnant water, she pushed forward, her mind already thinking meters ahead, of the warmth and safety that awaited her.
I did it. Yes, it's here.
She risked a glance at her own hand. The insignia shone, even in the dim light. The vivid red of the jewel seemed to pulse with a life of its own, a ruby heart promising a future.
Ten silver coins.
It was all she needed. Enough to get Old Man Rom out of that dusty tavern. Enough to start a new life, far from the filth and despair.
She looked at the figures she saw around her, the inhabitants of this forgotten place. Poor people, whose misery was one hundred percent of their appearance.
And Felt was on the verge of spitting in contempt.
She was the only one moving. The only one who, from this rotten, mediocre place, thought far enough ahead to use her own strength, her own cunning, to escape. She was even known around here. Not as a star, but as someone who got things done.
Felt had a dream. Felt had plans. Felt had the ambition to go far, to leave all this behind.
And, little by little, she knew.
She knew she was getting closer.
Even with her ribs aching, even with her lungs begging for peace, she ran. She was faster.
It was close. Just one more alley, one more corner. The familiar silhouette of the Loot House was already visible. Her sanctuary.
She could almost smell the dust and cheap alcohol. She could almost hear Old Man Rom's hoarse voice.
At last.
Rest.
“No… impossible.”
The thought was a whisper of ice in her mind.
I warned you, Felt.
Her own conscience recited the words, the voice of that part of her that always hesitated, that always feared. The rational part she always ignored.
This was too much for you to handle.
She almost couldn't stop. Her feet, which had carried her for miles, now locked up with a force that made all her muscles scream. She skidded on the damp earth, her body refusing to take another step toward her refuge.
I warned you.
Once again, the voice in her head screamed, calling her stupid, reckless.
You will die.
And then, she felt it.
A cold.
A cold that didn't come from the night air. A cold that materialized against the skin of her neck.
It was a blade.
A blade carved from pure, translucent, and deadly ice, sharp as a shard of glass. It planted itself against her jugular, the freezing temperature stealing the warmth from her body, promising a silent death.
The air was trapped in her lungs. Time stopped.
Slowly, with a terror that turned every movement into an eternity, Felt raised her eyes.
And in front of her, standing at the entrance of the alley, blocking her path to salvation, Felt looked.
The woman.
That silver-haired woman.
She was there, her face a mask of terrifying calm. And her eyes… her purple irises, which had previously carried a deep sadness, were now fixed on her.
There was no anger. There was no hatred.
There was only a target.
A target planted on her head, a target that promised not just defeat, but annihilation.
Felt opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Impossible.
One false step, one sudden move, and she might never wake up again.
The game was over.
Notes:
Muscle memory??? C'mon, the gate is like a semi-organ, right? It could work.
Emilia is very selfless. Never forget that.
Chapter 7: The Hunter and The Winter
Notes:
A thank you to Weaving_That. The daughter's name captivated me.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Why me, of all people?
The question wasn't a lament. It wasn't an arrogant inquiry. It was a silent reflection, the rumination of a soul that carried the weight of an entire sky on its shoulders.
How does the world, or rather, how does Od Laguna, choose the benefactor who will cross all human limitations with a ceaseless torrent of cheats?
Reinhard van Astrea, the Sword Saint, watched the capital from a high balcony, the morning breeze stirring his fiery red hair. Below him, the city was an anthill of activity. Carts creaked, merchants shouted, and a crowd of anonymous faces moved in a constant flow, each living their own small story, oblivious to the man who was, himself, a walking anomaly.
Ask yourselves, he thought, his gaze lost on the sunny horizon, does the force that governs the world even qualify as gender-neutral?
Because if not, if there were a consciousness, an intention, then its choices in bestowing someone with such "love" could be, at the very least, questionable. The love of Od Laguna was suffocating. It was a golden cage.
Divine Protections.
To the common citizen, they were a fairy tale. A gift from the heavens, a touch of luck that could ensure a bountiful harvest or the ability to never miss a throw. A merit of chance. Most believed in the solid foundation that it was just luck.
But for him, it wasn't luck. It was a script.
How does one question someone who is born already knowing how to use their power? Who comes into the world with a mind capable of withstanding the greatness they carry? He never had to learn. He never had to struggle to master his abilities. They simply... existed.
Could he have been someone entirely different if there had been no blessing from the world in the first place? The question was a paradox. Without the blessings, he wouldn't be Reinhard van Astrea. He would just be... a man. The idea was so strange, so alien, that he could barely conceive of it.
For the people who are chosen to receive a blessing, and who survive to understand it, were they already named by the bias of fate? Or is it just the misfortune of possessing it, and the crushing responsibility of carrying it? Adapting, and, with luck, using it with total mastery, only to fulfill the role assigned to them.
Of course, blessings, in general, are something that bestows, as the name itself says, favor. The blessing of Cooking, the blessing of Sewing, the blessing of a Clear Mind. Gifts that make life easier, richer.
But there are cases where the blessing itself is the culmination of something worse. A curse disguised as a gift. A blessing that only activates in the presence of poison, ensuring you survive, but not that you don't suffer. A blessing that attracts magical beasts, turning your life into a constant battle.
A blessing that forces you to be a hero, whether you want to or not.
The blessing, for him, was not a tool. It was his identity. It was his prison.
He closed his eyes, the sound of the bustling city becoming a distant hum.
"Is it just luck?" he whispered to the wind, his voice calm, yet tinged with an infinite melancholy.
He opened his eyes again, the blue of his irises reflecting the clear morning sky.
"No. I... was just chosen for this."
There was no pride in his words. No joy. Only a resigned acceptance, the acceptance of a tool that understands its purpose.
It's already in the blood.
Yes, a script.
There was no more solid, more terribly definitive basis to consolidate what Od Laguna thinks and writes in its grand play.
It's as if there were a desecrated, invisible role, which, beyond carving the names of the favored in letters of fire, also dictated, with a cold indifference, those disqualified to ignorance. A soul, a nucleus in complete expansion, that, whether it seemed so or not, was perhaps the pinnacle of free will.
A frightening freedom, the freedom of a force of nature that chooses where the rain falls and where the lightning strikes, without worrying about the ants on the ground.
The world that Od Laguna created was, undeniably, a true masterpiece. A complex system of life, death, power, and destiny. And it, Od Laguna, a neutral being, loved its creation. Of this, Reinhard had no doubt.
But it did not disperse its love to all equally.
The love of Od Laguna was like the sun. Intense, vital, but also capable of burning. And it chose where its rays would shine brightest.
After all, in the history of this world, until now, what keeps one's feet on the upper path, what defines heroes and villains, kings and pawns, are those who are born with talents to be exacerbated. The strength of a warrior, the mana of a mage, the blessing of a saint.
Like it or not, the world is a cruel place for one who has only their mind as a means of protection.
It is a place that devalues one who, with their own reasoning alone, with the strength of their will and the cunning of their intellect, manages to get somewhere. The effort, the struggle, the overcoming... they were admirable, yes. But on the grand chessboard of destiny, they were minor pieces, easily sacrificed.
And perhaps, for this reason, Reinhard, since his childhood, since he began to understand the abyss that separated him from the rest of the world, found this world to be fundamentally hypocritical.
The laws that governed it, the laws of Od Laguna, were hypocritical.
It was not a thought of blasphemy. There was no anger or resentment in his conclusion. It was just... the calm and resigned acceptance of a fact. Like accepting that the sky is blue or that fire burns. The world favored innate power over earned merit, and that was, in its essence, a hypocrisy.
He accepted it. But he didn't have to agree.
As his gaze swept over the urban landscape, the tapestry of lives unfolding below, Reinhard felt it.
A slight tremor.
It wasn't a physical tremor in the earth, but a ripple in the flow of the world. A disturbance in the atmosphere, coming from more or less to the north. Not too far.
It was like feeling a single dissonant note in a perfectly orchestrated symphony. Most wouldn't notice. But for him, whose very existence was in tune with the pulse of the world, it was as clear as a scream in the silence.
Something was wrong.
His posture, previously relaxed, became alert. The melancholy in his eyes was replaced by a sharp focus.
With a polite nod, he bid farewell to a few people on the street below, merchants he had helped moments before with a trivial problem of a broken cartwheel. They still looked at him with a wondrous admiration.
Then, his feet moved forward.
He didn't run. He simply... moved.
To a casual observer, it would have been a red blur. A speed that could have swept away the public walking there, knocking over stalls and causing chaos.
But for him, it was nothing.
He glided through the crowd as water glides between stones. A sidestep here, a lean there. His movements were so perfectly efficient, so in harmony with the flow of people around him, that he barely seemed to touch the ground. He didn't clear a path; the path cleared for him.
The Sword Saint was on the move. And he moved towards the epicenter of that dissonant note, guided by an instinct that was as much a part of him as the blood in his veins.
× × ×
It wasn't as if he had arrived too late. The play had not yet ended.
However, the clause of abstinence, the moment of acute panic, had already, for the most part, dispersed. The climax of the chaos had passed, leaving behind only the shockwaves and confusion.
The people ran. Or rather, they had run.
What Reinhard found was not a panicking crowd, but its aftermath. Vendors gathering fallen goods, city guards awkwardly trying to impose some order, and citizens clustered in small pockets, whispering among themselves with frightened and curious gazes.
The crowd, from what he saw and heard as he approached and asked a few, had run from a surge of mana. An explosion of raw power, coming, in theory, from someone in their midst.
The answers he received were, as expected, divergent. A mosaic of panic and distorted perceptions.
A merchant, his hands still trembling, said he had seen an audacious theft, a blonde girl passing like a flash.
An elderly lady, her eyes wide, swore she had seen a furious spirit, a demon of ice descending upon the capital.
A young couple insisted they had seen a woman, a woman of supernatural beauty and silver hair, at the center of it all.
Overall, the words were a tangle of fear. And many were holding their heads, rubbing their temples, complaining of a sudden and inexplicable headache, as if their minds had been briefly... scrambled.
For a normal guard, it would be an investigative nightmare. A chaos of conflicting testimonies.
But, thanks to this excess of answers, to this cacophony of information, it wasn't difficult for Reinhard to find the target amidst the sensory holocaust.
He didn't just need the words. He could read the very atmosphere.
He felt the remnants of ice magic in the air, a coldness that didn't belong to that sunny day.
He felt the signature of a Great Spirit, a powerful presence that had manifested and retreated.
And he felt the lingering mental confusion in the people, the unmistakable mark of interference magic, likely used to mitigate an even greater disaster.
Ice. A Great Spirit. Interference magic. And a silver-haired woman with an appearance that, according to the whispers, resembled that of the Witch.
The pieces clicked into place in his mind with crystal clarity.
He didn't know who she was.
But he knew that a magic user of immense power, with a contract with a Great Spirit, was at the center of a disturbance in the capital. And that, in itself, was reason enough for the Sword Saint's attention.
× × ×
A silver-haired woman and a small, feline spirit accompanying her.
It wasn't hard to find them in the stream of people.
While most citizens were still recovering, their heads bowed in confusion or clustered in frightened whispers, they were a point of focus. It was as if they were the only two figures with their heads held high amidst a stooped crowd. They moved with a purpose, a straight line in a sea of chaos.
And, observing them now, as they began to walk down the street towards the lower districts, Reinhard made his first assessment.
They didn't seem to be bad people.
At least, the silver-haired woman's appearance didn't give that impression. There was a dignity in her posture, a grace in her movements, even if her face was tense and pale. She didn't look like a villain who had just caused a disturbance out of malice. She looked more like... someone in the midst of a crisis.
The spirit floating beside her, on the other hand, emanated a pressure that Reinhard recognized well. The power of a Great Spirit. Contained, but present. A potential threat, but one that currently seemed entirely focused on protecting the woman.
The situation was complex. A user of spiritual arts, with a contract with a Great Spirit—a rarity in itself. His duty as the Sword Saint compelled him to intervene, to question, to ensure the safety of the kingdom.
But his instinct, which he himself denies is sharp, told him to wait.
There was more to this scene than met the eye. There was a story there, a context he did not yet possess. Acting rashly could escalate the situation unnecessarily.
So, he made a decision.
Keeping himself stealthy, Reinhard began to follow them.
He blended into the crowd with a supernatural ease, his presence becoming almost unnoticeable. He maintained a considerable distance, using the buildings and the flow of people to stay out of their line of sight.
He would not risk taking any action.
Not yet.
For now, he would just be a shadow. A silent observer, collecting data, waiting for the right moment to reveal himself.
In a small garden behind a house in a quiet suburb of Japan. The smell wasn't of dust and despair, but of freshly cut grass and the roses that Subaru insisted on trying to grow, with variable success.
Where Emilia now stood.
And the voice that called to her was not that of a stranger, but the sweetest melody she had ever known.
"Mom! Mom! Do that thing you did before!"
Miyuki, at five years old and with an energy that seemed capable of lighting up the entire city, jumped with excitement in front of her. Her dark hair, inherited from her father, bounced with each jump, and her eyes, amethyst like Emilia's, shone with a pure and contagious expectation.
"Daughter..." Emilia began, trying to sound firm, but her voice was already giving way. Seeing that cute little face, the pout forming in anticipation, was enough to convince her to do anything. It was a weakness she gladly embraced.
Both the father, her husband, and her own children... they all had the power to manipulate her with just facial expressions and a few chosen words. They had learned, over time, to navigate the defenses of her heart with a frightening ease.
The world was cruel, she thought, a smile forming on her lips. A sweet and welcome cruelty.
"What thing, my love?" Emilia asked, feigning ignorance, just to see her daughter struggle to explain.
"That! The shiny little ball! The one that gets cold!" Miyuki gestured with her small hands, trying to describe the miracle she had witnessed earlier.
The "magic trick."
Emilia looked at her own hands. In Japan, a world devoid of mana in the atmosphere, her Gate was a lake with no river to feed it. A vast, but finite, reservoir. Every spell, no matter how small, was a sip of water that would never be replenished.
Subaru had made her promise. "Save it for emergencies, Lia. To protect yourself. Don't waste it on unnecessary things." He was right, of course. It was the logical, the responsible thing to do.
But then, she looked at Miyuki's face, at the pure, unfiltered joy in her eyes.
And she thought: What could be more necessary than this?
With a theatrical sigh of defeat, Emilia smiled. "Okay, okay. But just one more time. And don't tell Dad."
Miyuki brought her hands to her mouth, stifling a conspiratorial giggle, and nodded vigorously.
Emilia focused. She extended her hand, palm facing up. She didn't need complex incantations. It was a spell so simple, so fundamental to her, that it was like breathing.
She drew a small amount of mana from her Gate, a spark of her ancient power. The air above her palm began to glow, the light condensing. Moisture particles, invisible to the naked eye, were drawn in and frozen in an instant.
A small ball of ice, perfectly spherical and crystalline, formed, floating inches from her hand. It shone in the afternoon sun, refracting the light into a miniature rainbow.
Miyuki's eyes widened in pure wonder. "Wow..."
Emilia smiled, a genuine and loving smile. With a small gesture of her fingers, she made the ice ball spin slowly in the air.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Miyuki didn't answer. She was mesmerized, reaching out her little hand to touch the magical sphere. When her fingers touched the cold surface, she giggled, surprised by the temperature.
Then, Emilia did the second part of the trick. Miyuki's favorite part.
With another thought, she dispelled the spell. But instead of simply melting, the ice ball shattered in a silent explosion of light. Thousands of tiny, sparkling particles, like diamond dust, floated in the air around them, spinning in a slow dance before vanishing into nothing.
Miyuki laughed out loud, a laugh of pure joy, trying to catch the points of light with her hands.
Seeing her daughter so happy, so full of awe... every drop of mana spent was worth it a million times over.
"I told you I couldn't use much," Emilia said softly, as Miyuki was still laughing. "Dad's storage isn't infinite, you know?"
It was the little lie they had created. A way to explain why Mom's "magic" was so rare. They said she "borrowed" a bit of Dad's energy, and that he needed to rest to "recharge." It was easier than explaining about other worlds, about mana, and about a power that was slowly running out.
Miyuki finally stopped laughing, looking at her mother with a sudden seriousness. "When I grow up, can I do magic too?"
The question, so innocent, hit Emilia with a pang of melancholy. She knelt, bringing herself to her daughter's height, and brushed a lock of her dark hair.
