Re:Zero - Echoes Of Fate

When Subaru stepped into the room, an eerie, bone-deep pressure crawled over his skin like a phantom hand. It wasn't just physical—it was a sensation that slithered into his very core, clutching at his soul with invisible fingers. The air was thick, almost sentient. The silence wasn't emptiness—it was expectant, like the room itself was holding its breath, watching him through eyes that didn't exist.

He closed the door slowly behind him, careful not to make a sound, and let his gaze drift through the gloom. The dim, golden light from a single enchanted crystal bathed the space in a sleepy haze. Tucked together under soft, layered blankets were three small figures: Meili, Hikari, and Beatrice. Their faces, framed by shadows, were serene, untouched by the chaos that often followed Subaru. Their gentle breathing filled the room with a kind of fragile tranquility that made time feel like it was momentarily paused.

A faint smile tugged at Subaru's lips. In this fleeting sliver of stillness, amidst the ever-turning gears of fate and death, he was reminded that something pure still lingered in the world. But beauty, he knew all too well, was a momentary visitor.

That moment shattered in an instant.

Without warning, a hand clamped down hard on the back of his neck. His body was hurled into the wall with brutal force. The impact rattled the wooden beams and knocked the air from his lungs. His head struck the stone behind the paneling with a harsh crack, and a flash of white pain blinked behind his eyes. Before he could fully register the assault, something cold and deadly kissed the skin of his throat.

His gaze dropped. The dagger's edge pressed against him just enough to remind him of how easily life could be stolen. And the hand holding it—pale, steady, elegant—belonged to no one other than the Bowel Hunter herself.

Elsa.

"I told you not to flirt with other girls," she whispered, her breath brushing against his ear like a blade, every syllable laced with icy menace. Her crimson eyes gleamed like a predator's, reflecting the faint light with a hunger that never dulled.

Despite the steel against his neck, Subaru's voice remained steady, if slightly strained.

"Relax, you damn yandere. I know you've been eavesdropping. So you also know it wasn't flirting."

Elsa's lips curved into a thin smile as she pressed the dagger in just a touch deeper. Her gaze searched his expression with a quiet intensity. "So this doesn't scare you? Not even now? You don't feel a single drop of fear?"

His reply came without hesitation. "No."

There was no bravado in his tone—just tired certainty. Death had visited him too often. The edge of fear had long since dulled, replaced by a quiet acceptance. There were worse things than dying, and Subaru had met most of them. 

Elsa sighed, a soft exhale that carried equal parts disappointment and curiosity. With slow deliberation, she pulled the dagger back and let her arm fall to her side. "Pity. I thought you might be a little more jumpy after a drink or two. Guess I overestimated the effect."

Subaru exhaled through his nose, half amusement, half irritation. "You really thought you could catch me off guard? Not tonight, Elsa."

She shrugged, then turned her attention to the sleeping girls. Her expression softened slightly as she gently adjusted their blankets, brushing a strand of hair from Meili's face and tucking it behind her ear. For a killer, her hands moved with surprising tenderness.

Subaru crouched down, reaching beneath the bed to pull out two shadow-black cloaks woven with thin threads of magic. He tossed one to Elsa, who caught it without even looking.

"So," she said, tone lighter now but still edged with mischief, "who's on the chopping block first?"

"Russel Fellow," Subaru muttered. He crossed to the window, fingers deftly closing the lock, then turned and extended a hand toward her.

She raised an eyebrow. "Holding hands already? How scandalous."

"It's not for romance," he replied. "It's for survival."

Despite her teasing, she placed her hand in his without protest.

[Yin Step - Active]

"Get ready," he said, his voice low, the air around them beginning to tremble with dark energy.

"Wait—what do you—"

Before she could finish, the shadows exploded. A ripple passed through the floor, and reality itself seemed to bend. The space beneath their feet dissolved into smoke. With a soundless pull, they began to sink into the earth like whispers swallowed by darkness.

