She ran. Gods, she ran.
Twigs clawed at her like accusing fingers. Sharp stones kissed her shins in passing, but her Aura flared up, shielding her body while her soul remained in shambles. The sky cracked overhead—thunder growling like some ancient beast stalking her from above—but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. She couldn't stop. Not now. Not when her legs were the only part of her that hadn't given up.
Her breath came in ragged gasps. She wiped her eyes roughly, smearing dirt across her cheeks, though she couldn't tell where sweat ended and tears began. The maid outfit—cleaned and pressed just this morning—was gone. Abandoned like she'd abandoned Rem. She didn't deserve it anymore.
Not after that.
"So... are we done running?"
The voice cut through the air like a blade—casual, cold, theatrical.
Subaru yelped, skidding on wet leaves before tumbling to the ground in a heap of limbs and bruised dignity. The impact didn't hurt. Aura took the hit, like always. But the humiliation? That always slipped through.
She craned her neck up, heart skipping a beat.
Floating mid-air like some smug ghost of choices poorly made was Winter.
In Roswaal's magician's robes. With clown makeup.
"Seriously?" she croaked.
Gone was the boyish twinkle she remembered from weeks ago. The black eyes—always unnerving, always watching—held a kind of silent, cosmic weight now. Like they'd seen too many endings and not enough beginnings.
"Admit it," he said, his voice like the echo of a dream you'd rather forget. "You've had this exact nightmare before."
Subaru scrambled up, fists clenched, heart aching. "Why won't you leave me alone?!"
She hurled a rock. A proper, meaty one.
Winter's cape fluttered with supernatural instinct and knocked it aside like an annoyed cat swatting a toy.
"So we're playing dodgeball?" he mused, drifting to the left, evading another wild throw. "Or is it 'Dodge the Rock' now? Honestly, you're getting worse."
"Shut up!" she snapped, voice cracking as fresh tears threatened to betray her. "Just shut the hell up and leave me alone!"
He sipped dramatically from a steaming cup he pulled out of—somewhere. Probably his damn coat pocket. She hated when he did that.
"Not happening," he said nonchalantly, blowing on the tea. "Real question is, where'd I get this cup? Our maids are dead, and one of them's on the run. Hmm... curious, isn't it?"
He grinned as he tilted the porcelain cup toward her.
"Answer? I'm Winter. Just accept it."
Subaru groaned, dragging herself to her feet again. "Are you here to take me back to Roswaal? Don't. Winter, please—listen to me."
Her voice softened, desperate, hands trembling at her sides.
"Turn around and leave. Not back to the mansion. Farther. Somewhere safe. Somewhere away from me."
Winter tilted his head with mock offense. "It's like you don't know me. I don't abandon my friends. Or... is it girlfriend now? Time travel makes things weird, huh?"
She snapped. She grabbed his collar with shaking hands, looking up into his unreadable expression.
"You don't understand! I can fix this. I have to fix this. But I need you to let me go."
He snorted, utterly unimpressed.
"Because of course you do. Because you're Subaru: the handygirl, the fixer-upper, the one-woman repair crew for the entire kingdom's dysfunction." His voice dripped with sarcasm, but beneath it was a biting, brittle ache.
Her palm struck his cheek.
It didn't hurt—not physically. It wasn't meant to.
"You ungrateful bastard," she hissed, lip trembling. "Do you know how many times I've died for you? How many loops I've had to crawl through, screaming and bleeding and losing—just to keep you alive? And you have the audacity to stand there and mock me?! Rem's dead. Ram's dead. And you're alive—and you think that's okay?"
Winter said nothing at first.
Then came the look.
That knowing, awful, impossibly aware look.
"You said all that," he murmured, "and the Witch didn't crush your heart. So... both of you decided this was the throwaway timeline, huh?"
She gasped, realization flooding her gut with ice.
She hadn't been punished. She said it out loud—and she wasn't gasping on the floor.
"I... I can return by death," she whispered, eyes wide, throat tight.
"I know," he replied calmly.
"I can return by death! I can—!"
She collapsed against him, sobbing into his chest like a child. Her hands clutched his coat so tightly the fabric wrinkled under her grip.
"I die, and I come back! Every time! Again and again and again! I keep losing everyone. Over and over!"
