Far away, far away, a voice was echoing.
A voice whose owner was unknowable. A voice whose origin was impossible to trace.
A man's or a woman's, from above or from below—impossible to tell.
It was a war cry.
It was a lament.
It sounded as though someone were being denounced.
Or perhaps it was sobbing.
It was a voice.
The voice poured down like a waterfall, surged forward like high waves, and seized like a whirlpool that refused to let go.
As though finally conveying to someone they had just met what they had carried inside all along.
Washed away by the deluge of voices, one loses track of where one is.
Hands, feet, head, rear, chest, back—all of it melding together. Melting, melting, merging.
Even the self—one had only just barely managed to understand it as an existence—gets swallowed up by the staggering volume of voices still pouring out, and the body scatters, lost.
A black sediment was draining the felt world dry.
And then, as all of it threatened to invade the flesh completely, as one prepared to surrender to an unstoppable, gradual end— One noticed it.
Threads, entangled so tightly they could never be undone, were refusing that encroachment.
Threads that were scattered, that resisted being drained, that resisted being covered, that insisted they would not be blocked.
Things writhing inside the body. Neither was definitively affirmative.
Just sediment, clashing inside the human body, each asserting its own existence.
And eventually, eventually— * "————"
The first thing to pierce his ears was someone's screaming.
When that piercingly shrill sound registered and he opened his eyes, a white ceiling floated into view. At the same time, he realized he was sprawled on a hard floor, limbs splayed in every direction.
"——You, you worthless thing!"
As consciousness sharpened, the abuse took clearer shape than before.
That voice, adorned with unbearable fury, was accompanied by action matching the explosive emotion. The dry crack of a palm striking flesh rang out.
"Stop it! What good does blaming one person do? This isn't anyone's sole fault. You know that better than anyone!"
"Shut up! I don't want to hear your hollow platitudes! Outsiders should just keep quiet!"
The sound of scuffling, and rage that refused to be contained.
From the reverberation of the voices, he could dimly sense that the room was large but the commotion was happening in the same space. He reached out, and when his left hand touched a wall, he used it as leverage to push himself up.
In that instant, a piercing pain drilled through his skull like a nail being hammered in, and his breath stopped. His vision shattered as if gunpowder had been packed behind his eyeballs, and his consciousness flooded red.
Pushing through the pain and the shock to sit upright, he found the scuffle playing out right before him.
——In the center of the room, three men were locked together.
Tearful Felix was lunging at Wilhelm, while Julius desperately tried to restrain him. The dry sound from before must have been Wilhelm's cheek being struck. The old man, his cheek faintly reddened, let his head hang limply under Felix's gaze.
"...There is nothing I can say to make up for it."
"Then give me an excuse! Tell me there was some reason, that you had no choice—say whatever it takes to make me accept it! An apology—getting an apology—doesn't change anything!"
"Felix, that's not fair. Wilhelm-san is suffering with regret too."
"Suffering...!? What good does suffering do!? You're worthless! A coward! Everyone, everyone... Why...? Why did no one protect Lady Crusch...?"
His voice rising, Felix's gaze pierced Wilhelm, then Julius, and then—as though he'd lost the edge of his blade—his knees buckled and he collapsed right there.
At Felix's tearful denunciation, neither man could find words. Looking down at him as he scratched and clawed at the floor with those white hands, "What good is 'the best'...? At a time like this, when you can't do a single useful thing, what's the point of...! Worthless... worthless, worthless, worthless, worthless..."
Tears spilling onto the floor, Felix's indictment continued like a curse.
But if that fury had been directed at someone else around him, it might have been more bearable. Once you realized it was hopelessly aimed inward—at his own helpless anger—no one could find the right words for his grief.
"————"
Felix's sobbing blended with Julius's sigh. Wilhelm remained silent, saying nothing, and a somber atmosphere settled over the three of them in the center of the room. Then, "Hey there, chief. You awake yet?"
Garfiel, who had been watching the three of them helplessly, spotted Subaru through the entrance where the door was missing. At Garfiel's voice, Julius and the others turned toward Subaru and relief crossed their faces.
"Thank goodness. Subaru's woken up too, Felix."
"...I know."
At Julius's call, Felix wiped his face roughly with his sleeve and stood. Without a trace of his earlier outburst, he walked briskly to Subaru, checked him with efficient, practiced hands, and finally locked eyes with him.
"Hmm, looks good. Consciousness is fine, right? Tell me your name and where you're from."