"You already do magic, my love," Emilia whispered, touching Miyuki's chest, right where her heart was. "Your magic is making everyone around you smile. It's the most powerful magic of all."
Miyuki seemed to ponder this for a moment, and then a wide smile spread across her face, satisfied with the answer. She threw herself into her mother's arms, hugging her tightly.
"I love you, Mommy."
Emilia hugged her back, burying her face in her daughter's hair, inhaling the scent of childhood and home.
"I love you too, my little star," she whispered, her heart overflowing with a love so vast and so deep it felt like it could, itself, rewrite destiny.
In that moment, in her small garden, with her daughter in her arms, she was not a half-elf from another world. She was not a candidate for a distant throne.
She was just a mother.
Something she didn't know she was so good at.
The air in the alley grew thin, dense, and cold.
Watching the thief before her, Emilia felt her own breath catch for an instant, a small spasm in her chest.
The cold material of the ice blade she had conjured, an extension of her rediscovered will, hovered a millimeter from the skin of the golden-haired girl's neck.
It didn't touch, but the promise of its touch was a sentence suspended in the air.
The girl—Felt—was paralyzed, her body as tense as a bowstring about to snap. The defiant glint she carried before had been extinguished, replaced by a pure, animalistic terror.
"Your age?"
The question left Emilia's lips, a whisper that cut through the silence. It was unexpected even to herself, an anomaly amidst the tension of the confrontation. It wasn't a tactic. It wasn't a veiled threat.
Or rather, it was basically an instinct.
The thief breathed with difficulty, her chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow gasps. She dared to tilt her head up slightly, her wide eyes fixed on Emilia.
There was little light there, in the shadow between the buildings, but what was most recognizable about the silver-haired woman, what seemed to suck in all available light, were undoubtedly her eyes.
The amethysts shone in the bias of the purple dark, not with anger, but with a cold, ancient intensity that seemed to peer into the soul.
"Eh... my age...?" Felt managed to choke out, her voice a trembling thread. The shock of the bizarre question momentarily overrode the fear of the blade. "What kind of question is that?"
Emilia's voice did not change. It remained a calm murmur, but with a weight that crushed any attempt at defiance.
"Just say it."
Felt swallowed hard, the sound far too loud in the silence of the alley. The tip of the ice blade seemed to draw closer, and a violent shiver ran down her spine.
"I... uh... fifteen, maybe?" she stammered, the words rushing out, almost tripping over each other. "Sorry, I don't remember."
She forced a crooked smile, a pathetic spasm of her lips that was more a grimace of fear than anything else. The cold sweat, which she hadn't even noticed forming, now ran freely from her temples.
Fifteen.
The word echoed in Emilia's mind.
Her gaze, for an instant, shifted from the girl's frightened face and swept over the surroundings. The fetid alley. The walls of rotten wood covered in moss. The distant sound of a fight somewhere in the depths of the slums. The sight of poverty, not as a concept, but as a dirty, tangible reality.
She looked back at the girl. At the worn-out clothes, the dirt under her nails, the thinness that spoke of skipped meals.
Fifteen years old. And this was her life. Stealing to survive in this forgotten corner of the world.
Emilia's hand, the one not holding the blade, clenched into a fist at her side. A wave of something that wasn't anger, but a deep, weary frustration, washed over her. A frustration with this world, which forced children to become this.
The intensity in Emilia's eyes wavered, the hunter's coldness replaced by a shadow of an emotion that Felt couldn't identify, but that made her feel a different kind of chill.
Pity.
"You had no other option? None?"
Emilia's question floated in the dark alley, and with it, the atmosphere changed. The sharp, cutting cold that emanated from her receded, like a low tide.
The ice blade, which had been a promise of death against Felt's jugular, withdrew almost drastically, now hovering at a distance that was no longer an immediate threat, but a silent reminder of power.
Felt took a deep breath, the air finally entering her lungs in a desperate gasp. Her heart, which had seemed to stop, began to beat again with a force that echoed in her ears.
She watched the silver-haired woman, the change in her countenance leaving her more confused than before. The immediate danger had passed, but the situation had become infinitely stranger.
"What are you talking about?" she finally answered, her voice still hoarse, but with a hint of defiance returning. Emilia's question, so unexpected, had ignited something within her. A spark of indignation.
"Stealing."
The word was spoken simply, without judgment, but to Felt, it sounded like an accusation.
"Huh...?"
Felt felt something buzz within her, a heat rising up her neck. She didn't like the woman's tone. Not one bit.
She was caught, fine, there was nothing to be done. She had lost.
But now what? What came next? A lecture? Was the righteous and powerful silver-haired woman going to start mocking her? Rub her own misery in her face?
Tch!
The sound escaped her lips, a snap of contempt and frustration. The fear was still there, a constant hum under her skin, but now it was mixed with a wounded pride, the only armor a girl from the slums truly possessed.
"Yeah, exactly," she spat the words, her voice gaining a strength it didn't have moments before. "What did you want? For me to wait for food to arrive at my table? For some soft-hearted noble to drop a gold coin in my lap?"
She let out a laugh, a short, bitter sound that held no humor.
"Hah! Spare me!"
The sweat still ran down her neck. The fear still clutched at her chest, her body still trembling with residual adrenaline.
But she couldn't ignore it. She couldn't let that question pass.
It was her life. Her struggle. And she wouldn't let anyone, not even a scary ice mage, reduce it to a simple moral choice.
Emilia looked at her, her eyelashes lowering slightly. The girl's outburst of wounded pride didn't provoke her. On the contrary, it seemed only to confirm something in her mind, deepening a shadow of melancholy in her eyes.
She didn't get angry at the girl's tone, nor did she seem to take any action. The ice blade remained suspended, a silent sentinel.
She just continued to look at her, taking another step back, creating a distance that felt more respectful than threatening.
"This is really bad."
Emilia's voice was a low murmur, almost to herself. It wasn't a condemnation of the theft, nor of Felt's attitude. It sounded more like a diagnosis. A doctor looking at a symptom and recognizing the deep-seated disease behind it. The poverty. The lack of choice. The harshness of this world.
But to Felt, who only knew the language of survival, the phrase sounded like a judgment.
"Ah, shut up."
The response was automatic, a defensive reflex. Felt was angry, of course. A part of her knew she couldn't go too far with her stubbornness, not against someone who could turn her into a popsicle.
But she couldn't hold it back. Those words, spoken with such a distant calm, were more irritating than any threat.
Emilia then looked at her, and the melancholy in her eyes was replaced by a direct focus, almost vulgar in its intensity. The pause for reflection was over. It was time to get back to the matter at hand.
"The insignia," she said, her voice short, but not harsh. It was a statement of fact. The reason they were there.
"————"
Felt's silence was the answer. The bravado, the anger, it all drained away in the face of that simple, direct command. The reality of the situation returned with full force. She had lost.
With a sigh of defeat that she tried to hide, Felt just put a hand in the pocket of her worn vest, her fingers closing around the cold, heavy metal of the stolen object.
Slowly, as if each centimeter were a confession of her failure, she began to raise her hand.
And slowly, raising the stolen object with a closed palm, Felt showed the product of her risk.
Her hand rose in a slow, almost painful motion, a gesture of surrender she hated with every fiber of her being.
In her palm, the insignia rested, the silver metal and intricate details contrasting violently with the dirt on her skin and her worn-out clothes.
Then, it happened.
The jewel in the center of the insignia pulsed. Or rather, it was already pulsing.
It wasn't something immense, not a burst of light, but a faint, red glow, that lit up and faded like the last gasp of an ember. A ruby heart that, for an instant, seemed to come alive.
And that glow, faint as it was, was still there, present, a silent question in the heavy air of the alley.
Emilia watched, and the intensity on her face dissolved, replaced by a genuine confusion. The ice blade that hovered in the air, her silent threat, dissipated into nothing, undone by her broken concentration.
"What...?"
She let her mouth fall open, the words coming uninvited, a whisper of pure perplexity.
She knew that insignia. She knew its history, its purpose. But she never imagined this could happen.
For it to glow there, in the hand of this thief.
Felt just waited, her arm still extended, her hand practically in the half-elf's face. She didn't understand what the glow meant, but she saw the change in the woman before her. The danger had turned to confusion, and for Felt, anything was better than danger.
She remained motionless, a statue of defiance and fear.
"You're coming with me."
Emilia's voice broke the silence. It was calm, almost casual, which made it all the more disconcerting.
Felt, who for an instant had felt a drop of relief at the sight of the ice blade disappearing, felt her stomach lurch. She immediately regretted having breathed.
"What!? Why!?" she shouted, indignation and panic exploding in her voice.
Before she could retreat, Emilia moved forward and grabbed the girl's hand. The grip was light, but firm, enveloping Felt's wrist and the glowing insignia.
The thief grunted, her teeth clenching as she tried to pull away, yanking her arm with all her might. It was useless.
"I already gave you what's yours! Let me go! I'll mind my own business and you mind yours!"
"————"
Emilia's grip did not lessen. Her amethyst eyes were fixed on Felt, her gaze distant, almost indifferent, but undeniably focused. She was there, but her mind was processing a much larger problem.
And then, from an adjacent alley, a figure emerged.
A sound. The sound of a sneaker sliding lightly on the crust of the dirt floor.
The sound was right behind Felt.
She froze.
A chill ran down her stomach, a cold sensation that had nothing to do with the woman's magic in front of her. It was the primal fear of being cornered from more than one side.
Slowly, with her heart pounding erratically, she turned her head. And saw a boy in a black and orange tracksuit, standing there, hands in his pockets, looking at the scene with an expression of pure, unabashed curiosity.
His eyes passed from Emilia's hand holding Felt's, to the insignia that glowed between them, and finally to the half-elf's face, in a silent question.
But before he could speak, before a single curious word could leave his lips, something came first.
A voice.
"Sorry, Lia. This boy is a pest."
Puck materialized in the air between them, floating with an expression of pure exasperation on his furry face. He crossed his little paws, looking at Subaru with disdain.
"He just doesn't listen. Not that I care, for all I'm concerned, he can get a scolding."
"Wait, what—" Subaru began to protest, his confusion turning to indignation.
Puck ignored him completely, continuing his monologue to Emilia. "A few spankings on the butt would solve it, I think. Isn't that how kids are treated these days when they're rebellious?"
"Tsk!" The sound escaped Subaru's teeth, the offense being too much for him to bear. "You know, I have a heart of gold, you know that? Because if it were up to me, I'd use that furry face of yours to wipe the floor with all this disgusting mud around here."
"Tch! I'd like to see you try, boy, I'd like to see you try," Puck retorted, spinning in the air to face Subaru, his whiskers trembling with irritation.
"You don't know the cunning of a Natsuki—"
"That's enough, you two."
Emilia's voice silenced them both instantly.
It wasn't a shout. It was a low command, issued with a weariness so profound it was more effective than any display of power. The sound cut through the childish argument like a knife, leaving a heavy, slightly embarrassed silence in its wake.
Felt, on the other hand, didn't know how to feel.
Her mind, which had been trapped in a cycle of fear and panic, now tried to process the bizarre scene before her.
She looked at the boy, then at the flying cat, then back at the boy again. And this time, she looked him up and down, her eyebrows raised in an arc of pure astonishment and recognition.
That was the idiot from the other alley. The lunatic who seemed happy to be mugged.
"You're here!" The exclamation escaped her lips, a mixture of shock and disbelief.
"Yeah... I'm right here." Subaru scratched the back of his neck, looking at the thief as he let out a low, slightly awkward laugh.
The connection was made in Felt's mind, and the only possible conclusion was the most terrifying one. They were together. It had been a trap from the beginning.
"You're with her?!" Felt asked, her voice rising to a sharp cry of accusation.
"With her? If you want to put it that way... maybe yes, maybe no—" Subaru began, trying to be vague and charming, completely unaware of the storm brewing in the thief's head.
"I don't even care!" she cut him off, her voice full of panic.
Emilia looked at them both, her amethyst eyes shifting from Subaru's confused face to the terrified girl's. The question hovered in her mind, a new layer of complication in an already impossible situation.
"Do you know each other?"
Her question was met with a dual, instantaneous, and perfectly synchronized denial.
"No!"
"No."
"————"
The silence that followed was thick, heavy with Subaru's vehement denial and Felt's short, frightened response. They both glanced at each other for an instant, surprised by the simultaneity, before quickly looking away.
But then, Subaru continued, his gaze fixed on Emilia's grip on the golden-haired girl's hand. The insignia still glowed between their fingers, a constant red light.
"What's going on?" he asked, his voice now serious, confusion giving way to concern. He turned to Emilia. "You said this wasn't the plan. Right?"
The memory of her words in the alley—stay close, do nothing—was still fresh. But the scene before him seemed to contradict the calm he had expected.
"It's complicated to explain right now, Subaru," Emilia replied, her voice restrained, without taking her eyes off Felt. "For now, I'm just taking her to the kingdom's authorities."
"——What!? I already told you to let me go!" Felt's scream was a mix of panic and fury. The word "authorities" was a death sentence for someone like her.
Subaru, who had listened carefully to Emilia's response, looked at the girl again. He saw the genuine terror in her eyes, the way she struggled uselessly against the iron grip.
"I know she stole... but... look where she is."
Subaru's gaze swept the surroundings, taking in the decay of that place where misery reigned. The crooked houses, the smell of dampness, the empty faces of the few who watched from a distance.
"Stealing is really not my thing, but... I can't find another way to survive in these streets."
"————"
Emilia's silence was the only answer.
"Uh... Emilia." Subaru continued, the half-elf's name still sounding a bit new and innovative on his tongue. He felt strangely compelled to defend the thief. "I know... the item isn't mine and all. But it wouldn't hurt to leave her alone, right? She already gave you what you needed."
He looked at her hand, at the insignia she still hadn't taken.
"Subaru... I'm not trying to arrest her," Emilia said, her voice laden with a weariness he was beginning to recognize. "It's more complex. Please, understand."
The sincerity in her voice made him hesitate.
"You're not?" he asked, doubt clear on his face.
"No." Her answer was firm, leaving him with more questions than answers.
"We'd better get going."
Puck finally spoke, his voice cutting through the air and the words Subaru was about to form. The small spirit floated closer, his gaze serious.
"My time is running out. The sun is setting."
"Let's go."
Emilia's word was the final point in the discussion. With a swift movement, she finally took the insignia from the thief's hand.
The instant Felt's contact with the insignia was broken, the red light flickered, becoming bright again in the half-elf's hands.
Felt shuddered, her irises trembling, her heart beating far too fast against her ribs. Her mouth went dry. The last drop of hope for escape had vanished.
"————"
Subaru remained distressed, his mind a whirlwind of unanswered questions. He didn't understand the complexity of the situation, Emilia's urgency at first. But he saw the determination on the half-elf's face.
I just need to trust Emilia, that's all, he thought, a reluctant but necessary decision.
Then, Emilia began to walk, heading in the opposite direction, back towards the more bustling streets. She still held Felt's wrist, pulling her along. Her grip wasn't strong, it didn't hurt, and it even seemed to have a certain dexterity in the way she guided her, almost as if leading a reluctant dance partner.
Felt kept her head down, her face hidden by her golden bangs as her lips pressed into a thin line of silent despair.
Subaru and Puck followed close behind.
The feline spirit looked at Subaru and placed a paw over his own lips, gesturing an emphatic and silent "shhh."
Subaru just rolled his eyes and whispered, his voice almost inaudible.
"I know, I know."
And so, the unlikely group moved through the darkening streets, a silent procession towards an uncertain destination.
But before then, in the midst of the measured steps of that ill-formed team, while they were still navigating the labyrinth of alleys on the edge of the slums, a voice cut through the air.
And with the voice, the world seemed to break.
The space around them seemed to gnaw away, reality distorting like an old, malfunctioning film. The damaged tape, scratched by time, projecting the wrong frame. Everything slowed down.
The distant sound of the city became a low, oppressive hum. The few figures leaning against the walls of the crooked houses dragged, their faces becoming expressionless blurs.
"Ara~"
The voice, coming from behind the boy in the tracksuit, stretched through the sudden silence.
It was a feminine voice, drawn-out and dangerously seductive. The kind of voice that promised pleasure and pain in the same syllable, that seemed to carry with it the scent of blood and dust.
A violent shiver ran down Subaru's spine, who was the closest. It was a primal reaction, an alarm that screamed in his nervous system before his mind could even process the danger.
