The first thing she felt upon waking was the loneliness from her empty right hand.
With the sluggish, blood-still head that comes from just waking up, she vaguely thought that, and as her consciousness sharpened, she realized just how selfish that sentiment was, her cheeks rapidly flushing with anger and shame.
Rather than sitting up, she chose to curl up in bed, pulling the towel blanket around her to make herself small. The wretchedness she became aware of the moment she woke up—despite it being the start of a new day, she'd already begun to loathe herself.
"...Terrible, terrible, just terrible. I... how can I be so selfish?"
The girl curled up in her bed—
In the palm that opened and closed many times beneath the blankets, she could still remember the sensation that had been there right until she fell asleep.
Rough, thick fingers, the tips slightly calloused—completely different from her own slender, delicate ones. She'd thought so countless times, on each of the many occasions they'd held hands.
The touch of that boy's ungainly yet delicate palm—the one who worried about Emilia, spoke gentle words to her, and kept sitting by her bedside holding her hand until she lost consciousness— The very first thing she'd unconsciously thought upon waking was a sense of emptiness at the loss of that sensation, her fingers cutting through empty air. That alone proved she was beyond saving.
After relying on him so much, was her nature really still trying to make that boy bear her burdens? Even though she'd already caused so much trouble for those around her—to a point of no return—with her weakness and sins alone.
It had been four days since arriving at the
For Emilia, who was fighting to win through the Royal Selection and claim the throne of the Kingdom of Lugnica, the power of this Sanctuary was something she absolutely had to obtain, and it represented the very first step.
Roswaal, who governed this land, was Emilia's patron, and the residents with their own circumstances were people who were close in standing to Emilia as a half-elf. In a place with such favorable conditions, if she couldn't prove herself and earn their recognition, what could she hope to accomplish going forward?
Emilia's position in the Royal Selection was undeniably disadvantaged compared to the other candidates. For the powerless Emilia to survive, the cooperation of those around her was essential. And the trust needed to secure that cooperation had to be built through Emilia's own actions alone.
For Emilia, who understood her own position clearly, what she needed to do and demonstrate at the Sanctuary was crystal clear. There was absolutely nothing uncertain about that.
However, what cast a shadow over her forward-gazing eyes was— "...The Trial."
The one and only absolute condition for earning the recognition of the Sanctuary's residents was breaking through the Trial.
The residents, unable to leave the Sanctuary for the surrounding forest because of the barrier erected from the tomb—to fight together with them in the outside world, the Trial had to be overcome and the barrier dispelled. Even on an emotional level, they wouldn't recognize Emilia unless she could at least manage that much.
Both the physical problem and the emotional problem could be solved by overcoming the Trial. The situation was simple. Since everything hinged on one thing, there was no need for convoluted logic or unnecessary rhetoric.
The only problem was that the contents of that Trial were, for Emilia, deadly poison.
—The inorganic voice echoing in the tomb had told her to face her own past.
If she closed her eyes, she could vividly recall that white world.
Instantly, Emilia's body began to shiver, as if she'd been thrown naked into extreme cold, an unstoppable chill washing over her.
The fear running through her entire body—was it because she remembered the cold of that day? Or because she still hadn't forgotten the terror of that moment?
Listening to the stumbling account of her past, spoken from her own lips, what had Subaru thought?
A past she could never forget, one that still bound her in chains of guilt—Emilia had confessed it to Subaru around noon yesterday.
The evening before that, she'd challenged the Trial for the first time, and Emilia's heart had been utterly shattered. She'd cried, screamed, and fallen apart in the arms of the boy who'd shaken her awake, only gradually finding calm at the sound of his voice gently stroking her back. Then Emilia had announced her failure to the Trial to everyone waiting outside the tomb.
She didn't remember what expressions they'd worn when they heard those words.
She hadn't had the composure to check each face. Whether she'd been met with scorn or disappointment—she couldn't have cared less. She'd merely forced herself to act composed, parted from the group, and collapsed into the house she'd been assigned. The moment she realized she was alone, Emilia was nearly swallowed by unbearable terror.
Unable to stay shut away, she'd fled outside and was trembling in the night wind when she once again encountered Subaru walking under the moonlight.
After that, when Subaru declared his resolve to spare nothing of himself for Emilia's sake, she'd fled, spouting resolutions that were nothing more than idealism.
She couldn't gauge how deeply those words had wounded Subaru, as she herself had been cornered by her own words.
She didn't remember how she'd returned to her temporary lodging after that.
When she next became aware, it was to Subaru's voice calling to her, his face deathly pale, as she lay collapsed on the floor.
And so it was inevitable that she would end up telling Subaru about the Trial—about her past—which had caused him such worry.