Elsa's eyes darted around. The walls, the ceiling, the very room above them—everything was melting away into black mist. Only silence remained.

"What is this sorcery?" she asked, not out of fear but curiosity, her voice echoing faintly in the void.

Subaru released her hand, though their descent continued. His voice floated to her in the darkness. "A spell I developed with Beatrice. Yin mana—we use it to slip through the world unnoticed. Like ink bleeding into water. Now I can take passengers."

Elsa narrowed her eyes, folding her arms as she hovered mid-air. "You're evolving faster than I expected. It's... impressive."

He didn't answer. The silence that followed wasn't cold—it was focused. Subaru's eyes stared ahead into the void, already visualizing the next step, the next enemy, the next death that might be required to survive.

Together, they fell deeper into the shadows. And the hunt began.

When they arrived at Russel's estate, the night was wrapped in a tense, unsettling stillness that seemed to stretch endlessly. The sky was a deep obsidian, thick with roiling clouds that blotted out the stars. A cold wind wound through the trees, whistling low as if warning of the shadows creeping beneath it. In the garden, lanterns flickered like watchful eyes, casting long, uncertain shadows across the gravel paths.

The mansion itself was a hive of activity. Guards marched in swift, practiced strides, their armor clinking faintly as they exchanged tense nods. Servants moved in hasty patterns, arms burdened with crates, cloth bundles, and gleaming utensils. Voices were hushed, commands sharp and clipped. In one corner of the estate, several large tents had been set up, steam rising from them like breath in the cold air. The scent of herbs and heated metal drifted out, suggesting medical preparations—or something more clandestine.

Hidden in the shifting darkness, Elsa and Subaru observed silently. Their presence was like a ripple in the fabric of night, nearly imperceptible. Elsa's eyes scanned the grounds with the calm precision of a predator, taking in every motion, every deviation from routine. Subaru stood beside her, his senses expanded by sheer instinct and discipline. Thanks to Yin Step, they weren't invisible in the magical sense, but they might as well have been; no sound, no footprint betrayed their passage.

A sudden burst of shouting from within the mansion broke the rhythm of the night. Subaru's gaze snapped toward a lit window near the upper floor. He gave Elsa a subtle nod. Wordlessly, the two slipped forward, their movements fluid and noiseless as they pressed against the outer wall of the room. With a pulse of Yin mana, they melded into the vibrations of the stone, slipping their awareness through the wall like smoke seeping through cracks.

Inside the chamber, Russel stood with his arms outstretched, his voice cracking through the silence like a whip.

"So you're telling me the damned whale is surfacing now, Belmont?! And you said nothing?! Crusch Karsten has already begun preparations—behind my back!"

Belmont stood rigid, head bowed deeply, his fingers trembling at his sides. His expression flickered between guilt and fear, as though uncertain which emotion might spare him. "My lord... Crusch Karsten cannot defeat the White Whale. You know this better than anyone. Eventually, they'll come crawling for your support. If we play this correctly, your name will be tied to their so-called victory. Your prestige will rise uncontested. That was the plan. I acted in its spirit. I apologize for not relaying the update sooner."

Subaru's brow furrowed. His lips thinned to a sharp, straight line. Elsa, on the other hand, smirked, her voice a near-whisper of amusement. "Classic noble scheming... same dance, different masks."

Subaru exhaled quietly. "Russel only values power. People's lives are just stones on his climb upward."

Russel began to pace, stroking his beard as his footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor. The heat of his anger had cooled into something more dangerous—calculating, venomous.

"It doesn't matter if they win or lose. This kind of chaos breeds opportunity. And opportunity... is all that matters. Very well. As Director of the Six Tongues, I'll see to it that Karsten's campaign falters. We'll strike her supply lines, cripple her internal logistics. If need be, I'll slip word to the Witch Cult through my contacts. That battlefront will collapse before it fully rises."

He paused at the window, looking out over his estate. The flickering lanterns reflected in his eyes like flames.

