Even
After wounding Emilia with a heartless remark on the first morning, what awaited Subaru upon returning to the mansion was a confrontation with Roswaal.
The man's inscrutable attitude hadn't changed, but Subaru couldn't shake the feeling that those eyes were sizing him up more than usual. Whether that was unique to this loop or had been the case all along, Subaru couldn't say.
Their exchange was brief, and he barely remembered the details.
Only one thing seemed to stick—that he'd been told he could stay as a guest.
He vaguely recalled Roswaal saying something conveniently generous, like he was welcome to stay as long as he liked.
That was a godsend for Subaru, or at least it would have been—if it didn't already feel completely meaningless.
Step outside the mansion now, and he'd almost certainly be killed to shut him up. But if he stayed and was judged nothing more than dead weight for Roswaal's camp, it was plain to see that becoming mincemeat was only a matter of time.
Go or stay—bad end either way.
He felt like he'd saved at a position where the approaching bad end was unavoidable. An autosave, no less. What an absurd setup.
Gripping under his breath like that, Subaru spent the day idling in a corner of the room. It was probably the first time since coming to this other world that he'd done absolutely nothing.
Come to think of it, Subaru was now exactly what he'd always longed for: a kept man. Food was brought without him lifting a finger, and nobody complained if he shut himself in his room all day.
He was living the same shut-in lifestyle he'd had back in his original world, except in another world entirely. This was supposed to be what he'd craved, yet he felt not a shred of the satisfaction he'd expected.
He couldn't even bring himself to take the appealing option of wallowing in sleep. He lay on the guest room cot, unable to rest, his head in his hands, drowning in idleness.
A quill pen was clutched backwards in his hand, its tip stained dark with dried blood from being dipped and re-dipped countless times. Every time drowsiness weighed on his eyelids, he'd stab the back of his hand, forcing himself back to wakefulness through pain.
Even though he barely moved on the cot, his breathing was ragged and rapid, mouth open, each exhale harsh. His pulse hammered fast and short in a relentless rhythm of tension, and his eyes darted restlessly around the room, paranoid for the slightest sign of something wrong.
He had already died three times, and his days in the Roswaal estate had entered their fourth iteration.
In Subaru's experience, the number of deaths on the day of summoning had been three. Having broken through that day on the fourth try, a fourth death would be entirely uncharted territory.
If he died here now, he might never come back.
He couldn't find a way to avoid death. And yet, he didn't want to die.
But staying alive here was suffocating, agonizing, unbearable. On the verge of losing his mind, Subaru had arrived at what could only be called a conclusion born of madness.
Namely: doubt everything, resist everything, and cling desperately to life.
Now well into the afternoon of his second day in the fourth loop, the time he'd spent doing nothing was so far removed from all the repetitions before it that memories from prior loops were no longer reliable.
He had no idea what would happen, and nothing would surprise him. And whatever did happen, it would only ever work against him.
Disappointed with reality, in despair over his situation, and resigned to a hopeless future, Subaru's heart had already shattered.
Now all that remained were the fragments, continuing their pathetic, desperate struggle.
He couldn't tell day from night. Even the passage of time had gone hazy, and the boundary between consciousness and unconsciousness shimmered like a heat mirage.
Only the sting of the quill stabbing the back of his hand remained vivid, and the sharpness of that sensation brought a faint, bitter joy—so he drove it in again, and again, and again.
"—What a thoroughly pathetic look you've got on your face."
The voice came so suddenly that he flinched and jerked his head up.
At the end of his wild, beast-like stare, gripping the doorknob and leaning in, was a girl he had yet to face even once in this loop.
An anomaly that could only occur in this loop—whatever it was, it had to lead to something that threatened his life.
"…So it's you this time."
A low, hoarse voice escaped him, startling even himself. After more than two days of silence, with nothing but harsh breathing passing through a throat that had gone completely raw and ragged, there was more hostility packed into it than he'd intended. And the girl who took that malice head-on— "Just one day or two, and you've already rotted this badly. Humans truly are irredeemably stupid creatures."
