Subaru raised a brow. "Makes sense to me," she said with a little smirk. "Can't expect to understand theory or mechanisms before you even know the alphabet."
She leaned back a little, arms crossing over her chest, looking annoyingly proud of herself. "It's similar to Japanese, so it took me about seven weeks of off-and-on practice," she added, completely casually.
We'd been here two weeks, max.
Is it concerning that we're talking about Return by Death without ever actually talking about Return by Death? Like we were dancing around a corpse in the room, pretending we didn't hear it snoring.
"You've got to lock in," she said, mimicking me with a grin. "That's what you called it, right? Lock in?" I didn't say it though or did I? That's the problem with having a time-traveling girlfriend, you can never know what she knows about you while you don't know a shit.
It's a one-sided advantage on her side to rizz people up.
My brow twitched. She noticed. Her smugness deepened.
She reached out and resumed patting my head like I was some kind of depressed golden retriever. Which was unfair, because no matter how much I wanted to protest, the colors around her said everything else.
A warm gold haze danced in the air, joy. Flecks of rose and blushy pink floated just beneath her skin, love, affection. And something else, something very similar to obsession... rolling off her like a gentle tide instead of a tsunami.
I tried to stay mad, not giving in.
"But look at this," I pointed again, poking the paper like it owed me money. "It's just... it's just a bunch of letters slammed together with no mercy. Half of them look like someone sneezed while holding a pen."
Subaru snorted, which only egged me on.
"It's like Mandarin's evil twin followed me here just to make me suffer. Why couldn't this world run with English and call it a day?"
I gestured wildly. "There are so many consonants, I'm not even sure the vowels were invited to the party. And don't get me started on the pronunciation. It's all sharp-throat punches and chaotic clicks. There's no rhythm, no softness. It doesn't flow—it barks."
I squinted at a simple-looking symbol, the kind that lured you in with false promises. "Even this—this tree-looking one—sounds aggressive. You try reading one sentence and it's like decoding a forbidden incantation from a cultivation novel. I don't even know where to start. It's all chaos. Too much chaos."
My eyes went misty as I looked up at her. "I'd be terrified to argue with someone speaking this. It's not a language for love like Roswaal said to me. It's a language for war declarations."
Subaru stared at me for a long moment, hand propped under her chin, lips twitching like she was suppressing a laugh or maybe plotting something devious.
"You done yapping?" she asked.
I gave her my most solemn nod and picked the paper back up like a condemned man accepting his fate.
"Yes, ma'am."
After hours of immersing myself in the local language with Subaru, basically Japanese with a fresh coat of paint and a ninety-degree brain twist, I found myself aimlessly wandering the wide, echoing halls of the mansion. My brain was soup. No, not soup—overcooked ramen: limp, sticky, and collapsing under the sheer weight of kanji.
I groaned, dragging my feet like a zombie. "Ughh... this is what mental death feels like."
When it comes to studying? I sucked. No lies detected. I was lazy. Proudly, shamefully lazy. Back in my old school, my English teacher used to crown me with the glorious title of King of the Lazies—right before whacking the back of my head with a rolled-up book. Or a stick. Or whatever was on hand.
Ah, those sweet days when "child abuse" was just a fun vocabulary word in the Social textbook. I swear, Gen Alpha has it soft—safe spaces, therapy dogs, and schools that actually care about feelings.
"Oh no," I gasped, clutching my head. "I'm thinking like a boomer!"
The horror. My pride as a card-carrying Gen Z recoiled in shame.
I let out a long, defeated sigh and closed my eyes. With a gentle exhale, I activated the strange sixth sense that came with my half-house-elf mind.
The mana web of the mansion rippled around me, and I let it guide me like a dowsing rod straight to where I wanted to be. My hand reached out and grasped the knob of what looked like an ordinary door, but I already knew—
Fwoosh.
I stepped into the grand library, all must and mahogany, and spotted the usual puff of annoyed fluff behind the desk. Bingo.
"Yo. I'm here to bother you again," I announced, strolling in like I owned the place.
Beatrice didn't even glance up at first. "What is even this 'yo'?! Do people in your world have no sense of manner—"
She froze.