"But tomorrow's royal summit... that's the true battlefield. All five royal candidates in one place—so many ambitions under a single roof. Felt, Priscilla, Anastasia—they can be manipulated or outshined. But Crusch and Emilia... they're different. Crusch is unshakable. And Emilia... she's surrounded by dangerous minds. That clown Roswaal. And that unpredictable bastard, Natsuki Subaru. He's the wild card. The real threat."

Belmont straightened, his voice measured and reverent. "Russel-sama, with all due respect, I don't believe the Emilia faction poses a significant risk. Emilia herself is half-devil. Fragile by design. Your last encounter with her showed how naive she is to the intricacies of politics. She's soft-hearted—too easily moved. Like a bloom in frost. Beautiful, but doomed."

From within the stone wall, Subaru heard every word. His jaw clenched tightly, his hands curling into fists. An ember of rage ignited in his chest. Shadows around him quivered like coiled serpents, drawn to the fury in his soul. They seemed to respond to him now, echoing the storm he barely contained.

Elsa noticed it too. She glanced sideways at Subaru, her smirk fading into something more serious.

Russel, oblivious, continued. "You may be right, Belmont. She may be fragile. But there's strength in unpredictability. There's danger in those we underestimate. Still, if they become too great a nuisance... we may have to remove them entirely."

He turned slowly, his face cast half in shadow. "Let the game continue for now. But be ready. If it turns to blood... then so be it. Some wars end in treaties. Others require a blade."

The room fell silent. Only the wind howled faintly beyond the window, as if it too sensed what was to come.

Subaru cast a brief glance at Elsa. Her eyes met his with the same grave intensity, a shared understanding dancing between them like a blade's edge glinting in dim light. The silence wasn't awkward—it was a spoken vow, a confirmation of the carnage that was about to unfold. Shadows trembled as their determination solidified into a singular, unified will. Without exchanging a word, they moved.

They launched forward like vengeful spirits unleashed from a forgotten abyss. Ghosts with purpose.

Elsa struck first.

With uncanny speed, she descended upon Belmont like a thunderbolt. Her figure blurred, and the next instant her daggers had already sunk into flesh.

"W-what the hell is happening?!" Belmont gasped, his voice cracking under the pressure of pain. But before he could finish the thought, his cry spiraled into a gut-wrenching scream. Elsa's blades slashed through him in fluid, merciless arcs, painting the floor red. Each wound she inflicted was not merely a cut—it was a brushstroke on the canvas of her obsession. Her smile was wide, gleaming, deranged. She wasn't just killing. She was indulging.

To Elsa, this wasn't murder. It was art.

She giggled under her breath, eyes wild with thrill. "Such fragile skin... you really should've stayed quiet."

Meanwhile, Subaru moved with a silence more oppressive than any shout. He stepped before Russel, his figure casting a shadow that seemed heavier than it should be. His eyes, cold and unreadable, bore into the man.

Russel trembled. He could feel it—death wasn't coming from Subaru. Death was Subaru.

"Wh-what do you want from me?!" Russel barked, trying to mask fear with defiance.

Subaru's voice was low, steady—like a judgment already passed.

"You'll never know. But your decisions, your alliances, your corruption... they've cost lives. They've delayed me. You've made yourself a problem, Russel. And I'm here to erase problems."

Suddenly, chaos erupted behind them. A door slammed open, and multiple guards burst into the room, alarmed by the screams. Their guns were already drawn, panic fueling their voices as they barked orders they barely understood themselves.

Elsa turned slowly, her eyes lighting up like a child discovering a new toy.

"Oh, don't stop now... more fun has arrived!" she chimed, and like a wraith, she hurled herself at them.

Subaru didn't even glance back. His focus was absolute.

Elsa had changed. Once a silent assassin, efficient and mysterious, she was now something else entirely. Her movements were more feral, almost ritualistic. Though she lacked magical aptitude, the cursecraft she'd learned from Halibel had filled that void and then some. Her daggers sang with unnatural sharpness. Her wounds closed too fast. She was... wrong, in a way that defied explanation.

