Subaru opened his eyes to find himself in Roswaal's mansion.
This time, the first thing he saw wasn't the dull gray of cold stone floors—but the elegant, shimmering chandelier above. Light spilled softly across the ceiling, blurring the line between reality and dream. But no… this wasn't a dream.
It was real. A reality that burned, ached, and remembered.
He tried to sit up, but the pain rooted deep in his body forced him back down.
His muscles felt shredded, his bones like shattered glass.
He glanced at his body—and winced. His left shoulder was completely wrapped in bandages, so tight he could almost feel the wound beneath threatening to reopen. A thin cut ran under his left eye… but beyond that, his body was a map of Elsa's souvenirs.
Deep. Silent. Bloody.
"Well… better than being dead," he thought, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.
He was alive. That counted as a win, right?
The room was familiar. One of the chambers he'd woken in after first meeting Emilia. Memories… bittersweet, yet warm. Strong enough to make a man smile, even after death.
Gritting his teeth, he tried gathering mana in his veins, hoping to dull the pain.
But he'd miscalculated. The wound on his left shoulder flared in protest, as if sneering, "Don't forget me."
Subaru held his breath, fingers digging into the bandages. A scream clawed up his throat—but he swallowed it.
This pain… this terrible, familiar pain—it proved he was still alive. And strangely, that alone was a comfort.
The door creaked open. A graceful woman stepped inside, her short blue hair veiling one eye. Her silence, her poise—for just a moment, it hushed the agony in the room.
Rem.
Subaru's gaze locked onto her.
His chest tightened. His breath hitched.
He'd seen her. Countless times. In death. In the Whale's darkness… in the Archbishop's madness… in Puck's frozen apocalypse… With each loop, he'd lost something. But losing her—that had carved the deepest scars.
"Rem..." The name slipped from Subaru's lips like a breath.
Memories flooded his vision like scenes from a film. There had been times she killed him. Cruel, painful times... and yet, here she stood before him now. Alive. Breathing. That reality alone filled a hollow space inside him. He had missed her—so, so much.
Rem's voice pulled him back to the present.
"Subaru-sama... your wounds..."
Subaru blinked, struggling to ground himself in the here and now. He forced his voice steady, though it came out hoarse with exhaustion.
"Ah, hello. Mind telling me where I am?"
Rem retrieved fresh bandages from a drawer as she answered.
"You are in the mansion of Lord Roswaal, ruler of these lands. Lady Emilia requested you be brought here."
Emilia... Warmth flickered in Subaru's chest. She had saved him again. Like a miracle.
"Thank you for your help. I'm Natsuki Subaru. May I ask your name?" He kept his tone deliberately gentle.
"You may call me Rem."
Her expression didn't change. Cold. Stern.
Subaru knew that look all too well.
Even unspoken, the scent clinging to him—the stench of the Witch—weighed heavily between them. Rem sensed it. That cursed miasma shaped her every thought about him.
He chose his words carefully. In this world, first impressions could be deadly.
Rem said nothing more as she began changing his bandages. Her hands were deft, but every touch sent agony searing through him.
The wound ran deep—so deep each press of the gauze might as well have been another dagger. Fresh blood bloomed across the clean wrappings.
Subaru didn't complain.
He swallowed hard. He'd learned to endure.
When she finished, Rem gave a slight bow and left, heavy silence trailing behind her.
Subaru felt his eyelids grow leaden. Blood loss and exhaustion dragged him under.
"Beako's probably hiding behind some books," he mused. That strange, small girl—her presence always steadied him.
He made a silent vow to seek her out soon. Maybe he'd missed her a little too.
He closed his eyes. As sleep took him, he dreamed of waking to less pain.
.
.
.
A few hours later, while Subaru still lay in deep slumber, three figures entered his room—Roswaal, Beatrice, and Puck.
Puck turned to Beatrice with uncharacteristic urgency.
"Beatrice, I have a bad feeling about this. I need you to examine this Subaru fellow's body. Please."
Roswaal, ever the provocateur, tilted his head with a silky, mocking lilt:
"My, my~ What could possibly rattle the great spirit Puck so~?"
Puck exhaled sharply, his usual playfulness absent.
"Subaru reeks of the Witch's miasma.
He might be a member of the Witch Cult—possibly even an Archbishop.
But even I can't discern the truth as well as you can, Beatrice."
Beatrice stared at Subaru. A long silence stretched.
"Betty's Bubby is right, I suppose," she murmured at last, golden eyes locked onto the sleeping boy. "This human is saturated with the Witch's scent. Betty will investigate."
She placed a small hand over Subaru's heart. His eyes remained closed, but his pulse… his pulse spoke.
Minutes passed. Then Beatrice's voice cut through the quiet:
"This human… cannot be a Witch Cultist or an Archbishop, in fact."
