The shock that pierced Subaru as he watched the man being led away may well have been the most piercing of all the shocks he had received in the throne room.
He had stepped forward into the center out of a single-minded desire to be of use to
Far from being any help to her, he had dragged her down spectacularly—and in the end, Emilia had witnessed the whole spectacle with eyes full of disappointment.
All of that brought Subaru pain that was almost unbearable. But he did not acknowledge that he was wholly in the wrong for every bit of it.
His words had been heartfelt and sincere, there was no denying that—and the idea of giving his wholehearted approval to Julius's statements, which were calcified around the hollow notion of knightly honor, was simply out of the question. His arguments had been emotional and lacked coherence, certainly, but he did not believe everything he had said was wrong.
To put it bluntly, a measure of frustration remained inside Subaru—the frustration of having tried every way he could think of and still not being understood.
He had withdrawn because he understood that baring his soul any further in that place would serve no purpose whatsoever.
Subaru had held no standing to speak in that scene, and it was plain as day that anything he said would be met with deaf ears. Normally, insisting on his way through even in such circumstances was precisely the kind of thing
And yet— "Hey, hey…"
At the same time, the sight of
The knight had called the massive old man a suspicious individual who had attempted to infiltrate the royal castle. Rom-jii had been in the aristocratic district trying to find Reinhard's estate and spring
Unless he hadn't been the only one who had come to the aristocratic district.
"Could he have… followed me—"
Subaru could not bring himself to voice that final, critical question. But the doubt that had sprung up in his chest needed no answer—it was close enough to certainty.
The truth was, his thinking had been far too shallow. Subaru had known full well how good-natured the old man was, how utterly mismatched his personality was to the crooked, cutthroat environment of the backstreets.
That was precisely why he had coaxed the old man into helping with the infiltration of the aristocratic district through a combination of sweet talk and elbow grease, and then—relying on the old man's easygoing nature—had allowed them to split up.
As for whatever risks followed, all of it was the consequence of Subaru's own actions. No matter what happened, he had reasoned, he could at least manage things at the bare minimum for himself. Even in the worst case, by dropping Roswaal's name—even if it caused the man extraordinary trouble—he had at least the barest guarantee that he would keep his life.
But Rom-jii, from whom they had parted without so much as an explanation, could not possibly have known about Subaru's pathetically self-serving calculus.
He could have abandoned Subaru, too. He had people precious to him, an important goal of his own. So after they split up, Subaru had assumed that the old man would, one way or another, drop him from his list of priorities and move on to pursue his own purpose.
The result of that failure to consider another person's feelings was the scene playing out before his eyes now.
It was easy to imagine that Rom-jii, remorseful for having pushed Subaru toward that reckless infiltration and concerned for his safety, had come charging into the royal castle himself. Rather, given this old man's character, it was practically the first conclusion one would reach.
"Rom—"
Without thinking, Subaru's lips began to form the old man's name.
But the one who stopped that movement was none other than Rom-jii himself—who had, even while being escorted, noticed Subaru standing at the end of the corridor under the protection of a knight.
Upon realizing Subaru was present, a flicker of surprise crossed the old man's gray eyes, followed by a look of unmistakable relief directed at Subaru alone.
And then—as if only Subaru could see—Rom-jii pressed his index finger to his lips and gestured: "Keep quiet."
The meaning of that gesture was crystal clear.
Rom-jii had been caught trespassing in the castle. If Subaru were to reveal that he knew this supposed intruder, it would only make Subaru's own position worse. He had taken one look at Subaru's current standing and reached that judgment in an instant.
"I got caught 'cause I'm an idiot. Nothing you need to fret about."
Though no words had actually been spoken, Rom-jii's quiet shake of the head—his finger still pressed to his lips—seemed to convey his inner voice directly to Subaru.
Dazed by that sensation, Subaru missed the timing to call out to the group as they passed. Surrounded by a tight cordon of knights, Rom-jii's figure disappeared down the corridor.
Would he be dragged into the great hall and put on trial? If that happened, who in the world—ignorant of the circumstances—would speak up in his defense?
And above all— "Why didn't I say anything just now…?"
Rom-jii hadn't actually stopped him by speaking, and the words that had followed in his mind were nothing more than a product of Subaru's own imagination.
Perhaps Rom-jii had been silently asking for help. And even if he hadn't, Subaru had every reason to act on his behalf. After all, it was Subaru who had driven the old man to a mindset where he would trespass in a place like this—Subaru who had dragged him into this mess.
"—Wait!"
It took a moment to find his resolve, but Subaru's throat finally managed to shout.
