The golden light of morning bathed the mansion garden, dew still fresh on the grass. Subaru lay peacefully on the bench, nestled in the silk-crafted comfort his tiny companions provided. Grimmchild remained curled within his arms like a glowing ember, her fiery hue pulsing faintly with each breath. The Weaverlings, bundled around his shoulders and chest, slept soundly, legs twitching occasionally in dreams no one could decipher.
Around them, the elemental spirits floated lazily in the sunbeams—small glowing orbs of fire, wind, and water, shimmering like fireflies. A few had landed on Subaru, their colors shifting in rhythmic pulses, like they were speaking to each other through light alone.
The calm was shattered in a moment.
A shadow fell across them, blocking the sun.
THWACK!
"OW! Son of a—!" Subaru cried out, his hand snapping to his forehead as he bolted upright. Grimmchild tumbled from his arms with a squeak, and the Weaverlings scrambled in surprise, hissing defensively before realizing the threat was… familiar.
Standing over him with a perfectly practiced chopping gesture was Ram, her face a portrait of disciplined displeasure. She looked down on him like a superior catching an underling asleep at their desk.
"…Good morning… Rem?" Subaru groaned, rubbing the red mark blossoming on his head.
"Incorrect. I am Ram," she said, unflinching. Her posture shifted smoothly back into her maid-like grace, hands folded at her waist. "Barusu, you've been asleep all morning. It is now lunchtime. I searched for you everywhere, only to find you slacking off in the garden, sleeping like a stray dog."
Subaru flinched at the sting in her tone, grimacing. "I wasn't slacking—I just… didn't make it to my bed. It was a long night."
"Hm." Ram's gaze slid over him, taking note of the spirit companions hovering protectively at his side. "If you enjoy acting like a mutt so much, perhaps you should formally request to become the mansion's guard dog. I'm sure Roswaal would grant you a collar."
Grimmchild let out a small hiss at Ram. The Weaverlings clicked in unison, eyes narrowing. Subaru raised a hand to calm them.
Ram sighed, brushing her pink hair behind one ear. "I'll overlook this once, Barusu. But if it happens again, I expect to see you curled up outside the front door, barking at intruders."
Subaru stood, stretching his arms high over his head with a grunt. "Alright, alright, message received. No more garden naps. I'll get to work right away."
Ram's expression softened—slightly. She gave a single nod. "Good. Your butler uniform is ready. You'll find it in the east wing bathroom—the third door on the left. Don't waste more time."
With his head still pounding a little and his companions now wide awake and following closely, Subaru shuffled back toward the mansion. Grimmchild floated near his shoulder, while the Weaverlings trotted at his heels, occasionally looking back at the garden as if reluctant to leave.
Ram remained behind.
She stared at the garden for a moment longer, watching the scattered spirits drift back toward the forest edge. The way they clustered around Subaru wasn't normal. It wasn't something that should be overlooked.
"Roswaal's gospel didn't mention this," she murmured to herself, brow slightly furrowed. "But he doesn't seem concerned… which means this is all within expectation."
And if it was within his expectations, then Ram would not question it. No matter how strange. No matter how off it felt in her gut.
She turned on her heel and walked back into the mansion, her steps light but sure.
"No matter what happens… I will do anything for my lord."
The soft swish of a broom echoed down the marble halls of the Roswaal mansion.
Subaru moved with the practiced rhythm of someone who'd finally memorized where every speck of dust loved to hide. He swept, dusted, polished, and occasionally cursed under his breath when the chandelier caught his hair or when a stubborn smudge refused to leave a windowsill.
He deliberately avoided Roswaal's wing—a choice both practical and strategic. Ram was fiercely territorial about cleaning her master's quarters, and Subaru had no desire to get his throat verbally slit.
Working alongside Rem, however, proved to be an exercise in silent tension.
Whether they were tending the garden or mowing the lawn, she remained unnervingly quiet. Subaru tried to start light conversations—weather, food, even flowers—but each time, Rem would offer only a nod or a hum, sometimes not even that. And yet… when his back was turned, he could feel her eyes boring into him like she was trying to catch him committing some unspoken crime.
It was starting to grate on his nerves.
"I get it. You don't trust me," Subaru thought, scowling as he carried a tray of polished cutlery to the kitchen. "But at least say it to my face instead of acting like I'm gonna eat someone the second you blink."
Now in the kitchen, the atmosphere shifted as the second lunch was being prepared. Roswaal had requested it in anticipation of his departure later in the afternoon.
The dining hall was lavish as always, but more casual in atmosphere this time. Emilia, wearing a soft lavender nightgown, sat to Subaru's left, stretching a little as she waited. The twin maids flanked Roswaal at the head of the table, standing with proper posture as expected.
Subaru leaned toward Emilia, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You've been hitting the books, right? The Royal Selection's getting close. You need to be sharp if you're gonna be queen, y'know?"
Emilia blinked, then gave him a sheepish smile. "I'm trying… There's a lot to learn."
Roswaal smiled indulgently, opening his mouth to speak—but Subaru beat him to it.
"Hey, speaking of… what is the Royal Selection, exactly?"
A visible twitch ran through Ram's temple. She turned her glare on Subaru, looking ready to scold him for interrupting her master. But Roswaal simply raised a gloved hand.
"Now, now, Ram. Let's allow Barusu his curiosity."
Ram closed her mouth, but her glare became somehow sharper.
Roswaal turned his head slightly toward Subaru. "The Royal Selection is a prestigious competition to determine the next ruler of the Dragon Kingdom of Lugunica. The Dragon Volcanica—a divine being—selects five female candidates. They compete not through violence, but through leadership, diplomacy, and vision. The winner becomes both queen and Dragon Maiden, binding herself to the Dragon and leading our land into the future."