"Unfortunately~ running away... is the last thing you'll be doing here~" the mysterious woman continued, her voice a melodic whisper that caressed and threatened. "What mediocre work~. Unfortunately, that's not my dilemma. But money is money~, orders are orders~."
Subaru turned.
The movement, which should have taken a second, felt like an eternity in that distorted reality.
And in the same moment he looked back, he saw her.
A tall woman, dressed in black, with a smile that was a predator's slit in her face, standing as if she had always been there, in the shadows of the slums.
And coming towards him, a blade.
A Kukri blade, curved and perfectly precise, moved in slow motion, inches from impaling his eyes. It was a rudimentary weapon, stained and worn, its shape and purpose seeming to belong more to a butcher shop than a duel.
Subaru's brain couldn't process it. He saw the tip of the blade approaching, the distorted reflection of his own terrified eye on the dirty metal. He opened his mouth, a pathetic, choked sound forming in his throat.
"Ah—"
"SUBARU!"
Emilia's scream tore through the distorted reality.
It wasn't a scream of fear. It was a roar. A purple, desperate sound that emanated from a place of loss and terror of a lifetime.
And with the scream, time snapped back to normal with the force of a whip.
× × ×
Suppressing the urge to click his tongue in pure frustration, the feline spirit, Puck, hovered over the boy's body.
Subaru, who was stunned, his hand touching his own face, his chin, his cheek, practically feeling the ghost of the blade merging with his eyes, found nothing. No mark. No blood.
He was on his butt on the damp earth, the impact of being thrown back or having fallen from pure shock barely registered. His chest heaved, gasping for air that seemed to have been stolen from the atmosphere.
"What a mess," Puck growled, his voice a miniature thunderclap.
His attention was focused mainly on the curse that had appeared there. A child, or rather, a woman with an apparent visceral and problematic instinct who had resurfaced from nowhere, like a nightmare taking form.
"What...? What happened?" Subaru stammered, his mind still trying to catch up with the speed of events.
"Shut up," the beast growled, his voice a dangerous warning. "Don't you dare move from here."
Puck held back another growl, frustration bubbling within him as he issued his order to the frightened boy. The feline wondered, for an instant, if his own mind was getting scrambled.
Him, protecting that lanky guy? That bag of bones and ignorance?
It was just instinct. A distorted and reluctant instinct. To value the life of that kid was, by a terrible and inescapable logic, the same as valuing the life of his daughter. He... still didn't have the cards to risk on the impossible.
Besides.
"Don't you dare let him get hurt."
Short and sharp, Lia's voice echoed in his mind. His daughter. From across the street, where she had pushed Felt away from immediate danger, her cold eyes were fixed on him, dictating the duty that the Beast of the End had to follow at all costs.
Protect that kid.
Beyond the fear, beyond the indecision, there was still the order. The visceral and almost pragmatic order that his Lia had entrusted to him. An obligation that, by the tone she used, made every hair on his body stand on end.
"A spirit~"
The woman, who hovered in the middle of the street like a spider in the center of its web, smiled. Her lips curved into an expression of pure, malevolent delight.
"I've never cut open the intestines of one~. Curiosity is truly killing me."
"What a strange child you are. A fetish for shit. Literally," Puck snorted, the contempt in his voice as cold as the ice he commanded. His blue eyes, normally bright, now burned with a primitive light.
The animal was pissed.
The air beside Puck condensed into visible particles. The moisture, previously a sensation in the air, now became a weapon. Beams of ice materialized from nothing, shimmering, glistening icicles that floated in a deadly arc around the small spirit.
Each one was larger than a human leg, all sharper than the finest spears forged in the kingdom.
The assassin smiled, feeling the abrupt drop in temperature on her skin not as a threat, but as the pinnacle of adrenaline, the prelude to a beautiful theater of blood.
Raising her kukri, the curved blade gleaming with a promise of violence, she stepped out of the shadow. Her slender body, previously cloaked in the darkness of the alley, now basked in the orange light of the setting sun with a deadly glamour.
Her targets were separated. The boy and the spirit on one side. The half-elf and the thief on the other.
For the power, she thought, excitement growing in her chest, perhaps there really is some fun to be had here, even if I don't hold back.
Then, the woman charged.
The petrifying smile summarized her entire face in a blur of speed. She didn't run; she exploded forward, a black and lethal blur that devoured the distance between them in the blink of an eye.
Puck reacted with the same supernatural speed.
With a silent command, he launched his ice crystals. The volley of frozen spears cut through the air with a sharp whistle, their precision more than perfect, each one aimed at a vital point on the advancing body.
At the same time, he released a gust of wind, an invisible force that struck the dumbfounded boy below him, throwing him backward, further away from the line of fire.
The narrow alley became the stage for an inevitable collision between bloodlust and protective fury.
× × ×
"You'd better run."
Emilia's voice cut through the air, calm and level, a stark contrast to the burning light that now blazed in her amethyst eyes.
The words barely registered in Felt's ears. She was mesmerized, her wide eyes fixed on the battlefield that had erupted before her.
It was a deadly dance amidst a sudden snow, a shower of sharp hailstones, and the metallic glint of a curved blade moving too fast to follow.
A part of her, the part that appreciated the chaotic beauty of the world, didn't know if it was beautiful, or just the most terrifying sight of her life.
Glancing at the half-elf, Felt began to get up, her legs trembling slightly, but obeying.
Unlike the boy on the other side, paralyzed by shock, she managed to move with a certain ease, even with her body flooded by a level of adrenaline that would make most faint.
It was more or less a habit. The survival instinct honed by experience was a powerful drug.
"You people are crazy," she murmured, the phrase a mixture of awe and pure dread.
"Just go."
Emilia didn't even look at her. Her eyes were locked on the fight, and especially on him. She just gestured with her head in the opposite direction, a silent order for Felt to flee, to get lost, or whatever.
She didn't care about the thief. And, in that moment, she wouldn't care what happened to her. There was only one target in her mind.
Thus, receiving the dismissal she so desperately wanted, the thief did not hesitate.
Felt stomped on the ground hard and ran.
Her feet, agile and now propelled by a renewed fear, swept across the earth and stone at an almost alarming speed. She became a blonde shadow, disappearing into the growing darkness of the alleys, leaving behind the madness of gods and monsters.
Subaru.
His name was a silent thunder in her mind.
Emilia's thoughts were a mess, a knot of worry, strategy, and a headache that throbbed in rhythm with the battle before her. If there was anything to make her migraine scream louder, it was stress.
And there she was, feeling as if her silver hair was about to fall out from sheer tension.
With the thief now a problem for later, she quickly ran.
Her long legs carried her to the other side of the street in wide, swift strides, the fabric of her dress whipping against her thighs.
The boy was already on his feet, leaning against a wall, his wide eyes fixed on the deadly dance happening just a few meters away.
And what made Emilia most anxious, what turned her concern into pure exasperation, was that he was smiling.
A goofy, wondrous smile, like someone watching the best action movie of their life. Even though the battle was just a blur of black, silver, and red to his untrained eyes.
Getting close, she grabbed him by the shoulders, the touch rougher than she intended. Her eyes scanned him from top to bottom, looking for any injury, any cut, any sign that the phantom blade had been more than just an illusion.
"Emilia... wow... this is..." he began, his voice full of childish admiration, without taking his eyes off the fight.
"Are you hurt?" she cut him off, her voice sharp, urgent.
The question snapped him out of his trance. "Huh? No, no, I'm fine," he replied, finally looking at her, the smile still lingering on his lips.
Emilia bit her lower lip, the tip of her teeth pressing into the skin hard. She didn't like the way he answered. She didn't like the glint in his eyes. She didn't like any of it.
The boy still thought this place was a fairy tale.
"We have to get out of here."
Emilia looked back once more, her eyes trying to penetrate the chaos. The battle had turned into a localized storm.
There were so many ice crystals being created and destroyed that the alley floor seemed to be entirely fogged over. A white, icy mist circulated the area, the noise within it remaining loud and furious.
The sharp sound of metal against ice and the bright shards that exploded within the mist were the main culminating factor of a fierce fight. Puck was giving it his all.
Lia, I don't have much energy left.
Puck's voice echoed in Emilia's mind, the sound low and tinged with a weariness that hit her like a physical blow. The meaning behind those words was clear.
Go away. This woman regenerates. She's dangerous, he continued, and Emilia's lips tightened into a thin, pale line. I'll buy you time. Run.
"What about the cat dad?" Subaru asked Emilia, the admiration in his voice now replaced by a genuine anxiety as he sensed the shift in the atmosphere.
"Just go. Let's get out of here, we can't deal with her."
Emilia felt her heart grow heavy as she said the words. They sounded more than bitter in her mouth; they were poison. To leave Puck behind. To leave her father, her first and most loyal companion, to fight alone. She would never, in any life, make that decision.
However, she had no other choice.
"————"
Subaru, about to say something, to protest, to hesitate in some way, just felt his hand be grabbed and pulled with surprising force.
Emilia made him run, dragging him in the opposite direction of the fight. Her lips were tight, her jaw locked.
She could have entered the fray herself. Fought alongside him. But it would be suicide. Emilia, in her current state, with her rusted power and her unaccustomed body, would only get herself killed. The assassin's movements were almost blurs even to her. A delayed reaction and it would be a critical, deadly blow.
And she couldn't die. Not anymore. Not with him by her side.
"Let's go!" she shouted, her voice an urgent command that brooked no argument.
"I'm coming!" Subaru replied, stumbling over his own feet before finding his rhythm, running beside her, the sound of the battle and Puck's fury growing ever more distant behind them.
Until, a blade, coming from the battlefield, crossed the space between them at a splendid speed.
It was the kukri. Spinning in the air like a deadly boomerang, it whistled, making a curved trajectory towards the backs of the two fugitives.
Lia!
Puck's scream in Emilia's mind was a deafening alarm.
Emilia stopped and turned on impulse, her body reacting before her mind could fully process the threat. She pushed Subaru aside with her shoulder, placing herself between him and the approaching projectile.
She raised her hand, her slender fingers tensing.
The moisture in the air around her palm dropped drastically, condensing into a visible cold. Her own hand seemed to become the epicenter of an instant winter.
What came next was not elegant. It was not a refined spell.
It was a shield. A misshapen, crooked wall of ice, imbued with overlapping plates, created in the last solstice of a second. Pure, opaque, dense ice, the kind that barely reflects light.
The impact came an instant later.
The blade struck the ice wall hard, ricocheted with a sharp metallic clang, and fell to the stone ground moments later, inert.
And then, walking out of the dissipating mist, the black-haired woman advanced slowly.
The melodic smile was still on her mouth. A smile that, now, reached her eyes, filling them with a glint of pure, sadistic fun.
Her steps were measured, her slender legs moving forward in a uniform pause. They were the movements of a lady who wants to seduce with a mere walk, but which, in that context, seemed like the calm approach of a predator that had already cornered its prey.
"Where's the cat dad?!" Subaru shouted, his panic finally breaking his admiration. He looked at the dissipating cold breeze, at the absence of the small spirit, and felt, for the first time since the alley, a genuine terror at seeing the woman approach unopposed.
The sun had almost completely set. The dirt road was dark, the surrounding alleys had no light at all. The moon, still a pale, emerging crescent in the sky, barely helped.
It was chaos. A chaotic and terrifying silence.
Emilia looked ahead, over the ice shield. Her heart pounded against her chest. Cold sweat ran down her back.
Puck's time was up.
"Run," she said, her voice low, a command that was barely a breath. She didn't look at Subaru. Her eyes were locked on the approaching figure.
Emilia would be lying if she said she wasn't afraid. A deep, icy fear that mixed with her headache and exhaustion. But duty, the instinct to protect the only thing that mattered, spoke louder.
"Please, just run. Subaru."
"But, Emilia! She's going to... she's going to kill you!" His voice was a desperate cry, the reality of the situation finally hitting him with full force.
"And if you don't run, it will be both of us."
Emilia's voice was short, the words forced from her dry throat.
"But...!"
"SUBARU!"
Emilia screamed, his name tearing through the air. She turned to him for an instant, and the sight of his desperate face, of the panic and helplessness in his eyes, was like a knife in her own heart. She didn't like it one bit.
"Just go! Run!"
"————"
Subaru's heart tightened. The uselessness of his being, his weakness, screamed in Emilia's own desperate words. He was a burden. A dead weight that was holding her there.
His lips pressed into a thin line, his legs almost trembling, caught between the instinct to flee and the agony of leaving her behind.
"Subaru, please—"
Emilia's plea was cut short.
The woman advanced.
She didn't run; she cut the air in two. In the blink of an eye, the distance between them disappeared. Emilia reacted on pure instinct, the sharp whistle of the blade in the wind being the only alarm that woke her from her despair.
"Huma!"
Again a shield, this time more adjusted, denser, rose from the ground in an instant. The ice wall collided with the assassin's feint by a hair's breadth, her blade scraping the surface with a sharp sound of metal scratching stone.
The moment to take a slight breath never came.
The assassin, with a supernatural fluidity, bypassed the dense ice, her body spinning in an impossible movement. She angled the dagger in a half-moon shape, the blade now aiming for Emilia's unprotected flank.
"Huma!"
The ice that came now was not a shield. It was a barrage.
The ground at Emilia's feet cremated into pure ice. As if the earth itself were revolting, stakes of ice, thick as immense stones, burst from the ground in a violent explosion, surrounding her in a makeshift and deadly fortress.
Emilia was feeling the pulse of mana in her veins, a feverish current. She was forcing much more than she should into simple attacks. Or rather, into simple shields.
The ice she created looked like overlapping snow, compacted by the pressure of millennia. It was the kind of ice you see on a frozen mountain peak, dense and opaque.
Something that, perhaps, was good for resistance. But each barrier she erected made the already narrow street even smaller, turning the alley into a claustrophobic corridor of ice and shadows.
What a disgrace...
Emilia's eyes were downcast. A deep melancholy crossed, for just a second, her iris. She was being inefficient, desperate.
"Subaru? Are you there?" Emilia asked, her voice low, without turning.
"Yeah..." And Subaru answered, his voice equally level, still paralyzed a few meters away.
"If you're not happy with my request," Emilia continued, her voice tense, "please, at least try to get help then."
It was another attempt. A last, desperate attempt to distance him.
Help wouldn't arrive in time, she knew that. The capital guards were useless against a monster like that. But... maybe this way, Subaru would get out of her hair. He would be safe. Away from her. Away from the danger.
"——Alright."
He finally said, his voice reluctant, but loud enough to sound like a decision. As if the idea of being useful, of having a mission, was, somehow, the salvation there.
"Go." Her order was a whisper, but laden with the full weight of her will.
"————"
He then, ran.
Guilt biting him alive with every step, the fact of being a burden weighing twice as much on his mind. He didn't look back.
"Ara~"
The woman, who watched the scene from a medium distance, her head tilted, remained smiling.
"I said it before. I can't let you run... it's not an option for me, my dear."
With a fluid movement, she prepared to intercept the fleeing boy.
"Your fight is with me."
Emilia moved, her voice tense and low.
"Don't you dare look away."
She placed herself in front of Subaru, who was running with all his might, and the assassin, who never once lost her crooked smile, creating a living barrier between the prey and the predator.
"Very well. Let's see what you're capable of."
The assassin brandished her weapon, the Kukri blade reflecting the little moonlight with a sickly gleam. Her eyes, previously full of a casual delight, were now sharp, focused, just like Emilia's.
"I've never seen the entrails of an elf."
The taunt hung in the cold air, a promise of violence.
Emilia did not respond with words.
Instead, the answer came from the very air around her.
Small points of light began to materialize, appearing from nowhere like stars on a cloudless night. Another dozen. Several luminous spirits, each a small beacon of power, converged on her, covering her almost entirely in a soft, pulsating cloak of light.
She prepared herself.
The palm of her hand, extended before her, began to emanate a visible mist. The temperature around her plummeted, the stone ground cracking under the sudden cold.
Colder. Denser.
She raised her gaze, and her amethyst eyes, now glowing with the light of the spirits and a frozen determination, met the assassin's.
"You will die," Emilia said, her voice no longer a whisper, but a statement of fact.
"And you will never know."
Notes:
Emilia is desperate, isn't she? This chapter took a bit of work.
Chapter Text
"Thank you, Emilia-tan."
His voice brought her back.
