It had been three hours.
Three hours of nonstop torture.
First, he had to receive a fitting measurement, then it was, put on a gaudy outfit.
Take off the gaudy outfit.
Repeat.
Sometimes Reinhard even made him try on something he had already worn, just to "compare." What had he done to deserve this?
At one point, she asked him which one he preferred. He had nearly cried from relief, thinking it was finally over. If he just chose one, he could escape this nightmare.
So he picked a black and red suit with a mini cape extending from the left arm. It had a Dracula-meets-Batman vibe—if he lifted the cape over his face and did the pose, it looked kind of cool.
But then Reinhard took one look and said, "I don't like capes. You can't wear that one."
Then why even ask?!
The old couple helping him behind the curtain had been mostly professional, but he couldn't ignore their lingering glances at the old scar on his right thigh. He could feel their silent curiosity pressing against his skin, but he said nothing. That story wasn't for anyone.
At some point, he seriously considered jumping out the window. Sure, it was the second floor, but he could use Murak to mitigate the fall—at least, that's what he would've done, if it weren't for her.
Reinhard, the monster, had brought in a chair just to sit there like some final boss fashion judge. Every time he suggested ending the fitting, she just stared in silence. Not speaking. Not blinking. Just menacingly sitting there.
Eventually, thank whatever gods existed in this world, she seemed to grow tired of tormenting him. She picked out her top three favorite outfits and folded them neatly into a small pile before leaving the room.
Toyota sighed in exhaustion. He slumped over, physically and mentally drained, watching the old raisin couple begin to load the rejected outfits into large laundry baskets in the corner. They murmured excitedly to one another about how focused and serious Reinhard had been.
Watching them hustle, they were exceptional for their age, Toyota felt a twinge of guilt.
"I… can help with loading, if you'd like," he offered, stepping forward and picking up a few of the discarded outfits, gently flipping the inside-out ones right-side again.
To his surprise, they immediately waved him off.
"We couldn't ask a candidate to do such menial labor," said the short old man with a proud grin. He flexed his arm in a show of strength—but instead of bulging, it just kind of… deflated.
Toyota blinked. "Are you sure?"
The old man kept grinning.
Toyota, voice laced with concern, tried reasoning again. "I mean, I was kind of… forced here against my will, but I'd rather not be a lazy, useless burden. Let me help."
The grandma came back with a sharp rebuke, her tone firm as she set down another pile of folded clothes.
"Just you being here is enough. As long as you keep her happy."
"…Her? Are you talking about Reinhard?" Toyota blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean she's happy? She just seemed serious to me…"
His thoughts soured as he grumbled to himself.
Unless you mean she's happy in a 'sadist enjoying torment' kind of way. That smirk after she crushed me with that presence, was she even aware of what she was doing?…
It hadn't been literal pressure. More like a primal, survival instinct—a reaction honed after everything he'd been through. After experiencing true darkness, true fear… death itself, his instincts were more sensitive than most.
To anyone else, Reinhard's "pressure" might just feel like a chill or maybe enough to make them take a cautious step back.
But to him? It was like a cold gravity wave slamming into his bones.
The grandma paused to catch her breath, shifting the cart to a better angle as she placed another neatly folded outfit on top.
"Ever since she came back too late," she muttered, almost like she was talking to herself, "she hasn't been herself. But now you're here, and she's… right back to her old self. So keep it that way."
Toyota stared. "So you're telling me to just accept being kidnapped, stripped, threatened, and emotionally manipulated... for her benefit?"
The old woman didn't respond—just kept working, her silence oddly pointed.
He deadpanned, "So you're literally telling me to get Stockholm syndrome."
"What is Stockholm syndrome…?"
"Forget it."
Toyota waved the thought away with a sigh and walked over to the bed. Now dressed in the temporary clothes the maids had provided, he collapsed onto the mattress, staring blankly up at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
His mind churned.
With his actions this heavily restricted, he'd have to make a deal or compromise if he wanted to leave this place. He couldn't run. He couldn't fight. He couldn't get help.
He was completely at her mercy…
How did Felt even get assassinated?
If Reinhard had been distracted, it wouldn't have been hard. But if it was the work of some organization outside the original plot, he'd need to tread carefully.
He grimaced. How do I break this to Old Man Rom?
He didn't want the old man to harbor resentment toward Reinhard, but that might be impossible considering what she did—or failed to do. The best he could hope for was to redirect Rom's anger elsewhere.
The one most likely responsible for contract killings would be one of the Archbishop of Lust's subordinates.
Of all the Archbishops, Lust was the one he didn't have a reliable method of killing.
In the anime, she was instantly regenerated from just a head and could separate her consciousness into countless tiny animals, eventually reforming herself completely. Watching it happen was nightmare fuel.
The worst part?
She could mimic appearance, voice, and even mannerisms—perfectly blending in. An infiltrator without equal.
Out of all the Archbishops, she was the only one Toyota had originally planned on leaving alive—purely because of the sheer effort, time, and resources it would take to find and destroy her.
