"Where me and my big brother were, that was a real terrible place."
At night, sitting around a campfire lit for the night's rest, Medium said that in her usual tone.
Medium was always bright and cheerful, a woman who had never learned to lower her voice. What she spoke of was the facility she and Flop had once been in.
From Flop as well, the story had been the same—that the two had grown up in dire conditions.
Siblings, all orphans taken in by the facility, beaten every day as they grew up. And they'd raged against the world where unhappy adults struck unhappy children, swearing vengeance.
"I don't really get all the complicated stuff my big brother says, y'know? But when he's walking with his chest puffed out and taking big strides, I wanna cheer him on."
"Even if that's revenge against the world?"
"Yeah, yeah! Well, I dunno exactly how he's gonna do it though."
Medium grinned sheepishly, plopping down cross-legged, and from behind began stroking Louis's hair, which lay across her lap.
Originally, the talk had turned to the facility because of how well she handled the younger one. Not to put it indelicately, but Medium gave off an impression of being fairly casual and rough about everything, so it was surprising to see her doting on Louis like that. When he'd asked about her knack for it, the earlier story had come out.
"There were other kids at the facility besides me and my big brother, y'know. Some were even smaller than me, and it wasn't much fun, so I figured at least I could let my hair grow nice and long."
"And so you're quite skilled at looking after younger ones. That makes sense—Medium-san is very nurturing."
"Hehe, you think so? Well, I'm glad I could be of use then!"
The red glow of the campfire illuminated Medium's beautiful blonde hair, making it shimmer. Louis in front of her had the same hair color, and the two of them looked so close they could pass for sisters.
If you added Flora—not Flop—to the mix, you could call them three gorgeous sisters.
"...I really shouldn't be thinking things like that. Piling that sort of debt onto Flop-san and Medium-san..."
"Hm? Natsumi-chan, did you say something?"
"No, it's nothing. I was just saying that having Medium-san here has truly been a lifeline."
Setting aside the inappropriate dynamic between the O'Connell siblings and Louis, the words she'd said more as a cover were, in truth, her genuine feelings.
In both combat and emotional terms, Medium's presence was a great help. If Flop and she hadn't been there, the group's journey through the Empire would have been far more grim.
"In that case, shouldn't you be the one showing a bit more gratitude?"
"...!"
With narrowed eyes, Subaru directed that remark at Abel, who sat warming himself by the campfire.
After dinner, in this period of rest, Abel had unexpectedly not retreated to the carriage and instead remained sitting in silence. That said, it didn't seem like his attention was on the conversation either, so Subaru's words were little more than sarcasm and ribbing.
"Medium—where are you and your brother from?"
"Huh?"
Though he hadn't responded to Subaru's words, Abel posed that question to Medium.
The content of his question followed naturally from the preceding conversation.
Caught off guard, Medium's large eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. She seemed surprised both that Abel had spoken to her and that he'd been listening at all.
"Abel-chin, you knew my name?"
Apparently, that wasn't the only reason she was surprised.
In any case, Medium had used a nickname that could just as easily displease His Majesty the Emperor as Al's worst efforts—Abel let out a soft sigh.
"I remember names. Don't waste your time being impressed. Answer me. Where are you from—both you and Flop? Who ran that facility?"
"The director, you mean? I forgot their name, actually. But me and my big brother were in a little town called Averyk."
"Averyk... That's on the west side. I'll keep it in mind."
"...? What're you gonna do with that?"
"Take the appropriate measures. Whether I handle it personally or not is another matter."
Abel's answer was terse, but its meaning didn't register with Medium. Her expression shifted to one of confusion—her head practically disappearing into an even larger cloud of question marks. And the unhelpful Abel made no effort to untangle the mystery.
Subaru hadn't fully grasped all of Abel's thinking either, but— "You mean to listen to the voices of the common people and immediately apply them to governance?"
"Not so pious as all that. I told you already—it's about rewarding merit and punishing failure."
Good work earns reward. Stupidity earns its own.