"I know," he whispered. "I know, Subaru."
He wrapped his arms around her, warm and secure and impossibly still. He didn't offer false hope. He didn't pretend to understand everything. He just held her.
Eventually, she realized they were floating. His boots touched down gently on solid rock—the edge of a cliff. Above them, clouds parted to reveal a pale half-moon, glowing like a secret in the sky.
"How did you know?" she asked, her voice small. "How much do you know?"
Winter exhaled slowly.
"First dinner, you dropped a plate," he said. "I got a new peek in the Grimoire—Thinker 10. Since then, I've just been... putting pieces together. Nothing solid. Just enough to guess."
She laughed bitterly. "You're such a pain in the ass. First time, you got a Class Card and became King Arthur. Then it was some lame plant thing. Then psychic powers. And every time, you keep showing up like a bad punchline."
Winter gave a small smile. "I didn't always survive those, did I? Not that I'd know for sure."
"You didn't," she muttered under her breath. "At least five times... gone."
Winter said nothing, but the look in his eyes was answer enough.
"I have to save them," Subaru said suddenly, stepping back. "Rem. Ram. I have to. There's still a chance—"
He grabbed her arm, gently but firmly.
"No. You don't."
She stared at him, confused. Hurt.
"You've suffered. I've seen that, even without the time travel power of yours. People hate you. Suspect you. Whisper about the witch's stench. You fight and bleed and die for people who treat you like you're a monster."
He looked her dead in the eye, voice raw with something like anger—but not for her.
"And you want to save them? The same people who killed you and hurt you?"
"Yes!" she shouted, defiant. "You think I don't want to run? You think I don't fantasize every damn second about leaving it all behind?! But if I do that—if I abandon them—I'll never sleep again. Not peacefully. Not ever."
"Let's just cut our losses. We can run. Now. You and me." He said, his make up vanished like illusion as he grabbed her hand with desperate pleas.
Subaru felt her chest twist. He could. He could run. He had no scent. No curse. No burden. And yet, every time—he stayed.
Every damn time.
"That's five of you," she whispered. "Five Winters who died for me. And the one who lived wants me to quit?"
"You met them for two weeks!" he shouted, exasperated.
"That's ten weeks for me, you idiot!" she snapped, fire flaring in her eyes. She stepped close and cupped his face. "You care about them too. You've gotten closer to them too. You want me to save them! You know you do. Admit it."
He looked away.
"Not if it means you'll suffer," he muttered.
Subaru smiled. It wasn't joy. It was something fiercer.
"There's no length I wouldn't go to save you," she whispered. "And I know you would do the same in my place. Just like I won't abandon my friends. This curse, this power, Return by Death—only I have it. Only I can reset. Only I can carry this."
Her voice trembled with madness and steel.
"This is my destiny."
And Winter, ever the fool, held her tight like he was already mourning what she'd become.
"Are you Natsuki Subaru because you Return by Death," Winter murmured, his voice low and cryptic as the wind toyed with his white cloak, "or do you Return by Death because you're Natsuki Subaru?"
She blinked up at him, breath catching in her chest as the words echoed like riddles in the empty sky.
"What the hell are you saying now?" she asked, tired and confused and slightly annoyed.
"You act like your only purpose in life is to die," he clarified, stepping slightly closer, "and fix the problems of everyone you've ever met."
She didn't respond. Couldn't. The accusation sat in her gut like a stone. No rebuke came. Nothing even close.
He kept going. "That's like saying Rem and Ram were born solely to be maids. Roswaal to be a mage. Me... to be your friend. Are we really so defined by what we do? Or do we have the freedom to be more?"
She swallowed. "What are you trying to say?"
Winter's hands found her shoulders — warm, steady. His gaze locked hers under the moonlight.
"I've figured out the truth," he said gently. "But that's not what you need right now."
He gave her a slight shake, not out of anger but urgency.
"Yes, only you can Return by Death. But that's just one part of you. It's not all you are."
She didn't answer.
"You don't believe me, do you?" he asked, a sad smile curling his lips. "Then let me put it this way: one day, if I lose the Celestial Grimoire—if I'm powerless, broken, and completely useless—will you abandon me, Subaru?"
"Never!" she snapped, grabbing him like she was trying to hold the world together. "Don't you dare say that!"