The group, already vanishing at the far end of the corridor, came to a halt. He could feel them turning suspicious glances his way. He had managed to stop them. The situation was the worst it could be, but he had avoided it sinking any lower. Now the question was what to do from here.
"Is something the matter?"
"I have business with that old man just now…"
Responding to the concerned voice of the knight who had been accompanying him, Subaru walked toward the group—toward the restrained Rom-jii.
The entourage seemed uncertain how to handle the approaching Subaru, but once the knight at his side announced that he was "an associate of one of the candidates," they all straightened their postures and directed their respect toward him.
Though he found the attention burdensome, Subaru was grateful for it now, offering a nod before pressing forward. He reached Rom-jii's side— "—"
Having closed the distance to within arm's reach, Subaru found himself at a total loss for words.
Acting on impulse was nothing new for him, but this time the matter was far from simple. Any words directed at Rom-jii for the crime of trespassing in the royal castle might, if poorly chosen, amount to a confession of Subaru's own illegal infiltration.
He needed to choose his words with care—but once again, he had no plan.
Confronted with the familiar old man and reduced to nothing but wringing his hands, Subaru realized with bitter clarity that he was, in fact, far more of a seat-of-the-pants person than he had ever imagined. He had always liked to think of himself as the calm, collected type who weighed consequences before acting—but when he considered the process and results of today's various exploits, he could hardly say that with a straight face.
Even now, not a single suggestion for what to say came to mind.
"—Subaru?"
A voice, laced with suspicion, addressed the trembling-lipped Subaru who could not conjure a single word.
Naturally, the knights around him began to eye him with increasingly hard stares. Feeling their rising vigilance prickle his skin, Subaru forced his brain to work— "Hmph, and I thought nobles were supposed to have better taste! Laughing at the dopey face of a clumsy old man who got caught—hardly something I'd expect from creatures of the same blood!"
But Subaru's frantic anxiety was drowned out by a shout that echoed from one end of the corridor to the other.
Spitting and snarling, with a coarse voice and a grimy expression, it was none other than Rom-jii who had delivered those words. Despite his restraints, the old man twisted his body around and looked up at Subaru from below with a deliberately ungainly grin.
"Go on, take a good look if this face suits you! A wrinkled old face caked in the grime of the slums—nothing a sheltered young pup like you would ever know the likes of!"
Stunned, dumbstruck—Subaru's mind ground to a complete halt from the sheer shock.
Rom-jii directed his torrent of abuse at Subaru, the sole target of his barbs. The surrounding knights stiffened for a moment as well, but after a few seconds they recovered and— "—Hold your tongue!"
"Guuh!"
A fist fell upon the criminal who had dared to speak rudely to someone of Subaru's importance.
With manacles on his wrists and his body immobilized, the old man had no means of defense. Helpless, he absorbed blow after blow—the price for a man who had failed to know his place.
Before Subaru's eyes, this excessive punishment played out. Unable to hide his shock, but knowing he had to intervene, Subaru reached out— "There's no need to go that far—"
"Oh, how kind of you, little lord! Hey, what's the matter, Sir Knights? Why don't you wag your tails for your dear master's command—guuh!"
"You still have more to say, you vagrant?!"
But Subaru's plea to stop was once again drowned out by Rom-jii's tirade. Having overwritten the appeal for mercy with further abuse, Rom-Jii drew an even harsher round of punishment upon himself.
Why? The question flooded Subaru's mind, threatening to spill from his lips—yet what stopped him at the last moment was the realization, read clearly in Rom-jii's rational, intelligent eyes that never once looked away from Subaru even as blows rained down upon him.
—Rom-jii was still, even now, trying to protect Subaru.
To defend Rom-jii—caught red-handed trespassing—would only create grounds for Subaru to be subjected to uncomfortable questioning in his current position.
Rom-jii understood that Subaru would be in a tight spot if pressed on the matter, and he knew it well. That was precisely why the old man heaped on insults and played the part of an enemy, attempting to sever whatever connection existed between himself and Subaru.
Bitter regret flooded Subaru's chest. If Rom-jii had been driven into this predicament by Subaru's reckless actions, then the old man's agonized choice—the situation he was being forced into now—was likewise the result of Subaru's failure to think things through.
It was Subaru's mess that Rom-jii was now being forced to clean up.
"Subaru, perhaps we should leave this place now—"
"No… wait…"
A knight touched the shoulder of the frozen Subaru and spoke in a concerned voice.
He had probably mistaken Subaru for someone who had been shaken by the barrage of insults. Subaru gave an ambiguous response, then locked eyes with Rom-jii.
—I have to get you out of here somehow.
That was what he tried to convey. He had no concrete idea how, but still—a sense of obligation surged through him, demanding that he do something.
