"Just hold on a moment, Schwartz. I'm in the middle of reading something interesting."
That was Gustaf, and he didn't so much as glance at Subaru, who had been invited into the room. His gaze remained fixed on the letter resting on the desk before him.
Led by a guard, Subaru had been brought to the uppermost level of Ginnunhaib. Beyond a door that practically screamed luxury, the room that greeted him was simple and sparse.
The spacious room held nothing but a work desk, a work bookshelf, and a work supply cabinet. The room was far too large for its furnishings, so clearly there had once been more stuff in here.
Everything unnecessary had been stripped from the governor's quarters. The overwhelmingly tidy impression it gave was a perfect reflection of Gustaf's no-nonsense personality, and somehow that was reassuring.
"You say hold on, but there's not even a chair in here."
Trapped in this barren room and ordered to wait by Gustaf, Subaru was at a loss for what to do with himself.
If told to wait, there was nothing he could do. With nothing better than killing time, Subaru let his eyes wander around the room—and spotted a figure who was, without question, out of place.
Or rather, a figure who was fluttering a limp wave in his direction with a dopey smile.
"Hey there, Basu! Good work today. You've got business with Gustaf?"
Addressed with that infuriatingly casual tone, Subaru suppressed a sigh and walked over.
The thing was, the relationship between Subaru and Counterfeit Cecilus had gotten complicated again. In a sense, Subaru's joining of the Sparca had been at Counterfeit Cecilus's instigation.
They hadn't fought about it, and Subaru probably would have entered the Sparca regardless—but— "So it's true that you had a pretty strong desire to one-up Sesshi, huh?"
"Oh my, wanting to one-up me? What an ambitious motivation. Was that why you joined the Sparca? If so, then I'm terribly sorry."
"Sorry?"
"Well, you see, I didn't go watch the Sparca just now."
Counterfeit Cecilus declared this with his tongue sticking out, completely nonchalant. Subaru's jaw dropped open, but what welled up inside him almost immediately was the rage of "you bastard."
Seeing it all firsthand—the very argument that had gotten Subaru fired up, the way Subaru had charged in to overturn Counterfeit Cecilus's claims—and he hadn't even bothered to show up.
"You... you bastard...!"
"Now, now, now, don't be angry! Well, I understand the urge to be, but I have my own reasons!"
"Then let's hear them! If it's some lame excuse, then—"
"Because I already knew what the result would be without watching, right? You'd crush them completely and that'd be that, Basu. There was no reason for me to go. I wasn't staking my life or anything."
"———"
Counterfeit Cecilus remained utterly unfazed even with Subaru pressing him, and Subaru backed off.
Honestly, Subaru was self-aware enough to know he was pulling the same kind of creepy-kid act that Hiain kept calling him out for— "But Sesshi, you're pretty creepy from the outside too, you know..."
"Perhaps those who achieve great things are always misunderstood by others. In this case, that applies to both me and you, Basu."
"Well, that's quite the compliment."
"Indeed! This whole experience has really solidified it for me. So rest assured—please continue to act unorthodox, off-target, bold, reckless, and completely off the mark!"
"Don't lump 'off-target' and 'off the mark' in with the rest!"
At Counterfeit Cecilus's habit of stringing together vaguely appropriate words, Subaru twisted his lips in protest. And right at the tail end of their exchange, there was a heavy thud as a hand struck the desk.
Looking up, the one who had made the sound was Gustaf, having finished reading his letter.
Gustaf rested his chin on two of his crossed arms while the other two braced against the desk. Subaru marveled at the fact that having four arms enabled such dexterous arrangements.
"If you crossed all four, would there be too much for your chin to rest on?"
"Hmm, I wonder. Gustaf, your face is quite large, so it might actually be the perfect size even with four hands stacked. Want to give it a try?"
"Do either of you possess even a shred of decorum? Common sense would dictate that when someone is reading a letter, silence is the appropriate courtesy."