Roswaal's painted smile twitched. "Then what is he, I wonder~?"
Beatrice stepped toward Puck, her expression unreadable.
"He is merely cursed, I suppose. A curse Betty cannot fully comprehend—one that harms only himself."
Puck's fur bristled. "Can a mere curse emit this much miasma, Betty?"
Beatrice was already walking toward the door.
"Betty does not know the details, in fact. Only this: there is no need for concern. The curse will devour him one day. Until then, he should stay away from Betty. He smells… quite foul."
Her words fell like a guillotine—cold, final.
The door slammed shut behind her, leaving the room in stunned silence. Moments later, a streak of light—Puck's true form—zipped after her. "Betty, wait!" His voice frayed with unease, as if torn between staying and following.
Roswaal alone remained, his mismatched eyes glinting in the dim light.
"How~ intriguing."
Roswaal's all-too-familiar, irritating smile vanished in an instant.
Behind his painted mask, his true thoughts were inscrutable - but one thing was clear: something had deviated from his calculations.
With heavy footsteps, he approached Subaru's unconscious form.
His heterochromatic eyes bore into the sleeping boy.
Though Subaru's breathing was even and his expression peaceful, Roswaal's gaze held more than curiosity - a volatile mix of suspicion, calculation, and something resembling fear.
"According to the Gospel's prophecy... you weren't supposed to be like this," he murmured, voice dripping with theatrical melancholy.
"Who stands behind you, Natsuki Subaru~?"
His jeweled fingers trembled slightly as he retrieved the ancient, yellowed Gospel from his inner pocket - the very one Echidna, the Witch of Greed, had bestowed upon him with such delight.
As he flipped through its pages, his usual flamboyance gave way to uncharacteristic tension.
For centuries, he had believed himself the weaver of destiny's threads. But now...
"...Things that shouldn't be happening are happening," he mused. The more he compared the Gospel's words to reality, the wider the discrepancies grew. No matter how intently he studied the text, the answers eluded him.
Finally, he exhaled dramatically.
"No matter~! Whatever you are, whoever aids you... you shall become the most wonderful, indispensable pawn in my grand design, Natsuki Subaru~"
His words flowed like poisoned honey, though his eyes remained glacial. With exaggerated grace, he extended a hand over Subaru's body, casting a healing spell. As magic shimmered from his fingertips, some tension left Subaru's sleeping features.
Roswaal swept from the room, already recalculating futures in his mind.
Yet in that moment, something stirred unnoticed. Subaru's shadow trembled - then moved.
The darkness rippled slightly as Flugel, who had been silently observing all three visitors for nearly an hour, made his presence known.
"A pawn, Roswaal~?" The voice dripped with icy mockery.
"How delightful~ I do so want to see you try. Tell me... are you truly clever enough to outplay me~?"
The whisper hung in the air like a drunken shiver before dissolving. Flugel's cold chuckle echoed briefly before the shadow stilled. The darkness within Subaru seemed to return to dormancy.
And so...
Hours later, Subaru awoke - refreshed, unaware, and perfectly positioned on the board between two master players.
His wounds had nearly healed.
His body was free from the agony of days past—but exhaustion still clung to him like a second skin.
"Guess Roswaal... is good for something after all," he mused wryly.
He stared at the ceiling, squinting as he took slow, deliberate breaths.
...He was alive. For now.
Sunlight crept through the windows, painting the room in gold. Morning had barely broken.
Then he noticed her—Emilia, asleep beside him. Her face was turned slightly toward him, eyelashes perfectly still. She must've dozed off while keeping vigil over him.
For a moment, Subaru just watched her. His heart softened, then grew heavy.
The storms inside him... he'd have to shield her from them all.
Silently, he slipped from bed. Lifted Emilia gently, laid her down where he'd been, and tucked the blankets around her. A featherlight kiss to her forehead—then he turned away.
The door clicked shut behind him.
His limbs were stiff, but his mind was clearer than it had been in days. How long had he been out? No matter. He could move now.
"A walk... might do me good."
The mansion's rear garden greeted him with autumn's crisp breath. Trees draped in fiery leaves, peace woven into every branch. For a while, his thoughts quieted.
The calm shattered in an instant.
He'd barely turned to leave when he felt it—something fast, lethal, closing in. Time lurched.
Instinct flung him sideways.
CRACK!
The very tree he'd admired exploded into splinters.
"A morningstar. Rem's weapon—" Ice shot down his spine. Every nerve screamed: RUN.
He didn't.
Daggers materialized in his hands. Mana surged through his veins. He backpedaled, scanning—
There.
Rem.
Horn gleaming, smile dripping with murderous glee. Her chain whipped through the air—
[Mana Blade – Active]
Steel met steel in a detonation of light. The shockwave hurled them apart.
Rem's morningstar recoiled, embedding itself in the mansion's wall. Subaru's daggers shattered, shards scattering across grass.