In the quiet of his mind, a whisper slithered in—Flugel.

"No need to kill him," came the ancient voice, both familiar and faraway. "Inject a curse. Make him yours. A marionette with clipped strings. Obedient. Broken. Useful."

Subaru didn't hesitate. He raised his dagger, pressing its tip against Russel's throat, the cold metal drawing a gasp.

Russel froze. Sweat broke from every pore. His heart raced in his ears.

"Wait! Don't! Please—I can be useful! I have contacts, resources, secrets! You want information? I'll give you everything! Just don't kill me!"

Subaru's breath slowed. A pause hung between them, heavier than steel.

"Is that so..."

The dagger moved just slightly, just enough to break the skin. Russel gasped as a trickle of blood traced a line down his neck.

Inside his mind, Subaru murmured, "Flugel. Now."

Flugel answered with a weary breath. "Then it is done. The Curse of Absolute Control. Should he act against you, even once... his body will betray him. He'll die from the inside—silent, slow, excruciating."

Suddenly, a stream of viscous black liquid oozed from the blade. It sank into Russel's wound and disappeared beneath his skin. The veins in his neck darkened as the substance spread, crawling through him like an invisible fire.

Russel gagged. His legs gave way, and he collapsed to his knees.

The room around them was a whirlwind of death and sound—Elsa's laughter, gunshots, screams—but for Subaru and Russel, it was as if time had slowed.

Subaru pulled the dagger away, its tip stained with more than just blood. "I'm sparing you," he said. "But only so you can serve me. You're bound now, body and soul. Your will is irrelevant."

Russel tried to speak. Nothing came out. The curse was alive in him. It wrapped around his voice, his lungs, his thoughts.

Subaru knelt down beside him.

"You don't have to understand. Just obey. If you try to resist me, or so much as think about harming a Royal... you'll die. And it won't be quick. You'll feel every nerve burn while your body refuses to scream. So tell me, Russel... will you crawl, or will you rot?"

Russel collapsed fully, gasping for breath he barely believed he deserved. Every inch of his body shook.

His lips moved, but they made no sound. Fear had stolen even that.

Subaru stood tall, the shadows clinging to him like a second skin. Russel's strings had been severed—and replaced.

Beads of sweat rolled down Russel's face, eyes wide with disbelief. "W-who... are you?" he finally croaked, like a child too broken to cry.

Subaru stepped forward. Slowly, he pulled back his hood, revealing a face that had long since forgotten mercy. His eyes shimmered like frostbitten stars under a moonless sky.

"Natsuki Subaru," he said. "And if you ever speak of me—if you even breathe my name—I'll make sure every second you continue to exist becomes a curse in itself. This isn't a warning. This is a prophecy."

The sentence hung in the air like a blade suspended in time, gleaming with accusation and unspoken judgment, and all Russel could do was swallow his fear. His throat felt raw, parched from dread, and his legs trembled beneath him, knees threatening to collapse under the crushing weight of what he had just witnessed. Words caught like thorns behind clenched teeth, and the thunderous pounding of his own heartbeat drowned out all rational thought. Shame curled inside his gut like a serpent, cold and coiled, tightening with every breath. His gaze stayed locked on the figure ahead, the one who had rendered judgment not with a weapon, but with silence.

Meanwhile, Subaru turned away without another word. His expression was unreadable, carved from stone, and his aura radiated a chill that suffocated the room. He moved in silence toward Elsa, each step echoing with authority, each placement of his foot deliberate, careful—as if walking the edge of a knife in a world built from shadows and blood. The blood-stained chamber seemed to inhale with him, the walls groaning in tune with his decision, as though even the structure could sense the finality in his stride.