The moment her eyes met mine, her whole body went rigid. Her breath hitched, her fingers curled, and a barely perceptible shiver ran down her spine. Her pupils dilated as she stared into mine—into the glowing, golden orbs that weren't there yesterday.
Those weren't human eyes anymore. They weren't even mine in the normal sense. Something ancient was peering back at her, and every fiber of her centuries-old instincts screamed kneel. Despite her age, her wisdom, and her raw, terrifying mana, she felt a pressure—no, a presence—above her own. Supreme. Silent. Sovereign.
She blinked, swallowed, and collected herself with a sniff.
"Welcome," she said instead, the bite in her voice muffled like a dog trying not to bark. "You have new eyes. Magical in nature. That must be another blessing from your artifact... I suppose."
Her tone was smooth, but her body gave her away, relaxed shoulders, softened glare, and an uncharacteristic lack of snark. She was trying not to bow, and I could feel it.
She looked almost demurely looking, young woman. How rare.
"You're not wrong," I said with a grin that didn't help the situation. "They're definitely... new."
Beatrice huffed and turned her face away, trying to regain her composure. "Are you here to offer more Earth literature? I quite liked Frankenstein, I suppose."
I see my plan to corrupt the Liberian with literature from another world is working quite splendidly. I swear if it was a lesser man in my place, they could have literally turned this situation into doujin because of how easy it was to hook Beatrice into this.
I almost feel like I'm her drug dealer.
"Not today." I collapsed into a chair and dramatically thunked my head onto the table. "I need help."
She narrowed her eyes. "Help... with what, exactly?"
"Got any spells related to the mind?" I peeked up at her like a lost puppy with a PhD in bad ideas.
"Mind magic?" she repeated slowly, voice laced with suspicion as her thoughts began racing down a thousand potential roads.
"Yeah," I said, perking up hopefully. "Learning this language is melting my brain. Don't you have a spell that just... pours the knowledge directly into my skull? Like a magical download?"
Silence.
She stared at me. Hard.
Then came the crack. A twitch. A single eyebrow arching sky-high.
"You absolute imbecile!!"
She exploded.
Books flew. A chair toppled. The air practically ignited with magical pressure as Beatrice stood up on her stool, arms flailing like an outraged teacup tornado.
"You think knowledge is something you can pour like a jug of water?! You're asking for mind infusion, something that can shatter your soul and leave you drooling into a pillow for the rest of your life!"
I threw my hands up. "Okay okay! But it sounds super convenient, doesn't it?"
Ragebaiting centuries-old spirit is a bad idea I agree, but that furious pout, those concerned and fondness colors exploding out of her genuinely makes me get more reactions out of her.
"Convenient?!" she shrieked, yanking a spellbook off the shelf with a snap. "I'll show you convenient!"
With a furious flourish, she cast a spell, an old familiar one. A quick toss-and-yeet incantation that usually ragdolls me across the room like a limp doll. Not that it could damage me with my Aura but it still felt so good to be flung across, almost feels like I'm flying so I braced for this one.
Except this time...
Crack.
The spell fizzled the moment it touched me. It shattered like glass against my Aura, leaving only the faintest shimmer in the air.
Beatrice blinked. Her expression went from furious to baffled to downright offended.
"...Huh?"
"Wait," she muttered. "That was a Yin-typed force spell. Why didn't it...?"
"That's probably because of my eyes," I said, casually brushing my bangs back with a smug little wink. "This is my newest Perk…eh blessing. Apparently, it's a trait from some ancient bloodline—nullifies all dark and shadow-based magic."
Her mouth opened. Closed. Then tightened into a frown.
"How interesting," she said slowly, crossing her arms in front of her robe-covered chest. "That must also be the reason I'm not able to see you as just a dumb child anymore... I suppose. You should be happy as it's not messing with my mind, or there would be a hell to play." She tried to threaten me as I locked eyes with her. That's the cutest way I'm ever threatened with. Then I heard and comprehended what she just called me.
I coughed, eyes twitching.
Hey. Who are you calling a child? I thought indignantly. You're the one built like a Funko Pop.