"I'm not in the mood for your lectures. —What are you here for?"
Beatrice smirked at Subaru's pathetic state. She scowled unhappily at his blunt, unadorned way of speaking— "I was sent by Nee-cha and that little girl to come see your face."
"Pack and… Emilia?"
"Your behavior has been strange since you woke up. She suspects that maybe Betty did something to you the first time you woke. What an insulting notion."
Despite having been hurt by Subaru's callous words, Emilia had still been worried about him. She'd wondered if Beatrice—who had been the last person Subaru was in contact with before his strange behavior began—might be somehow involved, and had gone to ask Beatrice directly.
Beatrice, who couldn't bring herself to be tough against Pack, and with the support of her doting father, had reluctantly come to see Subaru.
Emilia's concern—that, if only for a moment, left a flicker of warmth in Subaru's ravaged heart. But her worry was completely off the mark.
Subaru's drastic change had nothing to do with Beatrice, and at this point, no matter what anyone did, it wasn't a problem that could be solved.
"Got it. That's enough. I understand why you came, so just disappear. You came to apologize. That's plenty."
"Why would Betty need to apologize? First of all, we need to correct that misunderstanding before Betty can even consider leaving."
As Subaru waved dismissively, trying to shoo her away, Beatrice pressed closer. She ventured further into the room, dragging the hem of her long skirt as she moved— "Hm?"
She suddenly wrinkled her nose and stopped in her tracks.
Her profile, which was lovely when she was silent, now turned this way and that as she sniffed the air, much like a dog following a scent.
Before long, she glared at Subaru with undisguised displeasure swimming in her eyes.
"Your face hasn't just turned sour—it's gotten awfully thick."
"…Huh?"
"I'm talking about the smell. It's offensive—the worst stench imaginable. You'd be wise to stay away from those twins for a while."
She pinched her nose and waved her hand, dramatizing how foul the odor was.
Subaru, oblivious to her theatrics, turned his thoughts to the keyword "stench" in search of a memory.
Stench—he was fairly sure that near the end of the third loop, someone had mentioned— "What exactly is stinking off of me?"
He raised his head, and for the first time put genuine emotion into his voice as he asked.
Beatrice raised one eyebrow and crossed her arms.
"The stench of the
The word "Witch" hung in the air, and the side of his head began to throb without warning.
He knew that word. He was sure he'd seen it somewhere recently. It was— "The Witch of Envy."
"In this world, what else could anyone possibly mean when they say 'the Witch'?"
Beatrice's dismissive tone made Subaru lean forward involuntarily. He reached out toward her— "Why can you smell that on me?"
"Who knows? Perhaps the Witch has taken a liking to you, or perhaps she's marked you as her enemy. Either way, receiving special attention from the Witch makes you a troublesome one."
"Getting 'special treatment' from someone whose face and name I don't even know—real unsettling."
Beatrice shrugged, making it clear with her attitude that she found further discussion unpleasant. Subaru fell silent in the face of that stubborn refusal, sorting through the fragmented pieces of information as he dove into the sea of his thoughts.
The Witch. The Witch of Envy was a figure of worldwide hatred and terror—a name so taboo that no one would even speak it aloud, a boogeyman straight out of fairy tales and a globally notorious entity.
The only knowledge Subaru had of her came from what little was said in stories that barely qualified as stories.
Naturally, he had no memory of meeting her, nor any recollection of any contact with her.
The idea that the Witch's lingering scent had clung to him was absurd—especially when he'd never even experienced it.
Come to think of it,
If her murderous overreaction had even a trace of that to do with it, then once again Subaru had earned hatred for a truth he had no part in. Since every accusation was a false one, Subaru's misfortune in being killed over and over must truly be one of a kind.
Understanding that this reality was beyond his control, Subaru let out a long, exhausted sigh. Watching that, and apparently concluding that nothing more would come of this, Beatrice ran a hand through her long hair in one broad stroke.
