He could hear the sound of a violent, churning torrent.
The roar of rushing water. A waterfall cascading from top to bottom, obeying gravity, churning up fierce sprays with every drop.
While a ceaseless thunder boomed at his ears—or perhaps inside his skull—shaking his brain,
Light came into view, and then— "—Ah, haa—"
A choking sensation seized his throat, his breathing rhythm went haywire, and Subaru gagged.
The intervals between exhale and inhale—should have been perfectly regular—blurred into ambiguity. His body, starved of oxygen, convulsed in spasms as saliva dripped from his open mouth and Subaru forced his eyes open.
"Gah! Aha—!"
He was lying face-down on the ground. His arms braced against the earth in something resembling a prostration, Subaru clutched his right hand to his chest, gasping over and over as he tried to calm his searing lungs.
The pain dulled. He spat out the saliva that had nowhere else to go. His body gradually regained composure, oxygen seeped into his brain, and he drew a single, shuddering breath. And then—memory returned.
"Wh— Wh—?!"
The sensation of a hollow opening in his chest, a feeling of total loss as though everything inside his body was gushing out.
He pressed his palm—still held against his chest—to his torso and confirmed that the void responsible for that loss was gone. The tension that had seized his entire body subsided, at least for the moment.
His limbs went numb with shock as Subaru ground his forehead against the earth, using the friction, the scrape of abrasion against skin, to convince himself that his physical body truly existed.
"What… at the end…"
He'd felt it—that end-of-life sensation—as if blood were draining from his crumpled body and his soul was being sucked out through the same hole. But the source of the loss gnawing at Subaru's flesh was not that. The real terror had come in that tiny sliver of remaining life between reaching death and being dragged into it.
His consciousness had gone hazy, his memories foggy, yet that much was burned into his mind with perfect clarity.
—that he had been "devoured" by something indescribable.
"Be… beheaded, bludgeoned, frozen, crushed falling from heights—I've died every which way… but being… being eaten by something at the very end… that's… a first…"
Saying it aloud, he became acutely aware of how his physical body had ended at last, and the terror hit him fresh.
The direct cause of death had been blood loss from the hole in his chest, and he had no intention of trivializing "death" itself. But he had tasted an actual fragment of the possibility that "death" wasn't the end.
So that was what it felt like—having your body devoured by something. The accompanying sense of loss was staggering. Subaru had experience losing fingers and toes, and yet the revulsion from this was on an entirely different level— "My fingers…?!"
Mid-thought, Subaru was suddenly struck by a surge of fury at how poorly the blood was circulating through his head.
There was no longer any doubt that "Return by Death" had occurred. He had sustained wounds that should have been fatal and felt the full reality of "death." There was probably no being in this world who had a deeper understanding of "death" than Natsuki Subaru. He'd died and come back—that much was certain.
What he wasn't certain about was: to what point in the timeline had the dead Subaru been returned?
If, hypothetically, the restart point had landed him at a time from which nothing could ever be salvaged, then where would that leave his resolve and his vow— "Ah…"
Bloodshot eyes darted around him as he scrambled to determine his current location and time. But what stopped Subaru in his frantic state was the sensation of his fingers when he roughly wiped the sweat from his forehead. Three fingers—the ones that should have been gone—were very much attached to his right palm.
"Fingers… they're here, which means…"
He raised his right arm for confirmation, letting his gaze travel from his fingertips to his elbow. Past the wrist, past the elbow, all the way up to the upper arm—he inspected every inch and found not a trace of injury or scarring. Granted, the wound from the mabeast incident was still a faint white mark to this day, but that was a separate matter.
Having confirmed his arm was intact, Subaru next touched his shoulder and hip—each of the spots where Elsa's projectiles had struck. No tautness of stretched skin, nothing. With that, Subaru was at least certain he had been sent back to before his encounter with Elsa, and the relief nearly buckled his knees.
"A-at… at least there's that."
Silver lining: he hadn't been sent back to a moment of despair piled on top of death.
Subaru let the relief wash through him, eyes lowering as he offered a silent thanks for his terrible luck. Then, idly shifting his gaze to the side, he noticed— In the dark corner of the musty room,
"Emili…a—"
He nearly lunged to her side on instinct, then caught himself. He realized that the place the two of them were in was a dim, mildew-choked underground vault. And if his memory served, there was only one occasion when he and she had spent time alone in a place like this. Which meant: "The restart point hasn't changed…!"