Nothing in the past she told Subaru was exaggerated or embellished with a single lie.
She had simply shown him, in vivid detail, the very sins she had committed. Unable to forget them, she had peeled back the scab of memory and exposed the fresh wound to the wind.
At the same time, it was also a confession of Emilia's far too personal and selfish motive for participating in the Royal Selection and pursuing the throne.
It couldn't be said that there was no fear or desire to shrink away.
Because of a mistake that her youth could not excuse, Emilia had sacrificed far too much. And without ever paying that price, she alone had continued to idly mark time.
And the method she'd chosen for atonement was something that would involve even more people before it could be completed.
She thought it only natural to be met with scorn, contempt, and distance.
Yet at the same time, she was aware that somewhere in her heart, she held a near-conviction that Subaru would never abandon her.
She had witnessed all the things Subaru had been hurt by, grieved over, and yet protected to the end. She had seen the results of his actions.
He was a kind, loyal, deeply compassionate boy. He carried far too much on his shoulders, and never once considered throwing any of it away—even battered and bruised, he kept running.
If her own existence was among that baggage he carried, then no matter how wretched her nature was, surely he would not let go.
—That was, in the truest sense, a cruel and even insidious calculation.
Even shaking her head to deny that she'd ever thought such a thing, it would be a lie to say that thought had never once crossed her mind. And if somewhere in her heart she'd anticipated that outcome, then it was the same as Emilia as a whole having endorsed it.
Because she trusted that the person would never hate her, she'd been able to confess a past she might be hated for.
When put into words, that was all it amounted to.
In the end, though Subaru couldn't hide his shock and agitation at the past Emilia revealed, he never once reproached her for the sins she had committed.
When exhaustion from the confession took its toll and she'd complained of drowsiness, he'd taken her hand—and that sensation was no different from before, brimming with consideration.
Infuriatingly so, Subaru's feelings had worked exactly as Emilia's ugly side had hoped.
The boy who normally furrowed his sharp brows in worry, who genuinely fretted over Emilia's well-being—his kindness was, for Emilia, a sweetness too cloying to bear.
It threatened to melt her resolve, dissolve her determination, and expose her ugly true feelings.
If she entrusted everything to him, if he should shoulder the hardship of grinding her heart away—if she should voice the plaintive wail of a child turning away from unpleasant things, Subaru would surely spare nothing of himself and devote everything to Emilia's sake.
—Such a thing could not be allowed.
Ever since they'd met, Emilia had always been helped by Subaru.
At the Loot House in the
Emilia had clung to Subaru's hand, always. Unable to bear seeing him hurt, she had sometimes brushed that hand away, telling herself she had no right or reason to be treated that way.
And yet Natsuki Subaru never once tried to abandon Emilia.
On the contrary—he had the audacity to say, to Emilia, who couldn't understand why she deserved to be saved: "I love you, and that's why I want to be your strength."
Never before had she experienced someone declaring their love with such wholehearted sincerity, without any basis whatsoever.
The ones who had shown Emilia affection were, at the start, just her companions in the elven forest, and then for a long time,
Going outside the forest at Roswaal's invitation, she'd truly grasped how dire the situation was for half-elves, and after visiting the Royal Capital twice, her understanding deepened further.
Going along with Roswaal's proposal, pursuing her own goals while also nurturing a faint hope—could she perhaps change, even slightly, the deep-rooted prejudice against half-elves that still lingered in this world? But she thought that hope was fragile, and somewhere in her heart, she'd never truly believed in it.
Which was precisely why, when Subaru—that earnest boy—had said he loved her, encompassing everything, the fact that she was a half-elf, the fact that she was a powerless, helpless Emilia—what that had meant to her was beyond measure.
They weren't the same race. He wasn't a being predestined from birth to be by her side. He wasn't guided by anyone's intent—they had met by pure coincidence, deepened their bond, exchanged feelings, and from that had sprouted a warmth. How much had that saved Emilia.
That was exactly why Emilia could not ask Subaru for help this time.
Every time he shouldered the hardships she faced, the scars on his body multiplied, never to fade. Not just physical ones—the scars on his heart were the same.
Emilia believed that Subaru was not someone special—neither in mind nor in body.
He possessed a strong will to see things through, and a kind heart that cared for those around him, and yet he was no extraordinary person.
Sorrowfully, he was hurt. He felt pain, and he wept. And if he bled too much, he would die.
He was, simply, an ordinary person.
Emilia did not intend to make that ordinary boy bear any more hardships.
If he would simply stay by her side, supporting her back as she moved forward—that was all she could ask for. She was even ashamed at how selfish that wish alone already was.
With him supporting her resolve, resolve that might otherwise break, Emilia could surely overcome the obstacles without breaking.