"We weren't told to..."
It was a childish excuse, but both Subaru and Counterfeit Cecilus offered the same defense simultaneously.
That fact made Subaru feel guilty toward Gustaf. Sharing an opinion with Counterfeit Cecilus meant Subaru had acted without common sense.
"Gustaf, sorry. My bad..."
"Doesn't it seem like you followed some questionable logic to arrive there? In any case, since you've admitted fault, I'll chalk this up entirely to Basu's wrongdoing."
"In terms of apology, Schwartz is the more respectful of the two, at least in this official's estimation. Furthermore, for the record, I never granted Segmunt permission to enter."
"Oh, you didn't? Then why is Sesshi here?"
"That would be because I operate on the principle of being wherever I want to be whenever I want. There's nobody on this island who can restrict my freedom, so I consider it a reasonable arrangement."
Counterfeit Cecilus made this declaration of submission to absolutely no one with a perfectly straight face. Subaru stole a nervous glance at Gustaf, but the island's administrator closed his eyes and rubbed his brow, enduring the conflict in silence.
It didn't seem like Counterfeit Cecilus was lying, but clearly Gustaf wasn't exactly happy about the situation either—it was something like that, apparently.
But— "Nobody can stop Sesshi, huh?"
"That's right. I'm what you'd call a special case—basically, the world's star performer."
"I don't really get that, but..."
Though his phrasing was unusual, Subaru understood what Counterfeit Cecilus was getting at.
However, if Counterfeit Cecilus's claim was true, then a different, far larger contradiction arose. And that was something Subaru couldn't ignore.
"So, Gustaf, you called me here for—"
"I'll allow it. No one can throw me out. Don't worry—if it concerns me, I'll hear it anyway, and if it doesn't, I'll forget it immediately. My ability to forget is truly remarkable. I might have already forgotten several important things at this point."
"That's not remarkable at all..."
At Counterfeit Cecilus puffing out his chest with pride over his own outrageousness, both Subaru and Gustaf threw up their hands.
In the end, with the room's membership unchanged, Subaru was positioned in front of Gustaf. Counterfeit Cecilus stood with his hands clasped behind his head, his back against the wall, observing.
It was a truly bizarre "actor" viewing.
"Setting aside Sesshi in the back, the reason you called me—"
"Obviously, it's a warning regarding your exploitation of the punishment system."
"...Aren't you being roundabout?"
Cut off by the deep voice, Subaru muttered with a sour expression.
According to the rules of the sword-slave island, a warning was followed by punishment, and beyond that lay death by Curse Law. The final step aside, having a warning come after punishment was backward.
To Subaru's point, Gustaf's expression didn't so much as twitch.
"Schwartz, you made statements in my presence that risk disrupting the order of this sword-slave island. You ignored the warning, and consequently, a punishment was administered. You're aware of this?"
"...Yeah, I am."
"Then swear you will never utter such words before me again. Specifically—the notion of escaping this island, or any scheme that runs counter to His Majesty's judgment."
His expression remained unchanged. There was no shift in his gaze or the color of his eyes. His tone carried the quiet of a massive boulder, yet it exuded overwhelming intimidation.
If that intensity had been anger or irritation, it would have been easier for Subaru to read. But what resided in Gustaf was neither.
"Incredibly strong sense of duty."
"———"
"Gustaf, do you owe something to this Emperor?"
"Is that an attempt to deflect my question?"
"Not at all."
He wasn't trying to deflect, nor was he in a position to.
Gustaf clearly didn't intend to let Subaru leave without extracting a proper answer. So Subaru's question came from genuine curiosity and interest in Gustaf.
He did, after all, know the person Gustaf called "His Majesty."
"I have no personal relationship with His Majesty. I was appointed governor of this island, and that is the extent of it. Devoting myself to my duties is simply what my position demands."
"So the earnestness is just part of your personality?"