In the middle of an amusement park, the sun cast an encompassing fire, painting the world in golden afternoon hues. Young people and children circulated the noisy corner, a mosaic of life in motion. Several groups of friends laughing loudly, several parents chasing after their young children.
You could see the silhouette of a roller coaster in the distance, its tracks drawing promises of screams in the sky. A Ferris wheel turned slowly to the east, a colorful sentinel. To the west, the metallic and chaotic sound of bumper cars. There was much more, especially those she called "death rides." Machines that spun and turned against the heavens, ready to kill anyone with an excess of adrenaline.
The place was packed. So many people here and there that every ride had a line stretching out like a lazy serpent.
Grand openings were like that, weren't they? Especially at the end of the year.
"I'm sorry, Subaru. But I don't know why you're thanking me."
Next to Subaru, sat Emilia. Just a few inches away.
Both were seated on a wooden bench, both looking forward, both observing the colorful and noisy eccentricity before them.
"You said it was always better to hear a 'thank you' than an 'I'm sorry'."
Emilia pressed her lips together, a small smile fighting against a small frown that crossed her face. The memory of her own words, spoken in such a different context, in a world so far away, was a familiar pang.
"But I don't know the reason for you to thank me. I didn't help with anything."
"You're a pain when you want to be, you know, Emilia-tan?"
Subaru smiled, letting out a little laugh that mixed with the wind and the distant sound of the park's music. The sound made the half-elf form a super cute pout, an expression he loved to provoke.
"Subaru! Don't change the subject!"
"Sorry, sorry." He scratched his head, a grimace of false surrender appearing shortly after. He turned to her, his smile softening, becoming something more genuine, more profound.
"Isn't it obvious?" Subaru continued, his voice lower now. "You helped me."
Emilia sighed lightly, a sound almost inaudible amidst the noise. She didn't like how vague he was. The wind fanned her slender face, carrying the scent of cotton candy and popcorn.
"It's still hard to understand."
"Let me elaborate, then."
His arm extended, his index finger pointing to a group laughing near a crepe stand.
"See that tall guy, Kenji? He wants to be an architect. Spends his days drawing buildings that look impossible. He taught me that even the craziest structure needs a solid foundation."
His finger moved to a girl with colorful hair who was gesturing animatedly.
"That's Yui. She's going to be the greatest mangaka Japan has ever seen. She lives in a fantasy world, but she showed me there's beauty in putting that fantasy on paper, instead of just living in it."
He pointed to another boy who was trying to steal a piece of Yui's crepe and failing miserably.
"The idiot over there is Haruto. He dreams of being a chef. He says the secret to good food is balance, and that even the most bitter ingredients can be part of an amazing dish if you know how to use them."
Finally, he pointed to a quieter girl, who watched the scene with a shy smile.
"And that's Akari. A programming genius. She explained to me once that, no matter how broken a code seems, there's always a way to debug it and make it work again. You just have to find the bug."
Then, he lowered his arm, turned to Emilia, and his smile was the most genuine and vulnerable thing she had ever seen.
"I wanted to say thank you for this, Emilia-tan." Subaru's lips widened, the pride in his voice palpable. "Maybe I just needed a little more courage."
Emilia, who was still looking at Subaru, turned her gaze back to the group of friends.
She herself wasn't surprised at all.
Subaru was very energetic, playful, and fun. Him not having friends... was something that could never enter her mind. Emilia was sure that Subaru was the most extroverted person she had ever met. Besides captivating children, he could also, with a certain and annoying ease, capture her attention as well.
Again, Emilia didn't know why Subaru was thanking her for this. All she did was... exist?
"I'm happy for you, Subaru." She smiled lightly, a genuine and soft smile, looking at the division of colors in the group of friends Subaru had pointed out. They seemed to be approaching, drawn by the scene.
Would she have to introduce herself? Yes, that was certain. Even though a certain shyness still made her stomach feel cold, a remnant of her old personality that decades of life hadn't managed to completely erase.
"Emilia-tan—"
"LOOK OVER THERE! IT'S SUBAS'S GIRLFRIEND!"
A boy from afar shouted, his voice loud and full of a jeering joy, cutting off Subaru's next words like a thunderclap.
Emilia mentally noted the name, remembering Subaru's description. Haruto. Yes, he already had a bit of a Subaru air about him. Probably a prankster.
"EH—...! I TOLD YOU GUYS TO WAIT! AND... SHE— SHE... SHE'S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!" Subaru's face turned a shade of red so intense it could rival Reinhard's hair.
"Oh? Really? Even I thought so." Yui, the colorful girl, pointed with a paintbrush that seemed to have appeared from nowhere in her hand. "The way you talked about how she was charming, drop-dead gorgeous, a silver-haired angel who fell from the sky and all that—"
"SHUT. THAT. MOUTH!" Subaru shouted, lunging towards them as if to cover Yui's mouth with his own hands.
"He's not denying the 'drop-dead gorgeous' part," Akari, the quiet girl, murmured to Kenji, who was beside her, with a small, analytical smile.
"He's just delaying the inevitable," Kenji replied, his voice calm and amused, watching Subaru's desperation with the tranquility of someone observing a natural phenomenon.
Emilia watched the exchange of words, the cacophony of teasing and desperate denials. She could only partially catch each one, but the energy, the dynamic... it was so clear. It was the universal language of friendship.
She smiled lightly in the end, a little laugh that she had to suppress behind her fingers so as not to spoil the comedic play unfolding.
"Your friends are fun, Subaru," she murmured at last, seeing how the argument was turning into some kind of improvised rap battle, with Haruto and Yui clapping rhythmically while Subaru gestured in a panic.
It was a scene of pure and chaotic happiness.
A happiness that, like all good things in that life, she didn't know had an end.
The cold.
Ice. The only thing that would cross the mind of anyone who witnessed it would be fear. Fear of ice, of cold, of the blizzard that had materialized in a dirty alley.
But for Emilia, the cold brought a certain, strange calm.
It was as if the weight of her own body, which before had felt like an anchor, was now that of a feather. She felt she could run a marathon of miles and miles without tiring.
Before, on Earth, the weight she felt on herself was an uncomfortable burden. There was a time when her back started to hurt just because she stayed in a bad position for too long.
Earth. How different that place was.
From here, the world of Od Laguna, to that one, the difference was an abyss. This place, with all certainty, was completely unfair to those who came from beyond the great waterfall.
Emilia felt within herself, upon remembering, a deep sadness and bitterness for not being able to do many things on Earth. She could barely carry a flowerpot without her fingers aching. She felt how sore her body would get just from lifting a few weights here and there at the gym Subaru forced her to go to.
It was almost laughable, a bitter laugh, just to witness such a line of divergence. There, she was fragile.
Here, now, she felt she could lift more than ten men at once.
"It's really very unfair," she whispered to the icy wind she herself had created.
The ground around her was already completely frozen, a layer of white, opaque ice that spread from her feet, cracking and breaking the stone and earth beneath it. The alley was no longer a forgotten corner of the slums; it was the beginning of a glacier, the domain of a personal and furious winter.
In front of her, stood the assassin.
Her smile was no longer in sight. What was on the woman's face was just a thin, completely straight line. Her eyes, sharp and slightly narrowed, studied her.
Irritation? Confusion? Anger? It was impossible to name the emotion, and Emilia, frankly, didn't care anyway. Nothing that woman said or did mattered.
A monster. Emilia named her in her mind, carving her identity in stone as an enemy to be slain.
The people were far away. The range of her icy aura was small, compared to the whole place, of course. But it was deadly.
And maybe, that was why the black-haired woman didn't take a step.
It would be suicide.
But Emilia could also barely move her body while maintaining the spell. Her own limbs seemed to freeze along with the environment, the energy being drained to maintain that zone of death.
So, partially suspending her spell, she relaxed the aura. The ice on the ground remained, but the pressure in the air lessened. In her hand, she created a blade, quite poorly made, crooked, but deadly all the same. A scratch, and there would be blood.
In fact, just imagining something like that sent a shiver down Emilia's spine. Hurting someone. That had truly never crossed her mind in her other life.
The thief, before. Hurting her? That was far from her objectives. What happened there was just something to put her against the wall, an empty threat.
Emilia looked at the blade in her hand, strengthening it with a layer of thick, opaque ice.
The sword she had made for the thief before was so brittle that the wind itself could have taken it, shattered it to pieces.
Muscle memory would indeed give her a better knowledge of the things she did and used to do. And, she herself knew that her imagination had been amplified far too much from watching so many movies, so many moving cartoons on television.
However... observing how easy it was to control the things she had now, with a certain and dangerous carelessness, of course, maybe there was something wrong with her body.
The ice aura she could create was powerful, she could amplify it and customize how much its temperature dropped, in exchange for her own movements. However... it felt like it wasn't coming directly from her. It was weird. As if she were receiving help from some internal force.
However, that was a thought for another time——
"I was starting to get undecided, my dear~."
Elsa's voice cut through her thoughts, melodic and mocking.
"Was this a battle or a training session to test your skills? I admit, I was getting bored."
Elsa prepared herself, her body leaning forward, the Kukri blade held low and ready.
"Come."
And then, with the assassin's dash, Emilia raised a palm.
In response, several ice crystals took shape in the air around her and shot out in a matter of milliseconds. There hardly seemed to be time to think; it was pure instinct.
The assassin dodged.
She moved her slender body with impossible movements, an almost unbelievable flexibility, twisting and spinning in the air. It was an ice machine gun, and she danced between the icicles like a wraith, a serenade of dread amidst the storm of shards.
Parrying several of the smaller ice pendants with her kukri, which shattered into clouds of glittering dust, she advanced, closing the distance towards Emilia.
The assassin was absurdly fast. Or rather, she was absurdly fast.
Seeing that ranged defense wouldn't be enough, Emilia changed tactics.
She reinforced the aura.
The field of intense cold she had relaxed moments before exploded outwards, growing in size. The temperature in the alley plummeted even further, the air becoming so cold it burned the lungs.
The assassin, who was one step away from reaching Emilia, was forced to pull back her strike, her body stopping abruptly as she felt the crushing pressure of the extreme cold, which threatened to freeze her muscles and slow her movements.
For now, this would be the tactic. A vicious and desperate cycle. Try to hit her from a distance, force her to retreat with the pressure of the aura when necessary.
There was only time for this. There was only room for this. A hand-to-hand fight, Emilia knew with an icy certainty, would be the end. A quick and bloody end.
Her spirits, the small points of light dancing around her, were helping her with mana suppression. They weren't casting attack spells; no, their task was much more subtle and vital.
They acted as regulators, as a cooling system for the overheated engine of her Od, ensuring she didn't waste power, that she didn't overload her Gate with the extreme and rusty activation of so many ice variants. They were the only reason she was still standing.
The seconds that passed were an eternity. A catastrophe contained in a narrow alley. It was a torrent of ice crystals. Spears, needles, entire walls that rose and fell. The air was saturated with the sound of ice breaking and reforming. And against this avalanche, there was the relentless advance of Elsa.
She moved like a liquid shadow, a nightmare of agility. She didn't just dodge; she flowed. The larger crystals, she used as makeshift platforms, her feet touching the frozen surface for a fraction of a second to change direction in the air. The smaller ones, she parried with her kukri, each movement of the blade a precise arc of metal that turned threats into a shower of diamond dust.
She was martyred by the ice, forced to retreat when Emilia's aura intensified, the frost clinging to her black clothes, vapor leaving her mouth with each breath. But she always came back.
The assassin's face was a mask. The smile was still there, constituted with a predatory concentration. It was impossible to know what was going on in her head, whether it was insanity or an even deeper delight, but she continued. Relentless.
Ice and more ice. An avalanche of sound. The sharp CRACK of the kukri meeting the larger crystals. The shiiing of dozens of smaller ice blades being deflected. And the most terrifying sound of all: the silence when Elsa found an opening.
Attack and defense. Defense and attack.
It was a promising tactic for Emilia, in the most desperate sense of the word. She knew she couldn't kill the assassin. The regeneration Puck had mentioned, the supernatural speed... Elsa was a monster of another caliber.
However, this was a great way to buy time.
Every second she kept the assassin busy was one more second for him.
I'm counting on you, Subaru...
The thought was a silent prayer, an ember of hope in the middle of her battle's winter.
And so, the cycle continued.
Emilia raised both hands, and the ground in front of Elsa exploded upwards. Not in stakes, but in a wave. A wave of solid ice that rose like a frozen tsunami, threatening to swallow the assassin.
Elsa didn't retreat. She ran towards the wave, using the slope of the ice wall as a ramp. Her feet found purchase where there should have been none, and she shot upwards, her black silhouette cutting against the pale moon.
From the sky, she dived.
Emilia's response was instantaneous. A dome of thick ice formed above her head, a battle igloo. Elsa's kukri struck the dome with the force of a forge hammer, cracks spreading from the point of impact. The dome didn't break, but the sound of the collision was deafening.
From within her makeshift fortress, Emilia launched the next phase of her attack. The ice under Elsa's feet, where she landed, became smooth, polished like a mirror. The assassin, caught off guard by the change in terrain, slipped for a fraction of a second.
It was the only opening Emilia needed.
Dozens of ice needles, thin and almost invisible, shot out from all directions, aiming for Elsa's joints, her weak points.
But Elsa didn't growl.
She smiled.
A perverse smile, of pure delight, spread across her face as she felt the first needles pierce her skin. The pain was a spice, a welcome surprise in a meal that was beginning to get monotonous.
Instead of dodging, she opened her black cloak. The fabric, imbued with a unique magical material, rippled in the air and seemed to absorb the light, creating a momentary vacuum. The avalanche of ice crystals coming towards her was dissipated upon touching the cloak, dissolving into a harmless mist before even reaching her.
A few needles got through, embedding themselves in her shoulders and arms. She ignored them, her smile widening as she felt the wounds closing almost instantly, a sick pleasure running through her body.
The battle continued. A brutal and exhausting stalemate.
The alley, once a place of poverty and oblivion, was now a grotesque ice sculpture, a testament to the fury of a woman fighting for the only thing she had left.
× × ×
Emilia was avoiding grunting.
Every time she switched from attack to defense, she felt her lungs lock up for a moment, the air freezing in her throat before being forced out. It was a desperate dance, a constant exchange between offense and defense, and each transition was a shock to her system.
When she used the icy aura, the crushing pressure of cold that forced Elsa to retreat, it wasn't just the environment that froze. Besides her body going numb, her mind seemed to stay in the same place, stuck in a single focus: keep the temperature low, keep the pressure on.
She no longer chanted the necessary incantations for the spells, not like before. The magic flowed from her on pure instinct, a raw torrent. Could she improve the effectiveness of her crystals with an incantation? Yes, undoubtedly. But there was no time for her mouth to open and form the words. Every second was too precious.
She couldn't use this aura spell without making herself vulnerable in a way. Besides her limbs freezing, making her a statue in the center of her own storm, she had no way to maintain concentration on anything else, like creating more ice stakes, more walls. It was all or nothing.
Everything was too difficult. A complex choreography.
Maybe... with a lot of practice, one day I'll get there. The thought was a bitter irony. She didn't have "one day." She had, perhaps, the next ten seconds.
However——
"Hk—!"
A sharp sound escaped her lips as the assassin almost got her.
The transition was too slow. The icy aura, which she had activated to force Elsa back, was dispelled with a fraction of a second's pause. And just look, it was almost enough.
Elsa's blade cut through the air where her body had been a millisecond before, the whistle of the kukri passing so close she felt the cold wind on her skin. The assassin had predicted the pause, exploited the weakness. If Emilia hadn't thrown herself back instinctively, her flank would be open.
Only two minutes had passed since it all began.
Just. Two. Minutes.
It felt like a lifetime. The alley, now a nightmare of broken ice and dancing shadows, was a testament to the power she had unleashed. But at what cost?
She could hear the worried cries of her spirits, the orbs of light glowing reluctantly, pulsing with a frantic urgency around her. They felt what she felt: her Od, the source of her life and magic, slowly overloading, protesting against the abuse, against the extreme effort.
"A little more..." she murmured, her eyebrows furrowed in a scowl of pure concentration. The sweat, now forming on her forehead, froze almost instantly upon contact with the cold air.
And so it went.
The assassin was still standing, almost full of life if not for her black clothes partially covered in frost. She smiled and laughed from time to time, a melodic and sick sound that echoed through the frozen alley, taunting Emilia with comments about the beauty of her internal organs or the color her blood would be against the white ice.