"Name's
"Never heard of it. Bum country, huh. ...I'll be with Lady Crusch."
At Subaru's answer, Felix made a face as though he'd heard a bad joke, gave Subaru a slap on the rump, and hurried out. Unable to respond to the curt treatment, the others silently watched him go.
Only Wilhelm followed Felix out. Just before leaving the room, the old man gave Subaru a single nod of acknowledgment and departed.
Once the two had gone, Subaru could finally feel the tension draining from the room.
However, the oppressive gloom left in its place was just as painful to bear.
"As long as your body's in one piece, don't push yourself, chief."
"...Look who's talking. You look like death warmed over."
Leaning against the wall with his legs sprawled, Subaru was addressed by Garfiel. Looking back at the boy's haggard face, Subaru's tone dropped.
Dried blood clung to Garfiel's face and golden hair, and his clothes bore multiple tears. His complexion was as bad as—or worse than—the day he'd shown up at the safehouse with the injured Mimi.
That thought brought Subaru's belated cognition to a single conclusion.
"So I didn't die, huh."
"Yep. Me and you both—we made it out alive. But that don't mean everything's hunky-dory. Dammit."
Garfiel confirmed Subaru's quiet murmur, clicking his teeth in irritation.
Watching that from the corner of his eye, Subaru once again grasped the full picture of his own survival—that "Return by Death" had not triggered, and that he had failed to witness the end of the Central City Hall recapture operation.
Naturally, since he was alive, he must have been rescued by someone, but— "The City Hall... what happened? How did I get... here?"
"There's nothing ambiguous about it. This very room you're in is that same City Hall. The
Kneeling before him, Julius answered Subaru's halting questions.
Up close, the "Finest Knight" was in rough shape too. His hair was disheveled, and marks of blows were visible on his cheeks and neck. His knight's attire was stained with blood—an appearance far from unscathed.
Most of all, a deep sense of humiliation and regret was etched across his typically composed features.
"The first thing that matters is that you've woken up. If anything had happened to you on top of everything else, our morale would have been beyond saving."
"...Save the speeches. What happened? Morale, all of that—none of it matters. The Witch Cult abandoned the building—what on earth... what happened!?"
"Exactly what I said. The
To Subaru's increasingly agitated voice, Julius delivered the facts in an even tone.
But the hardness of his voice and his lowered gaze—and above all, the weight of the facts themselves—made it impossible for Julius to fully hide the righteous fury coloring his words.
And the content itself left Subaru stunned.
"Inhuman... forms?"
"The top floor of the City Hall. You saw it too, didn't you? That was a nightmare—but it didn't end as a dream."
Julius shook his head, confirming the cruel reality.
The image blazed back into Subaru's mind—the glowing red compound eyes, the fluttering sound of wings pleading for help. The only reason he didn't vomit on the spot was that his thoughts raced to the realization that the nightmare's truth was a row of people begging for salvation.
His heart clenched with pain, and an emotion that was neither sympathy nor fear welled up.
That abominable Witch Cult monster, the Sin Archbishop of 'Lust'—Capella—trampled on human dignity and values, mocking them in the worst possible way.
What that monster had toyed with was not merely human lives or hearts, but something far more precious.
"The square, and the interior and top floor of the City Hall. From the separation of individuals to the stalling tactics—everything was orchestrated in the palm of the Witch Cult's hand. Had they been so inclined, they could have toyed with all of us to death. The only reason that didn't happen was your quick thinking and the efforts of the person who became the Black Dragon."
"My... quick thinking?"
"The communication mirror you carried—you'd been keeping it linked to the other two since the assault on the top floor, right? As a result, Anastasia-san and Felix received information about the City Hall's situation. The
"You think that's a comfort?"
"...I have no intention of comforting you. I'm merely stating facts. How you receive them is up to you."
Subaru felt irritation at Julius's deliberately measured response. But that distancing manner was itself proof that Julius was far from calm.
Neither of them was in a good state—mentally or otherwise. Subaru exhaled deeply.
"That other thing you mentioned—'the efforts of the Black Dragon.' What was that about?"
"It happened on the top floor. It's hard for me to explain since it goes beyond your experience, but... the person who was turned into a substitute by 'Lust's' Authority—you know of them? Putting aside how horrifying the Authority itself was, what was truly astonishing was its reproducibility. The person transformed into the Black Dragon, though on the verge of death, crawled to the top floor and bathed 'Lust' in their breath, forcing them to withdraw. Your survival was probably also due to that divine intervention."