"To call fulfilling one's natural duties 'earnestness' is somewhat reductive, wouldn't you say?"
He hadn't meant to be disrespectful, but the remark was taken as an insult, and Subaru flinched.
That said, Gustaf's answer wasn't what Subaru had hoped for. Whether this was Gustaf's true feeling or a facade concealing the truth—Subaru couldn't tell.
He'd need to know Gustaf far better than he did.
"With Gustaf, it'd probably take more like five or ten times to get anywhere..."
Behind his own recent successes, Subaru believed there had been something like a "suspension-bridge effect"—a heightened state of intimacy brought on by extreme circumstances.
In the life-or-death battles of the Sparca, everyone, having no margin for composure, had been drawn in by Subaru's air of knowing and spilled their personal stories.
Getting to know them had been the single biggest reason
The problem was that method was much harder to replicate outside of it.
"Schwartz, what's with that face?"
"I'm just wondering how to melt the ice around Gustaf's heart."
"Heart and ice have no correlation. I would ask that you refrain from Segmunt-like remarks. I have no desire to increase my own headaches."
Even Subaru's half-joke was met with a dead-serious reply, and he could sense Counterfeit Cecilus stifling laughter behind them.
Ignoring that together, Subaru and Gustaf locked eyes. Then they returned to the unanswered question.
"I'll ask you to swear again, Schwartz. As long as you remain a sword slave on this island, you will obey me, the governor. You will refrain from any act that defies His Majesty's will."
"———"
Closing his eyes, Subaru turned Gustaf's appeal over in his mind.
When Subaru had boldly declared he would leave the island, Gustaf had given him a single warning. When Subaru hadn't changed course, he'd been sent into the Sparca as punishment.
If what the other sword slaves said was true, the sequence was: warning, then punishment, then Curse Law's death sentence if that failed.
And there was something Subaru absolutely had to verify. It was an indispensable confirmation for the day he and the others escaped this sword-slave island.
"Schwartz, your answer—"
"Absolutely not!"
"———"
Before the repeated, deep inquiry, Subaru puffed out his chest and answered loud and clear.
At this response, Gustaf's brow furrowed and he fell silent. Seeing that, Subaru quickly realized the meaning behind his own words hadn't come through properly, and rephrased.
"Noou means 'I refuse.' Sorry, Gustaf, but I can't do what you're asking. No matter how stupid I have to act, I've already decided—I'm getting out of here."
△▼△▼△▼△ Breaking down a word whose meaning might not have translated, Subaru declared himself again.
Escape from Ginnunhaib, the sword-slave island—and he said it straight to the face of no one other than Gustaf Morello, the island's own governor.
"———"
This answer was, of course, not what Gustaf wanted either. He stoked the intensity in his grim face without so much as a change in expression or eye color, simmering like magma waiting for an eruption— "Schwa—"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
In an instant, the laughter—piercing and shrill—kicked the about-to-erupt magma aside.
Clutching his sides and roaring with laughter was Counterfeit Cecilus, who had been shamelessly eavesdropping on their conversation from the back of the room the entire time.
Through his laughter, Counterfeit Cecilus wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes with a finger.
"'Absolutely not!' He says 'Absolutely not!' I'm not sure what 'Noou' means exactly, but I can really feel the defiant spirit! Personally, I rather like it! My goodness, Basu, how fearless are you? I don't dislike it—in fact, I'm a fan."
"Good to know. I think you're a creepy kid, Sesshi."
"AHAHAHA!"
He stomped his feet on the spot, and Counterfeit Cecilus's laughter showed no signs of stopping.
Even with water thrown on it by Counterfeit Cecilus's explosive laughter, the words of refusal Subaru had thrust at Gustaf did not vanish.
"Schwartz. I warned you, and when you refused to retract your stance, I administered a punishment. Furthermore, when I gave you yet another chance to correct your attitude, you insist on doing no such thing. Is that your position?"