However, Rom-jii's answer to that unspoken resolve was a silent shake of the head—a refusal.
"—It's none of your concern, boy."
The quiet, hoarse murmur sounded like a continuation of the earlier tirade, and the knights found nothing suspicious in its context. But to Subaru alone, it was unmistakably clear: of all the words Rom-jii had spoken in this place, this was the only one that carried no deception whatsoever—the unvarnished truth.
After that, Rom-jii averted his gaze, and Subaru swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue, understanding that the conversation was over.
Having his outstretched hand rejected, Subaru once again felt the sting of being denied. It was the same as in the great hall. An anxious urgency pushed at his back—yet the very person he needed did not want his help.
Before the silent Subaru, Rom-jii shrugged, then urged the halted knights onward with a "Let's get moving."
The knights cast uncertain glances toward Subaru, but when they saw him standing there with his head bowed and nothing to say, they offered a curt "Pardon us" and resumed their march.
And just like that, Rom-jii was taken away.
The old giant curled his massive frame into something small, turning his battered, bloodied face away from Subaru as he was pulled from sight—and Subaru let the last opportunity slip by.
"Subaru, let's go. The Captain will handle the rest."
A quiet voice addressed him, though the knight could not entirely conceal the righteous indignation within.
The knight probably assumed Subaru was silent because of the old man's unprovoked verbal abuse. He was right about part of it, but not at all in the true sense. Yet explaining the real reason would be to pour cold water on Rom-jii's selfless gesture.
—Because that too would just be an excuse.
Catering to Rom-jii's concerns? If left alone, what awaited Rom-jii was a hearing before the knights of the great hall—indictment and cross-examination, followed by whatever punishment the court saw fit to impose.
At the very least, had Subaru spoken up in Rom-jii's defense right then and there, he could have leveraged his standing as a participant in the royal selection.
"Just collateral damage, huh…"
If he hadn't gone along with Rom-jii's plan, Subaru—already a stammering mess—would certainly have drawn suspicion on himself too. And if he had been eloquent enough to talk his way into getting Rom-jii released through sheer argumentation, he might never have been escorted out of the great hall in the first place.
Even that, though, was nothing more than an excuse.
"I…"
Once again, he had not been needed.
Rejected by Emilia. Rejected by Rom-jii. His outstretched hand found nothing to hold on to.
"Why am I even here…"
What would become of Rom-jii, now that he had been taken away?
Subaru shook his head, driving away the dark thoughts. He pictured the faces of those in the great hall, piling up excuses to console himself—at least things would go better with them handling it than with Subaru making a scene.
There were three people in that hall who knew Rom-jii's face. All three were candidates—the main players of the royal selection. And for one of them in particular, Subaru knew just how important Rom-jii was. So surely, things wouldn't end badly.
Surely they wouldn't. They wouldn't—so he told himself.
"What was the point of all this… What am I…"
※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Murmuring spread through the throne room as the great doors were pushed open and a solitary old man was escorted inside. Leading the manacled old man was Marcos, the commander of the knights, who had been escorted out earlier.
A few minutes ago, during the royal selection proceedings, a single knight had summoned Commander Marcos.
When the subordinate had requested instructions, Marcos had grimaced, citing the presence of the council of wise men—but seeing how urgent the subordinate appeared, he excused himself and left the room.
And after a five-minute delay in the proceedings—this was the situation that had emerged.
"Hmm, and who might that be?"
Microtuv, upon seeing the old man being led in by Marcos, posed the question. It was on behalf of everyone present; none of them could fathom what Marcos intended by bringing this man here.
Bathed in those perplexed stares, Marcos performed a courteous bow.
"I apologize for the disturbance. It appears this individual attempted to infiltrate the royal castle—a most unsavory character, I'm afraid."
"Then why bring him here at all? He's irrelevant… no, out of place entirely."
The one who made no effort to hide his displeasure was the grizzled old man—Bordeaux. Most of the others present seemed to share his sentiment, and all wore clouded expressions, unable to read the true intent behind Marcos's actions.
Among that confusion, however, three people wore expressions of surprise rather than puzzlement.
One was an arrogant young girl.
Noticing a familiar face in the old man's features, she nevertheless did not so much as inform her attendant of her acquaintance with him, instead watching the situation unfold with a corner of her mouth twisted into something cold and calculating.
Had Subaru been present, her behavior might have taken a different course. But with the only person who knew of her connection to the old man having been escorted out, there was still no compelling reason in this room to stir her to action.
One was an earnest young girl.
After taking some time to recall, the girl recognized the old man's identity and quickly shifted her gaze toward one of the candidates. As far as she knew, there was an unbreakable bond between that man and the candidate in question.