But I didn't say it. I wasn't in the mood to get vaporized. Not when I actually came here to hang out with her, not get roasted into charred meat by her tsundere wrath.
Besides...
I grinned to myself, leaning back lazily as I cracked my knuckles.
Time to level up that Social Link, baby.
---
A few moments later, Beatrice and I found ourselves seated across from each other, the heavy silence of the library broken only by the occasional scratch of quill or the creak of shifting bookshelves. We were discussing them—the golden eyes.
The same cursed things I'd seen in my reflection ever since yesterday evening. No matter how many times I blinked at the mirror, they stared back with an otherworldly glow, like something that had been etched into my soul rather than grown in my body.
"I still haven't shown them to Emilia," I murmured, more to myself than to Beatrice. "She'll probably assume it's my elf blood acting up. She said elves often have multicolored irises and pupils, especially the highborn. Meanwhile, most humans, mostly nobles sans exception, tend to stick to matching colors even if it comes in a range of it."
Mine were something else.
Jet-black pupils, framed in a corona of brilliant gold that didn't just reflect light, they emitted it. A faint, soft gleam in even the darkest rooms. And it wasn't one-directional, like a torchlight or glowstone. No, it radiated outward in all directions, bathing my surroundings in a permanent daylight simulation.
That sounds cool... until you realize darkness no longer exists for you.
Like, at all.
Middle of the night? Pitch-black room? Locked windows, curtains drawn, lights out? Doesn't matter. To me, it's always high noon in summer. There's no focus, no cone of light, just... ambient clarity. It was like my eyes had banished shadows altogether.
Which, ironically, made sleep impossible.
Every blink just reminded me that I was now living in the realm of eternal daytime.
The drawback of wonderful abilities, I guess.
"Well," Beatrice began, her small frame stepping closer as she poked me with something sharp and obsidian-colored, some kind of crystallized shard of magic. A Minya spell, probably.
She muttered a chant under her breath, arcane syllables twisting through the air as the shard made contact with my arm.
Or, rather, it tried.
The moment the dark crystal touched my skin, it dissolved. Melted. Like ice tossed into magma.
"You're certainly immune to Yin-based spells," she said, eyes narrowing as she analyzed the shimmer left in the air. "And... interesting. The mana around you bends away from Yin, despite your Gate being of Yang nature. It's not repulsion. It's... reverence." She tilted her head. "You now have complete affinities for both Yin and Yang magic, I suppose."
I grinned like an idiot. "I know, right? Aren't I amazing?"
"No!" she snapped, deadpan. "You're supposed to feign humility. Say something self-deprecating. That's the social response."
I didn't have time to fire back before she chucked a fireball at my face.
A tiny one, of course. A palm-sized flame that smacked me square on the nose.
"Gah—rude!" I yelped, flinching back. It didn't hurt. Not really. Just stung my pride.
In the past, every conversation with Beatrice carried a tinge of fear. Not the fear of danger, exactly, but the fear of misstepping. She was... volatile. Like a tsundere landmine. You never knew when she was just being dramatic, or when she was genuinely on the verge of vaporizing you. Her age, her mystery, her spirithood, it all demanded respect. Reverence.
And I gave it.
Because how could I not?
Imagine being alive for hundreds of years. Watching kingdoms rise and fall. Meeting people you'd outlive by centuries. Reading books that hadn't even been written yet in my world. Her very existence felt divine to me.
People love to romanticize mortality. That whole "flowers are beautiful because they die" garbage. Immortality gets cast as lifeless, static. Like a plastic flower, eternal, but without scent.
Screw that.
Mortality isn't poetry. It's entropy. It's the body giving up.
I didn't choose to die in my old world. I accepted if it ever happened to me because I had nothing to myself to live for. Mediocrity had swallowed me whole. I had no dreams, no power, no story to tell.
But now?
Now, I have a purpose. A goal. Godhood. I have the Celestial Grimoire. I have comrades who've fought beside me. I have someone who, well, we haven't put a label on it, but she's more than just "a friend."
This world gave me something I never had before.
So yeah—I'll chase that dream. I'll fight fate, defy death, cheat the grave. Humanity's life expectancy was once 30. Now it's pushing 100. Who says it can't be 1000 someday?