"...Yeah, it's not that I hate you, Gustaf. The one I hate is the Empire."
"I have no right to force my personal likes and dislikes onto official conduct."
Though he was saying between the lines that he didn't care if he was hated, Subaru genuinely didn't dislike Gustaf. He didn't know him well enough to form likes and dislikes.
Judging someone on first impressions—that was a stupid way to decide things.
"Not unless, you know, a girl you like kisses your hand or something."
"?"
"That was completely unrelated—just talking about something else."
Regretting the words that had slipped out, Subaru glared at Gustaf.
In Gustaf's eyes, Subaru was probably the most difficult child imaginable. Even sending him to the Sparca under the guise of punishment hadn't gotten through to him at all.
Gustaf must have realized by now that the Sparca didn't function as punishment for Subaru.
If that was the case— "Beyond the warning and the punishment—will you execute me, Gustaf?"
"——If you continue to refuse to retract your statement, then in the worst case, I will be forced to act within the authority granted to me."
"I see. ...Then what if you did?"
"———"
Tilting his head, Subaru addressed Gustaf with an almost offhand air.
Hearing Subaru's words, Gustaf's expression shifted—just barely. It wasn't a furrowing of the brow or a massaging of it, but a hardening of the cheeks.
It wasn't the look of someone thinking. It was the reaction of someone whose sore spot had been struck.
"The Curse Law you've placed on every sword slave on this island—use it to punish me. I'm a bratty kid who won't listen to a thing, and you're the governor here, so making an example of me should be perfectly fine. Go ahead. But—"
"———"
"You won't do it, Gustaf. —No, I believe you can't."
From the silent Gustaf, there was no rebuttal.
Subaru pressed on with his thoughts, probing what that silence meant.
The Curse Law—the thing the island's sword slaves feared above all else, the chain that bound their actions.
In Gustaf's hands, sword slaves who bore the Curse Seal would have their lives taken on his whim. Subaru believed that this deterrent was one Gustaf couldn't use.
"I heard it from Nuru and from the old sword-slave guys who've lived here a long time. Before Gustaf showed up, this island was lawless—people were dying from injuries and illnesses all the time. But after Gustaf came, things changed dramatically. The deaths dropped."
"It is simply the natural duty of a governor. Sword slaves exist to risk their lives for the island's spectacles. Deaths from other causes must be avoided as much as possible. The same applies to the daily bouts outside of formal events. We provide opportunities to maintain tension and skill, but deaths in non-spectacle settings should likewise be prevented."
"Yeah, Gustaf, you don't want to reduce the number of sword slaves any more than necessary. I've felt that during the days I've been here. The welfare system is surprisingly well-run."
"Welfare system?! What a thrilling new word!"
Counterfeit Cecilus perked up at Subaru's line of questioning, but Subaru had no intention of playing dictionary.
This was a crucial moment, even for Subaru.
"I think you tolerate deaths in the Sparca to maintain the quality of sword slaves, and also, probably, to keep the sword slaves inside on edge."
"———"
"Like I said before, once you become a sword slave, the rules here are surprisingly lenient. But you can't let sword slaves get complacent about life here. That's why you run the Sparca. It ratchets up the tension, and also... it gives them peace of mind."
"Peace of mind?"
"That we're glad we became sword slaves."
At Gustaf's question, Subaru answered clearly, looking him straight in the eye.
When he considered Gustaf's goals and actions, this was the explanation that fit best. It could well be off the mark, but there was little to lose in asking.
If he was laughed at or flatly denied, that would be that.
"———"
But what Gustaf chose was neither of those—it was silence.
"...You don't want to kill any more sword slaves than you have to, Gustaf. But you also can't have them getting rebellious or cocky. That's why you use the Sparca. When I think about it that way, it all fits."
"The logic is sound. However, that does not constitute objective proof that I don't activate the Curse Law. This is merely wishful thinking on your part."
