The sun touched the horizon, stretching its crimson glow across the manor walls.
Seated by the half-open window, Emilia gazed out without truly seeing.
Below, the village stirred like a troubled sea. Only muffled cries, the wind's breath, and the distant clash of weapons broke the silence.
She said nothing.
She waited.
Behind her, Puck hovered silently. Arms crossed, his expression was as focused as hers. Then, at last, he broke the silence:
Puck:
"It's strange, isn't it? The first time we're not at the center of everything."
Emilia didn't answer right away. Her eyes followed a flock of birds fleeing toward the hills.
Emilia (softly):
"He wasn't like this… in the capital.
He promised… not to get involved. And now…"
Her voice faded. A soft breeze stirred her hair.
Puck:
"And now, he's leading the charge."
Emilia (quieter):
"I thought… he'd eventually walk away.
After the capital. After what he said… what he did.
I thought he'd run. That he wouldn't want to stay with us."
She paused. Her gaze fixed on some invisible point on the horizon.
Emilia:
"But he came back.
He killed the Whale.
He took up arms to protect people he barely knows.
He's fighting… for us."
She gently clenched the hem of her dress.
Emilia:
"I don't understand. Why?
Is he doing this… for himself?
To atone for something? To seek redemption?
Or is it simply because that's all he knows—fighting?"
Puck didn't answer right away. His ears had drooped slightly, as if he shared the weight of her doubts.
Puck:
"You want the truth?"
Emilia:
"Yes."
Puck (quietly):
"He scares me."
Emilia turned to him, surprised.
Puck:
"Not because he's cruel. He's not.
But because he's ready to die—anytime—for reasons I don't understand.
It's not bravery. It's not duty. It's… something else.
Something older. Darker."
A pause. Then he added, almost in a whisper:
Puck:
"And that… I don't know if even you can save him from that."
Puck looked away for a moment.
Puck:
"You know… the first time I saw him was in the capital.
He was angry. Sword on his back. You in front of him. And me… frozen."
He stopped, as if reliving the moment.
Puck:
"I don't think he would've hit you. I'm almost sure of that now.
But back then… I wasn't.
There was something in him. Not just rage.
A burden. Like he carried an entire world on his back, and it was about to collapse."
His voice dropped, deeper.
Puck:
"He could've killed us.
Not because he wanted to. But because he might've believed it was the only way.
And that's what scares me about him.
Not his strength. Not his anger.
But the fact that he might sacrifice everything he touches—even you, even himself—
if he believes it's what must be done."
Emilia:
"You're wrong, Puck."
Her voice wasn't loud, but it was firm. She clenched her hands in her lap, head bowed, then slowly lifted her gaze.
Emilia:
"He's not like that. Not really."
A silence. Then, more softly:
Emilia:
"It's true… that day in the capital, I was afraid too.
When he spoke, when he stepped forward, I thought he was going to…
But he didn't. He stopped himself. And… he chose to walk away."
She looked toward the closed door, as if Guts stood just beyond it.
Emilia:
"He broke his promise.
He stood against the knights, against everything I believed in. And yet…"
She drew a deep breath.
Emilia:
"He killed the White Whale. He led his soldiers. And now again, he's taking the lead.
But I don't think he's doing it out of duty.
Nor out of pride.
Not even for revenge…"
A pause.
Emilia:
"I think… he's searching for a reason. A true one.
And he's afraid of what he'll find if he ever stops fighting."
Puck (weary):
"You're defending him, huh?
I get it. You've seen him change. Seen something else in him.
Maybe I did too… a little.
But Emilia… I'm a spirit. I feel things differently.
And what I sense from him… isn't anger. It's not hatred.
It's worse."
He turned slowly in the air, as if escaping a chill.
Puck:
"It's like… a wound that never closes.
He fights, he moves forward, he saves—yes. But it doesn't come from light.
It comes from a void.
And the more he wins, the deeper that void grows."
Puck settled on the window sill. The setting sun cast a long shadow across the floor.
Puck:
"And what if he never finds that reason you hope for?
What if there's nothing at the end?
Nothing to save, nothing to love? Just… the fight. Until he falls?"
He looked at her seriously.
Puck:
"Could you follow him that far, Emilia?
You, who still believes in tomorrow?"
Emilia (trembling):
"I don't know…
I don't know if he'll ever find a reason.
I don't even know if he's really looking…
Maybe you're right, Puck.
Maybe he fights just to fight. Because he doesn't know how to stop."
She clenched her dress tighter, eyes lowered.
Emilia:
"But I can't see him the way you do.
I don't feel that void… or maybe I do, but differently.
Like an old pain. Like a cry."
She looked back toward the window, toward the red glow bathing the horizon.
Emilia:
"When I saw him again, I thought he'd break everything once more. Like in the capital.
He promised… he said he wouldn't speak for me anymore. That he'd stay in the background.
And he broke that promise. Again."
A pause.
Emilia:
"But… he did it for me.
He didn't apologize. He didn't even try to explain.
He just kept going. Like always."
She straightened slightly, hands trembling.
Emilia:
"So maybe he will fall, like you say.
Maybe he'll never change.
But if he does fall, I want him to know he wasn't alone.
That someone believed in him.
Even just a little. Even if it changes nothing."
Emilia (quietly):
"And Rem… she's changed too."
She lowered her voice, as if ashamed to say it.
Emilia:
"She used to always stand behind me.
A quiet presence. Reassuring.
I thought nothing could ever shake her.
But… with him…"
She paused, staring at her open hands as if they no longer felt familiar.
Emilia:
"I see how she looks at him.
I feel… that she truly believes in him.
And that scares me, Puck."
Her eyes drifted toward the door, as if expecting Guts to walk in without warning.
Emilia:
"The Cult… if they come, it'll be for me.
I'm a half-elf. I'm tied to that thing… to Satella.
Maybe I'm their true target.
Maybe I'm the one drawing them here, like a beacon of death."
A heavier silence settled in.
Emilia:
"And him… Guts…
Does he know that?
Is he fighting to protect me?
Or is he just drawn to battle? To hatred?
Like a monster unleashed into the fray, seeking only to survive—without reason?"
She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering despite the warm twilight.
Emilia:
"I want to believe he's more than that.
But I'm not sure anymore. And it eats at me.
I don't know if he's my savior…
or just a war-torn wanderer who'll pass through,
leave behind a field of ruins…
and move on without looking back."
Silence fell between Puck and Emilia.
She didn't speak. Neither did he.
Only the warm breeze through the open window.
Only that fading golden light, crawling slowly across the bedroom walls… until it vanished.
Then—
Ram:
"Emilia-sama."
The door opened brusquely.
Ram stepped in, upright, tense. Her breath was slightly uneven.
There was no trace of her usual irritation in her eyes—only concern.
Ram:
"The garden. There are intruders."
Puck straightened.
Puck:
"Who?"
Ram answered plainly:
Ram:
"I don't know.
Misshapen figures. Like ghosts. Some without faces."
She paused, gaze unwavering.
Ram:
"They all bear the Witch's mark."
A chill ran down Emilia's spine.
She rose slowly, placing a hand over her chest.
Peace had just died.