Elsa stood at the epicenter of carnage, the eye of a storm made from lacerated flesh and shattered bones. Her posture was relaxed, unhurried, like a cat perched atop its prey. Her gaze lingered lovingly over the pile of broken bodies strewn across the stone floor, as if admiring her own magnum opus. She wore a smile that was both serene and twisted—a contradiction of tranquility and madness, the peace found in destruction. Blood had soaked into the crevices of the floor, pooling in grotesque patterns, and the heavy scent of rust, death, and something faintly metallic hung in the air like incense at a twisted ritual. Subaru's stomach turned, but his face betrayed nothing.

"Elsa. We're leaving," Subaru said at last, his voice slicing through the silence like a blade. It was sharp, absolute. There was no room for debate, no opening for negotiation. Not a command, but an edict.

Elsa turned slowly, gracefully, her long dark hair swaying behind her like a curtain of silk. Her smile widened, teeth flashing white. "But I was just getting started," she replied with a mock pout, her voice airy, like a lover's tease. Beneath the teasing, however, danced something far more primal—a thrill, a high she wasn't ready to come down from.

Subaru didn't offer a reply. He stepped into the shadows, merging with the darkness as though it recognized him. Elsa gave a soft, exaggerated sigh, brushing a blood-matted lock of hair from her face before following him. The shadows closed in around them like a sentient veil, swallowing them whole. Silence, once more, consumed the room.

As they traversed the formless corridors of shadow, Subaru finally broke the quiet, his voice little more than a whisper. "Next stop: the Darneil Estate. Everyone there is yours. Do whatever you want."

The effect on Elsa was instantaneous. Her eyes sparkled like gemstones catching firelight, and her grin bloomed into a childlike expression of unfiltered joy. Without hesitation, she lunged forward and threw her arms around Subaru from behind, clutching him tightly. "Finally!" she exclaimed, her voice bursting with delight. She buried her face in his back for a moment, sighing like she had received the one thing she'd yearned for all her life.

Subaru stood still. He did not return the embrace. He didn't react at all.

Is this really what I've become? The thought crept through his mind like a spider, quiet and unwelcome. A man who hands over lives so easily? A man who leads monsters to slaughter?

They moved deeper into the veil of shadow, toward a place whose very name felt lost to time. The Darneil Estate—a manor cloaked in wealth and mystery. No one could recall the full name of its owner. They only remembered the whispers: Darneil, the recluse, the collector, the man with a past layered in secrets and sins. As they arrived, its towering walls stretched upward like the ribs of a colossal beast. Moonlight cast grotesque silhouettes that twisted and danced like spirits mourning their own deaths.

Emerging from the shadows, Subaru pressed his back against a massive iron door. Its matte black surface drank in the moonlight, and it was cold—so very cold. His hand lingered on the surface, drawing not just steadiness but detachment, as though the chill could numb the rot blooming in his soul. He turned to Elsa.

"I'll wait here. Make it quick."

She gave him a wink and a nod, her smile full of promise and malice, then slipped inside like smoke. The moment she disappeared, Subaru let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and slid down the wall to the ground. He sat, back against the stone, legs splayed out, and let his head fall back.

"I'm exhausted..."

He hadn't meant to say it aloud. It just slipped out—like truth often does in moments of weakness.

His eyelids grew heavy, vision blurring as the pulse of shadow around him quieted. There was no struggle, no resistance. Darkness claimed him softly, like a mother drawing a blanket over a sleeping child. It was dreamless, mercifully so. No images of what he'd allowed, what he was becoming. Just stillness.

When he awoke, it was unclear how much time had passed. The world felt muted. Then he felt it—the warmth at his side. Turning slowly, Subaru found Elsa curled up beside him, her body draped against his like ivy climbing a wall. One arm rested on his waist, not possessive but relaxed. Her knives were nowhere in sight. Her face, stripped of its usual edge, held a serenity he would never have associated with her. It was unsettling.

She looked... peaceful. Maybe even content.

What do you dream about, Elsa? Subaru wondered. Do monsters dream of anything but blood?

The air around them was still heavy with the scent of iron and scorched wood. Blood had dried in thick trails along the walls, dark like old wine. Every surface bore testimony to what she'd done. And yet, in this bubble of quiet, it felt like a different world.