And Emilia just ignored it.
She became a fortress. Focused. Completely concentrated on her duty. On surviving. On getting one more chance to see the sun rise beside him.
The assassin advanced again, this time with double the speed.
She didn't run in a straight line. She shattered the frozen ground in a terrifying charge, exploding into motion.
She circled Emilia from all sides, a wraith moving in the folds of the houses, climbing the ice walls Emilia had created, a black wind fanning the surroundings. And with her, a smile, a smile that seemed to be everywhere at once, mocking every defense.
She was looking for a spot, a breach, any place. A millisecond of hesitation.
And then, she advanced. A black blur diving from the shadows of a rooftop.
Emilia responded in kind.
Her arms opened, and the air around her became an armed torrent. An arsenal of ice spears, sculpted in the best way her imagination and raw power allowed, materialized. Icicles the size of men, needles as thin as strands of hair, walls of shards that moved like a swarm. Everything.
A vaporized stream of cold air followed the sharp objects, each one promising to destroy everything in its path, each one promising to annihilate.
The assassin continued the same. Charging, destroying, dancing, swimming amidst the ice storm.
They were all acts of pure and deadly majesty in that dark corner, where the moonlight bathed every solstice of ice, every crease of darkness.
Perhaps it was beautiful to spectators, if there were any. But, everything there was undeniably mortal.
Bursts of power. Mid-air kicks that shattered approaching icicles. The collision of hard materials, the sound of metal against ice echoing like broken bells. A shock that made the very earth tremble.
Even several icicles, deflected by Elsa's blade, crossed the night sky, expanding an ephemeral glow on the horizon where the moon bathed its light.
It was, literally, a beautiful and terrible thing.
The assassin was then getting close, being too fast. Charging from impossible places, using the walls and ice debris as support, her flexibility defying gravity and logic.
Emilia prepared herself, her mind screaming to switch back to her defense, to the aura that protected her. The temperature began to drop around her.
And then, Elsa, still in the air, in the middle of a leap, raised her kukri.
And threw it.
The blade flew, not in an arc, but in a straight line, a spinning silver bullet in Emilia's direction, at an extreme speed.
Emilia's eyes widened. The attack was a bluff. A distraction. The real target wasn't the blade. It was her reaction.
The ice aura she was beginning to form fell, her concentration broken as she moved instinctively to protect herself from the projectile.
And it was in that moment, in that exact instant of hesitation, that a small smile crossed Emilia's face.
A sad, resigned smile. The smile of someone who understands that time is up.
"Huma!"
A final shield was created, smaller, denser. It ricocheted the assassin's kukri, sending it high, spinning in the night wind.
But it was too late.
"Your eyes~"
The assassin's voice, a seductive and deadly whisper, sounded directly beside her ear.
She was already there. Close enough to impale her. The predator's smile back on her face.
"Are rare... the kind you don't see in common warriors. Now, calm down~ and feel it."
Emilia still considered unleashing her icy aura again, in a last desperate explosion. But the voice, the assassin's voice, so close, her presence crushing her concentration, shattered her hopes in half.
Everything stopped.
The sound of the battle. The cold. Time.
She didn't feel the blade go in.
Just a sudden, wet warmth in her abdomen.
"Sorry," she murmured at last, her voice a puff of air that barely formed the word.
She didn't know if the apology was for him, for not being able to buy more time.
Or for herself, for not having been able to go very far on her second chance.
The light hit her face.
Not the pale, indifferent light of Lugunica's moon, but the warm, golden rays of a late afternoon sun, filtered through a clean glass window. The air didn't smell of dust and fear, but of vanilla, sugar, and something subtly floral, like jasmine. The sound wasn't the echo of metal against ice, but a soft piano melody and the murmur of restrained laughter.
Small silver and purple streamers hung from the ceiling, shimmering gently with every breeze that came through the ajar window. The living room's coffee table had been pushed against the wall to make space, and on it, a chocolate and red berry cake rested like a work of art.
Everyone was there.
Kenji, Haruto, and Akari were huddled on the sofa, trying to look inconspicuous and failing miserably in their attempts to whisper. Yui was near the window, a huge sketchbook on her lap, pretending to sketch something, but her bright eyes betrayed her anticipation. And at the piano, from where the soft melody came, sat a woman with long blonde hair and a gentle smile, a friend whose presence was a safe harbor in that world.
"Happy birthday, Lia."
Subaru's voice, a whisper near her ear, made her turn. He was there, holding a small blue velvet box. His face, now in his thirties, bore the marks of a life well-lived—small crow's feet at the corners of his eyes that only appeared when he smiled that way.
"Subaru... you all didn't have to do all this," she said, her voice a little choked, feeling overwhelmed by the conspiracy of affection.
"Yes, we did," he replied, his smile widening. "Today is the day to celebrate the most stubborn and beautiful existence I've ever been lucky enough to encounter. Now, open the presents before Haruto eats the whole cake."
Haruto, from the sofa, shouted a muffled "I HEARD THAT!", which only made everyone laugh.
The celebration was a warm and happy mess. Yui gave her a portrait. Not a realistic one, but one in a fantasy style, depicting her as an elven queen sitting on a throne of ice, with a small Subaru in black armor kneeling at her feet, offering her a crown. The joke made her blush and laugh at the same time.
Kenji and Akari gave her a joint gift: a latest-generation tablet, already set up by Akari with all the reading apps and a garden design program that Kenji swore she would love.
Haruto, as expected, was responsible for the cake, a masterpiece that was almost too beautiful to eat. Her blonde friend gave her a set of rare teas from around the world, each in a small decorated tin, promising they would spend many afternoons trying them all.
And then, came Subaru's gift.
He waited until the cake was cut and the mess had subsided. He knelt in front of her, just like in Yui's portrait, and opened the small blue velvet box.
Inside, rested a necklace. It was a thin, delicate silver chain, and the pendant was a single, small ice flower, carved from crystal, with a tiny blue sapphire at its center.
"I know you can make a real one," he said, his voice low, just for her to hear.
"But I wanted to give you one that you wouldn't have to spend your own energy to maintain. One that would always be there, to remind you..."
He hesitated, searching for the words.
"To remind you of how much you've blossomed here."
The tears Emilia had held back all afternoon finally escaped. She said nothing. She just leaned in and kissed him, a kiss that carried the weight and lightness of a decade of shared life.
Later that night, after everyone had left and the house was quiet, except for the soft sound of the rain that was beginning to fall outside, they were sitting on the sofa, Emilia wearing the new necklace.
She was nestled against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder, while he idly flipped through one of the tea books she had received.
"It was a good day," she murmured, her voice sleepy.
"The best," he agreed, closing the book and placing it on the table. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. "You know, Emilia-tan, sometimes I still think I'm dreaming."
She turned a little to look at him, her amethyst eyes shining in the dim light of the room. "Why?"
"All of this," he gestured vaguely to the room, to the house, to the life they had built. "Having you here. Having a family. Having friends who wouldn't run away if they knew my wife could freeze their tea if she got angry."
She let out a little laugh, lightly slapping his chest. "I wouldn't do that."
"I know," he said, the smile evident in his voice. He grew serious for a moment. "It's just... I was trash, Lia. A useless NEET who had given up on everything. And then you appeared. And you didn't give up on me. Even when I was an idiot. Even when I was weak."
He looked at her, and the intensity in his eyes was the same as that first day in the alley, but now it was tempered with years of love and understanding.
"You saved me, Emilia. In more ways than you'll ever know."
She didn't answer. She just snuggled closer to him, closing her eyes, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart against her cheek. The sound was a lullaby, a promise of safety, of belonging.
In that moment, wrapped in the warmth of his arms, with the sound of the rain gently tapping on the window, she felt complete.
"Sorry for the delay."
The voice was calm, but it resonated through the frozen alley with the authority of a sentence.
"————"
Emilia, who was expecting the final blow, the plunge of the blade into her heart, felt nothing. Only the echo of that voice.
She opened her eyes, her vision blurred by pain and blood loss.
And she saw him.
Holding the assassin's kukri inches from her face, the curved and dirty blade firmly gripped in his gloved hand, stood a man. He positioned himself in front of her like a wall, an insurmountable barrier.
His tone was firm, reverent, and laden with an almost palpable sadness, as if he were apologizing not just for the delay, but for how the situation had worsened.
Flaming hair, a vivid red that seemed to steal the color from the moon itself. Broad shoulders, wrapped in a large and immaculately white greatcoat, with purple accents that denoted his affiliation. And a slightly hard face, looking at the assassin before him.
Elsa, the assassin, didn't try to pull her blade back. She let it go.
With feline agility, she flew backward, landing softly several meters away. Her eyes, previously focused on Emilia, were now wide, and a large smile, of pure and childish joy, spread across her face.
She wasn't looking at the man. She was looking at what he represented.
At the waist of the flaming-haired man, visible under the white greatcoat, rested the scabbard of a sword. A blade that, even unseen, radiated a presence, a history. A blade that could only mean one thing.
The 『Sword Saint』.
"I can't believe this fight has drawn the attention of someone so memorable. The Sword Saint~"
Elsa's voice was a hum of pure delight. She kept smiling, observing the man before her with an excitement that bordered on adoration. His name was as striking as the man himself.
"I'm glad there's no need for me to introduce myself," he said, his voice calm, without turning. His blue eyes, as clear as the morning sky, shone in the darkness of the alley, which was blurred by the icy mist. "If you'll permit me, allow me to be your opponent now."
"It's not like I have a choice~," the woman joked, the happiness in her voice making the scene even more surreal.
The man then, ignoring the taunt, bent down.
With a care that contrasted with the urgency of the situation, he picked up a cold material resting on the ground, near Emilia's feet.
A sword. The ice sword she had created.
The weapon wasn't perfect. It had sharp points in the wrong places, the guard was crooked, and the balance, nonexistent. But in his hands, it seemed like something more. He held it as if it were a treasure, and in almost any other occasion, it would have been a luxury.
A perfectly biting ice blade. Its touch brought an off-kilter resistance, being glacial in its essence, and yet, inevitably viable as a weapon.
He glanced slightly behind him, his blue eyes meeting the lady's.
The silver-haired woman was coughing lightly, one hand pressed firmly against her abdomen, trying to staunch the bleeding that stained her white dress crimson. With the other hand, she was trying to conjure a faint green light of healing.
Her eyes seemed somewhat unfocused, her body acting almost automatically, but she was there, fighting to stay alive, refusing to fall.
"My apologies again," the man said, his voice laden with a genuine regret as he saw her state, as he saw that she was still there, fighting for her life. "If I had been faster..."
The thought remained unfinished. It was not the time for regrets.
Finally, he straightened up, sheathing the ice sword in his own empty scabbard, a gesture of respect for the weapon and for the one who created it.
His eyes focused on the woman before him, his determination hardening his face.
He wanted to end the fight quickly.
"Let's go, then."
Reinhard's voice was a command to fate.
"————"
Walking forward, the Sword Saint moved away from the silver-haired woman, deliberately positioning himself in the center of the alley, ensuring a safe distance for her. He became the epicenter of the battle, drawing all attention to himself.
In that time, Elsa exploded into motion.
She flew to all sides, becoming an even more ghostly wraith than before. She ran along the ice walls, leaped from the makeshift rooftops, her speed leaving trails of darkness in the air. At that level, it was impossible for her to be an ordinary human.
A pity for her, because the 『Sword Saint』 was in the same boat.
If not on another level entirely.
The woman advanced, cutting the air not with one, but with several blades that seemed to appear from her hands. She delivered lethal slices from various different angles, each movement of her body, each charge, resulting in an arc of deadly steel.
The Sword Saint parried her.
Skillfully. Easily.
He wasn't using his own sword. He was using the kukri he had taken from her. Every parry was perfect, every deflection executed with an economy of motion that was almost insulting. He wasn't fighting; he was correcting.
He threw her back with each wave of attacks, breaking her rhythm with a simple touch of the blade. And he counter-attacked. Lightly. Almost as an afterthought.
A step to the side, and his blade would cut her flank as she passed.
An upward block, and the tip of the kukri would graze her shoulder on her retreat.
And so on.
It wasn't a battle. It was a lesson. And the Sword Saint was a terribly stern teacher.
"The Bowel Hunter, I see."
The Sword Saint's voice was calm, a statement, not a question. He counter-attacked at the same moment he spoke, a fluid motion that forced the woman to retreat once more.
The bloodthirsty woman was already covered in blood. Her own. Her wounds, which before had closed in the blink of an eye, were now healing more slowly, leaving dark trails on her black clothes.
She was reaching her limit.
"I'm glad my name is recognized by a living legend," she said, her breath a little ragged. Even so, the smile never left her face. It was a wilder smile now, more desperate.
"You have caused many problems for Lugunica. Being fanatical about attacking mainly the abdomen," he said, his voice a thread of steel.
With a simple gesture, he let the kukri blade fall to the ground, the metal clattering on the stone with a final ring. And shortly after, with a smooth motion, he raised the glacial blade he had picked up earlier, the makeshift weapon shining under the moonlight.
"You are trapped."
"This... is a show, you know?" Elsa finally stopped, a few meters in front of him, her chest rising and falling. She raised her second kukri blade, the one she still had, mirroring the Sword Saint's stance. Almost like an act of blasphemy, but disrespect was not what she wanted to convey. It was a recognition. The final recognition between two predators.
Glancing over his shoulder one more time, the Sword Saint saw someone else.
A boy. The boy in the strange tracksuit he had seen earlier, in the middle of the street's confusion.
He was shouting the name "Emilia!" and pulling the silver-haired woman back, away from the battle, into the safety of the shadows. The boy's face was terrified, but also fiercely worried.
The wound on her abdomen seemed to have closed, the green light of healing finally doing its job.
The Sword Saint smiled lightly. A genuine, almost imperceptible smile. Relief.
He returned his focus to the woman before him. The game was over.
"The Bowel Hunter, Elsa Granhiert," the assassin proclaimed, her name a final breath of pride and defiance.
Reinhard nodded, a final gesture of respect.
He gathered mana from the atmosphere. The glacial sword in his hand, previously opaque, began to glow, absorbing the purple light of the moon and the power around it. He pointed the blade towards the woman, an act of honor before the final blow.
And, with a calm and clear voice that carried the weight of generations, he followed the act.
"Reinhard van Astrea, of the Sword Master lineage."
Notes:
I was going to post earlier, but my internet suddenly crapped out.
Chapter Text
"Tsk. I knew it."
A voice echoed in the vastness.
A colorful immensity that remedied everything, that healed the very notion of space.
If that was the sky, or the beyond, the view was great.
It was impossible to tell if they were clouds or auroras painting the firmament. It wasn't even possible to say if it was dark or even light. It was as if day and night existed at the same time, an eternal twilight of purple, gold, and sky-blue.
Such an easy and simple distinction, and yet, look. She couldn't distinguish it.
"————"
Emilia's body wouldn't move. She couldn't do anything.
But there was no panic.
Maybe it was just exhaustion, finally collecting its debt. Maybe it was just her body itself, exhausted, asking for a break. No matter how insignificant.
Because, even though she couldn't move, the feeling of powerlessness wasn't frightening. On the contrary, it only made her want to be even more at peace. Without wanting to think about anything. No pain. No fear. Just... floating. A feather on a gentle wind.
"I knew you were amazing, Lia!"
The voice continued, closer now. It was warm, familiar, an anchor in that ocean of colors.
"I mean, I always knew... but this...! This is a phenomenon!"
Emilia furrowed her brows slightly, a tiny movement in a still body. Her chest, which she thought had stopped, began to rise and fall lightly, a slow and steady rhythm.
The voice continued, full of a contagious energy that seemed immune to the quietness of the place.
"How can I admire you if all the words in my vocabulary have already been used? Like, I can't think of anything else! Magnificent? Divine? Overwhelmingly beautiful? I've used them all! I need a new dictionary just for you!"
"————"
The sound of his laughter echoed, not in her ears, but in her soul.
"Lia, my dear..."
His voice lowered, the playful tone dissolving, becoming something more tender, more profound. The kind of voice he used late at night, when the world was asleep and it was just the two of them.
"I wasn't wrong to say you were an angel."
The word hit her. Angel.
She felt something move. An eyelid. A finger. The memory of a touch, of a warmth. The memory of a duty.
She needed to go back.