Right after clearing the "Trial"—the tomb. That was where Subaru had returned after this death: a clean-slate moment where nothing had yet been gained, but nothing had yet been lost, either.
※※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ —There had to be a way to turn everything around. That much, at least, must still be possible.
Having confirmed exactly where he'd been sent back to, Subaru's mind pivoted to a line of thought so far removed from the trembling figure who had faced his final moments that it was almost unrecognizable.
It was currently the second night since arriving at the "
It had become practically a ritual by now—this grim, methodical sorting-through of dead ends. The feeling of not knowing where to start, the frustration of hitting walls everywhere he turned, all of it was par for the course.
"But this time, the usual approach isn't gonna cut it."
After all, it seemed he couldn't even grasp the full scope of the loops surrounding him yet. And against a threat so clear and obvious, he still hadn't found a single useful thread of a solution.
The most immediately pressing threat—and the one for which he had absolutely no means of direct combat—was Elsa. Traps and trickery wouldn't work against her either, which made her perhaps even more troublesome than Petelgeuse.
Dealing with her once she attacked the Roswaal mansion remained the highest priority. But apparently, the problem didn't end there.
"The last time… why was the 'Sanctuary' completely empty?"
Being teleported by
And then the final catastrophe that struck Subaru as he headed to the tomb for answers.
He'd had a hole torn open in his chest, and yet Subaru had died without even knowing what had inflicted the wound. Even now he could recall the vivid mark, but reviving only brought pain and terror—nothing he could use.
What on earth had happened in the "Sanctuary" at that time? What had happened to him? What were Beatrice's intentions? And Emilia— "…You've gotta be kidding me."
Thinking that far, Subaru's face went rigid with shock at the contradiction between his thoughts and his actions.
All this situation analysis—important. Planning future goals and the strategies to achieve them—surely vital too. Gathering scattered information, shaping it into something useful, using it as a stepping stone toward the future he wanted—reasonable priorities, all of them.
"——"
But was that really something he should be doing while Emilia was fighting this nightmare right in front of his eyes?
"I…"
Emilia, undergoing the "Trial," tormented by her present suffering. The past was crashing down on her, and the weight of the cross she bore was tearing at body and soul alike.
That period of pain would stretch on, and end without ever offering a shred of comfort.
Subaru knew this. He knew exactly how much she would grieve, how much she would be worn down, how much her heart would break.
That was why he couldn't bear to watch—that was why he'd steeled himself to undergo the "Trial" in her stead. He'd racked his brain trying to mow down every obstacle and pave the road for her.
And yet, right now, Subaru had looked upon her suffering and felt relief.
Relief that the time he'd returned to was "now"—the moment she was still in pain. And with the cruel clarity of knowing how that pain would end, he had prioritized his own thinking over her well-being.
The instant he realized that, Subaru understood that he had sunk to an appallingly ugly existence.
Someone precious was right before him, gasping under unbearable agony—and knowing that, he could avert his eyes and pursue his own agenda. The sheer stupidity of it.
For Subaru, this was nothing less than a repulsive, abject weakness to be despised.
"For now…"
There was no time to wallow in guilt or anguish over the contradictions in his heart. He had to wake Emilia up and get out of this place as quickly as possible.
He could gather his thoughts once they were outside. There was no reason to prolong her suffering. Besides— "At this point, there's someone I can't avoid interrogating anymore."
He was furious at himself for having been far, far too soft up until now. With someone at the very heart of this situation standing right there, how had he managed to stay so ambiguous and half-hearted?
The result had been the tragedy at the mansion and that senseless death in the "Sanctuary."
If the future he'd get by staying this small-minded was going to look like that— "Then no matter what it takes, I'll rewrite it."
He spoke those words and reached out to wake Emilia.
Subaru's profile, twisted with a fury he could no longer contain, was something even he himself failed to notice.
※※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ "What do you know—and how much—Roswaal."
Those were the first words out of Subaru's mouth as he flung the door open. Roswaal, reclining on his bed, narrowed his mismatched eyes at the sight. Seeing his own reflection in those heterochromatic irises, Subaru crossed the threshold without ceremony, slammed the door shut behind him, and succinctly expressed his current state of mind.