What Julius described had to be the Black Dragon that had been slashed by Crusch in the main hall and thrown outside.
If Capella's Authority involved metamorphosis and transformation, then that Black Dragon must have been one of the hostages in the City Hall. By ignoring their pleas for help, Subaru and the others had effectively moved to cut that person down. And yet, even in those circumstances, they had fought with everything they had.
"That person who became the Black Dragon... are they..."
"I won't let them die."
At Subaru's anxious question, Garfiel suddenly cut in with a quiet voice.
When Subaru raised his eyebrows, Garfiel didn't meet his eyes, just stared hard at the ceiling.
"I won't let them die. I absolutely won't let them die. I have to save them... otherwise..."
"He's been like that for a while now. Apparently, the person is someone he knows. Their scent is completely different, but Garfiel has clearly been behaving that way toward them. Treatment is done for now. There are some concerns, so we've had them resting in the back."
"Someone Garfiel knows? Since when? He doesn't know anyone in this city."
"————"
Even at Subaru's surprise, Garfiel maintained his silence, refusing to meet his gaze.
But Subaru was relieved that the Black Dragon—their benefactor—was alive. As for the others, the people who'd been turned into those flies— "It's hard to call them safe, and premature to make a judgment. But we have them secured. Felix examined them too. The prognosis was grim, but... as expected, they pulled through."
"So it's not the kind of wound or illness Felix can heal... Damn it!"
Subaru slammed his hand against the floor, thinking of the people who had lost their bodies.
How much terror and loss were they enduring? Losing one's humanity carried a different kind of horror and cruelty than losing one's life.
To lose one's life meant everything you'd lived up to that point was over.
But to lose your body meant you were effectively finished—yet it wasn't over.
People cursed by incurable afflictions had also been gathered in the City Hall.
Thinking of the anguish of those gathered either above or below, Subaru could do nothing but race through his mind, cataloguing everything he still needed to confirm.
Once he'd established that he was alive, the next questions to surface were— "You and Garfiel—are either of you hurt?"
"As you can see, neither Garfiel nor I have any notable wounds. Ricardo is the same. Humiliating as it is to say... we were being held back."
"————"
Humiliation laced Julius's voice as he bit down hard on his lip.
The depth of his anger was palpable, and remembering the opponent he'd faced, Subaru felt the same bitterness rise in his own chest.
Julius had been fighting Aldebaran—the abhorrent Sin Archbishop of 'Gluttony.' If Subaru could have his way, he'd tear that one apart with his own hands. Even if Subaru couldn't be the one to finish him, Aldebaran was the one enemy he'd never wanted to let slip away.
Hearing that their foe had escaped, there was no way to feel at ease.
"...I'm sorry. I couldn't even fulfill the role I was given."
"If you start down that road, there's no end to it for me either. ...The broadcast—it went through, didn't it? That means they achieved their objective."
"Correct. The voice was the same—'Lust's.' But... no, that's trivial. Regardless, the demands were made public. That's something else we need to discuss."
The nature of those demands—the content of 'Lust's' broadcast—was plain even from Julius's expression. It was something Subaru didn't want to hear, but plugging his ears wouldn't change a thing. Before that, though— "The broadcast is one thing... but there's another. What happened to Crusch?"
"————"
"Crusch was on the top floor too, same as me... no, it must have been worse for her than for me. 'Lust' did something to her, and she was suffering because of it..."
The image flashed back: Crusch coughing blood, eyes rolled back.
Without a single external wound, she had been reduced to that state. Something truly terrible must have happened—enough to put her life in jeopardy.
And then there was Felix's outburst earlier. He didn't want to think it, but— "Felix was saying some ominous things... and I..."
"Lady Crusch is alive. Of that much, there is no doubt."
"Don't give me an answer like that."
For a moment, there had been a glimmer of hope in the way he'd phrased it—but that hope evaporated the instant Subaru looked into Julius's eyes.
In Julius's expression, as he endured something barely endurable, there was not the slightest trace of relief that her life had been saved. If anything, it seemed something even worse was happening.
"Felix has been doing everything he can. But it's not going well."
"Not going well? What does that mean? What happened to Crusch...? If even Felix can't fix it, then she's in the same boat as all the others!"
"Calm yourself. Falling apart won't change anything. Calm down."
At Subaru's panicked, blanched expression, Julius raised his voice in command.
But that affected composure grated on Subaru's nerves more than anything.