With an effort that felt like moving mountains, she forced the air out of her lungs, forced her vocal cords to obey, to form a name that was, at the same time, a question, a prayer, and a safe harbor.
"——Subaru?"
She opened her eyes abruptly.
The vast colorfulness disappeared, replaced by the blurred vision of a dark wooden ceiling. A few tears, remnants of the dream or the trauma, circled her immaculate face, tracing cold paths on her skin.
The air entered her lungs with the force of a punch.
Instinctively, her hands flew to her body.
She held her chest, feeling the fabric of her dress and, underneath, the frantic beat of her heart. Her neck, searching for the ghost of a blade. Her abdomen, where the memory of a wet warmth and a piercing pain still screamed.
Her entire body.
She patted herself down, her fingers trembling, checking if everything was in place, if she was feeling it normally, firmly. There was no pain. There was no wound. Only the phantom memory.
And then, after taking a deep breath one, two, three times, managing to pull in the air with more dexterity, she sat up.
The movement was fast, almost violent. She held her head in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees.
Her slender fingers pressed against her forehead, which before, during the battle, had been taken over by the nausea of mana overload. Now, it was much better. No pain, no crushing burden.
But there was something...
An absence. A silence where a voice had been.
"Subaru...?"
The name escaped her lips, a weak and confused whisper, directed at the empty room.
"Lia!"
The answer came, not from the voice she was looking for, but from one that was equally familiar.
At last, the feline spirit appeared before her, materializing out of thin air in a small burst of light. He was worried, his large green eyes wide, his whiskers trembling.
He came very close to the silver-haired girl, hovering at her face level, his small paw almost touching her cheek.
"Puck..." she murmured, her voice still lost, as if part of her were still adrift in that vast colorfulness.
"You're awake."
The feline came closer, and she felt the familiar touch of his paw on her cheek. The soft fur gently brushed against the dry tear tracks, a gesture of care that anchored her further in reality.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice soft, but laden with a concern he couldn't hide.
Emilia didn't answer at first. She just shook her head lightly, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to force her mind back to normal, to find the clarity that eluded her. The dream... the voice... they still echoed somewhere in the distance.
"Just a dream, I think," she finally said, the sentence sounding more like an attempt to convince herself than an answer for him.
"————"
The spirit furrowed his brow slightly. The word 'dream', which he already disliked, now made his furry whisker twitch in a spasm of restrained irritation. Dream. That word again. What was she seeing in these "dreams" that left her so broken?
Still, he pushed his curiosity into the deepest den of his mind. There was no need to press her now. He had time.
Even though his own anxiety, a growing paranoia about the boy and the change in his Lia, was driving him to the brink.
"Where are we?" Emilia raised her eyes, finally taking in the room at her disposal.
It was a simple room, with a clean smell of dry wood and washed linens. The bed she was sitting on wasn't luxurious, but it was clearly comfortable, covered with a heavy gray blanket.
Apparently, it was daytime. The sunlight hit the only window in the room, searing the plank floor near it with a golden, healthy light. A new day had begun.
"An inn," Puck replied, flying above her and landing gently on top of her head, a familiar gesture of comfort. "The pink-haired maid found a place for us to spend the day until dawn. Or, in this case, until the next one."
He continued, his small paw gently fluffing her silver hair.
"Are you feeling better?" the feline went on, the worry evident in his voice. "I didn't get the whole story. When I arrived, you were passed out, but... I also didn't see any wounds on you, Lia... but, still..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. The panic he felt upon seeing her collapsed, unresponsive, was still fresh in his mind.
"I am."
She waved her hand in a reassuring gesture, letting out a small sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the previous night.
"Much better than before, at least."
Bringing a hand to her head, she mentally gave thanks. The migraine, the throbbing pain that had tormented her throughout the battle, had finally given her relief. It was as if an iron band squeezing her skull had been removed.
A few more minutes passed in a comfortable silence, filled only by the small caresses from her father and the soft sound of footsteps outside the room.
Then, she stood up.
The movement was decided, but there was a restrained anxiety in her posture. She felt the wooden floor touch her bare feet, the real and solid texture grounding her.
"I cleaned your clothes," Puck said, pointing with his paw to her boots, neatly aligned at the foot of the bed. "They were in a terrible state. Blood, dirt... a horror."
"Thank you..."
She walked over, with each step feeling the strength return to her limbs. She sat on the edge of the bed and began to put on her boots, feeling the now clean and warm material on her legs.
As she tied the laces, she furrowed her brow slightly as she looked at her clothes. The white dress, now immaculate, brought a feeling to her. A small discontent curved her face, a flash of her old vanity, which vanished seconds later, replaced by a much more urgent concern...
She still hadn't seen him.
The silence in the room stretched, and Puck felt the change in the atmosphere. The calm had vanished, replaced by a tension that emanated from her in waves.
Finally, she turned, her amethyst eyes fixed on the small spirit, the question that had been on her mind since the moment she woke up finally taking shape on her lips.
"Puck, where is Subaru?"
"I haven't seen him for a while."
Puck, on the other hand, just let out a small sigh, his voice tinged with a weariness that mirrored Emilia's. He floated closer, his whiskers twitching slightly.
"He was arguing with the pink-haired maid. Or, at least, it seemed like it. An exchange of insults, from the maid's side specifically."
The instant she heard his name, Emilia stood up.
The movement was fast, almost abrupt.
Her long legs took her to the door in a few steps. She opened it seconds later, without hesitation.
What greeted her was a small, all-wood hallway, with the smell of wax and dust. The floor creaked under her feet. There were a few rooms here and there, the doors closed, but the whole place had an air of silence and emptiness. It wasn't a bustling capital inn; it was a functional resting place, a stop in the middle of a long road.
She stepped out, her face composed, but her eyes scanned the hallway, looking for any sign of movement.
"Lia?"
Puck's voice, coming from behind her, made her stop.
"Yes, Puck?" She turned, raising an eyebrow as she was called, the question implicit in her expression.
"————"
Puck observed her for a light moment, his green eyes scrutinizing her face, as if looking for something out of place, something strange. Then, he simply ignored whatever he was thinking, flew to her, and nuzzled his head against her silver hair, a gesture of pure comfort.
"It's nothing."
Somewhat confused by his strange hesitation, she decided to forget it. There was something more important on her mind.
She continued on her way down the silent hallway, towards the stairs that would lead to the lower floor. Each step echoed the urgency that was growing in her chest.
× × ×
As Emilia descended the stairs, the sound of voices grew clearer. They weren't the voices of other guests, but a duet of irritation and provocation that was unmistakable.
"You know, I still don't get the reason for so much hatred. I didn't do anything!"
"Ram knows the type of man who crosses her path before he even crosses it. You are no different, Barusu."
Ram's voice was cold, sharp, and laden with a disdain that could freeze fire. She stood in the small lobby of the inn, arms crossed, her nose turned up with an arrogance worthy of a queen.
"Someone who held a woman so improperly in his hands, with clearly lecherous intentions—"
"I already said I had no intention of that!" Subaru protested, his face starting to turn red. "I mean... her skin was soft and... and I was just being a gentleman!"
"Hah!" Ram let out a short, humorless laugh. "How quickly a depraved man digs his own grave in front of the jury. Not even the Witch herself would pity you. Trying to justify your lust with chivalry. Pathetic."
"Blah, blah, blah! What's with all this pride? And what's with that name? Barusu?! It's SU-BA-RU! S-U-B-A-R-U! Can't you hear, or is your brain too small to process three syllables?" the boy grumbled, gesturing as if he were spelling it out for a child.
"Besides being blind, perverted, stupid, and crazy, you're also deaf," Ram recited, her voice monotone, as if reading from a shopping list. "Don't you understand that the words Ram used are perfectly correct? Ram is never wrong. It's a law of nature. What a foolish boy."
"I'm not listening! Lalalalala! I can't hear the sound of arrogance!" Subaru covered his ears with his hands, shaking his head.
"Throwing a tantrum like a child. No wonder you dress like a fairground clown. Perhaps if Ram treats you like the baby you are, you'll understand—"
"I. AM. NOT. LISTENING!" Subaru shouted, his voice an octave higher, squeezing his eyes shut.
The noise continued, both figures casting budding glares at each other. One of frustrated disbelief from Subaru, and the other of complete and utter disgust from Ram. It was a battle of an immovable force against an unstoppable object of idiocy.
Approaching closer, descending the last step of the wooden staircase, Emilia began to think.
Ram.
The name floated in her mind. One of Roswaal's maids. Her sponsor.
Emilia couldn't find many clear memories of her. It was even difficult to speculate what she, Emilia, was doing in the capital. Wandering aimlessly? It had to be. It was the most obvious explanation.
She observed the two for a moment, standing at the base of the stairs. Subaru, gesturing wildly, arguing with a woman who, in her very vague memories, she swore was much quieter. The proud type who only opens her mouth mainly to correct, point out mistakes, and show off with a subtle superiority. Seeing her so engaged in a childish argument was... unexpected.
Emilia just let out a resigned sigh. That was the Subaru effect.
And, as if sensing her presence, they both stopped mid-taunt and turned their faces in her direction.
And their eyes widened.
"Emilia!"
Subaru's voice was the first to break the silence, his face breaking into a grand, relieved smile. He jumped up from his wooden chair, nearly knocking it over in the process.
"Are you better?" he asked, the genuine concern in his voice completely replacing the irritation from moments before.
"Emilia-sama."
Ram's voice, in contrast, was a formal murmur. She bowed in a perfect curtsy, her head lowered, her posture impeccable.
"My apologies for you having to wake up and be greeted, on your new morning, by the words of a weirdo."
The jab was subtle, professional, but undeniably aimed at Subaru.
"————"
Subaru just gritted his teeth, but restrained himself from retorting in front of Emilia, which resulted in a grimace of contained frustration that was almost as funny as the previous argument.
× × ×
Sitting in the wooden chair Subaru had offered her, Emilia relaxed her back against the rest. The movement was slow, deliberate. She felt the gentle aroma of the tea on the table reach her nostrils, a simple herbal scent that promised a moment of peace.
Relaxing her shoulders as well, she picked up the warm cup and took a sip.
It was simple, but very good nonetheless. A relief in the midst of so much chaos. A small point of normalcy in a world that had been turned upside down.
On the other side of the small table sat Subaru, who also took a sip of his own tea. The expression on his face, however, was one of almost exaggerated indifference, as if he were trying to prove that the tea was the most uninteresting thing in the world, probably to annoy the maid who had served him.
And at the center of the scene, not sitting, but standing between them, beside the table, was Ram. The pink-haired maid, with her impeccable posture and a stone face that revealed absolutely nothing.
Subaru looked at the two ladies before him. Both women, in their beauty and presence, seemed to belong to a completely different world than his.
One of a silent and melancholic dignity, the other of a cold and sharp arrogance. He had met someone before, a merchant, who had a more jovial and clumsy air. That, somehow, helped him see that this world wasn't just composed of meek and intimidating people.
"Continuing the explanation, Emilia-sama."
Ram's voice broke the silence, formal and precise.
"Ram arrived at the location upon seeing a strong glow coming from the lower directions of the capital. A mana disturbance too large to be ignored. Luckily, Ram was already nearby, looking for you."
"————"
Emilia just listened, her eyes fixed on the surface of the tea, the steam rising in slow spirals.
"When Ram arrived, from what I could gather, the worst of the situation had already been resolved. The Sword Saint was there."
With an expertise that bordered on art, Ram poured more tea into Emilia's cup without making a single sound, her attention divided between her service and her report. She paid close attention to Emilia's every reaction, and listened to everything around her, as she told her side of the story.
"Ram is not certain what led you to that place. But the woman you fought against was Elsa Granhiert, the Bowel Hunter."
The name sent a shiver down Emilia's spine, a phantom memory of the blade and the smile.
"————"
"And so, with my guidance and that of the Sword Saint, we are heading back to the Mathers mansion. Emilia-sama does not appear to have suffered a deep cut, and even so, it is properly healed now. Without any trace of a curse or residual infection."
When the maid finished her report, she turned her head to the side. Her pink eyes narrowed, fixing on the boy in the tracksuit with ill-disguised contempt. The message was clear: Your turn, trash.
"Ehh... well..." Subaru scratched his cheek, looking a bit lost under the weight of that gaze.
Emilia's gaze also focused on him now. And just look, he could no longer face her directly, his face turning to the side, half-ashamed.
"When I ran," he began, his voice a bit rushed, "I managed to bump into this guy. Reinhard. He was super nice, asked me what was happening."
Emilia nodded, a small gesture of encouragement, just as she had with Ram.
"I didn't have to explain much, actually. He just looked in your direction and went like a bullet, literally, to where you were. It was insane."
She heard him let out a small sigh, the memory of Reinhard's speed still impressing him.
"That assassin who was there... I think she vaporized with that guy's blade." He broke into a smile now, admiration overcoming his shame. "Seriously, like, she couldn't even touch him. I wasn't paying much attention at the time, I was more worried about you, but I saw she was turning into just rags in seconds."
Returning to a lighter mood, the boy nodded to himself, as if confirming the greatness of what he had seen.
"Reinhard, right... besides the name, besides the charm, the guy is still cool." He remembered, with a silly pride, the high-five he managed to get from the legend after it was all over. "When he defeated her, you had already passed out..."
He paused, his expression growing more serious.
"Everything that happened after was a series of explanations. Not that I knew much. About this stolen insignia, the thief, and all that."
Upon hearing the word "insignia," Emilia felt her lips tighten.
Ram, beside her, did the same.
"After he examined you," Subaru continued, "he said you had no more wounds. Just needed some comfort and rest."
"I see..." Emilia murmured, her brow furrowing slightly. "Anything else?"
Subaru scratched his chin, his mind searching through the confusing events of the previous night.
"Oh, yeah. Something surreal. When I told him about the thief who had robbed you, and about the insignia glowing in her hand... he got weird. Seriously. His face changed."
Subaru leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone.
"He just said, 'Understood. I need to check something,' and then... he vanished. Just vanished. Like a ghost."
"————"
Emilia's silence was the only answer, but within it, a new and complicated piece of the puzzle had just fallen into place.
"I guess... it was good for now."
Emilia finally replied, her voice a low murmur. She looked at the teacup in her hands, seeing how everything ended well. A little too well. The arrival of Reinhard, the defeat of Elsa, Subaru's safety... it was too clean a resolution for such a bloody problem.
She allowed herself another sigh, raising the cup to her lips.
"However, Emilia-sama. There is this pest here."
Ram's voice, cold and precise, cut through the calm. The maid gestured discreetly with her chin, glancing at the boy beside her.
"Who did not stop bothering Ram for a single second while following your trail."
"I barely even talked to you... you talk about me, but you lie shamelessly—"
"We're taking him to the mansion, Ram."
Emilia cut Subaru off, not in a cold or mean way, but with the efficiency of someone defusing a bomb. Just something to not prolong the chat between those two, which promised to stretch on for the whole morning.
"————"
Ram's eyes widened. Just for an instant, the maid's mask of indifference cracked, revealing genuine surprise. She remained silent, but the question was clear in her expression.
Lia... you're going to bring him?
Puck's voice sounded in her mind, laden with a confusion and something else she didn't recognize.
She didn't answer verbally. She just nodded to herself, an almost imperceptible movement, a silent confirmation for her companion.
Then, she spoke, her voice calm and firm, for all to hear.
"Subaru helped me through all of this. Please, understand. He deserves a reward for it."
Emilia said the words without any frills, as if they were an unquestionable fact.
And Ram, who before was just surprised, almost let her brow furrow. She didn't exactly find a major clause to object to. Emilia's word seemed premature, but she couldn't question it.
"My apologies, then, Emilia-sama," she said, her voice a thread of formality, without deigning to look at the black-haired boy's face.
"Thank you..."
I said I would explain, Puck. Just let the time come.
"————"
At her father's silence, Emilia soon looked at Subaru again. And what she found wasn't exactly what she wanted.
There was a time, a whole lifetime, when Emilia would laugh at her own naivety. Laugh at how she looked at every person without considering something improbable, without suspecting second intentions. Laugh at how she herself looked at the pink sky of Japan and saw it only as beautiful, without thinking about the pollution that might cause it.
Murders, kidnappings, deaths, rape, homicide, genocide.
It was hard to believe how the world carried on in a place that she, for so long, didn't even truly know. A place where she lived in a bubble of domestic peace, protected by the normality of a society that had, for the most part, overcome the barbarity of day-to-day life.