—Having dragged Emilia back from the "Trial," Subaru had carried her out of the tomb and brought her to Ryuzu's house to let her rest. He'd left Emilia in
During the time it took to leave the house, Garfiel had stared him down in silence—a source of some anxiety. Fortunately, the man hadn't tried anything along the way, and Subaru had arrived safely.
All that wariness, however, dissipated the moment Roswaal came into view.
"Hmmm."
Roswaal looked up at the visibly agitated Subaru and released a contemplative sigh. Then, raising one finger and pointing it straight at the young man before him, he waggled the tip and said: "You're quite a bit angrier than you were before. Thaaat's a promising sign."
"Don't joke with me. And I don't have the patience right now to humor your antics, your pranks, or your little quips. I'm prepared to use force if I have to—that's where I stand."
Roswaal's easygoing demeanor only sharpened Subaru's edge. He strode to the bedside, planted a hand on the mattress, and glared down at the clown from up close.
"I just came back from the 'Trial.' And I've got a mountain of questions for you."
"…Is that so. You took the 'Trial.' I see. I see, I suppose that is about right."
From Subaru's subjective time, the experience of the Trial—the farewell with his parents—already felt like it had happened days ago. But in objective time, it had been mere minutes. And the slightly peculiar reaction Roswaal always gave when the Trial was mentioned—this was already the third time.
The first time had been a burst of raw, fleeting emotion unlike anything Subaru had ever seen. The second world, Roswaal had seemed to receive it more calmly, or so Subaru recalled. But even then, there had been a glimpse of wistful melancholy quite unlike him.
Now, the third time—what kind of reaction would he show? For Subaru, the first world's outburst was preferable. Even Roswaal, when gripped by fury, had to let his guard slip a little.
But Subaru's wish was not to be, because Roswaal merely traced the faintest smile at the corner of his lips and said: "Well now—allow me to ask a question first."
"Hah? What are you talking about? You're asking questions? …Keep screwing around and I will genuinely lose my temper, you bastard."
"Oh, I'm well aware that your anger is justified. I ask in full knowledge of that. And if the answer is to my liking… well, there'd be no reason for me to withhold my cooperation."
"If I answer your question… No, wait—"
Subaru bit down on his fury. Roswaal had made the proposal as casually as anything, and Subaru had nearly accepted—before rejecting the idea on the spot. He realized he was being swept along by the atmosphere Roswaal cultivated, just like always.
He'd gone along with it before and suffered for it every time. If he wanted to change the trajectory, he had to start by refusing to be led.
"I'm not answering your question. I'm the one who wants to talk, and I'm going first."
"Oh my, how imperious you've become."
"I'm not saying I'll never answer—but I get the feeling that handing you the initiative first never leads anywhere good. So I'm nipping that bud before it grows."
Facing Subaru's unyielding stance, Roswaal closed one eye and let out a soft breath. Then he extended both palms toward Subaru, pushing the conversational turn back with a "by all means."
"Feel free to ask whatever you like. There's no rule that says I have to be the one to steer the conversation, after all."
"Your agreeableness is suspicious in its own way… but fine, pushing back is pointless, so I'll take it. My question—what kind of contract did you and Beatrice make?"
"——"
The silence that followed was proof enough that the question had caught Roswaal off guard.
The change was minute, but Subaru caught the faint stiffening of his cheek, and inwardly confirmed that he'd hit something critical.
Along the path of the previous loop, new facts had surfaced and new mysteries had emerged. To deal with the tangle, Subaru reasoned, he'd need to produce new answers of his own. Among those, questions about her—about Beatrice—could not be directed at anyone other than Roswaal, whether in the "Sanctuary" or at the mansion.
Above all, the exchange they'd shared at their parting, and the "Gospel" she'd been holding—that was seared into his mind.
This would be deeply relevant to any future dealings with her. He couldn't let it slide, and he couldn't make any decisions without knowing the truth.
—The approach to Beatrice in this loop, which could not be avoided.
"You're going to answer me, Roswaal. I'm not answering your question, so don't you dare refuse to answer mine in return. I want to hear it."
Subaru pressed harder, watching Roswaal maintain his silence.