Immortality isn't unnatural. It's evolution.
A soft voice cut through the spiral of thoughts.
"What are you thinking, I suppose?" Beatrice asked, her tone quieter than usual. "You've been ignoring me for over a minute."
I blinked, snapped out of the haze, and looked up.
There she stood, arms crossed, hair flicked to the side, and eyes narrowed in that way that always said she cared more than she'd admit.
"I was just thinking about death," I said plainly, leaning back against the oversized chair like it was a throne.
She squinted at me. "You're barely out of your infancy, I suppose. What do you know about death?"
I shrugged. "More than most. Less than some. Enough to not be scared of it anymore. But not enough to stop being angry at it."
Her gaze turned calculating, faint curiosity glinting behind that wall of indifference she always pretended was unshakable. "You talk like someone who's already died, I suppose."
I didn't answer. Not with words.
Beatrice didn't press.
Instead, she drifted a few steps away, her absurdly long drill curls swaying with the motion. She picked up a floating tome with a flick of her finger as if reading it permitted her not to look at me directly.
"Death is… inconvenient," she finally said, as if choosing the word like she was testing its flavor.
"Inconvenient?" I echoed with a short laugh. "That's a new one."
"Well, it is. For those who remain," she continued, her voice a little softer. "It's like....like someone tore a page out of a story mid-sentence. You can't read it again. You can't fix the grammar. You just have to move on, I suppose. Even if the hole is still there."
I blinked.
Damn.
That hit harder than expected.
"That's actually… kinda profound," I admitted.
"Of course it is," she sniffed. "I've had centuries to think about it. Unlike you, who's had what, fourteen years? Fifteen?"
"Seventeen, actually," I corrected proudly, at least physically. "Guess I'm mature on the inside."
She gave me a dead-eyed glare. "Disgusting."
I snorted. "Says the immortal bookworm shut-in who hasn't left this room in four hundred years."
That got her attention.
"What did you just call me, I suppose?"
I raised my hands in mock surrender. "I'm just saying. You're basically the textbook definition of a NEET."
She tilted her head like a cat eyeing something suspicious. "A what?"
"A NEET," I repeated slowly. "N-E-E-T. Not in Education, Employment, or Training. Aka, someone who does absolutely nothing productive and just vibes inside all day like a cryptid."
Beatrice stared at me like I'd spat in a holy relic.
"I manage this archive, I'll have you know! I am the sole caretaker of the Forbidden Library of the Roswaal Mansion! Every book here—every single one—I've cataloged, protected, and preserved. You call that doing nothing?"
"You do that while never leaving the room," I pointed out. "You're like a goldfish who thinks she's the queen of the ocean because she runs the tank."
Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, like a kettle about to boil.
"Y-You absolute brat! Just because you've been here for a few weeks doesn't mean you get to insult centuries of responsibility, I suppose!"
"I'm not insulting you," I grinned. "I'm just saying: you've achieved god-tier NEET status. No jobs, no friends, no school. You live in a library and only talk to people when they show up to annoy you. Congratulations. You are the spirit of Hikikomori culture incarnate."
"I do not—!" She practically screeched, cheeks puffing in fury. "I train. I maintain wards. I watch the flow of mana across the region. I—I—!"
"You alphabetize spellbooks for fun."
"That is essential archival work, I suppose!"
I folded my arms behind my head and let my chair rock backward dangerously. "All I'm saying is, maybe don't throw shade about me being a teenager with dreams when you've literally been playing librarian simulator for four centuries."
"You insufferable little cockroach."
"You adorable drill-haired Loli."
Beatrice stomped one dainty foot on the wooden floor, and the entire library rumbled. Half a dozen floating books snapped closed like guillotines.
And yet, she didn't cast a single spell.
Just glared.
Hard.
"…You're lucky the Yin spells don't work on you anymore," she muttered.
Oh please, I know you have multiple ways to fling me across if you really want to. I saw you use Fire and Wind elements, and other extra handy spells that could be weaponized.