He laughed softly, brushing some hair from her face. "Then that's how I feel. There's this girl I love—completely, recklessly—but she's so hopelessly wrapped up in guilt and responsibility that she can't see it."
Subaru stood frozen, rooted in disbelief. No. Not me. Not love. I don't deserve that.
Emilia deserved love. Rem and Ram. Not her.
She was just the girl who died and reset. A walking checkpoint. A tool. A monster.
But Winter... Winter didn't see that.
"So I won't stop you from going back," he whispered, stepping in close. "But not before you know exactly how loved you are—by me."
He kissed her. Soft. Gentle. Final. It wasn't their first kiss—no, that had started as a joke, a dare, something ridiculous in a previous loop—but this one hit differently.
This one shook her.
"And it's not just me," Winter continued as he pulled away. "Emilia likes you, whether she admits it or not. Rem and Ram? They liked you—before suspicion and whispers twisted everything. And I have a very strong suspicion our lovely painted teacher is behind that poison."
Subaru didn't argue.
"So go," he said. "Return by Death. But let it be your choice—not your burden. You're not a goddess, Subaru. You're just a girl. A young woman with power. That's all. You don't owe the world your life."
She stared at him, mouth dry, chest burning. And for once... she allowed herself a selfish thought.
If I loop again... I want this again. Him. This kiss. This feeling.
And so she kissed him back.
Hard.
Messy.
She shoved her tongue down his throat like it was a vow—and maybe it was.
When they broke apart, her cheeks were flushed, her voice steady.
"I've made my choice," she whispered. "I'm returning. And I'm saving everyone. That's my choice."
Winter's expression darkened with something like pain, but he nodded.
"Go," she said, "save yourself the trauma. I don't want you to see my corpse—not when I'm still going to be alive anyway."
A half-laugh escaped him, bittersweet and strange. "There won't be a corpse," he said. "This time, time doesn't move when you return."
Her blood went cold.
"That's... horrifying," she said. "And a little relieving."
"How are you so sure?" she asked. "It's not like any of us have seen what happens after I jump."
"Thinker 10, remember?" he said, tapping his temple. "Whenever you reset, that version of the timeline gets overwritten. You don't branch reality—you rewrite it. That's your Authority, Subaru. Not magic. Reality-bending."
She gasped. The weight of it hit like a blow.
"Then I've been... I've been killing all of you. Over and over. Every time."
Winter shook his head. "You're not. It's like we're all inside a TV show, and you're flipping channels. Different episodes. Same characters. We're not dead—we just haven't happened yet."
Before she could respond—
"My, ooooh my," came a new, oily voice.
Roswaal.
He floated toward them, coat fluttering, madness radiating off him like a heat haze. Every element spell glowed around him—ready to kill.
"Nooooow, my student," he sang with venom barely hidden. "Step aside. I have business with my maid."
"It's not her fault!" Winter shouted. "Why is she always the target?! She didn't curse Rem or Ram!"
"It does not maaaatter!" Roswaal hissed. "My maids are dead! My only suspect is the one who stinks of the Wiiiitch—"
WHAM!
A red-and-gold blur smashed into Roswaal, dragging him through the trees. Capey—alive and furious—had body-slammed the mad mage without a word.
"Monologues will always be your weakness, Teacher," Winter muttered.
Subaru turned to him. "You have to let me go now."
He took her hands in his. "I know."
"I'm going to save everyone. Ram. Rem. You. I'll find who cursed them. I'll stop the kidnappings from the village. I won't let this future happen again."
He didn't let go.
"Let me go, Winter."
"No," he said.
"Winter!" She tried to pry free. "Capey can't hold Roswaal forever!"
But he just walked forward.
Toward the cliff.
"What are you doing?! You'll die!"
"So will you," he said quietly.
"I return! You don't!" she screamed. "You'll die in agony. Don't do this!"
"You hypocritical bitch," he said, but there was no heat in it—only affection. "I won't remember it anyway."
He leaned in, nose brushing hers.
"You say you'll Return by Death? Prove it."
"Winter—"
"Shut up," he whispered, arms wrapping around her waist like they were about to waltz. "Together, or not at all."
From the trees, Roswaal screamed, "You still have much to do! That life belongs to my teacher!"
But Winter and Subaru had eyes only for each other.