He could feel the impatience asserting itself in his chest. It was a bad premonition—a wish for his expectations to be overturned.
In a moment where a single second of stillness felt like a minute, like ten minutes, Roswaal at last slowly opened his mouth: "That you would ask that question here—does it mean you've remembered?"
But that was no answer to Subaru's question. Worse, it was Roswaal turning the question back on him with one of his own. Subaru clicked his tongue in irritation and waved his hand dismissively.
"Why do you keep answering with questions? Even if I humored you with one—which I won't—your turn to answer mine comes first. I have absolutely no intention of yielding."
"I see. Then let's proceed by exchanging questions in turn. Your question was 'the contract between me and Beatrice,' correct? Beatrice and I have no contract. That is all."
"Wh—?!"
Roswaal's rapid-fire delivery caught Subaru completely off guard, rendering him speechless. As Subaru fumbled for words, Roswaal extended a hand and drew out the sound: "Now it's your turn to answer my question. —Have you remembered?"
"Remembered… what? And just so we're clear, you and I aren't close enough to communicate telepathically. Don't assume my sentences will make sense without a subject."
"With that answer, I've learned your response to my question. …A pity."
Subaru tried to fire back in kind, but even that deflection was handled with superior ease by Roswaal. The man cast his eyes down with a listless air and murmured: "It seems I can't reach you."
"…Reach me?"
"It's your turn to ask a question. Try to phrase it a little more cleverly next time—one I can't so easily dodge."
His question had been cut off, and Roswaal's casual admission of evasiveness only stoked Subaru's frustration. He took a deep breath to steady himself, pressed a finger to his temple, and let his thoughts turn.
"You said you and Beatrice have no contract. Then what reason does Beatrice have for being in your mansion? I don't understand the relationship between you and Beatrice."
"That's two questions, and you've been talking about nothing but Beatrice—what about Lady Emilia? Or perhaps you have a thing for girls who look that young?"
"I have zero interest in the younger-girl angle, not in any romantic sense. I'm not trying to conquer her that way. But from a 'break the status quo' standpoint, I know I need to find a way through somehow."
When Subaru thought of Beatrice, something inside him genuinely ached.
But the origin of that ache was different from what he felt when he thought of Emilia or
Still, even now—having seen Beatrice holding the "Gospel"—this was what Subaru believed: He refused to accept that the relationship he and Beatrice had built up to this point was nothing more than the sham dictated by some incomprehensible book.
"That's why I need to know her. And as far as I can tell, you're the only one close enough to her to be deeply involved in her affairs. So I have no choice but to ask you."
"You're so eager to scoop up everything that catches your eye—I wonder if that won't become a hindrance when the time comes to choose what truly matters. To find your true heart's desire, that softness of yours is nothing but an obstacle, if you ask me."
"I'm fully aware my hands are full. That's exactly why I'm carrying that one along by the teeth while I walk. Got a problem with that?"
"Oh, so many problems. You talk a good game, though—I'll give you that. But I suppose that's fine. …Because the real answer is what happens when the time comes."
Roswaal agreed with Subaru's sentiment, yet left that ominous parting remark. Subaru's gaze sharpened, and Roswaal continued: "Beatrice's reason for staying in the mansion—that was it, wasn't it? She's there as part of the Mathers family's long-standing arrangement. In simple terms, the head of the family generations ago made a kindness of having her manage the forbidden library, and that arrangement has carried through to my generation as well."
"So she's a hired custodian? …That's different from a contract, isn't it?"
"The format of your question doesn't match mine, but… very well. My questions have probably lost most of their meaning anyway. You already know that Beatrice is a spirit, yes?"
Subaru confirmed with a downward tilt of his jaw. He'd never actually seen Beatrice in spirit form, but her self-proclaimed identity and the weight of her presence backed it up.
Roswaal raised a finger, having witnessed Subaru's nod: "For a spirit, a contract with a human carries tremendous significance. Lady Emilia's relationship with the Great Spirit is precisely like thaaat."
"Yeah, Emilia had her hands full with all the complicated conditions attached to it. Though lately, that Great Spirit has been nowhere to be seen."
He still harbored grudges against
"Setting aside the Great Spirit's capriciousness, Beatrice is no exception to that rule. She and I have a cooperative relationship of sorts, but it's purely a non-interference pact based on mutual convenience. She wouldn't lend me a hand for my purposes, and I wouldn't for hers."