"How the hell can you stay so calm!? We got our asses handed to us! They did whatever they wanted with us—aren't you furious!?"
"——Of course I'm furious! Of course I'm grieving! What do you expect!?"
Julius's arm shot out and batted Subaru's reaching hand aside. Subaru looked into Julius's eyes—shaken by raw, uncontained passion—and lost his voice.
"...I'm sorry for the rough treatment. If I can't even keep my composure, I'm still too green."
Catching Subaru as he stumbled from the shove, Julius apologized, ashamed of himself. Hearing that, Subaru felt only his own shame. He knew better, yet he'd leaped at Julius's composure—how shortsighted.
"...Crusch."
"...Something was done to her by 'Lust.' A foreign substance dissolved into her body is running wild inside her. The way Felix is taking it—it's hard to watch."
At Julius's lowered voice, Crusch's dire situation materialized vividly before Subaru's eyes.
A demonic presence lurking within her flesh and blood—peeling away bone, blood, and soul in an endless agony. That was something no human being should ever have to endure.
The inability to do anything about it was what had fueled Felix's behavior earlier.
Before and after Subaru's waking, Felix had been blaming Wilhelm. That had surely been the old swordsman's reprimand for failing to protect his master on the battlefield.
Both the blaming Felix and the blamed Wilhelm surely understood that it was nothing more than rage with nowhere else to go.
That was why Wilhelm had taken the blow and stayed silent, and why Felix had sobbed, hating his own weakness.
Thinking of the two who had left the room, and their master who was still suffering— The weight of their defeat pressed even harder against Subaru's chest.
But even as Subaru's heart ached with these thoughts, Julius spoke: "——Subaru. There's something I need to confirm."
"What is it?"
"I feel somewhat guilty asking this, but... it seems you haven't noticed."
At Julius's indirect phrasing, Subaru tilted his head.
Narrowing his eyes, Julius gently touched Subaru's lying body. When Subaru looked over, Julius's hand moved slowly downward—toward the right thigh.
Subaru's gaze followed casually, without any particular alarm.
At that moment, Subaru truly wasn't thinking about it. Even as he recalled Crusch being struck down by Capella on the top floor, he had conveniently forgotten about himself.
What had happened to him just before losing consciousness.
The relief he'd felt at not "returning by death" meant his subconscious had understood he'd nearly died—there was no other explanation.
"Wha—!?"
His breath caught. His throat froze. Subaru couldn't believe his eyes.
There, at the end of his gaze, was his right leg. But— ——There existed a grotesque, writhing seam of black, ugly flesh, and a right leg being slowly consumed by that writhing mass.
"It wasn't Felix who reattached it. Not healing magic, either. Your leg was torn off and fused back together on its own. That's the state it's in. And as far as I can tell, there's no pain."
"————"
Julius was right.
This grotesque right leg showed no pain or discomfort. He'd assumed it wasn't connected, yet his knee bent as he willed it, and his toes moved freely.
The only problem was the seam where the torn flesh had rejoined—discolored a dark, livid purple, with mottled veins spreading outward from the wound like tendrils, creeping up and down the leg.
"Subaru. I need to ask you again."
"............"
At the sight of his own leg's horrifying transformation, Subaru couldn't find his voice.
To Julius's question, Subaru slowly raised his head, and then— "Are you... truly all right?"
* The reattached right leg, terrifyingly, showed no impediment to standing or walking.
"That Felix lady said it too—what's goin' on with your leg ain't a wound or an illness. So even if I tried castin' healing magic, result'd be the same. All I get back is the feelin' that it's been healed, and nothin' more."
When Subaru rolled up the bottom of his right pant leg, his right thigh revealed a web of black veins radiating outward from the wound at its base. The patterns that surfaced had a slight elasticity when touched, their texture relatively close to that of skin. If you ignored the color, you could almost wave it away as "veins showing through"—he wanted to believe that, at least.
"It reattached on its own... Hearing it put that way, it's hard to feel anything close to reassurance."
It went without saying that Subaru's body was not specialized in regeneration to the point of reattaching severed limbs on its own. This was the second time his leg had been blown off, and his memory from the first time served as testimony that there hadn't even been a hint of reconnection.
Naturally, some form of interference must have occurred, and there was only one lead that came to mind.
"That bastard Capella—her blood, dripping on my leg...?"
He thought back to the moment his right leg had been blown off and the pain of massive blood loss had clouded his consciousness.