"We're changing the future!" Winter shouted.
"And it's called RETURN BY DEATH!" Subaru finished—
—and they fell.
Fell together.
The air tore around them, howling past their ears like a choir of screaming ghosts. The ground, jagged and merciless, rushed up to meet them like fate itself.
And then—
Right before the end—
Subaru turned her face toward him, tears caught in the wind.
"How do you know?" she asked. "About Authority? About mechanisms of Return By Death?… about what happens after I die? Just being smart doesn't explain it. You believe too deeply as if you have the exact truth."
Winter smiled at her, tender and maddening.
As if he'd been waiting for that question all along.
He raised a finger to his lips and whispered, "Ahh… spoilers."
And for the first time, in all the hell she'd endured, Subaru died in someone's arms
and this time, she knew whose.
And she realized—
She had fallen in love.
The world went black.
For both of them.
"Oh, don't be mooooodest," Roswaal drawled. "You fought off Elsa Granhiert, one of the most dangerous assassins in the kingdom. And you and Subaru helped Lady Emilia in quite the criiiitical moment."
He sipped again, eyes glinting.
"Sooooo I owe you both."
Winter blinked. "Wait, is that why she's a maid now?" He asked, glancing at Subaru, who seemed oddly distracted for some reason because she back here once again.
And looking at Winter's eyes, she realised she left her love in the previous loop.
"Indeeeeeed," Roswaal said. "I offered her one boon for the service she rendered to Lady Emilia—and by proxy, to me. Soooo, I offer you the same."
"Of course, within reason," he added with a smile. "Any wish I can grant."
She stared at very much alive Rem, Ram and very much innocent Emilia who wasn't struck with grief of people she knows dying around her while she couldn't do anything.
"Okay, I—!"
CRACK!
Her plate slipped through her shaking hands as everyone looked at her.
Rem hissed like an angry cat, immediately on edge. Ram, ever the helpful sadist, shoved her sister aside with a sigh.
Ram rolled her eyes, voice laced with acid. 'Look at the mess. Maybe I should bring out the whip next time—might motivate you better.'"
That was the bluff, Subaru thoughts, despite her words Ram is totally M, not S.
"Fix yourself." Winter commanded and the world obeyed as time reversed.
"Marvelous…" Roswaal breathed.
"Subaru," Winter said, standing, concerned voice."You okay?"
Oh how much she wishes she could walk up to him and kiss him once again but that would be weird now because fuck her life.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Subaru said quickly, shaking her head. She scooped up the pieces—well, what was supposed to be the mess—and rushed toward the kitchen without meeting anyone's eyes.
"Excuse me," She said rushing.
"Wait—"
Subaru didn't wait.
Roswaal lounged in his chair, legs crossed with casual elegance, eyes trained on the manor window. From this angle, he could just make out Subaru, strolling up to Emilia with that usual peppy spring in her step. Up on the roof, Winter scribbled something furiously into a floating notepad—the result of an assignment Roswaal had "casually" given him.
He smiled faintly. Too faint to be kind.
"How has Subaru been since she started working here? Has she settled in without... incident?" he asked softly, stroking Ram's hair with one hand while the other continued feeding her carefully measured threads of mana.
"It's been five days since their arrival," Ram replied. "If she was a spy, surely we would've seen some sign by now."
She didn't look at him, just watched Subaru through the glass. "Cooking, cleaning, laundry—she's decent. Not refined, but experienced. She moves like someone used to labor, not courtly training. She seems... ordinary."
"Ahhh, and yet that is precisely what worries you, isn't it?" Roswaal cooed.
Ram finally turned toward him. "What troubles me more... is why you place so much trust in the mage boy. Compared to Barasu, your leniency feels... inconsistent."
"Ahhh, my proooomising pupil," he said with a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Winter will pass tonight's test. And when he does... tomorrow, we shall formally seal his apprenticeship under me."
Ram's gaze narrowed.
"You still haven't answered me," she said. "Why trust him more than Barasu? His behavior is strange—unpredictable. Even Lady Emilia, Puck, and Barasu report that he keeps manifesting new abilities like the Sword Saint. Always convenient. Always just in time."
Roswaal's voice dropped to a dangerous hush.