"I get that you and Beatie act friendly yet couldn't care less about each other—but that doesn't connect to anything about a contract."
"Oh, pardon me. The contract is something else entirely. Beatrice, being a spirit, places great importance on contracts. If she were to mention one, that would signify a far more serious issue. Because, you see, she is still bound by a contract from four hundred years ago."
Subaru leaned forward, unable to let that pass. Pressing Roswaal, he cried out: "Then—tell me about that four-hundred-year-old contract. I want the details."
"A spirit who'd blab about her contract's terms? Doesn't exist. None of the parties from that era are still around, so short of Beatrice herself talking, there's no way to know."
"Damn it, useless! If only I knew what that four-hundred-year-old contract was…"
Wouldn't that explain why that girl was always alone in that room, curled up and small?
"But—there is one thing I can tell you."
"What?"
"Beatrice is bound by a contract dating back four hundred years. For her to enter into a new contract on top of that—there is no way that's even possible. If you want to pull that girl out of that place, you'll have to start by making her break that contract."
"Break… the contract?"
"Or fulfill it, if you prefer. But given the high likelihood that the other party to the contract no longer exists, breaking it is the far more sensible option, don't you think?"
For once, Roswaal was offering constructive advice. Subaru had been wearing a suspicious expression, but gradually his look shifted to one of scales falling from his eyes.
"—Did I ever once say, even in passing, that I wanted to get Beatrice out of that place?"
Subaru's voice was low, his gaze piercing as he fixed Roswaal from up close.
His hand remained on the bed, his fingers tapping the sheets as though measuring time. Roswaal let his gaze fall to that motion, closed one eye, and reflected Subaru in his yellow pupil.
"You really are—someone who notices exactly the things I'd prefer you didn't."
"What do you—"
"Either way, this is a conversation without substance for me. Shall we end it here?"
"Don't you—don't screw with me!?"
Roswaal's demeanor flipped entirely; disappointment flickered in his eyes. He let out a sigh, his posture shifting completely, his face losing all its energy in a manner obvious at a glance.
"I doubt anything I say now would change your mind… but do as you please."
"What the hell is with that attitude?! We were about to have an important—no, a crucial conversation, and that's how you show up?! I've still got questions—"
"Then by all means, ask away. Whether I'll deign to answer is now entirely dependent on my mood, I'm afraid."
As Subaru seethed, Roswaal lost wave after wave of emotional engagement. Face reddening, Subaru glared at the man who was now casually stroking his lavender-blue hair.
"Going to ask your question, or not?"
"…Fine. I know that Beatrice is bound by a contract and that's why she stays in the mansion. I don't need to know the details of that. What I want to ask about is something else entirely—that black book she was holding. Tell me what it was."
"Oh? So you saw it. What are your impressions? What do you think it was?"
"Don't answer with a question. —I think it looked like the book the
Subaru's halting words carried a desperate desire to be told he was wrong. But Roswaal, wearing an expression that looked like he was suppressing a yawn, said: "The 'Gospel' carried by
"You— you knew about it?"
"It's not exactly rare. Witch Cultists are everywhere. And they worship a different Witch from the one connected to this facility. For me, as the steward of the "Sanctuary," it's not as though we've never had run-ins with them."
"It really can… see the future?" Subaru's voice was strained.
If you could see the future without dying, it would be the superior version of his "Return by Death." Not that he was jealous—exactly—but if every Witch Cultist was equipped with something that far beyond the pale, the implications were terrifying.
But Roswaal shook his head.
"It's not that convenient. The number of entries varies by bearer, and isn't that many. The contents are vague, interpretations vary wildly. Most importantly, the 'Gospel' can only be read by its bearer—anyone else who tries finds that the words simply won't register. All it provides is an incomplete map of the future."
"Incomplete…"
Relief flooded Subaru, impossible to conceal. After all, if the "Gospel" were truly a prophetic text that charted the future with certainty, Subaru could never have defeated Petelgeuse. By that logic, even the Archbishop of Sin's "Gospel" hadn't reached that level. But— "That's a separate matter. The book Beatrice had—"
"If you're asking whether it's the same as the 'Gospel' the Witch Cult carries—the answer is yes and no."