I waggled my glowing gold eyes at her. "Blame these. Ancient bloodline eyeballs. Very exclusive. Not sold in stores."
"Hmph. They're probably cursed."
"You'd be surprised how often that's the same as 'blessed' in this world."
For a moment, we just stared at each other. The heat from her temper still simmered between us, but the edges of it had softened. Her anger wasn't sharp anymore, it was habitual. Like arguing with me had become some kind of bizarre comfort
I began to tug on her red color, peeling it away slowly as she shone green in front of me. Sadness and loneliness are muffled by my small flickers of joy.
"…Do you really think immortality is worth it?" she asked suddenly, catching me off guard.
I tilted my head. "Wouldn't you know?"
Her eyes dropped to the floor. "…I don't remember it all. The beginning. I was put here by my mother, she gave me a mission, to wait for 'that' person to show up. I kept waiting and waiting inside this library even though I wanted to experience so much more. What was I supposed to wait for? How long do I have to?"
My voice dropped to a murmur. "Do you ever think you just forgot to stop waiting?"
She didn't answer. Not for a long moment.
Then—so quietly I almost didn't hear it—
"…Shut up, I suppose."
I smiled.
"Don't you… miss it? Your old world, I suppose?" She suddenly changed the subject, her colors flickering, I could see some kind of lock around her chest.
What's that supposed to represent?
I blinked. That one hit me a little weird. Not because the answer was hard to find but because it wasn't.
"I do," I said softly, surprising even myself. "Of course I do."
Her gaze lingered on me like she was trying to read more than my words—like she could see the spaces between them.
"I miss my family," I continued, my voice growing quieter with each word. "That's about it. Nothing else really stuck."
Beatrice tilted her head, slightly puzzled. "…Did you not have a life there? Friends? Ambitions?"
Look who's talking?
I chuckled, but it wasn't a joyful sound. More like air escaping a balloon already half-deflated.
"I had a life, sure. The generic kind. Wake up. Eat. School at childhood and college. Pretend to care. Smile so people don't ask questions. Repeat."
I looked up at the ceiling, somewhere above the spires of the bookshelves, the enchanted skylight painted stars that didn't belong to Earth.
"I didn't have dreams. Not really. Just... noise. Background hum of existence. I didn't hate it. But I didn't love it either. I was just waiting for life to do something to me."
"…That's a bleak way to live," Beatrice murmured.
"I mean, yeah," I nodded. "But we have a brand of stories, you see. About people like me. Some random nobody. Gets yeeted into a fantasy world. Suddenly there's magic, monsters, princesses, gods, and purpose. I mean why would someone select a nobody, and transfer them to another world with a blessing if not to fulfill some purpose?"
She gave a slight, thoughtful hum.
"It's wild. All my life I read those stories and thought, 'That's cool, but it'd never be me.' And then… well. Here I am."
I smiled faintly, tracing my fingers along the grain of the library desk.
"Now I've got golden eyes, an artifact that sits on my soul, handing out blessings like it's no big deal, like a half-elf bloodline, immunity to darkness spells. And people who'd actually care if I died. That's more than Earth ever gave me."
For a moment, silence.
Beatrice didn't reply.
But her expression shifted. Slightly. Just enough for the light to catch the way her lips parted, not in annoyance, but realization.
Then she took a sharp breath.
"Wait," she said, voice trembling faintly, "you mean… you're him?"
I blinked. "Uh. Him who?"
"The one," she said, stepping forward. "The person I've waited for. The one Mother told me about."
Her body lit up once again, the colors appearing on vision through Semblance, as the lock around her chest rattled rapidly.
She looked up at me like I was the answer to a riddle she'd forgotten she was trying to solve.
"You really think a higher being sent you here, don't you? You said it yourself, why would someone be chosen to cross worlds without a reason?"
I froze.
"I… guess?"
"So you are him," she whispered. "The one meant to take me from this place… the one I was meant to guide, to protect, to—"
Her voice cracked. Her body lights up in a golden-white color, followed by blue, green, and purple. She was feeling intense hope, desperation, and despair at the same time.
Oh.
Oh no.
I looked at her again, properly looked, and saw her whole body trembling. Not with anger this time. But with emotion, she didn't know how to contain it. But my Semblance saw it all.