But as he lay there, thoughts swirling, a new angle began to form.
What are the weaknesses of shapeshifters and people with a healing factor…?
He remembered Lust turning into a swarm of rats. A chimera. Even… a dragon.
Wait—a dragon?
A slow, sinister smile crept across his face, one that could rival the infamous grin of Lloyd Frontera himself.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen downstairs…
Reinhard stood over a simmering pot, putting extra care into the dish. Her Divine Protection of Cooking subtly guided her movements, refining every chop, every stir.
Then—she paused.
A sudden chill ran down her spine, like something sleazy had just slithered into existence.
She scowled, muttering under her breath. "What was that…"
Back upstairs, Toyota sat up in bed, eyes gleaming with manic excitement.
I've been thinking like a normal human.
But Lust… she has dragon blood.
With his recently acquired skill—Dragon Monarch—could he control her?
It was definitely worth testing.
If he could gain control of a shape shifting agent like Lust, then with Reinhard at his side, the two of them could wipe out the Witch Cult.
All of it.
…Well, except for Satella.
The mere thought of her gave him pause. Had his affection points with her increased?
But that thought quickly passed.
A new idea struck. If he could check his favorability with Reinhard, maybe he could use his system's psychology module to see what she was actually feeling. Understand her mental state.
It felt a bit like spying—an invasion of privacy—but if it let him help her, maybe even become a temporary therapist, it might be worth the moral cost.
If she opened up, she might become more reasonable.
And if she became more reasonable, he could negotiate his freedom more easily.
Originally, he'd planned to hire some underground information guild to find Regulus's mansion. The idea was simple: identify the parasitic hearts, eliminate all but one.
Leave one, so Regulus would believe he was safe.
Because for all his arrogance, Regulus was a coward.
If he knew he was powerless, he wouldn't lash out—he'd hide.
And Toyota's plan relied on precision: take out two Archbishops in one fell swoop.
He decided he would take a quick peek at his points and the favorability.
Current Favorability
Reinhard (Sword Saint) – 97%
Complete devotion. Willing to serve you as her new lord | Points Received: 1,940
Satella (Witch of Envy) – ????%
Irrational and insane love | Points Received: 25,120
Total Points Earned: 41,295
Previously Spent: 500
Current Total: 40,795
What is this... I don't know how to feel about this.
The points are good, but this "complete devotion" doesn't sit right with me.
I literally only talked with her for less than five minutes before I got abducted.
There's something wrong with her—she's too trusting. Or starved for validation. Or something mentally unwell.
But if the favorability is already this high, why was she treating me like a doll?
Is she a tsundere or something?
Putting his hands over his face, he was attempting to stay calm.
"System, show me my magic. I was wondering about my mastery and if it had any changes."
(System Update)
Magic Status Screen has been added to Main Status Screen as a subcategory.
Overall Mana Control: B+ — Greater than average mage
Overall Mana Pool: D- — Just below average civilian
Overall Mana Purity: EX- — One of the most pure Od in the world
Spells:
Vita: Amplifies gravity (Mastery Level: 2)
Murak: Decreases gravity (Mastery Level: 2)
Minia: Creates purple projectiles (Mastery Level: 3)
Shamac: Distorts senses with inky mist. Potential for minor teleportation.(Mastery Level: 1)
Abilities Learned:
Creation of Rudimentary Constructs(Mastery Level: 1)
Passive Abilities:
Instant Mana Regeneration – Any mana exuded from the body is instantly regenerated. More useful the higher the mana pool.
Chantless Cast – Able to perform spells without verbally speaking the incantation. Increases casting speed.
Karma's Reserve – The more pain you experience, the more your personal mana pool expands.
Reading all of his passive abilities, he could feel his mood lift.
Karma's Reserve.
Not only would he gain something from his suffering, but with it… he had the potential to become one of the strongest mages.
It gave purpose to all the agony he'd been through.
Then there was Chantless Cast. Seeing it listed finally made some puzzle pieces click into place—
That's why I didn't need to scream spell names out loud.
That explained why his casting felt so smooth and silent. He didn't have to shout his intentions or give away what he was about to do. Perfect, especially if he had to fight someone who actually knew what they were doing.
He still didn't fully understand what mana purity meant, but if it was listed separately—and marked as "EX-"—it had to be important.
Maybe it makes my magic sharper… stronger… faster?
As for his new skill, it looked like it had great potential, but he didn't have the mana or control to use it properly yet.
Maybe if I train like in Naruto, he thought, climbing trees, walking on water, he'd finally unlock the finesse needed.
Then he could live out his Green Lantern dreams—or Pink/Purple Lantern. He wished there were different color options.
Honestly, this list of passives…
If he were building a mage from scratch in a game, these are exactly the perks he'd pick.
Maybe… maybe I can survive now.
Maybe he could even hold his own against an average mabeast horde.
Confidence soaring, the grin on his face stayed locked in place.