Hearing of a trespass attempt, she immediately grasped that the candidate was somehow involved in the old man's scheme. Even so, she trembled with indecision, unsure of how she should act.
She sharpened her awareness, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.
And the girl who had received perhaps the most fitting evaluation of anyone present— "—Rom-jii?"
Wide-eyed, golden hair swaying, the girl stared at the old man with shimmering surprise.
There, one could see an uncontainable joy tangled with incomprehensible shock, emotions of every shade churning together beyond the reach of words.
She whispered the old man's name under her breath, but more than a few people caught it.
"—Lady Felt, are you acquainted with this old man?"
Marcos, who had spoken with a tone that practically reeked of certainty, was among them.
In response, Felt closed her mouth for a moment, then stepped forward with a swagger.
"You're real piece of work, y'know that? You knew exactly who he was—that's why you dragged him all the way here, isn't it?"
"—I wasn't taking anything at face value, but the old man did happen to mention your name. I apologize if my approach seemed like a test."
"Spare me. But pulling this kind of stunt…"
With his head still bowed, expression unchanged, Marcos's nonchalance only grated further on Felt's nerves. She spat the words out, then turned her gaze to the restrained Rom-jii.
"We really know how to pick 'em, don't we, Rom-jii? Meeting up in a weird place like this."
Though her manner of speaking was as brash as ever, the warmth of affection in her words was unmistakable to everyone present. This was the first time the girl, who had done nothing but hurl insults since arriving in the great hall, had spoken to anyone with such familiarity.
The restrained old man raised his head at her words. For the two of them, it had been over ten days since they last met. Surely there were a hundred emotions packed into this reunion.
But— "Hey, Rom-jii, what happened to your face?"
At the sight of the old man's battered, bloodied face, the girl's expression shifted in an instant. Her sharp, cat-like eyes narrowed with fury, and the target of her glare was not Rom-jii but Marcos—the one gripping the chain connected to Rom-jii's manacles.
Faced with that murderous glare, Marcos remained unmoved.
"When he attempted to breach the castle walls, he struggled against the soldiers who moved to stop him. My men were merely carrying out their duties—they've done nothing that warrants criticism."
"Oh, how noble of you, Captain Knight. The fact that you're already making excuses before I've even accused you of anything—doesn't that pretty much prove you know you're in the wrong?"
"My subordinates might be subjected to baseless accusations. Please, laugh at this cautious old man's worries. And if you must blame someone, direct it at me alone."
Whether it was a difference in experience or simply battle-hardened composure, Marcos was unmoved by Felt's provocations. Realizing that further argument would be futile, Felt let out a single sigh and shelved her anger— "Fine, whatever. Just let Rom-jii go. It's not like he stole anything or killed anyone."
She waved her hand as if to say "we'll discuss the rest later," issuing the order to Marcos.
She wanted to exchange words with Rom-jii first and work toward resolving the situation. That was the intent behind Felt's demand. But Marcos's answer was— "—I'm afraid I cannot comply."
His low, unyielding voice refused the command outright.
"—Huh?"
Felt's expression twisted, a vein bulging on her forehead. Her crimson eyes filled first with shock and then with rage, and it was only a matter of time before the fire erupting from her trembling lips became a full-blown inferno.
Even under the full force of the girl's fury, Marcos did not flinch. Before Felt could unleash a roar, a red-haired young man who had been standing among the ranks of knights stepped forward.
"Commander, that statement may be a bit incomplete…"
"Reinhard, hold your tongue. I understand you have something to say—you've sworn your sword to a lord, and I'm acting against that lord's wishes. But that vow only holds meaning if the one you designate as your lord actually has the will to accept your sword."
"—"
Reinhard's attempt to mediate was also shot down by Marcos's words. As captain, Marcos's argument was sound; Reinhard could not offer a futile rebuttal and simply stood in silence, watching Felt.
Far from being disappointed by the easily subdued Reinhard, Felt didn't even register the exchange. Her rage was focused entirely on Marcos, concentrated with an almost unbearable intensity—encompassing not just their exchange here but every frustration she had accumulated on the journey to this room.
"I'll say it one more time. Let Rom-jii go. Everything starts from there."
"I decline."
Suppressing the anger that threatened to erupt, Felt spoke in a measured tone.
But Marcos, who answered with clipped brevity, did not spare so much as a flicker of attention for her composure.
An increasingly volatile atmosphere began to spread throughout the great hall, and the last of Felt's patience was nearing its breaking point.
"—Knight Marcos, your discourtesy is going a bit far."