His memory wasn't reliable enough to state with certainty, but he was sure of one thing: Capella had wounded her own wrist, drawn blood, and doused Subaru with it.
At the time, she'd said something that snagged his attention. Yes—he was sure— "She did the same thing to Crusch."
"She let her blood drip onto the wound? That's not a pleasant thing to do, but a ritualistic significance... that doesn't quite fit, given the direct effects. I've heard that curses and hexes require different procedures than conventional magic."
"A curse... yes, a curse. She called it a 'blood curse.' No—wait, something else... not a blood curse—dragon... yes, dragon's blood! She said it was dragon's blood!"
Receiving Julius's skeptical gaze, Subaru dug through his memory and seized on it.
Capella had, while watching Subaru suffer from the blood she'd drenched him in, declared that her own blood contained the blood of a dragon.
Whether that was madness, jest, or lies didn't matter—it at least provided a lead on the abnormality.
"Dragon's blood... you mean the Dragon's Blood granted to the royal family?"
"I don't know the details. But there's an item like that—in the castle."
"All I can say is: yes, it exists. In accordance with the covenant with the Divine Dragon
"Dragon's blood sure sounds like a miracle cure. ...Whether it's actually connected to this, I can't say. It could just be a red herring."
The fact that Capella had claimed the name of the Lugnica royal family was also troubling. If Wilhelm's claim that Emerada Lugnica had actually existed was true, that only deepened the mystery.
He didn't want to think it, but could she possibly be the real thing? How dragon's blood factored into that was an immense question.
"Either way, if there's a possibility in the blood, that's good news. It might give Felix—even at his wit's end—something to work with."
"Ah, yeah, right. In that case, I'll go right now—"
"Chief. I don't think you should."
At last, a piece of information that might turn things around.
As Subaru moved to relay it with renewed energy, Garfiel—who'd been leaning against the wall with arms crossed—doused him with cold water. When Subaru turned with an accusing look, Garfiel shook his head.
"You haven't seen her yet, chief. The fewer people who do, the better."
"...What exactly do you mean by that?"
"Just what I said. She was a real beauty before, wasn't she? It's rougher that way."
At Subaru's pressing question, Garfiel only lowered his gaze.
All it did was fan Subaru's anxiety, and he instinctively looked to Julius. But Julius, too, shook his head with the same expression as Garfiel.
"It's the truth. Lady Crusch wouldn't want to be seen in her current state, either. Precisely because she's so noble, she would never want to be seen looking weak."
"Is that really just because she's weak?"
"————"
Julius said nothing. He simply, quietly averted his gaze from Subaru.
That single gesture was more than enough of an answer.
"...It's my fault."
"Subaru—"
"It's my fault! I was... I was the one who should have understood how dangerous they were! I should have known—I should have been the one to prepare, to make whatever preparations I could and face them ready!"
Imagining what had happened to Crusch accelerated his fear.
The weight of that guilt—over something he could only imagine—brought with it rage at his own helplessness and regret for charging in without a plan.
The Sin Archbishops of the Witch Cult. He should have known their terror in his bones.
It wasn't just Petelgeuse. Before the assault on the City Hall, Subaru had encountered Sirius and Regulus in quick succession. And yet, how had he managed to underestimate Capella?
He could tell himself it was arrogance—believing that with the forces they had, they could retreat even if the tide turned. But that was nothing more than the bill coming due for his own misjudgment.
"All of it... my fault..."
"——Alright, alright. Save the self-pity and the excuses. You're being annoying, so shut up."
As Subaru sank under the full weight of it all, drowning in a sea of self-loathing— The voice that pierced his ears was not one gently lifting him from the depths. It was a cold voice, glaring at him with bored disinterest, letting out an exasperated sigh.
"————"
His gaze turned toward the entrance of the great room.
Standing there—having captured the attention of the entire room with a clap—was a figure with soft purple hair and gentle features. A female merchant, utterly at odds with the harshness of her gaze.
With a sweet smile at odds with those ruthless eyes, she fixed Subaru with a stare.
"Anastasia..."
"I get that losing a battle's got everyone feelin' like they're at a wake, but sitting around wallowin' in self-pity instead of doin' some actual reflection ain't helpin' anyone, and that includes me. You look like a fool, and the things you fumbled and the time you wasted aren't comin' back no matter how much you mope about it, so pull yourself together."
Anastasia delivered those words, scorching Subaru for his defeat.