"Because, dear Raaam, the booooy is the one I've been searching for." His yellow eyes gleamed. "If he were to support a different candidate... our victory would be near impossible. He is far too valuable a tool to be discarded. And besides—he has offered his proof."
Ram hesitated. "Proof?"
He gave a small, eerie chuckle.
"Enough to sway Puck and even Beatrice," he said. "They do not trust easily. And yet they permit him near Emilia. Puck has even begun to advocate for it."
Ram's eyes widened ever so slightly. That was news.
"So... should we stop monitoring them?" she asked carefully.
"For the mage boy? Yes. From this day forward, treat him as my apprentice. Which means," Roswaal's voice dipped, losing all playfulness, "he is also your master now... and Rem's."
Ram stiffened.
"Of course," Roswaal continued, the smile returning, oily and wide. "Not with the same authority as me, obviously. But treat him as you would a... troublesome son of mine. With respect, but readiness."
Ram, still processing, slowly rose from his lap and gave a low, formal nod.
"Yes, Lord Roswaal," she said. "I shall inform my helpless little sister."
And with that, she walked away, leaving Roswaal alone with the silence and his thoughts.
"Big sis, why me?" Rem asked with a carefully neutral tone.
But Ram knew better. She'd heard that faux-straight voice since childhood—it was whining in disguise.
"Because," Ram said with matching blankness, nudging her sister down the hallway, "whether you like it or not, Lord Roswaal has declared the boy his apprentice—and therefore our young master. It's your duty to greet him in the morning... and collect his laundry."
She stopped outside the room. The door had a nameplate: 冬—Winter. Written in perfect kanji.
By Barasu. Of all people.
How the hell that girl learned another language was deeply concerning.
"But why me in particular?" Rem tried again. "Can't you go in?"
"Don't be selfish, foolish sister," Ram scolded, pushing her again. "I've been serving Lord Roswaal without complaint. You, meanwhile, are acting like a bashful maiden at the boy's bedroom door."
"Big sis… what if he asks for one of us?"
Ram stopped mid-shove. Her eye twitched.
"…Rem. Please don't put those thoughts in my head again."
"Sorry, big sis."
Ram sighed, then shoved her again with a bit more conviction.
"Big sis," Rem asked again as they reached the door, "can I ask one more question?"
"Of course, Rem," Ram said flatly, already bracing herself. "What now?"
"You seem… slightly closer to this guest than others in the past. Is there a reason or…?"
Ram froze. Her expression didn't change—but her aura darkened like a storm cloud.
"Rem," she said slowly. "I love you. Deeply. But please refrain from speaking such nonsense into the universe."
She opened the door with finality and gestured Rem in like she was throwing her to the wolves.
"So it is because he's different…" Rem whispered to herself, clearly satisfied. She gave a little yawn, already plotting to nap later while Ram took over something else. The perks of younger sisterhood.
Rem stepped inside like she was crossing enemy territory.
The boy—Winter—didn't have the Witch's scent. That alone gave her more comfort than Subaru ever had. But still... he was unfamiliar. A wild card. And now he technically had authority over her.
Which made her uneasy.
What if he couldn't control himself? What if he pulled her into the bed, hands wandering, removing her clothes, and—
Rem's face exploded in red.
No! Compose yourself, idiot! she yelled internally. You are not losing to your own hormonal delusions!
She quietly opened the curtains. Morning sunlight poured into the room like a gentle golden wave. It washed over the boy sleeping so peacefully—like a painting. She paused.
He looked so calm. Like he hadn't just flirted with the end of the world yesterday.
She sighed. She didn't have the heart to wake him yet. Maybe she could gather his laundry first?
His clothes were surprisingly few. Even more surprisingly... they were clean. Magic, probably. Still didn't mean she could slack off.
As she reached near the bedstand for his cloak—a vivid red garment folded neatly—her fingers hesitated. She extended her hand slowly.
Suddenly, the cloak moved.
It slapped her right in the nose with a swift fwack!
"—Ow!" Rem yelped, stumbling back and glaring at the offending fabric like it had personally insulted her honor.
The cloak didn't respond.
It just... floated lazily back into place like nothing happened.
Rem narrowed her eyes. The war had begun.
Rem narrowed her eyes at the floating cloak.
It hovered innocently now, draped back where it had been—as if it hadn't just physically assaulted her with the grace of a smug cat.