That was Abel's creed as a ruler, his unshakeable way of being. Come to think of it, during the Ceremony of Blood Lives in the Shudrak settlement, he had desperately urged Subaru—who was on the verge of death—to state his wish. Behind that desperation lay the same creed.
In other words— "...You're someone who can't stand to see others with empty hands, aren't you."
"Many are born with nothing. What they grasp in those hands, what they hold when they die—that is a person's life. To be granted that right and then let it go? That must never happen."
"Hearing that from the Emperor's mouth sounds awfully condescending, you know."
Most people were born with nothing, lamenting their lack of talent and strength while scraping by as best they could. Even knowing that was life itself, hearing it from the perspective of someone so blessed was galling.
But Abel didn't so much as meet Subaru's eyes as he received that sarcasm with— "—I am no exception."
"...What do you mean?"
"Station comes with corresponding duty. Take on a burden you can't bear, and you'll only be crushed by it. Pride and dignity—those can only be honed through daily self-affirmation."
Responding to Subaru's question, Abel's gaze slowly turned toward him.
He studied Subaru by the campfire—examining his black hair and clothing— "The false, constructed self will eventually expose its true metal. You seem quite practiced at putting on a show, but when the facade peels away, the effort required to hold things together will be considerable."
"...!"
"As long as results are produced, I won't meddle in anyone's personal tastes or preferences. I have no intention of going back on that. But propping yourself up on an illusion is painful to watch. Eventually, the entire foundation will tilt."
Bathed in a heat-laden wind from the fire, Abel's gaze cut through the night like something cold and penetrating.
His choice of words offered no consideration for others, no leeway for understanding. And so, his true meaning had barely reached Subaru—all that remained was the sting of having his heart violated with breathtaking rudeness.
"...I've said too much. I'll leave the rest to you."
With those parting words, Abel rose and disappeared into the carriage.
The heavy door closed with a thud, leaving around the campfire only Subaru, Medium, and Louis—who sat there with an expression oblivious to the entire topic.
"...What is with that man."
Subaru let that slip, then clamped a hand over his mouth with a bitter expression.
Wasn't that exactly like a haughty noble lady's sore-loser complaint? Natsumi Schwartz, the iron-willed female strategist, was supposed to be tougher and more resilient than that.
The steel heart Subaru so desperately wanted—the strongest woman who possessed it.
"Natsumi-chan, you okay?"
Medium's hand gently stroked Subaru's head as he wrestled with those thoughts.
Still sitting cross-legged, she shifted over to sit beside him with practiced ease. Her palm was proportional to her tall frame—big enough to easily cup Subaru's entire head.
That large palm wrapped around him with gentleness and softness, enveloping his heart.
"Yes, I'm fine. Goodness, that man and his cryptic... Medium-san, did you understand what he was trying to say?"
"Nn-nope, not at all! But I could tell Natsumi-chan looked upset, and this is about all I can do, y'know?"
"That's not—"
"It's fine, it's fine, I know! I'm the one who uses this big body to try hard, and leave all the tricky stuff to my big brother and everyone else."
She beamed with a bright, open smile, continuing to stroke Subaru's head—there was no dishonesty in that face.
Her way of being, acknowledging her shortcomings without letting them weigh on her, was so positively forward-looking—it resonated with the people Subaru admired.
"Medium-san, you're a grown-up."
"That's a first! I've been told I'm a good big sister, or that I eat a lot and look happy doing it, but never that."
"That's all part of what makes you wonderful, Medium-san."
"Hehehe~"
No matter how many words she used, Subaru couldn't fully convey his gratitude and admiration, and it frustrated him. But Medium accepted even his hollow praise with genuine delight.
Louis, curled up on her lap, seemed equally buoyed by her warmth.
Just for this moment, all hardship and anxiety fell away.
That was how peaceful this time felt.
△▼△▼△▼△ Gazing at the flickering flames of the campfire, time flowed on gently.
"...!"
Amid the crackling of burning logs, the world was terribly quiet.
Once, Subaru had hated these idle moments. When he let his mind wander, an inexplicable restlessness gnawed at him—the feeling of being driven, chased.