***
Emilia was sitting at an angle opposite Subaru at a glass table, playing a game Subaru had made up that he called "chess."
He had carved little figurines with unique designs and painted one set with black ink. He even asked Ram to use her wind magic to cut a piece of wood into a thin board, which he then painted with a checker pattern.
She had just been told the rules and was confused.
"How come the circle ones can move two forward at the beginning but not after?"
Subaru, as if trying to placate her, grinned sheepishly.
"I didn't invent the rules."
"What? You didn't? Then you didn't actually make up this game?"
Subaru's gaze faltered, looking down.
"My dad loved playing this with me... although I would always lose."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"I wonder how they're doing."
"Where are your parents? Don't you miss them?"
Subaru's voice cracked.
"Of course I miss them… but I don't think I'll be able to see them… to face them again."
"I'm sorry." Her head dropped, her ears drooping. "I didn't mean to make you sad."
Subaru, looking up at Emilia's face, forced a grin and grabbed both of her cheeks, pinching them gently.
"That's my fault… What about your parents? You never talk about them."
"My parents— EEEEEEK—"
Her body went weak.
Subaru, who reached out in time, caught her before her head hit the table. He hovered over her, visibly concerned and anxious.
Just the thought of her past, which until now seemed to only include Puck, had disappeared—
Sounds of ice forming.
Blood flying.
A little girl with straight, long platinum hair smiling at her with slit-like blue pupils.
She wore a simple, flowing white cloth—
And was repeatedly pierced by ice.
The blows should have been fatal, but like an illusion, the girl appeared beside her again and again.
This process repeated.
The thought filled Emilia with emotionless rage.
Why didn't she die?
As the memory filled her mind, she began to sweat.
What was that?
What did I just see?
"Are you all right, Milli?"
Puck, whose personality had completely changed ever since Toyota left, nervously floated around her head, rubbing his fluffy cheek against hers.
Hearing the sound of her own breathing calm, she lifted her head, looked at Subaru, and forced a ditzy smile.
"I just got lightheaded and had a headache. I'm fine," she said, raising her hands and trying to wave away his concern.
Subaru, still looking worried, stood up.
"Water is good for headaches. You need to make sure you're hydrated. Let me get you some."
"You don't need t—"
And he was already gone, rushing off to get what she assumed would be a glass of water.
***
It wasn't long before he was invited downstairs for dinner.
The dining room, to his surprise, felt far cozier than Roswaal's. There were no dramatic purple curtains, no eerie silence hanging like a fog. Instead, warm light poured from lantern-like chandeliers, and the walls were decorated with soft, natural paintings—landscapes of golden fields, snow-capped mountains, and flowing rivers. The air had a faint aroma of herbs and roasted meat, grounding him, making the space feel alive instead of staged.
It helped. A little.
After being gently guided to the table by a pair of staff members, he was seated—not at the far end or some isolated corner—but directly beside Reinhard. Right next to her.
His stress skyrocketed.
Why?
Why wasn't she at the head of the table? Why right next to me?
He could feel it—every eye in the room subtly turning toward him. The servants, even if they pretended to go about their work, were definitely sizing him up. Their glances were sharp but quiet. Measured. It wasn't paranoia. It was pressure.
They were scanning him.
Judging him.
Why is he here?
What makes him worth sitting beside the Sword Saint?
The silence didn't help. It stretched across the table like an invisible wall. No small talk. No idle chatter. He wished someone like Subaru were here—an idiot with no sense of atmosphere who could just casually ruin the tension with something dumb but comforting. Someone who could joke, mess up, make them all laugh.
Instead, he was surrounded by straight-laced, perfectly postured staff. Reinhard included. It was like dining with statues, statues that occasionally breathed and occasionally blinked.
He tried not to look at her, but the awkwardness only grew worse. Her presence wasn't oppressive, not exactly—it was just... too composed. She didn't even glance at him, but her stillness was its own form of pressure.
That was when the Raisin Couple entered.
The old man, with his shriveled, features, walked with a wobble but still held his posture high. The grandma followed with a tray in her arms, her expression tired but focused. Both took their seats beside Reinhard without waiting for instruction, as if they'd done this routine a thousand times.
Their presence, oddly enough, eased the atmosphere. Just a bit. They weren't dressed like nobles, but they carried a strange authority—the kind that came from experience, not power. The old man gave Toyota a short nod, and the grandma sent him a glance that could've meant behave or you'll be fine, or was it the opposite telling him to be entertaining.
He didn't know which. But either way, he appreciated it.
The silence still lingered, but with them there, it didn't feel quite as suffocating.
(AN: I'm thinking about enhancing the magic system, with the memory transfer and souls. I'm wondering if I should continue to summarize the memories or just show the effect.
I've set an official release schedule: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, Although when I get bored, I add extra.
Bonus chapters will drop on Saturdays if my demands are met. 🔫
Trade deal:
You give me 70 power stones, and I give you a bonus chapter.
Sounds fair, right?)