"…Sorcery," she muttered, glancing at the sleeping boy. He didn't stir.
Fine. She was a trained maid of the Roswaal manor, proud servant of Lord Roswaal, and slayer of haunted furniture more than once. She could handle a disobedient piece of fabric.
She crept forward again, arms outstretched.
The cloak fluttered.
She lunged.
It flew away.
With a whip-crack of crimson silk, it darted toward the ceiling.
Rem growled—yes, growled—and chased after it, her stoic composure shedding like a snake's skin. It looped behind a shelf, dodged under a table, and whirled around like it was laughing at her. She tried to snatch it in mid-air but ended up spinning in place like a confused ballerina.
"Stop moving and let me fold you properly!" she hissed.
It slapped her hand again. Twice.
"Oh you little—!"
Ten minutes later, the room looked like a hurricane passed through it.
What began as a simple laundry task turned into full-blown war.
Capey zipped through the air, zigzagging between furniture like a bullet made of fabric. Rem chased it with silent fury, ducking, weaving, hopping on one foot as she tried to snatch the damn thing from midair.
Swish! It spun under the desk.
Rem dove.
Fwoosh! It sprang up and flapped over her head.
Rem growled, crawling across the floor like a feral animal, still trying to stay quiet so as not to wake the boy. At one point, Capey slipped under the bed—and Rem, determined not to let it escape, followed with gritted teeth.
Bam!
She hit her head. Not enough to injure, just enough to humiliate.
"This is beyond indecent," she hissed to herself. "I'm being mocked by a blanket."
Capey emerged from under the bed—wearing Winter's hat now, somehow—and performed a twirl in midair.
Rem's right eye twitched.
"Oh. That's it."
The chase resumed, crashing into phase two: disaster.
Books tumbled off shelves. A chair clattered to the floor. The window almost cracked when she flung a cushion like a shuriken in a desperate attempt to bring Capey down.
And Winter?
Completely asleep. Sprawled diagonally on the bed, face down, hugging the pillow like a man without a care in the world. Occasionally mumbling nonsense.
"...mmm...seven ducks...tell Reinhard I'm not fighting the tomato again..."
Capey took full advantage of his sleep.
In one final maneuver of treachery, the cloak looped around Rem's ankle and tugged—softly, but enough to throw her balance off.
She stumbled forward with a surprised yelp.
Straight onto the bed.
Onto Winter.
Right on top of him.
Face. To. Face.
Chest to chest.
Breath to breath.
Silence.
Rem froze like someone hit her pause button. One leg tangled in the blanket, hair a mess, hands clutching his shoulders on instinct.
Winter's eyes fluttered open slowly.
He blinked once.
Twice.
Looked up.
At Rem.
Still on top of him.
Wearing an expression that screamed this isn't what it looks like even though it absolutely was what it looked like.
"…Good morning," he said, voice groggy but amused. "Either I died in my sleep, or I'm having the best dream of my life."
Rem's soul left her body.
She made a sound—somewhere between a squeak and a growl—before bolting upright and scrambling off the bed like it was on fire. Her hair whipped behind her, her maid uniform wrinkled from the chaos.
"I—! That cloak—! It dragged—! I didn't—!"
Capey, now draped smugly on the bedpost like a victorious little villain, wagged a sleeve at her like it was waving goodbye.
Winter, still half-asleep, blinked at Rem's flustered form, then slowly rolled onto his side with a sleepy grin.
"Capey made a friend. How cute."
"Capey?" She repeated before glaring at him.
"My living cloak," he explained cheerfully, completely unbothered by the situation. "Bit of a prankster. She usually likes to test new people's patience."
"She hit me in the face."
"She likes you, then."
Rem just stared at him, dumbfounded.
"That cloak of yours is cursed," she growled, fists planted on either side of his head.
He blinked again. Looked at the cloak. Then at her. Then smiled.
Rem glared at them both, cheeks red, dignity in shambles.
"I'm going to burn that cloak."
Winter yawned, stretching. "You'll have to get in line behind Roswaal. Capey keeps trying to steal his eyeliner."
Rem backed toward the door, refusing to make eye contact.
"I'm bringing Ram next time."
Capey flapped in fear.
Winter laughed.
Rem slammed the door shut behind her.