It was, naturally, the person in the room most skilled at defusing tense situations—the old man who let out what must have been his dozenth sigh of the day—who cut into the standoff.
Microtuv admonished Marcos, who had taken such a hardline stance against Felt—a royal selection candidate, no less, that he might even need to consider physical compulsion— "The individual who attempted to enter the castle—granting his release is, as an order, somewhat problematic. But even in refusing, your manner was rude. At the very least, you owe an explanation for that insolent attitude."
"As you command."
The stubborn posture he had maintained until now vanished in an instant, and Marcos complied with Microtuv's instruction without a hint of resistance. That immediate turnaround only added another crack to Felt's fraying temper, but her fury lost its momentum the moment she found Marcos's gaze locked onto her.
If Felt's crimson eyes had been blazing with the fire of indignation, then Marcos's eyes held the stillness of a lake without a single ripple upon its surface.
Felt, as if doused with cold water, listened as Marcos prefaced his words with "Forgive my impertinence"— "During the course of these royal selection proceedings, Lady Felt has publicly declared that she has no intention of participating in the royal selection. To renounce one's qualifications is, by extension, to renounce the right to issue orders to us knights."
In a clear, unwavering voice, Marcos stated his reason for refusing her command.
It was a bold claim, to say the least—but Felt's behavior up to this point had already failed to leave a favorable impression on the civil officials, knights, and council of wise men assembled in the room. Naturally, many nodded along with Marcos's reasoning, lending their support.
"Commander, that is an extreme position. First of all, regardless of whether she qualifies, Lady Felt may have a claim to the bloodline of this nation's royal family…"
"That is a matter of 'may.' Stop talking in impractical idealism. An unconfirmed qualification carries no weight here, and the clear qualification was renounced of her own volition."
Marcos would not hear Reinhard's words, and sent his gaze toward Felt as if to ask, "Do you understand?"
In response, Felt, who had been silent until now, hung her head and plunged her hand into her golden hair, raking through it with a rough motion. She let out an irritated groan—"Ugh," "Argh"—as if venting her frustration.
"So let me put it in simple terms, since this is getting complicated. —What you're saying is, you won't listen to me, the girl who doesn't feel like playing the royal selection game. Right?"
"—That is, in essence, correct."
"Ohhh, first time we've actually understood each other. Ahh, I see, I see. Right, right. Mmm, yep, yep. I see, I see… Don't piss me off, you bastard."
Felt's eyes narrowed to slits, pinning Marcos with a gaze close to killing intent.
But the wind of that murderous glare could not so much as ruffle the surface of Marcos's stone-carved expression.
A veteran warrior, versus a delinquent girl raised on the streets of the slums—a grossly lopsided confrontation by any measure. But Felt was not the type to be cowed so easily.
She understood his reasoning now. She understood his conditions.
Her irritation was compounding at an accelerating rate, raging through her body in search of a place to detonate.
Perhaps she would just go ahead and trade blow for blow, wipe that smug look off the man's face— That momentary impulse was about to detonate, Felt about to let the momentum carry her— "All of that is completely beside the point! —Somebody, hurry up and free me!!"
The anguished scream of the old man—who had remained silent up until now—rang throughout the great hall.
Neither Felt, who had been on the verge of erupting, nor Marcos, who stood beside the very man who had screamed, nor anyone else in the room could react immediately.
And the old man himself showed no concern for their stunned silence.
"Felt, it's me! Cromwell—from the slums! We went through it all together! I don't know what the hell is going on, but you look like you could do something about this, right?! Help me!"
Dropping to his knees on the carpeted floor, the old man plastered a simpering grin onto his face and begged. Had he not been restrained, he might have crawled right up to the girl's feet.
Even Felt was struck speechless by that display approaching utter degradation, reduced to silence as she watched the transformation of her acquaintance. The onlookers' gazes, naturally, turned toward the wretched old man with visible disgust.
"We've been through everything together, you and I! Who was it that taught you how to survive when you were just a helpless brat who didn't know jack? It was me, wasn't it?! Your own benefactor is in this state—how can you just stand there?!"
Spittle flying, absolving himself of his own sins, the old man shrieked for someone—anyone—to save him.
Only the most saintly of souls could have mustered sympathy or pity in the face of such a display. To an ordinary person, it was nothing but self-serving drivel that inspired nothing but revulsion.
In the span of mere moments, the old man had succeeded in turning the vast majority of the room against him.
No one could find words in the face of such nakedly selfish behavior.
And yet, there was one person—just one—who, independent of all those reactions, managed to speak.
"—This might turn into something ugly."
Only the red-haired young man, hearing those wretched screams, quietly swallowed the unease welling up in his own chest.