As if asking: who gave you permission to idle away the time so aimlessly?
A nameless black shadow would creep up behind him, affectionately throw an arm around his shoulder, and press in close with suffocating persistence.
Closing his eyes, plugging his ears—the nightmare he couldn't escape. To flee from that,
He was sometimes praised for being multi-talented or handy with small crafts.
But every bit of it was an excuse to escape responsibility and guilt.
A façade built from layers upon layers of excuses—that was Natsuki Subaru, and— "...I'm relieved that it didn't all end as just a string of excuses."
"Is... that so...?"
Listening to Subaru's story, Taritta nodded with her head bowed.
Across the flickering flames, Taritta—resting on one knee on the ground—her face was bathed in red light. The dancing firelight looked wonderful against her tawny skin.
And speaking of things that suited her, so did the outfit she wore to conceal her Shudrak heritage.
With the white markings her people inscribed on their bodies hidden away and dressed in civilized attire, Taritta—with her slender, tall build—was the very image of a beautiful woman in men's clothing.
Though as night watch, standing guard, she had taken off her outer coat and rolled up her sleeves, giving off more of a wild impression than an elegant one.
"...!"
In the slight lull, Taritta was lost in thought.
Subaru had been pressed into telling his story—about his original world, and the darker, heavier parts, though he'd blurred some details. How had those words affected Taritta?
The catalyst had been seeing Subaru trim his nails and asking, "Where did you learn to do that?"
Makeup, and cross-dressing too—but those were hardly significant triggers.
During his thoroughly miserable middle school years, Subaru had taken it on as a sort of lighthearted challenge, hoping to make a triumphant return in the high school life ahead.
"But I'm a bit of a perfectionist... If I was going to do it, I wanted to do it thoroughly—put out something I wouldn't be ashamed of."
It was probably the same with any path, but the refinement of a skill carried the efforts of countless predecessors. Trying to live up to that standard had brought Subaru's high school life to an end. Since then, he'd sworn never to cross-dress again—and yet, here he was.
In life, you never know what'll be useful until it's all over. Though in Subaru's case, it never really ended, so he felt that especially keenly.
"...Heh, that's not something to laugh about—"
"...I'm... envious of Natsumi's attitude."
"W-Wait, ehhh!?"
"H-How come you're so surprised...!?"
"Well, it's just... not something I've been told very often..."
He'd genuinely been quite shaken, and had startled Taritta considerably.
Even so, the shock Subaru felt—hand pressed to his fake chest—wasn't fading. Objectively speaking, he didn't think his situation was particularly enviable.
It was partly his own perspective, but ever since coming to this other world—and looking back, even before that—Subaru's life had been one failure and disappointment after another.
Honestly, if not for meeting
Every subsequent encounter and happiness—he believed all of it was a gift from Emilia, who had tried to help him when he was being kicked around by delinquents in that alley.
...Not that she still had that memory of the moment.
"I grew up hiding behind my elder sister. She was as you know her, and nobody ever doubted that she would become tribal chief one day. Neither did I."
"Taritta..."
Taritta began speaking haltingly, telling her own story.
At first, Subaru had intended to stop her, thinking she was reciprocating his confession with stories she'd rather keep hidden. He'd told her about the origins of his makeup and cross-dressing skills because of how the conversation had gone—that was on him. He hadn't meant to force this exchange.
But seeing her glistening eyes, hearing the tremor in her voice as she spoke with her head bowed—he held back.
She was talking because she wanted to talk. That was how it felt to Subaru.
"My sister and I are three years apart. But the reason I see her as so much bigger than me—it's not just the three-year gap. There's something else, something different between us. What that is... I don't know."
Every word Taritta spoke pierced Subaru's heart.
It was a story he'd heard somewhere before, and simultaneously, a story he'd never shared with anyone.
An inferiority complex toward an outstanding sister—that was what
An inferiority complex toward a back he'd admired—that was what Subaru had been tormented by.
"Why did my sister choose me as chief? I can't possibly fulfill that role."