The one who should fight the obstacles before her eyes was herself.
"Because, if not..."
If she kept relying on him, leaving everything to him, clinging to him, pressing it all onto him—eventually, even Subaru would come to see her as a burden.
The thought of that day arriving was so terrifying she couldn't even bear to consider it.
It was something she'd tried not to want. Something she'd resigned herself to never having. Something she'd tried not to think about, and yet had always wanted.
And now she had obtained it, been given it, taken the hand extended to her—and Emilia could no longer imagine losing it.
"— — —"
Emilia's sin had painted the forest white, trapping her companions and family beneath snow and ice.
Emilia herself had fallen into a long sleep within the ice, and for nearly a hundred years before Puck saved her, she had lived without ever recognizing her sin.
The guilt she wanted to turn away from—the most sinful thing of all was that Emilia herself couldn't remember a single thing about the actual substance of what she had done.
The process was missing. She knew her actions had plunged everyone into a white stagnation, but what she had been thinking, and why she had done it—she remembered nothing.
A witch's daughter. And she'd thought that was a fitting label.
After being awakened by Puck from within the ice, Emilia spent seven years in the Elior Great Forest. In the frozen forest, she could neither grow nor make food, and most of her meals were obtained by visiting the nearest villages.
The fearful stares directed at her there, and being called the "
A witch. Being cursed as one had suited her perfectly.
Piece by piece, she spoke of the resolve needed to overcome the Trial—even as she thought her own words rang hollow. How to defeat that past, Emilia couldn't begin to imagine. She simply deflected Subaru's probing questions with nice-sounding words and chose to remain shut inside the shell of her dreams.
It was right after that that she fell asleep, confirming the sensation of Subaru's palm.
—And that time, too, she was sure she had not dreamed.
When she woke, Subaru had been watching over her sleep in the same position as when she'd fallen asleep. Feeling an unbearable emotion well up from deep within her chest, Emilia stepped out with him into the Sanctuary at night—and challenged the Trial.
As expected, she was unable to overcome the Trial.
Standing before the tomb to see her off—Subaru and
The unchanging past tormented Emilia's heart, corroded it, and hurled her back.
When consciousness returned on the cold, hard floor of the tomb, Emilia noticed that her cheeks were wet. Even tears felt presumptuous—she hated her own wretchedness.
Unable to overcome the Trial, unable to even grasp a thread of progress, Emilia emerged from the tomb in an exhausted state, where she was greeted by the worried Subaru and the others.
After that, just as the night before, she was told to rest in this building, and she collapsed onto her bed only to lose consciousness—and now, this morning, she'd finally come to.
"In the end, nothing's changed at all... I'm useless, aren't I..."
If there was anything she'd learned from yesterday, it was the unchanging truth that she was hopelessly naive, that she caused nothing but trouble for Subaru and everyone around her, and that she still couldn't find a single glimmer of light ahead—a weak, helpless existence.
"Puck..."
The pendant hanging on her chest—the green glow adorning its tip was the vessel of Puck, the spirit contracted to Emilia.
Whenever she called his name in her weak little voice, it was their unspoken promise that he would reply in his usual leisurely tone: "What is it?"
That reply had now been silent for nearly two weeks.
At first, she'd thought he'd entered what was called a dormant period, which came once every few months. There had been times before when she'd gotten no response from Puck, and each time Emilia had endured the loneliness and waited for his return and awakening.
But the dormant period was always over in three or four days—this was the first time it had lasted this long. Above all, even when Puck had been in a dormant period before, if Emilia called to him with genuine earnestness, he would have interrupted his slumber to answer.
Even that response felt impossibly distant from the Puck of now.
What had happened to him?
Had something irretrievable happened during his dormancy, making it impossible for him to appear? If that were the case, what should she do?
Despite having spent such a long, long time with Puck, being left alone like this meant Emilia could find no way to reach him.
The Trial, her situation with Subaru, settling things with her own past, and the absence of Puck—every issue that arose showed Emilia not a single hopeful sign.
"...You idiot," she whispered to herself.
In this dead-end state, with the one person who would normally extend a hand to her nowhere to be found, Emilia nearly voiced a complaint—only to stop herself just in time.
If she did that, her very existence would plummet to a point of no return. —Already, Emilia thought as little of herself as possible, but even she didn't want to consider that there might be a bottom beneath the bottom.
"No... I can't. I can't keep only thinking the worst... Puck might not be showing his face right now, but I'm sure he has his reasons. And the Trial—I haven't solved anything yet. I have to... I have to pull myself together."
Slapping her white cheeks with both hands, Emilia steeled her focus and forced herself to stay conscious.