Wars, bombs, firearms.
Emilia never believed she had seen it all, nor did she believe she would one day have the chance to know the seas that ruled those frozen mountains of her home world. She had accepted her new life.
However... how does a person grow, right?
It's not just the body that ages. It's the mind that expands.
History books, which she read to help her children with their homework, told the truth of articles that, to her, seemed mystical, only real. Philosophies that challenged her worldview. Beliefs and customs that showed the infinite complexity of the human soul.
For a moment, when she first heard it, she swore the term "Nazism" was just a horror story to urge children to come home before dark. 'Hitler', even more so. It sounded like the name of a fantasy villain, not a real man who committed real atrocities.
How can wisdom, how can the simple coexistence with a different world, how can simple common sense lead someone to see the world in its true colors? To realize that darkness is not just the absence of light, but an active force, present in history, in society, in the hearts of men?
It was as magical as it was frightening. It was like gaining a new sense, one that allowed her to see the ghosts of history and the cracks in the foundation of the present.
Subaru...
Emilia spoke mentally, almost letting a murmur escape her lips.
Subaru, who was on the other side of the table, did not have a happy face.
Anyone in his place, she knew, would be happy with the promise of a 'reward'. A roof, food, maybe even some money. But he... sometimes, Emilia just wanted to groan in frustration. Because the man she loved was, certainly, a very difficult person, and at the same time, painfully easy to read.
Subaru was sad.
A slight, sad frown marked his face. His eyes didn't shine with the prospect of a prize. They were dull, looking at the teacup as if it held all the answers he couldn't find.
He looked like someone who didn't believe in, nor wanted, to receive something in return for doing the right thing. As if the idea of being "rewarded" for an act of kindness was, in itself, an insult.
The exponent light of the sun illuminated everything. The lifelong yellow of the morning filled the gaps and open cracks of the carriage window, creating a warm and truly elegant sea that danced to the rhythm of the gentle creaking of the wheels.
The Lifaus Plains.
A flat place, vast with green grass that stretched as far as the eye could see. The landscape undulated gently, palpating the sun above with a simple and honest glamour. It was beautiful and perfect in its empty immensity.
A breeze, more than just relaxing, entered through the window, bringing with it the smell of earth and green, a clean perfume that seemed to wash the soul.
From the carriage window, he saw everything.
Subaru had his face practically outside the carriage, his eyes wide, looking at every corner as if each blade of grass were a new discovery. Even though, objectively, there was only grass and more flat ground everywhere, for him, it was a whole world.
Emilia, sitting on the opposite bench, watched him.
She let a small smile grace her lips. Not a big one, not a smile that showed her teeth, but a gentle and almost imperceptible curve of her mouth. All the same, it was encompassing, a feeling that warmed her own chest.
"Uohhh..." he murmured, his breath mixing with the wind that hit his face. His eyes were full of a brightness she hadn't seen since her own children were small and saw the ocean for the first time. He observed everything with a childish air, a pure admiration that was contagious. "So this is the Lifaus Plains... wow... so beautiful."
He continued to look, his head moving back and forth, trying to absorb the vastness, as if he feared losing some crucial detail in the repetitive landscape.
"Exactly."
Emilia nodded, her voice soft, letting him continue to nod to himself, lost in his own world of wonders.
She leaned back on the velvet seat, feeling the gentle sway of the carriage. It was a calming rhythm, a world away from the violence and cold of the previous night. The contrast was so great it seemed to belong to another life.
She looked at Subaru again. He was still mesmerized. For him, that wasn't just grass. It was proof. The tangible proof that he was in another world. A fantasy world, with open skies, no skyscrapers to block them, no constant hum of traffic, no pressure from a society he had left behind. It was freedom in its purest and greenest form.
And seeing him like this, so genuinely happy with something so simple, awakened in her a complex mix of feelings.
There was tenderness, the same she felt when watching her children discover the world. There was a pang of envy, the envy of someone who could see that world with new eyes, without the weight of history, without the curse of an appearance, without the pain of a lost life.
And there was, above all, an overwhelming protective instinct.
That brightness in his eyes. That childish admiration. She would do anything to protect them. She would do anything to ensure that the harshness of this world did not extinguish them.
She looked away, focusing on the passing landscape.
The promise she had made to herself at the inn echoed in her mind. Extreme care and extreme cunning.
She needed to be the wall between his innocence and the cruelty of this place.
It was a burden. But, looking at the silly smile that now formed on his face as he saw a strange bird flying in the distance, she thought it was a burden she would gladly bear.
"WHAT????! Is that a tree?? UOHHHH!!"
Subaru's shout echoed inside the carriage, so loud and full of disbelief that it made the entire vehicle seem to vibrate.
He had his face and hands out the window, his eyes wide, observing the road ahead.
There, on the distant horizon, breaking the perfect line of the plains, was it. A colossal silhouette that rose towards the heavens, so large it defied any sense of scale.
He was witnessing the biggest thing he had ever seen in two worlds.
And in that moment, Emilia couldn't take it anymore.
The composure she had fought so hard to maintain began to crack.
"Subaru..." she began, her hand rising to her stomach, as if to physically contain the emotion bubbling inside her. She continued, her voice trembling, desperately trying not to let the laugh out. "It's the Flugel Tree—"
"A giant tree!!!? It's bigger than a building! Bigger than all of Tokyo! How is that possible?!"
At that moment, up front, in the coachman's seat, Ram huffed. The sound was a snap of pure irritation, an audible "tsk!" from someone who couldn't stand another second of the boy's exaggerated drama.
And that was the last straw.
Emilia just couldn't take it anymore.
The laughter exploded from her.
It wasn't a smile, it wasn't a restrained chuckle. It was a laugh. A loud, clear, and genuine laugh, full of a joy she hadn't felt in so long she had almost forgotten what it was like.
"Geheheh! Subaru! Hahahaha...!"
She bent forward, her shoulders shaking, tears now forming in her eyes not from sadness, but from pure, uncontrollable amusement. The sound of her laughter filled the carriage, a melody so unexpected and so beautiful that even the creaking of the wheels seemed to stop to listen.
It was the laugh of the girl she once was, mixed with the tenderness of the woman she had become. It was the laugh of someone who, for a brief and precious moment, forgot all the weight, all the pain, all the loss.
"W-what?"
Subaru turned, his admiration for the tree completely forgotten, replaced by an even greater shock. He stared at her, his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide.
He had never heard her laugh like that.
He had seen her smile, he had seen her worried, he had seen her sad, he had seen her cry. But that laugh... it was like seeing the sun rise for the first time.
And seeing her there, laughing until she was breathless, her face illuminated by the golden light, tears of joy shining in her amethyst eyes...
He didn't understand why. He didn't understand what was so funny.
But, looking at her, a silly, contagious smile began to spread across his own face.
In that moment, on the road to the Mathers mansion, under the distant shadow of an impossible tree, something changed.
The wall of ice between them, for an instant, melted.
Notes:
It seems like everything is a bit obtuse, right? Sorry. It's my way of building the story. The POV here is mainly Emilia's. In the grand scheme, a lot more happened. Just as there's still more that hasn't been shown.
End of Arc 1. Now it's time to... finally switch to Subaru's perspective. The boy is going to suffer.
Chapter 10: Symmetry
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
"Emilia!"
As he held her, the air seemed to have been stolen from his own lungs. Subaru called out to her, his voice a hoarse and desperate sound amidst the sudden silence that followed the battle.
Her body in his arms was a fragile weight. Her chest rose and fell with an alarming slowness. He could see the effort, she herself trying to breathe, trying to draw in air with her last ounces of strength, a silent struggle that was more terrifying than any scream.
Her lips, once pink, were now somewhat pale. Subaru couldn't tell if it was because of the cold, bluish light of the moon, or something else entirely. But, looking at the dark stain spreading across her white dress, the wear of blood, it was obvious. Emilia was paler.
The boy's heart was beating far too fast, an uncontrolled drum against his ribs, threatening to leap out of his throat. Each beat was an echo of panic. She's going to die. She's going to die. She's going to die.
And in that moment, as he held her, it seemed that the girl's words, the one in his arms right now, carried an immense and crushing weight.
"This world is real."
That's what she had said earlier, with a seriousness he had dismissed as part of the game's "lore."
Subaru, since then, hadn't really cared much about that fact. Until now.
In truth, there was no way anyone could take such a thing seriously overnight. The idea that a magical world, full of elves and magic, was actually home to pedestrians with souls, with lives, with families... it was absurd. It was the plot of a light novel, not reality.
It wasn't a matter of being a hypocrite. It was more like the end of a belief, the death of a fantasy, which was abruptly crushed by anxiety and the smell of blood.
He felt Emilia's fingers tighten, with a minimal and desperate force, on the fabric of his tracksuit. In response, he hugged her with a subtlety he didn't know he possessed, bringing her closer, further away from the scene of carnage.
"Someone came... relax, please. He's taking care of it."
He repeated the words like a mantra, more to himself than to her, as he pulled and pulled her away from that battle, into the safety of the alley's shadows.
The world seemed to split right in front of them. As if the moonlight illuminated only one corner of the alley, creating an esteemed stage for the final act. On one side, the darkness where he and Emilia took refuge. On the other, the light, where the red-haired knight stood like a legendary figure.
In that moment, Subaru could have said many things. He could have screamed, he could have cried with relief, he could have even applauded the man who had, without a doubt, just saved her life.
But, unfortunately, he couldn't do it. He was paralyzed, his throat dry, his mind a whirlwind of fear and admiration.
He just watched, helpless, as the knight raised the sword of ice.
"—Reinhard van Astrea, of the Sword Master lineage."
A flash.
A light so pure and so intense that it overwhelmed Subaru's vision, forcing him to shut his eyes. And, in an act of pure protective instinct, his free hand rose and covered Emilia's eyelids, to spare her any discomfort, to protect her even from the light of salvation.
He didn't see what happened. He only heard.
A sound that wasn't a cut, but a disintegration. And then, silence.
An absolute, heavy silence.
"————"
Opening his eyes again, blinking against the spots of light still dancing in his vision, Subaru was faced with the ashes of the earth itself.
The air was lightly composed of a fine dust that smelled of nothing, just the absence of everything that had come before. The moon, now higher in the sky, illuminated the battlefield, an almost perfect circle on the alley floor where everything had been swallowed by the light.
There was no body. There was no blood. Just the stone ground, clean and empty.
It was practically a perfect sphere of power. Like he saw in the movies. For an instant, the part of his mind that still thought in terms of fiction imagined that a satellite had charged a gamma-ray beam and directed it at the ground. Right there, where the man with the bright red hair stood.
And speaking of him, the man examined the area around him, his expression calm, but serious. And quickly, he turned, his blue eyes focusing on Subaru and Emilia, who were still huddled in the shadows.
With a speed that wasn't a blur, but a fluid and efficient movement, he came to them, his steps silent on the stone floor.
"How are you two?" Reinhard's voice was calm, but laden with genuine concern.
Subaru, whose heart was still hammering, forced himself to act. The adrenaline gave way to a desperate focus.
"She fainted," he said quickly, his voice coming out a little louder than he intended. He adjusted her in his arms, feeling how cold her skin was. "She's really pale and weak. Can you check on her?"
He forced his voice to come out clearly, trying to sound more in control than he actually felt.
"————"
Reinhard didn't answer with words. He knelt, the movement graceful and unhurried, positioning himself in front of them. His blue eyes, clear and piercing, examined Emilia's pale face with a professional seriousness. But as his gaze lingered, a flicker of something else entered his expression—a subtle, sharp intake of breath, almost imperceptible. A dawning recognition that tightened the lines around his eyes. He then looked at Subaru, a silent acknowledgment of the panic in the boy's voice, now layered with a new, unspoken question.
"Emilia..." Reinhard repeated the name, his voice calm, yet now tinged with a deep, almost melancholic tone. He continued, his blue eyes still analyzing the situation with a precision that made Subaru uncomfortable. "She is not as bad as she looks."
His gaze moved towards the bloodstain on her dress. With a care that surprised Subaru, he lightly touched the fabric, his gloved fingers examining the area without touching her skin.
"The wound is closed," he stated, his voice a murmur of relief, but also a hint of admiration. "Her healing magic, though weak, did the main job. The immediate danger has passed. The paleness and weakness are likely the result of mana exhaustion. She used too much power, too quickly."
Proceeding, Reinhard stood up, his posture impossibly straight, his presence seeming to fill the entire alley. He looked at Subaru, his gaze no longer just that of a warrior, but of a high-ranking knight assessing a grave incident.
"If you have somewhere to go, a safe place, it would be good to let her rest. A warm place, a bed. She needs to recover. It is urgent. Forcing her body now will only make things worse."
"————"
Subaru bit his lower lip lightly, his gaze falling to the sleeping face of the silver-haired woman in his arms.
She looked so fragile. The image of her, moments before, facing that monster with a will of steel, seemed to belong to someone else. He traced the contour of her face with his eyes, the pale skin under the moonlight, the silver eyelashes resting on her cheeks.
A place to go.
The phrase echoed in his mind. He had nowhere to go. He was a nobody, a John Doe in a strange world. He had no money, no contacts, no anything.
The only thing he had... was her.
And she needed him now. The uselessness he had felt before, the weight of being a burden, was replaced by a new, heavy responsibility.
He needed to find a place. He needed to keep her safe.
And he didn't know how.
"I... I..."
The words got stuck in his tongue. The answer simply didn't exist.
Subaru looked at his surroundings, at the stone walls of the alley. He contemplated the dry wind that fanned them, a breeze that now guaranteed a dreadful cold, penetrating his tracksuit.
He was truly alone.
"I have nowhere to go."
He finished, the sentence coming out as a hoarse whisper, a confession of his total powerlessness. He swallowed hard, the sound far too loud in the alley's silence.
Reinhard's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of genuine surprise on his features. His lips, previously a neutral line, turned down in an expression of pure, sincere solidarity.
"I can take you with me, if that is not a problem," he said, his voice firm, but gentle, the offer sounding less like a suggestion and more like a necessary course of action. "I have a residence here in the capital. I can offer the proper medical treatment and a place for you to rest."
The red-haired man offered a smile. It wasn't a forced smile. It was a brightly colored, genuine smile that seemed to radiate a warmth that fought the cold of the night.
"Eh? Seriously?" Subaru's response was an incredulous squeak. "I mean, you're a guard, right? A knight or something. I knew you'd be a nice guy."
Subaru let out a sigh, a sound that was half relief, half exhaustion.
Hearing the confidence in the boy's voice, Reinhard's smile widened, pleased that his affiliation was being correctly associated with good.
"It is anyone's duty to help when they can."
× × ×
With a silent decision, Reinhard moved.
Taking the woman in his arms, he lifted her with an ease that belied any effort. The movement was fluid, graceful. In a bridal carry, he held her, taking the utmost care not to aggravate any hidden injuries and ensuring a secure comfort in his strong arms.
The half-elf was sleeping placidly now, her face, once tense with pain, finally relaxed. Her breaths were light, almost imperceptible, the gentle rhythm of a deep, healing sleep.
As her head turned to the side, her silver hair sliding over the knight's arm, a sound escaped her lips.
"Subaru..."
It was so quiet, a mere whisper of sound, that even if she had been in the arms of the boy beside him, it would have been hard to hear clearly. But for Reinhard, with his heightened senses, the word was as clear as a crystal bell. His expression remained neutral, but his eyes briefly flickered towards the boy named Subaru, a new piece of the puzzle clicking into place. He filed the information away.
"Allow me to ask, what is your name?"
He looked at the boy, who, relieved of the physical burden, was now on his feet, nervously dusting off his knees. More specifically, his pants, now dirty with earth and alley dust.
Hearing the question, the boy looked at Reinhard with a small jump, as if caught by surprise.
"My bad, I didn't introduce myself," he said, scratching the back of his neck in a somewhat clumsy gesture. "It's Subaru. Natsuki Subaru."
"—I see. A pleasure, Natsuki Subaru." Reinhard's response was formal, his tone carrying the weight and courtesy of a noble knight addressing a person of interest.
"Just call me Subaru," he corrected quickly, with a wave of his hand.
Reinhard gave a slight, polite smile, accepting the informality.
"A pleasure, Subaru."
"The pleasure's all mine! Uh... Reinhard!" Subaru replied, the enthusiasm in his voice a stark contrast to the desperation of moments before.