Subaru gave a slow whistle. "And Emilia's one of them?"
"She is," Roswaal said, smiling like he knew far more than he let on. "Which makes her… veeeeeery important, wouldn't you say?"
Subaru turned to Emilia, raising a brow. "So what's your platform, Miss Future Queen?"
Emilia shifted a little, her expression thoughtful. "I want to help the demi-humans of Lugunica. They've been pushed aside and mistreated. I want them to live peacefully with humans, not in fear or exile."
Subaru watched her quietly for a moment.
"Naive," he thought. "But not wrong. She's got heart. Just needs the scars and experience to back it."
Roswaal leaned back in his chair, folding his hands. "I, too, must leave shortly. The Royal Capital calls, and as the Head Court Mage of Lugunica, I must attend to certain... formalities."
He turned his golden eyes to the twins.
"While I am away, Ram shall be in command. Treat her decisions as if they were mine."
Ram stood a little straighter, pride flickering behind her cool exterior. "Understood, Roswaal-sama."
The lunch soon ended. Dishes cleared, rooms cleaned, beds made.
With the day's chores behind him, Subaru wandered the halls, Grimmchild silently following behind, occasionally flickering with red sparks. The Weaverlings skittered ahead or rested on his shoulders, their webbed silk twitching softly with every breath he took.
"Still feel like I'm being watched…" he muttered.
As he passed a window, he caught the faintest glimmer of movement behind him—a familiar blue-haired shadow, ducking around the corner too late.
Subaru stopped in his tracks, jaw tightening.
"Alright, enough's enough."
He turned around, heading toward where he saw Rem vanish.
"Time to settle this. One way or another."
Subaru moved with purpose through the quiet corridors of the mansion, footsteps steady but sharp. The soft clinks of Grimmchild's ember flickers behind him and the Weaverlings' faint skittering underfoot were the only sounds accompanying his resolve. The atmosphere hung thick—like a thread pulled taut, ready to snap.
He turned a corner into a side hall near the storage rooms. And just as he expected—Rem.
She stood near a window, pretending to tidy a vase of flowers that didn't need fixing. Her back was rigid, her hands too precise. Subaru narrowed his eyes.
"No more games," he said.
Rem stiffened.
"I know you've been watching me," Subaru continued, voice steady but edged. "Every time we work together, you barely speak. You flinch when I walk by. And when you think I'm not looking, you glare at me like you're waiting for me to sprout horns and devour someone."
Rem didn't answer. Her fingers tightened around the vase.
Subaru let out a short breath, and then—he reached up and pulled off his mask.
It came away with a soft rustle of cloth and leather, revealing his tired eyes, his furrowed brow, and the faint circles beneath his eyes that spoke of exhaustion and restless thoughts. He held the mask loosely at his side.
"If you've got something to say, then say it to my face. I know I haven't exactly made things easy to read—but if there's something I did, something you think I am, then I deserve to hear it."
Rem turned slowly.
Her face was unreadable at first. Calm. Blank. But her eyes—the same pale blue that could be so gentle—now held something cold and furious.
"You want to know?" Her voice cracked like frozen glass. "You want to understand why I don't trust you?"
She stepped forward, the air around her shifting.
"You reek of them."
Subaru blinked, thrown off. "Them? Who's—?"
"The Witch Cult." Her voice rose, sharp and venomous. "The stench is faint… but it's there. You act clueless, you pretend to be kind. But I know that smell. It's the same scent that poured through my village as it burned. The same scent that took my parents. My home. My—"
Her breath hitched, and her fingers curled into fists.
"—my sister's horn."
Subaru took a step back, instinctively. "I don't know what you're talking about—"
"Liar!" Rem's voice boomed through the corridor. Her forehead shimmered faintly, and from beneath her bangs, a soft glow pulsed—the barest hint of a horn trying to form. Her entire body trembled, fury and fear warring beneath her skin.
"I've been waiting for the moment you'd slip. Waiting for the proof. But you keep playing this game like you're innocent. Like you're not one of them. You have no right to ask for my trust!"
Grimmchild let out a low whimper, its wings flickering. The Weaverlings huddled behind Subaru's boots, their legs twitching anxiously.
Subaru stared, stunned. He felt like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed.
"I don't even know what I did…" he said softly. "I don't know why I smell like something I've never even seen. But if that smell makes me the enemy in your eyes… then what am I supposed to do, Rem?"
Her lip quivered. She opened her mouth—but a voice broke through the tension.
"Rem?"
Emilia's soft voice echoed down the hallway. She stepped around the corner in her nightgown, blinking sleepily but alert.
Rem's shoulders jerked. The light on her forehead vanished in a flash. Her breathing hitched, and her rage—like a tide drawn back to sea—receded.
"I—excuse me." Rem turned abruptly and walked away, her footsteps clipped, her exit sharp.
Emilia watched her go, then turned to Subaru. "Did… something happen?"
Subaru let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Just a disagreement," he said, forcing a small smile. "We're… not seeing eye to eye."
Emilia looked at him, uncertain, but didn't press.
Subaru quietly put his mask back on, the fabric settling once more over his face—only this time, it felt heavier.
Later, as he lay in bed, the room dark except for the soft glows of his spirit companions floating nearby, Subaru stared up at the ceiling.
Her words echoed over and over.
"You reek of them."
He didn't understand it. He didn't know how. But now, more than ever, he knew one thing:
He had to find a way to reach her.
Before that scent—whatever it truly meant—cost him everything.