—*'He really is that person's child, isn't he.'* The disappointment in himself, the guilt toward the expectations of someone dear.
She had nearly been crushed by it—yet Taritta had still joined this journey. The journey of Abel, who had pledged with Mizelda—former tribal chief—and raised the banner of reclaiming the throne.
It was a journey for Taritta to look at herself again and find acceptance. And perhaps, at the same time, a means of fleeing from the crushing weight of expectations placed upon her.
"During this journey, I have to find an answer. Yes, I must... steel myself."
"Steel yourself...? You mean, the resolve to take over as tribal chief?"
"...!"
At Subaru's question, Taritta drew back her narrow chin and nodded.
It wasn't a matter of reaching an answer, but of mustering resolve—that was the fate she'd been entrusted with by Mizelda, and the role of next tribal chief. That she nodded told Subaru everything about how she viewed it.
Taritta believed that taking over as chief was unavoidable.
She had no right to refuse. That was the duty of a younger sister who had been designated by her great elder sister to lead their people— "Even if you ran away..."
"Hm?"
"I think it would be fine to run away. I wouldn't blame you for it."
Taritta's eyes widened at the unexpected words.
Though the topic had led there, Taritta had opened up about her true feelings. Subaru could see her situation—the anxiety, the responsibility resting on those slender shoulders. He could see how someone with such a strong sense of responsibility and self-punishing nature was desperately carrying it all.
Or perhaps Taritta had wanted Subaru to say "toughen up"—to push her toward a resolve she couldn't muster on her own. Looking at Subaru, who cross-dressed without a hint of shame, she may have wanted advice that confidence issues were something she could overcome.
But what Subaru said betrayed her expectations.
"If you feel the burden is too heavy, and you think someone else is better suited—then packing your things and leaving the carriage, none of us would blame you. At the very least, I wouldn't."
"B-But if I were gone, our fighting strength—"
"Of course, that's a concern. But we'll manage, one way or another."
"...!"
Subaru mocked himself silently for saying something so irresponsible.
Hearing this, Abel would be furious. As Taritta herself had said, she was a vital asset to a group that was already short on combat power—that was true for the overall journey, and for their expedition in particular.
And here Subaru was, saying it would be fine to let her go.
"I'm... not needed..."
"No, that's a big mistake. I want you with us, Taritta—for your character and for your strength. But that's just my selfishness, isn't it?"
"My... selfishness..."
"I'm asking you to kill your heart in order for me to live."
As someone who had been through it, as someone of the same kind—Subaru couldn't force that on Taritta.
Taritta was older, and perhaps more seasoned in this particular struggle than Subaru. Having received from her the chance to step out of that darkness, Subaru now played the part of the one who knew better.
—I cannot become someone else.
Not even if they were family, not even if they were someone close—no matter how much he admired them, envied them, or burned with longing.
"We cannot become anything other than 'ourselves.'"
And then—to become a 'self' you could like, that you could accept, that you could have confidence in.
Through disappointment and dejection, and the faintest touch of achievement, over and over—like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis.
"...It's really annoying, isn't it."
He murmured so quietly that Taritta couldn't hear.
What had surfaced while speaking was Abel's theory, heard just hours ago around this same campfire—what do the many who are born with nothing grasp in their empty hands to live?
The essence of that speech overlapped with what Subaru had been trying to say.
"...!"
Hearing Subaru's words, Taritta's eyes wavered, her uncertainty deepening further.
Which direction that uncertainty would take was something only Taritta could decide—but Subaru believed that whatever she chose should be respected.
Subaru had run from the expectations placed on him and the guilt of being unable to meet them.
He'd even suspected, at one point, that his summoning to this other world was some cosmic act of kindness, drawn by that desire to flee.
Of course, that wasn't the reason he hadn't even said goodbye to his parents—his real parents—but— "...Being able to run away was a kind of salvation, too."
At the very least, if he'd continued shutting himself in his room, caught between expectations and guilt, he never would have caught up to how he felt now.
He'd have remained the Subaru who was too consumed by his own problems to spare any thought for doing something, anything, for someone else.