Subaru nudged her gently.

She stirred immediately. Her eyes fluttered open, and a pleased hum escaped her lips as she stretched like a contented cat. "What a lovely nap~ Cuddling you was surprisingly warm. I get why Hikari and Beako-chan like it."

Subaru pushed himself to his feet, stretching until his spine cracked in protest. He glanced at his bloodstained coat, then up at the darkened sky outside the window.

"No idea how long we were out, but we need to move. The sun's coming up. And we smell like death warmed over. We need a bath."

Elsa rose beside him, brushing dust and dried blood from her clothes. She gave a languid yawn, her arms stretching high. "Sleeping next to you was more enjoyable than I expected. You're soft for someone with such hard eyes. But fine. Duty calls."

Subaru closed his eyes and summoned the energy within. He felt it in his veins—the Yin mana, cool and familiar. He called it forth with practiced intent.

[Yin Step - Active]

The shadows curled around them once more, dragging them back into the quiet between moments. The hidden channels that flowed beneath the surface of the world welcomed them.

As they traveled, a familiar voice whispered in Subaru's mind, subtle as a breeze through dry leaves.

"You're pushing the ability too often. Your reserves are low. That's why you're so tired. Still... you're improving. The shadows obey you more willingly now."

Flugel. His mentor, his phantom. Watching always, guiding sometimes.

Before they reached Crusch's estate, Elsa suddenly stopped and grabbed Subaru's arm. The grip was light, but certain. Her eyes, for once, lacked malice.

"This is where I split off. Leave the window open tonight."

Subaru met her gaze, quiet understanding passing between them. There was something familiar in this exchange, a rhythm to it, as if it had happened before—and would happen again.

"Alright."

No more words were spoken. The shadows surged again, lifting him from that place.

But for just a moment, as the darkness cradled him like an old friend, Subaru couldn't help but think:

When did the darkness begin to feel like home?

When he arrived at the mansion, Subaru slipped quietly into his room like a ghost returning from battle. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, the tension wound tightly through his frame seemed to unravel ever so slightly. His robe, soaked with blood and the memories of violence, clung to him like a curse. Without hesitation, he summoned the shadows. They crawled up his limbs and across the fabric like living ink, devouring the stained garments until not even a single thread remained. The air shimmered faintly as the remnants vanished into the void.

He stood still for a moment, listening to the distant hum of the mansion's sleeping heart. Then he stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Steam billowed outward, curling against the cold tiles. The water was blistering hot, but he didn't flinch. It flowed over his body, tracing every scar, bruise, and hidden ache. Each drop seemed to strip away a layer of his exhaustion, yet the pain behind his eyes remained. It wasn't just physical—it was the weight of choices, of lives lost and gained again through death, and of burdens no one else could see.

When the water finally stopped, Subaru stepped out into the warm air and dried himself with mechanical slowness. He changed into soft, clean clothes—loose-fitting pants and a light shirt that smelled faintly of lavender and wood smoke. The simplicity of it, the normalcy, was disorienting. He crossed the room and approached the bed. The soft breaths of the girls sleeping there—Hikari, Beatrice, and Meili—blended into a gentle harmony that wrapped around him. Their presence was real. Steady. Alive.

He pulled back the blankets and carefully slipped beneath them. Every movement was practiced, cautious. He didn't want to wake them. As he settled between them, he felt their warmth on either side. He didn't know how long he could stay like this. Maybe he'd sleep for minutes. Maybe a few hours. Or maybe he'd lie awake, pretending. But for the first time in what felt like days, his body stopped shaking. His eyes closed slowly. And the shadows that once wrapped around him in fury and survival now curled at his feet like a faithful hound.

Morning came with soft, golden fingers slipping through the window. They painted long lines across the floor and danced over the sleeping figures. Beatrice stirred first, her eyelashes trembling as she emerged from slumber. Her body, so small and yet so potent with magical energy, shifted beneath the thin blanket. She blinked slowly, her vision clearing in the dim light. The sensation of warmth all around her was strange, but no longer foreign. There was a time—not long ago—when she would have rejected this intimacy, recoiled from shared space and breath. But those days were fading.