Her hands were clenched at her sides, her mouth pressed tight as if holding back tears she didn't understand, didn't want, but couldn't stop.
And that trembling lock in her chest certainly didn't help.
I panicked.
I'm not proud of it.
"Whoa—hey—don't—don't cry, please!" I stood so fast that I knocked my chair back. "I didn't mean—I mean I might be the person, but I don't know what person you mean! What person are we talking about?! Is this, like, a spirit thing?!"
Beatrice didn't answer. She just looked at me, her breath coming shallow, her normally perfect posture shaking under something far older than her own words.
She looked so small, so brittle. Like if I said the wrong thing, she'd shatter like glass and scatter across the floor of this eternal library with no one left to sweep her up.
So I did the only thing I could think to do.
I hugged her. And grabbed the lock around her chest and yanked it. I already learned lessons because of Rem yesterday, so I didn't suck any emotions coming out of Beatrice.
"W-What are you doing, I suppose?!" she squeaked into my chest, squirming slightly like a cat not ready for affection but too tired to fight it off properly.
"I'm comforting you," I said like it was obvious. "This is what people do when someone looks like they're gonna fall apart."
"I am not falling apart, I don't need comforting, I—"
But she didn't pull away. Don't try to fake emotions in front of an empath, you Loli.
She stayed right there, arms stiff at her sides, forehead pressed against my chest.
"I just got emotional, I suppose," she mumbled into my cloak.
"Yeah. That's kinda the definition of needing comfort, y'know."
"You're infuriating, I suppose."
"And you're warm for a ghost," I muttered, cheek resting on top of her head.
"…I'm not a ghost, I'm a spirit."
"Tomato, tomato."
We stayed like that for a while.
Not speaking.
Not moving.
After the silence of the hug had stretched just long enough to become sacred, Beatrice pulled away. Her cheeks were stained with something dangerously close to tears, but as always, she wiped them away with pride disguised as irritation.
"I have a proposal," she said, straightening her dress and gathering what was left of her dignity. Her voice sharpened, more certain than before. "A deal."
"…A deal?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes," she said firmly, standing tall despite her stature. "A spirit contract. Binding, sacred, and eternal. I will offer you this entire library. Every spell, every forbidden tome, every scrap of knowledge gathered across centuries. I will follow your command, protect you, teach you… even fight beside you."
Her fingers curled into tiny fists. Her desperation drowned out every emotion she had. Even the lock around her chest seemed hardened by it.
"All I ask in return… is that you swear—swear—to never form a contract with another spirit. Only me."
I blinked at her.
Then frowned.
Then, very calmly, very directly, I said:
"No."
She flinched like I'd slapped her.
"No?!" she snapped, her voice rising into disbelief. "You can't do this to me! I waited centuries, centuries, for this moment! Do you have any idea—any idea—what it means for a spirit to find the one they're meant to contract with?!"
I crossed my arms and stared at her down.
"Watch me."
She stumbled back half a step like my refusal physically struck her harder than a spell ever could.
"I'm human," I said, voice low but unwavering. "And being human means I have free will. I make my own choices. Even if that choice hurts someone I care about. Even if that someone is you."
"You…" Her voice cracked. "You care, but you still refuse?!"
"Yeah," I said. "Because what you're offering isn't a bond, it's a leash. No matter how sweetly you dress it up."
"I don't need a friend," she hissed, her eyes burning. "I need that person. The one I was meant to protect. My purpose. The reason I exist!"
Liar. Then why do I see the color of sadness, loneliness, and depression when I look at you? When I look in the mirror and think about my old life, I also see exactly this.
"…Then congrats," I said coldly. "Mission complete."
She froze.
I stepped toward her, gaze steady, words like a scalpel slicing through illusions.
"Whether it was me. Or Subaru. Or maybe no one at all. Maybe your Mother made it all up to give you hope. But it's over now. The wait is over. You're free."
Her lips trembled.
"Then… why won't you accept the contract?" she asked, voice small.
I shrugged. "Because that was your choice, Beatrice. Not mine. You made the terms. You laid the trap. And you assumed I'd walk into it just because it was pretty."