And then, they started to walk.
Reinhard's steps were long and, at the same time, calm, setting a steady and sure pace on the stone ground. Subaru kept up, his own steps a little more hurried to stay by the knight's side. They moved towards the inner part of the capital, out of the labyrinth of alleys and poverty of the slums.
Subaru glanced around the place. The streets, once full of a precarious life, were now deserted. The slum dwellers had all vanished.
If they hadn't fled with the commotion, they were surely locked in their homes, doors and windows barred, waiting for the danger to pass. The silence they left behind was heavy, a testament to the terror that had unfolded there.
"Reinhard... tell me, who was that woman?"
Subaru asked, his curiosity overriding the residual fear. He glanced slightly behind him, over his shoulder. It almost seemed possible to see a blur of fine dust in the air, still visible against the moonlight, rising towards the sky. A ghost of the power that had been unleashed.
The knight by his side was, for sure, an anomaly. A being of unimaginable power walking with the calm of someone strolling through a garden.
"The Bowel Hunter."
Reinhard also gave a slight look back, his celestial blue gaze fixed for an instant on the spot where the assassin had simply ceased to exist. His voice was neutral and calm, stating a fact. "An assassin who has been causing many problems in Lugunica for some time."
"Bowel Hunter, huh? What a name." Subaru scratched his chin, processing the macabre moniker. It matched the curved blades and the manic smile. "She appeared out of nowhere."
"I see... allow me to ask you one more question, Subaru?" Reinhard turned his head, looking to the side, at him. His eyes were serious, analytical.
Subaru couldn't help but smile at the formality.
"This formal way of yours... come on, man! Be more ruthless. You just disintegrated a person, you can relax a little."
Reinhard blinked, caught off guard by the observation. A faint trace of confusion crossed his perfect face.
"Eh... can you answer something for me, Subaru?" he tried again, the formality slightly reduced, which for him was already a big step.
"Better." The boy grinned, a genuine and playful smile. It was a defense mechanism, perhaps, using humor to ward off the horror of the night. "Of course. Shoot."
"Do you have any connection to this woman? If it's personal, you don't have to answer."
Reinhard gestured with his head towards the sleepy half-elf in his arms, his tone still courteous, but the question laden with genuine curiosity.
The question hung in the cold night air.
Subaru, then, stopped walking for a moment. He brought his fingers to his chin, a thoughtful gesture as his mind raced at a thousand miles per hour. He looked at the ground, at his own feet, as if the answer were written on the street stones.
He found himself in a gap. A chasm between what he knew and what he could say. Desperately searching for something plausible, something that wouldn't make him sound like a complete lunatic.
Okay, Subaru... what do we have here? Think. Think fast.
Would he admit that they were both connected by being "isekai'd"?
Would he confess that, technically, they barely knew each other, and that everything since the first "hello" had been a complex and rapid cascade of surreal events?
Emilia...
His gaze softened as he thought of her name. Emilia, the half-elf. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen, there was no arguing that. And she was in a much, much worse situation than he was.
He remembered the conversation they'd had, when he, insensitively, had stepped on an open wound. He had asked her about her reasons for being there, in his world, and how she had "returned." The question had made her break down into silent, repressed sobs, a pain so deep he had felt its echo in his own chest.
It was clear her return hadn't been a choice. It was something traumatic. She had been torn from where she was. That was the best theory to speculate.
All that came to his mind, with a painful clarity, was that she was in a grave situation. A situation fundamentally different from his.
He, whose heart was secretly happy to have escaped his home world.
She, who seemed to have been torn from everything she knew, or vice-versa.
He couldn't tell the truth. Not the whole truth. So, he clung to the simplest, most honest part of it.
"I just met her this morning, and that's it." He scratched the back of his neck again, the gesture becoming a nervous tic since he'd arrived. "Well, she was helping me. As you can see, I'm broke and homeless."
Subaru sighed, the sound laden with genuine shame, but he chuckled lightly right after, a mocking laugh at his own pathetic face.
"She was already having a problem with a theft, and she still decided to help me." He smiled, a small, sincere smile, looking down at the tips of his sneakers. "She's a good person. A really good person."
"————"
Reinhard listened in silence. He lowered his eyes, his expression becoming thoughtful as he processed the simplicity and sincerity of the answer.
"A theft? You said?"
Reinhard's head turned to Subaru again, the thoughtful expression giving way to a sharper focus. The word "theft" seemed to have flipped a switch in his mind.
"Yeah. A thief had appeared and stolen an insignia from her." Subaru recounted, keeping the story clear and simple, as if reporting a common incident. "She didn't tell me much about it... but it seemed to be something really important."
"An insignia..." Reinhard repeated the word, his tone low and charged with new meaning. He looked at Emilia's sleeping face and then back at Subaru.
"Did she get this insignia back?"
"Well, yeah. It's in her pocket, I think?" Subaru replied, uncertainty in his voice. He vaguely remembered Emilia putting the object away after the thief returned it.
"I will just take a look," Reinhard said at last.
He stopped walking for a moment. With impressive delicacy, he shifted the silver-haired princess in his arms, adjusting her to get easier access to her clothes without disturbing her. His gloved hand moved with the precision of a surgeon, patting the fabric of the white dress.
He found a more-or-less hidden pocket in one of the seams of her outfit, a detail Subaru would have never noticed. With his fingertips, he pinched the object from within.
It was an insignia. Bright, a deep crimson, that seemed to pulse with its own light under the moon. At its center, carved with exquisite artistry, was the caricature of a dragon. For a brief instant, the red stone in the heart of the metal shone intensely, a beacon of power.
And then, almost instantly upon the touch of Reinhard's gloved hand, the light went out, becoming a dull, lifeless jewel.
"They were after this?"
Reinhard held out the insignia. Seeing Subaru return with a nod, he put it away seconds later, his movements precise and deliberate. A deep frown creased his brow for a fraction of a second, a silent storm of calculation and concern behind his eyes.
"Hm-mn. Yeah... but I could've sworn it was glowing."
Subaru scratched the back of his neck. Uncertain.
Before Reinhard could respond, a new sound cut through the silence of the night.
First, it was faint, a sound of wooden wheels scraping on the dirt and stones, coming from somewhere ahead. But soon after, the noise of hurried, determined footsteps overlapped, growing in volume with each passing second. Fast, urgent steps.
Both men, instinctively, looked ahead, towards the exit of the alley that opened onto a wider street.
And, with the moonlight bathing the scene, they saw the silhouette.
It was a pink-haired woman, dressed in the impeccable uniform of a maid. She was running towards them, not with the panic of a victim, but with the focused fury of a predator. Her eyes, even from a distance, seemed to glow with a frightening light, fixed on them, or more specifically, on the figure Reinhard was carrying.
"All I can tell... is that you're in the worst possible situation." Subaru nodded to himself, with the confidence of a judge delivering a final sentence. "If not screwed, then dead. If not dead, then screwed."
"What kind of word choice is that?! You're not showing me the slightest bit of sympathy like you said you would!"
The person in front of Subaru, who could be perfectly described by the color theme "green," let out a high-pitched shriek of a tantrum. He was sitting on the green grass, and now he was pounding his fists on the ground, babbling in protest.
"For someone who's neck-deep in crap, you're talking a lot," the green merchant retorted, before letting out a restrained burp and raising his wooden mug high. "Are you sure your pride isn't going to your head at the worst possible time, Natsuki-san?"
"Neck-deep in crap? What are you talking about, Otto?" Subaru sighed, a sly grin spreading across his face, the kind that precedes a public humiliation. "Are you sure you're not talking about yourself?"
He raised his fingers. A pair of hands, five fingers ready to count, one by one, the flaws and misfortunes of the man before him.
"Let's see..." Subaru cracked his neck. "First finger: had your first love, a beautiful kitten, stolen by another cat. Literally. A four-legged feline."
The merchant, Otto Suwen, who was about to take a sip, spat half of the drink onto the ground, his face instantly turning red.
"A cat—! That has nothing to do with it! And how do you know the details?!"
Subaru ignored the protest and raised another finger.
"Second: got kicked out of where you lived for exposing the sluttiness of a local flirt who was cheating on her fiancé."
"Sluttiness? What does that word even mean—?"
Another finger, the middle one, raised with special emphasis.
"Third: started your life as a merchant by getting robbed by a gang of brats."
"That... that's in the past! A beginner's mistake!" Otto stammered, his confidence beginning to wither. "And they weren't brats!"
Another finger.
"Fourth: had all your items and merchandise ruined and burned multiple times."
Otto shrank. "I..."
Another finger.
"And...?" Subaru paused dramatically, looking at the fifth remaining finger. "What else? Ah, yes..."
His smile never faded from his face.
"Told your entire life story, all your failures and traumas, to a stranger you just met." Subaru tilted his head. "Are you sure, man? Like... what's your problem?"
"Bha— ah— Ha—"
The merchant began to stammer, his face going from red to a pale white. The words wouldn't come out. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water.
And Subaru, seeing the dumbfounded look on the man's face, couldn't hold it in any longer. He suppressed his laughter with his hand, his shoulders shaking, before exploding into a loud, merciless laugh.
"I would never do that in my life, not even at my worst moment... Natsuki-san... what do you have? Is it some kind of magic? A Divine Protection that makes people carve their secrets on their foreheads? That was a low blow!"
Otto whined, the words coming out muffled as he tried to hide behind his mug, drinking more of its contents in a desperate gulp.
Subaru sighed, the loud laughter from before subsiding into a light, restrained chuckle.
"I hope I have one. But I'm pretty sure that's not it," he said, an enigmatic smile on his lips. "And you can relax, I'm not going to use you, Otto. At least not right now."
"That doesn't help at all, Natsuki-san!" the merchant squeaked, shrinking even more.
Subaru laughed once more, the sound clean and genuine.
The place was the vastness of the plains. Both men were outside the inn, resting their butts on the cool night grass. The light of the full, silver moon shone on their features, painting the world in shades of blue and silver. It was almost too beautiful, a poetic setting for such a bizarre conversation.
"And how did you get this far? If all that's happened to you was just barbarity?" Subaru asked, the mockery in his voice giving way to genuine curiosity. He watched the merchant's reaction.
Otto took another gulp, the last one, emptying the mug. He lowered it slowly, his gaze lost in the darkness beyond the inn's light.
"Because I still have my head to think, Natsuki-san," he said, his voice lower, more serious. He slowly lowered his eyes. "I'm in debt now, yes. But I managed to stay on track by having, I think, a minimum of sense. Enough not to give up."
"————"
Subaru listened intently, the smile gone from his face. He felt the cold night wind brush against his cheek, bringing with it the scent of grass and earth.
"It's that thing, then," Subaru said after a moment of silence. "If everything you've said so far is real, then it's the weight of the world drowning you."
Otto raised his head, looking at the boy with a raised eyebrow, confusion written all over his face. "Weight of the world? And what would that mean?"
"To say it was a trade of perpetual bad luck for a sharp mind is the same as being a tyrant to yourself," Subaru nodded to himself, as if solving a complex equation. "The best way to put it is: the world wanted to bring you down, Otto, but you resisted. It's self-explanatory."
He leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the merchant.
"Just the fact that you're here, right now, drinking that cup and complaining about life, that's already a profit, don't you think? Every time you got up after a fall, every time you rebuilt what was broken... that's not failure. It's a victory."
"I'm not sure I understand, Natsuki-san." Otto's voice was a thread, his mind struggling to keep up with the strange but oddly comforting logic of the boy in front of him. He had expected mockery, maybe pity. He hadn't expected... respect.
"It's like... um... existentialism?" Subaru looked Otto up and down, not with mockery, but as if trying to diagnose a rare condition. "You can complain all you want about your bad luck, that's not a problem, and there's no hypocrisy here."
He paused, his tone shifting from analytical to something more serious, more direct.
"—But I think you should be at least grateful to be right here now, right? Maybe so much misfortune has brought you some experience. If you were already smart, or minimally different since birth, maybe all you need is a little more ego. A moderate arrogance."
"I don't want that, Natsuki-san," Otto grumbled, shaking his head vehemently, as if warding off an offer of poison.
"I'm glad to hear it."
Subaru smiled faintly, a genuine smile that carried no trace of the earlier mockery.
And Otto, looking at the idiotic face of the man in front of him, an idiot who had somehow managed to see something that not even he himself saw, let out a huff. His eyes were tired. He didn't quite understand where the boy was going with that cheap bar philosophy, but at least... he felt, for a moment, understood. Not as a pitiful case, but as a fighter.
"Where are you heading?" the merchant asked, changing the subject, his voice returning to its practical tone. "I don't think you'll get very far being illiterate and penniless."
"I'm really not in the best of situations," Subaru admitted, scratching his chin, his gaze lost in the stars dotting the dark sky. "I was rescued by a beautiful woman, and... I plan to pay my debt while I can."
"Your debt?" Otto raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued through his exhaustion.
"Yeah—" Subaru replied, his voice firm, his eyes shining with a newfound purpose. "A debt."
Otto remained silent for a while, watching the boy.
He saw the determination on his face, the same stubbornness he recognized in himself. A stubbornness that makes you keep going even when the world tells you to stop. Something that, perhaps, is bad in its intensity. He knows.
And then, exhaustion finally won. A long, deep yawn escaped his lips.
"May you have luck then, Natsuki-san."
The sound of wheels was loud and constant, a hypnotic rhythm on the dirt road. The carriage made minimal jumps with each bump, but it was surprisingly smooth, considering the speed. The smell of fresh earth and grass wafted in through the windows, strong and alive.
Subaru, before, had obsessively questioned the physics of this world. And well, he saw that these Divine Protections were much more than just "extra powers" from a game.
They could, fundamentally, mess with some laws of physics. Newton, he thought with a smile, would cry in the shower if he saw this.
As the carriage advanced, pulled by a ground "dragon" with sturdy scales, some Divine Protection activated to make the vehicle almost impervious to air friction. In other words, the wind was no enemy to the speed of the draconic lizards. It was magical aerodynamics.
Emilia, the half-elf sitting in front of him, explained everything with such impressive patience and clarity that, for a moment, she hit the exact question that was forming in Subaru's head before he even asked it. That girl was, for sure, abnormal. In a way that he adored and, at the same time, was ashamed for not being able to keep up with.
As they approached the village, the landscape changed. Children played in the street, their laughter echoing through the air. The afternoon sun hit the wooden houses, painting the scene in warm, golden tones. Subaru felt that light and childish air pierce his lungs, warming his heart in an unexpected way.
There was a weight there, an anxiety about the future that he was trying to push to the back of his mind. However, all he needed now was to breathe, right? Just breathe in and breathe out.
He'd figure out what to do later. One step at a time.
The carriage passed through the village and entered a private property, and that's when he saw it.
"And here I thought I couldn't be any more impressed."
Subaru's voice was a whisper of pure astonishment. His eyes were wide, trying to absorb the sight of the immense mansion that rose before him. It was grotesquely huge, impossibly large. "What a beautiful place..."
"Spare me your antics, Barusu. Seeing someone so filthy and vulgar entertain himself with my master's greatness brings me no comfort. On the contrary, only disgust."
Ram's cold, cutting voice pulled him from his trance. The pink-haired maid began to walk forward, a figure of impeccable efficiency amidst the perfectly manicured gardens of the incredible abode.
"Now that's my favorite maid," the small feline, Puck, muttered a little too loudly.
The beast that was floating near Emilia's shoulder flew forward, stopping right in front of the black-haired boy's face and sticking its tongue out in a gesture of contempt and childishness.
"Come on, Subaru."
Emilia's gentle voice, accompanied by a light touch on his back, canceled the verbal counter-attack that was already on the tip of his tongue.
"Hehe... of course, Emilia-tan!"
He said, with a goofy smile, his bad mood instantly dissipating. He jumped from the carriage and ran forward, towards the arrogant flying animal, shouting playful taunts. In his haste, he almost knocked over the maid who was threatening to split him in two.
And Emilia, who watched him go, stood still.
The smile on her face faltered and disappeared.
Her feet seemed to have grown roots into the ground. She was dumbfounded, looking at the entrance of the mansion, at the path she was supposed to follow. But she didn't know where to start walking, which foot to choose to take the first step. Something that should be the instinct of any living being, the simple act of moving forward, had become an impossible task.
"Emilia... tan?"
Notes:
I feel sorry for Subaru.
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