"Don't dodge this! This is important!"
"I'm not dodging anything. Beatrice's is a 'Gospel,' but its roots are different from the Cult's. The Cult's version is incomplete, but Beatrice's 'Gospel' is a finished product."
"Finished…?"
"Yes, finished. Unlike the defective version that wavers and shifts depending on the uncertain future."
Subaru was bewildered. But before him, Roswaal's expression had brightened in a way that felt oddly jubilant.
Almost as if he were showing off something. That transformation left Subaru momentarily speechless—but he was truly robbed of words in the very next instant.
"—?!"
Roswaal brought his right hand—from behind his back—forward. In that hand was a book bound in black.
At this distance, there was no mistaking it. It was unmistakably, undeniably a "Gospel."
"The only two complete 'Gospels' still in existence. The only ones who hold them are myself and Beatrice. So it would appear."
"——"
Roswaal waved the book gently left and right before Subaru's eyes. But Subaru had no capacity to spare for that gesture.
That Roswaal held the same book the Witch Cult possessed—that was indeed startling. The fact that the book Beatrice had been holding was a "Gospel," confirming their parting conversation—that too had shaken him. But what truly gripped Subaru's heart was none of that.
"That is… a 'Gospel' that records the future?"
"Indeed it is. This is the genuine article."
"You knew… the future? That this would happen right now—all of this was written in that book?"
"It was. Though you can't read it, I'm sure."
That was irrelevant.
Whether Subaru could read it or not meant nothing in this instant. Only one thing mattered—only one question absolutely had to be asked: "Does it say… what happens next?"
"It doesn't record everything in the world, but it does show part of the bearer's future."
"You knew this would happen… you knew all along?"
"Creating the scenario described in these pages is quite the endeavor, you know. I'd appreciate some credit for my behind-the-scenes efforts."
Subaru couldn't stop his voice from trembling.
The cause was an emotion so violent it overwhelmed him. He knew instantly what it was and which direction it pointed— "If you knew—if you knew all of this—"
"Hmm?"
"—Then you watched Rem die. You let it happen."
"Rem? Who might that be?"
"I'LL KILL YOU!! ROSWAAAAAAL!!"
In that instant, nothing but uncontrollable rage drove Subaru.
He lunged onto the bed, seized Roswaal's throat with both hands, and squeezed. A grip strength that had never before exceeded that of an ordinary person crushed the thin neck, etching lines of pain into the clown's pale face.
"If you knew everything, you bastard—!!"
If he had known—if he had understood—if he could have prevented the tragedy—then Rem would never have suffered that fate.
"You're the one who made me watch Rem die—!!"
Helpless fury, an eruption of regret, became murderous intent toward the man before him and propelled Subaru forward. Impulse obliterated reason, emotion, love—all converted to force.
And Roswaal, voiceless, could only wait in silence for Subaru to snap his neck— "—'Dress up or down, but you can't wash away the stink of the Urgraal'!!"
—Impact.
A hard, sharp blow slammed into him from the side. Subaru felt the right half of his face cave in as he was sent flying.
No chance to break his fall—he smashed into the wall from the bed and crumpled headfirst to the floor. One hit and his thoughts scattered. His entire body wouldn't move a muscle.
Blood poured from his ears and nose. His right vision had gone pitch-black. His eye—might be crushed.
"—You crawl out of a grave and you've got the nerve to stink it up even worse! I had a bad feeling and stood watch, and sure enough—this is what I get, huh?!"
Footsteps. Chaotic, heavy, closing in. His body wouldn't allow him to crawl. Unable to move forward or back, Subaru felt his head grabbed and hauled upward.
"Let's ask your body what you, reeking of that Witch, were planning to do, yeah?! There ain't a man in this place who isn't needed. Don't you dare fool around, you hear me?!"
The blond youth. Garfiel. Rage and killing intent bled through his voice as Subaru's consciousness faded.
Half his head felt crushed—he couldn't verify, but that was the sensation. He might die. If this killed him, what a pathetically pointless way to go.
But if he "Returned by Death" carrying all of this filth inside him, would he still have the will to save this place?
"I don't… know… Rem…"
Those were his last words before his consciousness snapped clean in two and plunged into darkness.