There was nothing wrong with running, until you were ready to fight.
Or perhaps the world should be one where choosing not to fight at all was an option, too.
"Confidence and resolve..."
"Hm?"
"I lack those too. But it's not just that..."
Listening to Subaru's account of his own experience, Taritta's lips trembled as she murmured.
So faint it was nearly swallowed by the crackling campfire, her voice perhaps carried an even more desperate emotion than when she'd spoken of her own powerlessness.
"If I had... made a terrible mistake... what would I need to do to make up for it?"
"A mistake and atonement... Taritta, you mean—?"
"...!"
At the question turned back on her, Taritta let out a small "ah."
In her wide-open eyes, the regret that flashed—alongside the mistake she'd just described, there was also the regret of having told Subaru about it right here, right now.
It seemed the guilt Taritta carried went beyond mere powerlessness in comparison to her sister. That very act of confession was itself something preventing her from making a decisive choice.
"...Please... forget... I said anything strange."
In the end, what followed was the conclusion that some stories simply couldn't be finished.
Her voice and expression made it clear she hadn't reached an answer—Subaru understood that he couldn't force anything more out of her.
Someday, when she wanted to let it all out, it would be enough to simply be there beside her— "—Siblings, it's about time for the shift change."
Just as Subaru was reaching that conclusion, a voice called from the direction of the carriage.
Al approached the campfire at a leisurely pace, rolling his thick neck. The night watch changed every three hours, and it was apparently Subaru's turn.
"I'm not happy about Abel and Louis being exempted from the rotation, but..."
"Don't push it, don't push it. If Abel-chan ends up back on the imperial throne and we get executed because we made him do night watch duty, that'd be real bad, right?"
"If we're going to start comparing grudges, I'm not sure how many of my heads would need to line up to balance the scales."
"If you're self-aware about it, then keep it in check. You make people nervous just being around."
Hearing Subaru's complaints, Al lodged a reasonable protest.
That said, his willingness to stand up to Abel's attitude was something he couldn't afford to give up. No one else was going to do it, which was exactly why Abel acted like such an insufferable tyrant.
They needed to at least correct his temperament a bit while he was a fugitive without real power.
"Otherwise, even if we manage to help him reclaim his throne, he'll just start another rebellion and this time they really will take his head."
"Ahh, as for that, I'll leave it to you. As the princess here can tell, I'm basically a 'don't rock the boat' kind of guy—laissez-faire, that's my thing."
Al waved his hand dismissively, giving up on changing Subaru's mind.
Subaru sighed at Al's unreliable demeanor, then turned back to Taritta. She sat gazing into the fire, lost in thought. "Taritta," he said— "I'll be heading in. If Al's groping or his terrible jokes become too much, please let me know immediately."
"Groping...?"
"I'm not doing that kind of thing to you like I do to the princess! I adjust the distance and intimacy level appropriately, y'know? It's called TPO."
"That's... exactly the type of thing I'm bad at."
Taritta responded in a faint voice while Al protested his innocence at the top of his lungs.
Comparing the two, Subaru stood and brushed off the dirt from his hem and backside, then quietly leaned toward Al.
"Taritta might come to you for life advice. If she does, please guide her as an experienced mentor."
"Experienced mentor? That feels like the polar opposite of how I'd describe myself. I've been actively avoiding anything that involves being responsible for other people's lives."
"This is your chance to overcome your weakness. It's just like with peppers."
Emilia and
So far, neither had succeeded even once—but Subaru believed that as long as they kept fighting, the day they'd win would come.
"So do your best, Al."
"Somehow that hit me less than it should have... or am I the only one?"
At the very least, those words had met the conditions for stirring Subaru's fighting spirit, so Subaru concluded the problem lay with Al for not being similarly moved.
"Natsumi... see you tomorrow."
"...Yes. See you tomorrow."
As Subaru yielded the campfire to Al and turned to head back to the carriage, Taritta called after him.
That weak yet certain promise of tomorrow—that she would still be there, having taken in his words—gave Subaru a flicker of hope.