I took a breath. Softened my tone as I reached out and grabbed the lock around her chest, feeling personally offended by it as I realized what it was: Emotional blockades, one that drowned its host in negative emotions, not harming it or rather protecting its host from a threat that doesn't exist.
Like cancer mutating, a cell that was supposed to protect, twisted beyond belief now hurting its own host. This lock represents Beatrice's emotional shield. The shield that is supposed to protect her from her sadness grief and loneliness.
But centuries of isolation was too much for it and it got corrupted inside out. Now it doesn't allow her to feel anything other than loneliness, blocking out any goodness from outside, not literally but emotionally.
So I focused all my power, praying to my Semblance, and yanked it off, as once again a feeling of hope flooded from my soul to hers, melting away desperation and sadness inside her very being.
"You want to know what I want? I want you to be free. To finally do all the things you never got to do. To eat the food you've only read about. To play silly games and laugh at things that don't matter. To walk in the garden and chase butterflies."
"And most importantly… I want you to grow up. Not in the body. In soul. You've been standing still for four hundred years. A child clinging to a promise she doesn't understand."
She stared at me, eyes wide and unblinking.
"You could've just accepted me," she whispered. "Taken the contract. You'd have my power. My loyalty. Everything I am."
I shook my head, smiling sadly.
"I don't want a tool. Or a weapon. Or a servant bound to me out of obligation. I want a friend, Beatrice. A partner. Someone who stands with me, not beneath me."
"But why?" she choked. "Why do you care so much about me?"
I knelt, slowly, bringing myself to eye level with her.
"Because that's who I am," I whispered. "I get attached. Too easily, maybe. But when I see someone hurting—I feel it. And I want to fix it. Always have."
She fell to her knees. Not in reverence. Not in submission.
In grief.
In understanding.
In release.
I reached out. Gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. Immensely enjoys seeing the colors of positive emotions destroying the negative ones inside her very being.
It was so beautiful…. breathtaking. Seeing hope blooming so big like an explosion just from a simple flicker.
And I caught her. Arms around her again, holding her like she'd break if I didn't.
I looked at the destroyed lock around her chest and finally understood what it was.
"Loneliness," I said softly, "is worse than any disease. When it becomes chronic, it eats away at you. It changes you. Makes you think the whole world is out to hurt you. That love is a lie. That kindness is a trick."
She clutched at me like a lifeline.
"It makes you defensive. Makes you see threats where there aren't any. Makes you believe that no one will ever stay unless you bind them."
I tightened the hug.
"But that's not true. I'm here. Not because I'm bound. But because I chose to be."
Beatrice didn't speak. Couldn't. She just cried.
And I let her.
Because sometimes, healing doesn't begin with a spell or a contract.
Sometimes, it starts with a choice. I've cleaned up all the clogs and destroyed her shackles and chains of emotions that bound her.
Now the choice was hers alone to make.
Subaru stood with Rem in the Roswaal mansion's kitchen, both of them in full maid regalia, the scent of miso and eggs already hanging in the air. The blue-haired maid beside her moved with elegance and quiet purpose, while Subaru, well, Subaru was mostly pretending she knew what she was doing.
Not that it mattered.
Thanks to her Semblance, The True Self, she didn't need to be good right away. Her ability logged every repeated action, every little movement, like saving data in the background of a video game, and gradually turned it into instinctive skill. It didn't stop at combat, either. No, her power had decided to be an overachiever. Cooking, cleaning, dressing up, speaking fluently, handling silverware like nobility, and yes, her prowess in the bed.
She'd lost her virginity six times now.
And thanks to Return by Death, she was once again a virgin, going for lucky number seven. It was both horrifying and hilarious.
And speaking of skills….
Honestly, she wouldn't be surprised if she unlocked some absurdly broken passive skill just by breathing. Inhale: +3 Social Charisma. Exhale: Manipulate the emotional stability of the blue-haired oni maid. Something like that.
Because something had clearly happened. The only conclusion she came up with is that she already had a therapy session with Fuyu-kun after he unlocked his Semblance, as it was good with that.