She sat up slowly, the blanket falling from her shoulders like morning mist. Her eyes settled on Subaru. He looked even paler in the morning light, his skin almost translucent. The bruising beneath his eyes was deep and cruel, and his lips were parted slightly in a breath so shallow it might have been mistaken for stillness. There was no twitch of consciousness, no stir of dreams. Just a deep, engulfing sleep.

"He looks exhausted, doesn't he?" The voice, low and calm, broke the silence like a ripple across a still lake.

Flugel hovered just beneath the ceiling, his body suspended effortlessly in the air. The light from the window caught the edge of his silhouette, casting a long, delicate shadow across the room. From his frame pulsed a soft, resonant energy—barely visible but unmistakably powerful.

Beatrice turned her head sharply, but she did not flinch. "Good morning, Master Flugel. Yes... he does. Do you know why he looks like this?"

Flugel descended slowly, folding his arms behind his back, his expression unreadable. "He hasn't had proper rest in days. His mana usage is far beyond what his body was meant to handle. Yin-based spells require not just skill, but endurance—and he's been casting them without restraint."

He paused, letting the silence settle.

"On top of that," he continued, "he's supporting you. Channeling mana to keep your form stable. And your consumption is... excessive. Not because you're weak—but because your spirit is still fighting to fully exist in this plane. And he's giving more than he has to keep you anchored."

Beatrice looked down at her lap. Her small hands clenched around the edge of the blanket. The guilt was immediate and heavy.

"Betty didn't mean for him to suffer... If I weren't here, maybe he would be able to rest. Maybe he wouldn't be this tired."

Flugel landed beside her and knelt, his hand rising to ruffle her hair. His touch was surprisingly warm, and his tone softened.

"This isn't your fault, Betty. Subaru's nature compels him to act. But I've been studying something about you—about your connection to this world. I think I might be able to change your burden... into strength."

Beatrice blinked up at him. "Change me? How?"

Flugel smiled faintly. There was something ancient in his eyes. "By transforming your core. Turning you from an artificial spirit into a natural one. A being in full harmony with this world's laws. If we succeed, your mana will renew itself naturally. You'll be able to draw from the atmosphere, just like Puck did. And Subaru won't have to strain himself just to keep you present."

Beatrice's breath caught in her throat. Her fingers trembled. "But... would I still be me? If you change my nature—if my very soul is rewritten—won't I disappear?"

Flugel shook his head slowly. "Change does not mean erasure, Betty. Evolution is not annihilation. You can become more—stronger, freer—without losing yourself. But it will take time. Preparation. A path neither of us can fully see yet."

He looked once more at Subaru, who remained lost in sleep, unmoving. "For now, though... it's time to wake him. He's slept long enough. And the world won't wait for him to catch up."

The room fell into a moment of quiet once more, the morning stillness wrapping around them like fragile glass before the day shattered it apart.

Beatrice gently nodded and began to shake Subaru softly. Her small hands nudged his shoulder, and her voice came as a whisper, trembling slightly with worry. "Subaru... please wake up." But there was no response. His face had grown pale—almost translucent—as though the very essence of life had withdrawn from the surface. The veins beneath his skin had become faintly visible in a ghostly shade of blue, winding like fragile rivers beneath a winter sky.

"Did he... faint?" Beatrice murmured the question again, almost to herself, the concern in her voice rising like a rising tide. Her fingers clutched at his sleeve, shaking him a little harder, hoping—begging—for any kind of reaction. But Subaru's breathing remained calm and steady. It wasn't irregular... just too deep, too still. As if his consciousness had drifted somewhere unreachable, somewhere far beyond the veil of the physical world.