Running away isn't wrong. Running can lead to gaining strength.
But there were also people who chose not to run, who chose to fight—and won.
Subaru hoped, wished, that Taritta could be one of them.
"...!"
Returning to the carriage, Subaru was greeted by the hushed air of the dark interior.
The inside was divided by simple curtains, separating the men's sleeping area in the front from the women's in the back. Despite that, the resting group was remarkably quiet.
Abel, Medium, and Louis were asleep now. Abel was one thing, but Medium and Louis being so quiet was surprising.
When he'd once asked about sleeping habits—a breach of etiquette, he knew—Medium had cheerfully answered, "If you snore too loud, people figure out where you are!"
He'd realized later that this came from her time traveling as a merchant, or perhaps from the days in that wretched facility.
Skills acquired out of necessity.
In that sense, Abel sleeping silently might have the same origin— "...Even asleep, that irritating face. Perhaps I should doodle on it."
"—What are you doing, staring so rudely?"
"—!"
Halfway through the carriage, in the space allotted to him, Abel lay sleeping. As Subaru peered at his sleeping face, a sudden voice startled him. He nearly let out a scream—catching himself just in time—and stammered, "You were awake?"
"...We are on night watch for your benefit, after all. I'd like to think you're at least getting some rest out of it."
"It's a Volachian royal custom to sleep with one eye open. I am no exception."
"One eye open—this isn't a movie, you can't just—wait, you're serious?"
"Why on earth would I bother making idle jokes to someone like you?"
Abel responded flatly, and Subaru could see—sure enough—one eye was open, just as he'd said.
The light in that dark pupil proved his words were no lie.
He'd heard once, in an old film, about a killer who slept with one eye open.
Apparently, the structure of the human brain made that difficult—but seeing Abel do it as a matter of fact drove home that it wasn't impossible.
But accepting it intellectually was a separate matter entirely.
"Why can't you sleep properly? Are you worried we'd slit your throat?"
"Even the most remote possibility is worth considering. Carelessness costs lives."
"Carelessness—!"
At that cold response, Subaru's voice shook as he jabbed a finger toward the window.
Through the carriage window, the campfire glowed some distance away. Al and Taritta stood watch, alert for approaching danger.
Of course, that was partly for their own safety as well— "—Who the hell do you think they're out there for?"
"...!"
"Even now, with everything we've been through, you still can't close both eyes in front of us?"
The mask of Natsumi Schwartz peeled away, and Natsuki Subaru emerged—his expression twisted.
Watching that unfold, Abel's penetrating expression didn't waver. As always, he continued to alternate blinking between his right and left eye, just as he always had.
That minimal blinking—there was the same reason behind it as his inability to close both eyes.
When they'd risked their lives in the Ceremony of Blood Lives, when he'd infiltrated
Subaru could sympathize with someone who had to remain perpetually vigilant in situations where failure meant death.
But couldn't he at least make an effort to relax before entering what could very well be enemy territory?
That was what Subaru's furrowed brows were saying—and Abel closed one eye.
Only one.
He closed one eye, crossed his arms, leaned back against the seat, and let out a snort.
"Don't you dare try to corrupt my way of being. Know your place."
"...!"
"The demonic city is near. Fulfill your role. I desire nothing beyond that, and I'll permit nothing beyond that."
There was no bridge to be found on that island of absolute refusal. Subaru clicked his tongue.
He'd thought, even briefly, that perhaps they could find some common ground. But no—it was hopeless.
"Fine... yeah, fine! I'll sleep like a log, then!"
His voice rose with frustration, but Abel offered no response.
Subaru's face creased with bitterness as he chose a sleeping spot as far from Abel as possible, loosened his clothes, and lay down carefully to avoid damaging the wig.
He'd briefly considered staying awake out of sheer spite toward Abel, but he wasn't sure what purpose that would serve—or which was the right choice, sleeping or keeping vigil. His consciousness simply went blank.
Loaded with various problems, anxieties, and complex relationships, the carriage journey continued.
—The arrival at the demonic city of