Rem had been all tears and snot the day before, crying, trembling, hugging her while whispering apologies again and again, sorry for not believing her, not believing everyone, sorry for attacking her, sorry for everything. Her hands had clung to Subaru's uniform like a child afraid of being left behind. It had been heartbreaking and awkward and warm, all at once.
Especially when they were trying to kill each other 24 hours ago. It was awkward, that's why she avoided maids, not because she was angry or scared.
But Subaru knew the attack wasn't without reason. Misguided, yes. Brutal, definitely. But not born from cruelty. It was duty. It was fear. And when you lived in a world where demon beasts and witch cults who slaughtered villages were real, suspicion was practically a survival skill here in this world.
Still, Rem was now clinging to her like a koala in recovery mode, and Subaru... well, she let her.
Not because she needed it. But because maybe Rem did. She still saw a past version of Rem in this one.
And now look at them, they were making breakfast like a pair of normal girls. Normal girls who'd both committed and survived grievous emotional crimes.
Subaru eyed her frying pan. The eggs were, once again, nearly burning, even with all of her boosted skill.
What is a skill in front of carelessness?
Rem, standing beside her with her perfect, golden omelet, was obviously pretending not to notice her panicked actions to save the poor eggs. But Subaru caught the twitch in her lips.
"Don't laugh," Subaru said, narrowing her eyes. "I can hear you not laughing."
"I would never," Rem said demurely.
"You so are." Subaru pointed the spatula like it was a court summons. "You're mocking me with your silence."
Rem tilted her head. "Would you prefer I mocked you aloud, Subaru?"
Subaru grinned. "Now that's growth."
They shared a little smile. A real one. Not forced one like before their confrontation.
Subaru flipped the egg with dramatic flair. It tore in half and flopped over like a depressed pancake.
Rem giggled. It was a giggle. Not a chuckle or a smirk or a breath through the nose. A full, unfiltered giggle, high and breath.
Subaru blinked. Achievement unlocked: Emotional Support through silly actions?
"Here," Rem said, sliding a plate toward her. It was an omelet shaped like a heart, decorated with sliced cherry tomatoes. "I made this for you."
Subaru stared. "You made this... for me?"
"I just thought you'd like it."
"I love it," Subaru declared, already holding her fork like a weapon. "I may even fall in love with you."
"Please don't," Rem said without hesitation, but her ears were turning pink.
They sat at the table, eating quietly, and comfortably. The early sunlight lit their faces through the window. The mansion felt warm and lived-in. Less like a haunted house and more like a home. Subaru let her eyes drift toward Rem as she sipped her tea.
"You're different now," she said, nudging her foot under the table.
Rem looked up. "How so?"
"Less formal. More blushy. You almost look like a normal sociable girl, thinking other stuff than your sister and duty, not that it's bad mind you, just glad to see you having something for yourself for once."
Rem nodded after a pause. "Yes."
There was a pause.
"Hey," Subaru said, "once breakfast's done, wanna do something dumb?"
Rem blinked. "Dumb?"
"Yeah. Try on Roswaal's outfits. I saw he has kimonos from his crossdressing phase I'm presuming." Her inner cosplayer and dressing-up instincts were rising very high these days.
"Lord Roswaal... crossdresses? I think those are his grandmother's collection,"
Rem considered for a moment. Lord Roswaal didn't really mind when she and her sister got into little mischief as long as they were doing duty, as Lord Roswaal wasn't really as strict and stuffy as other nobles she heard of. "I accept."
Subaru's brows rose. "Wait, seriously?"
"I would like to spend more time with you, Subaru," Rem said softly, if these silly things brought these two close, Rem really didn't mind much.
And just like that, the warmth doubled. No magic. No spells. Just human connection and power of communication instead of escalation of violence.
Rem giggled again, looking at Subaru with a dreamy sigh.
Accomplishment
Successfully guilt-tripped a centuries-old shut-in into confronting their stagnation, basically saying 'Go touch some Grass' and solving their centuries old trauma and Isolation +200CP
You thought things through and did not jumped at chained opportunity of power, instead You took role of 'That Person' +100CP
Total: 800CP