"If there's nothing else, Betty will be leaving. She'll let Nee-cha know that Betty did come to see you."
"Wait."
He called out to her retreating back—already reaching for the doorknob to use "Door Travel"—and she stopped. Turning her head only to look back at him, Beatrice— "You feel bad about what happened to me, don't you?"
Subaru tossed the question out with a deliberately mean edge.
It was something of a gamble, perhaps, but his heart told him it was better than doing nothing.
Beatrice's face soured, and Subaru lightly patted the sheet before pressing again— "You feel. Bad. About what happened. To me. Yes or no."
"I don't."
"I'll tell Pack."
"…Guh. There might—just barely—possibly be the tiniest bit of guilt, perhaps."
She turned her whole body back toward Subaru, crossed her arms, and pointedly turned her nose up.
Subaru looked the small girl up and down, recalled all the time he'd spent with her up to now—and after agonizing over it, he made his decision.
"If you want to be forgiven, grant me one wish."
It was this: "One night… no, just until the morning after next. Will you protect me?"
Begging someone who looked younger than him—it was shameless beyond measure.
Beatrice was silent for a moment at his request.
"That's awfully vague. Is there a reason you'd be targeted?"
A perfectly reasonable question.
Still glaring at him, Beatrice began to pace around the room.
"In the first place, Betty wants no part of trouble being dragged into this mansion. This mansion is an indispensable place for Betty, you know."
"I'm not planning to do anything myself. I just want someone to ward off any sparks that fly."
"And you leave even that to others? What grand ambitions you have."
"This time, I honestly can't even argue."
Beatrice sighed at his downcast expression.
Silence lingered in the room for a while.
Head bowed, Subaru expected to hear the sound of the door closing at any moment—the sound of Beatrice discarding his plea and fluttering back to her forbidden library.
When that sound came, it would crush even the tiny drop of hope that had just begun to form.
Full of that resignation, Subaru heard— "Give me your hand."
Beatrice had approached the side of his cot and was extending her small hand toward him.
He stared, dumbfounded. She impatiently grabbed his right hand, and upon seeing the battered, wounded back of it, her face twisted in disgust.
"How revolting. A self-harm habit on top of everything—what an irredeemable pervert."
"That line is Roswaal's identity. …I'm just a Chuunibyou patient with a bit too much overflowing adolescence."
"I don't know what any of that means, but I can confirm you're beyond saving."
With a sigh, Beatrice turned Subaru's right hand so the injured back was hidden and his palm faced up. She then placed her own small palm on top of his.
Naturally, as if drawn to do so, their fingers intertwined and their hands clasped together.
"I hereby grant your wish. In the name of Beatrice, this contract is sealed."
The solemn words left Subaru speechless.
And from their joined palms came an overwhelming surge of heat. It spread through his palm and radiated through his entire body, suddenly breathing fierce vitality into his depleted form.
Confused by the sudden warmth flooding him, he looked up to find Beatrice glaring at him with an expression that practically screamed reluctance.
"Even a provisional contract is still a contract. Once sealed through proper ritual, it is absolute. Betty will grant your incomprehensible little request, so consider yourself fortunate."
Be grateful, she added as a final remark, gazing down at Subaru from her lower position with an air of authority.
Receiving that gaze, Subaru was hit by an inexplicable wave of emotion and, on instinct, turned his face away.
A surge of fierce feeling. Sensations beyond words.
He had no idea how to handle what had been offered to him from this unexpected place, so he closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth still lingering in his palm.
"You're serious… I almost cried over a little girl."
"Don't call me a little girl. —And if you go snitching to Nee-cha about this, Betty will absolutely never forgive you."
"You're way too intense. Seriously, you've gone full-on demon mode with that look."
Beatrice fixed him with a glare brimming with genuine hostility, and Subaru answered with a wry smile.
The fourth loop. The first real smile he'd managed in this iteration—small, but unmistakably real.