"I have one more piece of evidence. ...A rebellious and cocky Sesshi."
"Me?"
Pointing his thumb behind him, Subaru said this, and Counterfeit Cecilus's eyes went round. When Gustaf's gaze flickered that way, Subaru nodded firmly.
The fact that Counterfeit Cecilus was right here brazenly participating in this discussion between Subaru and Gustaf only underscored how far ahead of the other sword slaves he was in sheer audacity.
Of course, warnings and punishments must have been issued to Counterfeit Cecilus as well—but for a different reason than Subaru, they hadn't gotten through to him at all. And if that was the case, it wouldn't be strange if Counterfeit Cecilus had already received the ultimate punishment beyond mere punishment, even before Subaru.
"And yet, Sesshi is fine. Sure, it's possible he's Gustaf's favorite and gets special treatment—but Gustaf, of all people, doesn't seem like the type."
"Sharp observation. I harbor no fondness for Segmunt. I am absolutely committed to not letting personal feelings influence official authority—"
"Oh, oh, oh? Does this mean I'm being talked about as the disliked one? Well, well, I do seem to end up at the center of every conversation wherever I go. My apologies."
"That man's mental fortitude is inhuman..."
Despite being directly called out, Counterfeit Cecilus took it in stride. You'd need to be that thick-skinned to develop his particular personality.
In any case, Counterfeit Cecilus's existence was a strong piece of supporting evidence for Subaru's theory.
Which meant— "Sesshi hasn't been punished either. I've done things just as irritating to you, if not more so, Gustaf. And yet, having just refused your words, what will you do to me?"
"———"
"With the Curse Law—will you punish me? ...What will you do, Gustaf?"
Ever so slightly, Gustaf narrowed his eyes at Subaru's challenge.
Four arms resting on the desk—two supporting his chin, the other two braced against it like he was embracing the desk—Gustaf, the multi-armed tribe member, waited in silence for Subaru to finish.
Having laid it all out, Gustaf must have understood Subaru's intent by now.
It wasn't a provocation of "try it." Subaru was trying to verify something.
That the Curse Law—the thing holding the sword slaves' lives in its grip—did not actually exist.
"———"
Gustaf, with his intimidating appearance and oppressive demeanor, nonetheless managed the island with remarkable subtlety, Subaru thought.
Whether he was doing so to honor the Emperor's—Abel's—orders, Gustaf had, contrary to his outward image, ruled the island's sword slaves not with violence but with rules.
If you survived the Sparca and became a sword slave, you wouldn't rebel, too comfortable in your new position. Run the Sparca periodically to keep everyone on edge, and make them dread the thought of entering it again—then no one would ever face the Curse Law beyond punishment.
With this double safety net, a non-existent Curse Law served as the chain that shackled the sword slaves.
That was Subaru's theory about the true nature of the Curse Law governing this sword-slave island.
And whether he was right would be determined by Gustaf's next move.
After being provoked this far, if the very existence of the Curse Law were called into question, every rule Gustaf had established would collapse.
To prevent that, Gustaf absolutely had to punish Subaru with the Curse Law.
"———"
Watching Gustaf intently, Subaru waited to see the verdict.
Under that gaze, Gustaf was silent for a long, long time—then— "I will administer a punishment. Schwartz, I am sending you to the next Sparca."
—Just like that, as though he had lost the battle of wills, Gustaf did not take Subaru's life.
△▼△▼△▼△ "I'd say that was a resounding victory, wouldn't you? How are you feeling, Basu?"
The moment they stepped out of Gustaf's office, Counterfeit Cecilus, walking alongside, posed the question.
At that breezy demeanor, Subaru let out a long sigh.
"What would you even call it—Sesshi, are you my enemy or my ally?"
"Oh my, what a curious question. I'm the one who went out of his way to fish you and the deer-girl out of the lake, you know? If you consider that without me, you might both be dead, my position should be self-evident, wouldn't you think?"