Silence.
"Ah... Now I'm in real trouble," Subaru sighed.
Literally. Figuratively. Existentially.
Within ten seconds, the garden became a stage—Emilia, Puck, Ram, Beatrice, Roswaal—all wide-eyed, none comprehending.
Ram was the first to react.
Her eyes locked onto Rem's glowing horn, and she stormed forward, fury etched across her face.
Emilia, meanwhile, zeroed in on the shattered daggers in Subaru's hands. With a worried gasp, she rushed to his side.
Puck floated silently, piecing together the scene with a resigned sigh before settling into observer mode.
Beatrice watched, impassive, from the sidelines.
And Roswaal? He might as well have been admiring the scenery—as if this chaos were scripted.
Ram's voice cut like a blade:
"Subaru-sama. Care to explain why you're exchanging blows with my sister?"
Subaru met her gaze—no anger, no fear, just weary truth:
"Maybe you can ask your dear sister why you're trying to blow my head off."
Emilia did a lap around the Subaru.
"Subaru? Are you hurt? Are you okay? Do you need healing magic?"
Subaru chose his words carefully so as not to worry her further.
"Oh no, Tella-tan. There's nothing wrong with me. I'm as fit as a fiddle."
Emilia realized that she hadn't told Subaru her name.
She also wanted to ask him why she had woken up in Subaru's bed.
Curiosity mixed with shy concern.
As his eyes swept over Subaru's face, his mouth opened as if he wanted to say something... but he remained silent.
He nodded without saying anything.
But it wasn't easy to suppress what was going on inside her.
When they were alone, this silence would surely give way to words.
They had to talk. They were both aware of it.
(This conversation wasn't over. They both knew it.)
Rem stepped forward, her voice trembling with conviction:
"Onee-sama! You smell it too—that stench! He's a Witch Cultist!"
The air turned to lead.
Roswaal finally intervened, singsong as ever:
"Now now, Rem~ Subaru-kun isn't a cultist. Merely... cursed."
Emilia whirled on him, violet eyes blazing:
"Cursed? Explain. Now."
With a theatrical flourish, Roswaal delivered the killing blow:
"Your beloved savior carries a curse, Emilia-Sama.
A curse that could one day harm him"
Silence.
Even the wind held its breath.
For a suspended moment, Emilia, Rem, and Subaru stood frozen—three souls caught in the same devastating current.
Rem bowed her head slightly, fingers twisting in her skirt. "Perhaps... I was wrong..." The thought flickered behind her guarded eyes as they darted to Subaru—not with trust yet, but the first cracks of doubt.
Emilia inhaled sharply. When her gaze found Subaru, the guilt in her violet eyes spoke louder than words. This is my fault somehow. His suffering... it ties back to me.
Subaru heard nothing but white noise. Voices blurred into meaningless hums as a single question pounded in his skull:
"Will this power make me stronger... or just carve me apart piece by piece?"
The uncertainty no longer frightened him. It just... weighed. Like stones sewn beneath his skin.
Roswaal's words hung poisonously in the air: "A curse that will lead to his death."
Rem's grip on her skirt turned knuckle-white. She stared past Subaru now, as if listening for echoes in Roswaal's proclamation. A decision brewed beneath her stillness—foreigner or threat?
Emilia didn't look at Subaru. Instead, she turned to Beatrice, eyebrows knitted in silent plea.
"Beatrice... is this true?"
The librarian's shrug was clinical. "There exists a 'corrupted flow' within his body, I suppose. Its origin... undefinable. Yet persistent. Each encounter deepens it." A pause. "If not a curse, what else could it be, I wonder?"
Subaru lifted his head—but found no pity in Beatrice's gaze. Only data. Only observation.
He'd always known he kept dying.
But never that his power itself was the curse.
(Later. He'd ask Flugel later.)
Roswaal's smile remained, now edged with calculation.
"Not yet fatal~ But potential is risk... especially when carried by one who doesn't understand it."
Subaru stared at the floor. Around him, eyes dissected him—suspicion, skepticism, clinical interest. No warmth. No trust.
And in that moment, he remembered:
How alone he truly was in this world.
He stood.
No words. Just the crushing weight of their stares on his back as he walked to the door. No one stopped him.
The garden air slapped his face. Flowers looked dull even in sunlight. His footsteps echoed on cold stone until even silence abandoned him.
The sun climbed higher. Subaru tilted his face upward, whispering to the indifferent sky:
"What am I even doing here?"
No answer.
Just the garden.
The cold.
The quiet.
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I want to leave a small question at the end of the chapter:
Would you like me to softly introduce a harem theme in the upcoming chapters?
Of course, it would be handled carefully without disrupting the main emotions or character development —keeping everything natural and meaningful.
Please don't hesitate to share your thoughts in the comments!
Your feedback can make this story even more special!
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