After raising her head, she ran a hand through her disheveled hair and reached for a comb. —Even something like this was a source of distress. Usually, she left this task entirely to Puck. Emilia had never taken the initiative to tend to her own appearance.
She touched her hair, checking that it wasn't tangled. She didn't look in a mirror. The mirror that had been in the room had long since been covered with cloth and left in a corner, reflecting nothing.
Fiddling with the ends of her hair, Emilia decided the minimum preparations were complete. Then, gathering her hair with her fingers, she began braiding strands of silver into plaits.
Braiding preparations—the right to decide Emilia's daily hairstyle belonged to Puck, and it was a precious part of the contract they had exchanged. For two weeks now, Emilia had received no instructions on her hair from him, but she had continued exactly as he had specified on the last morning he was there.
Of course, there were other things—the exercises after a bath or wash, and discussions with the lesser spirits—minor continuations that were far from cheerful, but still maintained. She kept them up because the fear was that if she didn't, whatever remained of her connection to Puck, now invisible, would vanish completely.
"—Done."
The method until now had been to part it in the middle and create two braids. But today, she made one long braid and let it flow down her back.
Today, too, she would honor her contract with Puck and pray for its continuation.
Acknowledging that a true connection existed within her— "...Eh?"
Before Ram could appear with a bucket of water, Emilia, who had been preparing to change, let out a small sound.
Her dark purple eyes, wide with surprise—at the edge of her downward gaze, she could see the pendant on her chest.
The pendant, as she'd confirmed earlier, had a green crystal stone hanging from it—a proof that Puck truly existed—but across its surface, a sudden crack had appeared.
"Eh... wh-what...? What... what is this...?"
Placing her hand on the crystal that had cracked without warning, Emilia let out a voice that couldn't form words.
Trembling visibly, she carefully ran her fingertip across the surface of the crystal. From where her finger touched, the crack spread, and a small, choked scream escaped her.
"N-No... no, I don't want this... wait... P-Puck, wait..."
Shaking her head in denial, Emilia watched as the crystal's deterioration wouldn't stop.
She tried pouring all her strength into the palm holding the crystal, trying not to give it any further stimulus, trying to maintain its current state—but an uncontrollable trembling accelerated the collapse, and the vessel lost its form in Emilia's hands.
When this destruction spread to the whole, what would happen?
Facing a situation she'd never encountered, one she hadn't even considered, Emilia's mind went completely blank.
All she knew was this: "If this keeps going, Puck will..."
—it meant a farewell to a being who was, for Emilia, like family.
"— —!"
Raising her head. Looking around. No one was there. It was still early morning, and she couldn't sense anyone else awake and active outside. Even if she called out, her voice surely wouldn't reach anyone. She wanted to run for help, but she feared the vibration of movement might trigger the end, and she couldn't move.
Suppressing her voice, holding even her breath, Emilia stared at the crystal losing its form in her hand.
There was no solution here, either. Even at this point, rather than making the effort to push away the end that was certain and imminent, Emilia desperately clung to delaying it, terrified of making a decision.
And then— "—Ah"
The price of her failure to act arrived with the dry sound of the crystal shattering.
On Emilia's palm, where her eyes stared in shock, the green crystal had completely lost its form. The crystal had burst apart, the fragments had lost their color, their life-force circulation severed, their glow extinguished.
"P-Pack... this is a... joke, right?"
Clutching at hope until the very end, Emilia continued to call out to her palm in a hoarse voice.
But the Magic Crystal in her hand—now formless—was nothing more than fine green dust. It had lost even the power to retain a trace amount of Mana, let alone serve as a Spirit vessel—just green stone fragments waiting to be scattered by the wind.
To anyone's eyes, Emilia's fragile hope had already been severed.
The only one who couldn't accept that reality—that it had been severed—was Emilia alone.
"N-No... this can't be... this wasn't supposed to happen... because, because Puck told me, the very first time, he told me... that we were family... that he'd never leave me alone again..."
Chanting like a child, like someone reciting past promises—the words that should have been spoken, the bonds that should have been certain— —To her pleading, the shattered stone returned only silence.
"...Liar."
And so, as if unable to endure that silence any longer, her eyes—which had understood, despite everything, that this was reality despite everything—turned upward to the ceiling, purple shimmering through tears, and she screamed: "P-Pack's... Papa is a liar!!"
Falling to her knees, she hurled the scattered fragments at the wall.
The faint sound of stone chips hitting the wooden wall struck Emilia as unbearably anticlimactic for a farewell between her and Puck.
Emilia covered her face with her palms, and sobs continued to escape.
The tears would not flow.
Only a vast, hollow emptiness dominated Emilia's heart, heavy and thick.