"Yeah, sure. So, enemy or ally?"
"Which do you think would be more entertaining?"
Ignoring the useless preamble and asking again, Subaru was met with Counterfeit Cecilus's own question.
It was asked with a flippant grin, and while the content pricked Subaru for an instant, it was entirely different in flavor from his exchange with Gustaf.
The back-and-forth with Gustaf had been a critical crossroads that could have dramatically determined the future.
But this question from Counterfeit Cecilus— "Whatever I say, you'll just decide based on your mood at the time, right."
"Correct. As of right now, I'd say I'm leaning toward ally. My instincts are telling me it'll be more fun to watch Basu's eccentric antics. That said, my own mood is something even I can't trust, so do be careful."
"I'd like you to at least grip your own steering wheel properly..."
If he were just a mood-driven person, that would be one thing, but Counterfeit Cecilus was an extraordinarily dangerous version of one.
It was like having a battle maniac or a berserker by your side, and Subaru marveled at how well protagonists in various games and manga chose their companions.
Thinking about it, since coming to the Empire, he'd been nothing but tormented by his choice of traveling partners.
"I'm approaching a lethal dose of
"Oh my, more unfamiliar words. Are those from Basu's homeland as well?"
"They're neologisms of mine—or rather, the dream-substance that makes up half my body."
It wasn't an exaggeration to say that half of Subaru's body was made up of his feelings for the people precious to him—like a medicine half-composed of kindness. It was an exaggeration, but he'd said it anyway.
That was precisely why the exchange with Gustaf just now had been so significant.
"Annoying as it is that Sesshi was right, I did get the reaction I wanted."
"About participating in the next punishment? Or...?"
"Obviously, about him not killing me with the Curse Law. The Sparca part... well, yeah."
Subaru had publicly declared his intent to escape the island, defying the Emperor's will. If Gustaf hadn't punished that with the Curse Law, then it was almost certain that Gustaf couldn't actually activate it—no, he simply couldn't.
He'd been given the punishment of participating in the next Sparca to verify this, but— "In the end, it doesn't hurt Basu much, since you were going to participate anyway."
"Saying I was 'going to participate anyway' is a bit much. If I could skip it, I wouldn't want to join a terrifying event like the Sparca."
"I see, I see. A common bluff to hype things up, then?"
"That's not it!"
While answering Counterfeit Cecilus's suspicions, Subaru ran his tongue along the back of his molars.
If he was going to enter another Sparca, just like today's, he'd probably have to rely on that "medicine" again. It couldn't be helped, but the thought weighed on him.
In any case— "One more piece of my plan has fallen into place. I don't know how much longer I'll be stuck with you, Sesshi, but—don't be an enemy... no, don't get in my way."
"I'll keep those words, wrung out after all manner of internal conflict, close to my heart. Now then—what wonderful things will Basu get up to next, I wonder..."
"?"
As they talked, Subaru and Counterfeit Cecilus descended to the level where the sword slaves' living quarters were packed tight. There, Counterfeit Cecilus let out a peculiar sound, and when Subaru, eyes wide, followed his gaze— "Lord Schwartz."
The one who had addressed Subaru was
The great hall that Subaru and Counterfeit Cecilus had entered was the dining space, and more sword slaves were present than Subaru had seen at any one time before. At their center were the members of Subaru's "match."
It was an odd sight to see Veitz, who didn't care for socializing, and the shy Idra, and the reserved Tanza positioned like that. Hiain, with his loud voice and braggart personality, being in the middle of things wasn't especially surprising.
But what surprised Subaru more than the unlikely assembly was— "Um, why has everyone gone quiet? What happened all of a sudden?"
Rubbing his cheek, Subaru addressed the great hall with a strained smile.
For some reason, the moment he and Counterfeit Cecilus had walked in, the room had fallen silent, and everyone was staring at them—or rather, at him.
"———"
Silently, they stared—not at Counterfeit Cecilus, but at Subaru himself.