For a moment, Subaru froze, not registering what had been said. But the instant understanding caught up, fury surged. However— "Anastasia-san, I must ask you to reconsider. Subaru has been in closest contact with the Witch Cult's malice, and his grief and anger—"
"Oh, Julius, you're still doin' that? The war's still on, y'know? And you want to put feelings first? If you want someone to play nice with, Joshua'd be a better choice."
"——!"
Julius, who had moved to defend Subaru, was silenced by his master's icy gaze. Subaru, whose thoughts had been racing toward overheating, felt doused in cold water—confused, unable to read Anastasia's approach.
Then, regarding Subaru and the others who had lost their words, Anastasia toyed with the fox stole around her neck— "...Well, fine. Julius. You had business with Crusch and the others, didn't you? Go take care of that. And you with the golden hair—step out for a bit too, if you would."
Dismissed by Anastasia, Julius bowed and took the lead in leaving, with Garfiel following—still eyeing Anastasia warily. Until the very last moment, Garfiel cast worried glances Subaru's way, but at Subaru's reassuring nod, he tore himself away and left.
"Garfiel-kun's got his sweet side, hasn't he? Worried about Natsuki-kun right up to the very end—doesn't that just melt your heart as an older-brother type?"
"...That's not why you kept me here, is it?"
Subaru snapped at Anastasia with the sharpness born of their earlier exchange.
Anastasia turned to face him, smoothed her hair, and surveyed the room. Righting one of the half-destroyed chairs that had fallen over, she sat down.
"You're always in a hurry. The last time Natsuki-kun and I had a proper sit-down like this was... oh, probably the night before we took down the
"Even then we only talked business. Listen, is this really the right time for this? You said the City Hall's been recovered, but nothing's actually—"
"That's right—nothing's changed. If anything, it's gotten worse. And we need to figure out how to fix that."
The shift caught Subaru off guard—her voice, which until a moment ago had sounded carefree and almost warm, now carried the edge of a blade.
Subaru straightened involuntarily. Anastasia glanced at his leg.
"I heard it was torn off and reattached—how's the leg? It looks pretty gnarly."
"Fortunately, it seems like there's no trouble running or jumping. Which is actually kind of disgusting."
"Good. As long as you can run, that's what matters. There's still plenty more I'll be needin' you to do. ...But before that—"
She used Subaru's injuries as a conversational opening, then paused, drawing breath.
Sensing the shift to the main topic, Subaru frowned. Anastasia pointed a finger upward—no, directly above— "Did you hear the third broadcast? The one after your group's assault?"
"No, I didn't. So I don't know what they said... I'm guessing they made their demands, but I missed it."
"Missing two out of three broadcasts? That's awfully careless of you, Natsuki-kun."
She laughed behind her hand, making Subaru's lips twist in dissatisfaction. But then, still covering her mouth, she raised her gaze— "One of those demands—that's something only I and Natsuki-kun would understand."
"Just me and Anastasia-san?"
What did she mean? A question mark bloomed in Subaru's mind.
Between Subaru and Anastasia, he'd never sensed any common ground. They'd barely spoken to each other before now—this was practically their first real conversation.
In such a tenuous relationship, where could they possibly find a point of mutual understanding— "Oh dear, Ana. Your habit of being coy can be trying at times. This is a perfect example."
"——!?"
A third voice pierced Subaru's eardrums without warning.
Neither Subaru's nor Anastasia's—it carried an androgynous quality.
Subaru frantically scanned the room, but there was no sign of anyone nearby. After Julius and Garfiel had left, no one had approached the entrance—there wasn't even a trace.
Then where had that voice come from?
"Oh, you're one to talk—you're doing the exact same thing. Natsuki-kun must be completely lost right about now."
"Well, yes, I suppose I've done something rather naughty."
"Something? To whom...!?"
Anastasia carried on a conversation with this third voice as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
That did nothing to resolve Subaru's shock. He was about to demand an explanation for this confusion when he sucked in a breath.
"Sorry to have startled you."
"————"
Their eyes met.
The one who had spoken—the intruder who had inserted themselves into this scene so abruptly— No. They hadn't intruded at all. They had been in this room from the very beginning.
Alongside Anastasia—they had slipped in together.
"My name is
"Echi—!?"
Overwhelmed by a double blow, Subaru watched as it smiled deftly at him.
The corners of its mouth lifted, its eyes narrowed—this was, almost certainly, a smile.
——The fox that had been camouflaged as a stole around Anastasia's neck was smiling.
Bearing the unforgettable name of a Witch, even as it declared its own origin to be that of a spirit.