That was the first oddity. If they'd been staring at Counterfeit Cecilus and going quiet, that reaction would have made sense.
Counterfeit Cecilus was a creepy kid—feared and disliked by the sword slaves.
But they were looking at Subaru, not at him.
"Lord Schwartz, we were waiting for your return."
And as Subaru pondered this strange reception, Tanza slowly approached.
Her polite words prompted Subaru to reply with an "Ah, yeah," and an inexplicable prickle ran across his skin. Tanza's manner of speaking was the same as always, yet the tension felt strangely thick.
No—the tension wasn't just between the two of them. It permeated the entire great hall. A stifling atmosphere that made his throat tighten involuntarily.
"You were waiting for me... Ah, I was wondering why Gustaf called me, too. Sorry for worrying you. That's all been sorted out—"
"No, that's not important right now."
"Not important!?"
"Rather—"
Cut off so decisively that Subaru was taken aback, Tanza stepped closer and silenced him with her presence. Subaru lurched back with a "Whoa," but Counterfeit Cecilus caught his back from behind.
Glancing over his shoulder, Counterfeit Cecilus wore his usual gleeful expression—the face of someone who was probably thinking about absolutely nothing—as he blocked Subaru's escape route. Infuriating.
"Lord Schwartz, there is something I would like to ask you. Would you answer?"
"Uh, yeah, sure. If it's something I can answer..."
"—About your father, Lord Schwartz."
"...My father?"
Asked with such solemn gravity, Subaru furrowed his brow, not understanding.
She'd approached with all this dramatic weight, and what she wanted to ask was about Subaru's father. Strangely, it seemed her curiosity wasn't the only one at play.
"———"
The heat of the sword slaves' stares on Subaru intensified.
Hiain, Veitz, Idra—everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see how Subaru would answer Tanza's question.
He had absolutely no idea what was going on.
But— "Just so you know, if I start talking about my dad, it's gonna be a long story."
"Please keep it brief."
"Don't set conditions after already asking! Jeez, what is this!"
Scratching his head vigorously, Subaru let out an irritable "Ugh." But even with that attitude, he couldn't deflect the sword slaves' pointed interest.
He didn't know how the topic of his father had come up, but— "My dad is my hero. He's super cool, and so many people look up to him. He's always at the center of everything. He's got this charisma, you know? Like he was born with this natural leadership quality—it's amazing."
"——! Always... at the center of so many people..."
"Even though he's swamped with work because so many people rely on him, whenever he had time, he'd give me his full attention and teach me all sorts of things. I... I really admire him. He's so cool."
"———"
As he spoke, images of his father surfaced in his mind—along with the face of his mother, who loved that man.
A warmth welled up behind his eyes, and Subaru gripped his chest tight. Being in another world and thinking of them now brought both joy and excruciating pain.
But the parents he loved so dearly it hurt were the pillars supporting the core of who Subaru was now.
"Lord Schwartz, um..."
"Yeah..."
Something in Subaru's expression must have given her pause, because Tanza hesitated over her next words.
But having come this far, Subaru wouldn't be angry no matter what was asked. While he waited for her to continue, Tanza was silent for a moment, then spoke.
"Your father's... name, please."
"That's—"
At Tanza's question, Subaru started to answer, then faltered.
Still caught up in emotion, he almost blurted out "
On the other hand, giving a different name like "Kenichi Schwartz" would only add to the confusion with no real payoff.
So after a moment's hesitation, Subaru said: "Sorry. I can't tell you my father's name."
"—!"
"Tanza?"
The instant Subaru gave that answer, Tanza's expression visibly stiffened.
Her pupils trembled, her round cheeks tensed tight. Subaru was startled by her reaction—but more than that— "It doesn't seem like a joke..."
"How can that be? But the way he guided us—"
"I-I told you so, didn't I? What now—does this prove I'm the crazy one? Hey, what do you think?"
The members of Subaru's "match" were the first to erupt, and the sword slaves in the great hall broke into commotion all at once.
They looked at each other, chattering noisily, and Subaru was thoroughly bewildered. What on earth had caused such a reaction from everyone?
"Um, everyone?"
"—!"
The instant Subaru called out, the wave of noise receded.
A faint pang of loneliness flickered through him, but— "Schwartz, no matter what you are, our feelings won't change..."
It was Veitz who spoke first, addressing the anxious-looking Subaru.
Veitz, covered in fearsome tattoos across his face and body—yet the words he uttered were, Subaru was sure, meant to reassure and comfort him.
"I—I'm of the same mind. Rather, I'm now fully convinced. I'm more resolved than ever to cooperate with you... Schwartz."
"Yeah, yeah, that's right! What's the problem, you lot?! He's no different! He's our fellow sword slave—he's my brother!"
Following Veitz's words, Idra pounded his chest, and Hiain rushed over to sling an arm around Subaru's shoulders, turning to address the other sword slaves.
Idra's declaration was one thing, but even Subaru was stunned by Hiain's stance— "That's right! You're something else, Schwartz!"
"I knew you weren't ordinary! If you were, none of this would make sense!"
"Indeed! The guidance of our revered Sword Wolf! We give thanks for today's bounty and fortune!"
Sparked by the words of the three in Subaru's "match," the silence of the sword slaves erupted into cheers.
The voices that thundered through the great hall were so deafening they seemed to shake the entire island, and Subaru's astonishment only spiraled further.
But before he could fully process it, Hiain shoved him forward.
"Come on, come on—the celebration for today's Sparca isn't done yet! You're the hero this time, brother, so get in there and party!"
"Hiain, you're seriously fair-weather, you know that!?"
"Who cares, come on, clear a path for my brother! Bring the meat and wine!"
Pushed along by Hiain's boisterous laughter, Subaru was shoved into the thick of the sword slave crowd.
There, returned from the healing ward, were Orthon and the others who had fought alongside him in today's Sparca. They raised their cups in reserved fashion, welcoming Subaru's arrival.
"Thank you today, truly, Schwartz. —I'm glad you were there."
"———"
Welcomed by the tearful Lizardmen, Subaru felt his throat tighten.
He had plenty he wanted to say and mountains of questions, but the words he'd just heard made his participation in the Sparca more than worthwhile.
"Same here. Thanks for staying alive."
And with that, Subaru helped himself to the bone-in meat that kept being carried over, feasting for the first time in three days.
△▼△▼△▼△ "—You can't join in the fun, miss?"
"It's... a complicated position."
Watching the rowdy crowd from a distance, Tanza answered the boy who had spoken to her with a weary sigh.
He was someone she knew—looking identical except for his height and the length of his limbs. She was reluctant to bare her soul to someone whose knowledge of the situation she couldn't gauge.
About the shocking lineage of that black-haired boy she'd learned from Hiain—and about the tangled feelings Tanza had toward such a person.
"Yorna-sama..."
Touching the fold of her kimono, Tanza thought of her beloved mistress.
And of the wish Yorna carried, and the person who was not unrelated to that wish, and the boy who apparently was not unrelated to that person—their tangled mess just kept getting more knotted.
But if there was one thing she could say with certainty— "—I have no option other than to rely on Lord Schwartz."
The question of whether she could truly trust him had been swept away, and that much had become truth.
As for what came after—even if she didn't know how far they could go together— "Oh my, you look truly forlorn, your expression just brimming with pathos."
"———"
"My, my—Basu really is a sinful man! Well now, however—"
Pay no heed to her feelings whatsoever, the boy grinned brightly from the corner of his mouth. But that grin was more unsettling than any the boy had shown before.
Tanza felt a faint shiver as she listened to the boy's next words.
They were— "If things don't start moving soon, I may just run out of patience. Just kidding."