Then came Flugel's calm, familiar voice, echoing gently yet firmly in the air like a bell struck in a dream. "Do not worry, little Betty. He's only sleeping. But in this condition, attending today's meeting is out of the question. His body won't obey him. His spiritual energy is... unstable. The balance between mind and vessel has thinned."

"Then what do we do?" Beatrice asked, her brows knitting in worry. It wasn't panic, but it was something deeper—weightier. A sense of helplessness she hadn't felt in years. She glanced at Subaru's face again, searching for signs of his usual stubborn resilience, but found only that eerie serenity.

Flugel faded from sight without a sound. The air grew still. A few seconds passed—silent, tense, endless. Then, Subaru's body stirred slightly. His eyelids fluttered open, almost like petals in a hesitant breeze. But the eyes that gazed out were not Subaru's.

They radiated coldness, ancient wisdom... and unbearable heaviness. His hair had turned a silvery-white, strands glowing faintly like moonlight trapped in snowfall. His posture was perfectly upright, every motion deliberate and fluid, as though he were sculpted from still water and moved by thought alone.

"I will attend the meeting in his place," the voice said. Subaru's mouth moved, but the tone belonged unmistakably to Flugel. Each word was slow, enunciated, saturated with control—like a monarch who knew every syllable was law.

Beatrice's eyes narrowed, guarded. "Master... your hair, your eyes, even the way you speak—it's all different. What if someone realizes you're not Subaru? People don't take kindly to deception."

Flugel gave a faint smile, his expression serene but distant, and closed his eyes for a moment. In that instant, his hair and eyes returned to their usual black, his expression subtly dulling, his posture purposefully slouching—the old familiar Subaru slinking back into shape like a skin worn well.

"And now? I believe I draw far less suspicion this way, wouldn't you agree?"

Beatrice allowed herself a slight smile, though her worry hadn't vanished. Despite her concern, she admired the attention to detail. "Much better. But what about mana consumption? Isn't that still a problem? Possession isn't supposed to be... this smooth."

Flugel stood tall, stretching his hands slightly as a soft pulse of aura rippled through the room like a heartbeat of divinity. "Not anymore. I'm drawing directly from the Authorities now. No strain on the body. No time limit. I can remain in this vessel as long as necessary. And to prevent overexertion, I've activated his limiters. It's... sustainable."

Beatrice listened quietly. She gave a small nod in reply. For Subaru's well-being... and for the sake of this world... maybe letting Flugel take over for a while truly was the right call. A tight knot of unease still lingered in her chest, but the resolve in her eyes did not fade. She would keep watching. She would be there to take back what was Subaru's, when the time came.

Not long after, Hikari and Meili began to wake. The soft murmur of Flugel and Beatrice speaking had stirred them gently from their dreams. Meili yawned, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands as she looked around with a sleepy gaze. Morning light had filled the room with a calm, golden warmth, casting soft glows on every corner, like the world itself was trying to keep them safe for just a while longer.

As her eyes landed on Subaru, they sparkled instantly, and the last traces of sleep vanished from her expression like mist in sunlight.

"Subaru-nii! Good morning!" she called out cheerfully. She slipped out of bed and toddled over, wrapping her arms around him with a tight, affectionate hug. Her warmth was real, pure, unquestioning.

Flugel, inside Subaru's body, returned the embrace gently, mindful of every gesture. "Good morning, Meili. Did you sleep well? Any sweet dreams?"

Meili nodded eagerly, her face blooming with joy. "Yes! I feel amazing! Like I could fly! I dreamed I was riding on a dragon made of stars!"

Flugel offered a soft chuckle, a flicker of amusement reaching his otherwise distant gaze. "I'm glad to hear that. Dreams are often fragments of the soul's truth. Yours are still untainted."

His eyes shifted toward the other bed, where Hikari now sat quietly. She didn't move. Her golden eyes were locked on him—not on the body, but the being inside it. There was no warmth in her expression, but her eyes burned with intensity.

She wasn't fooled.

She was observing. Analyzing. Watching the shifts in movement, the change in presence, the intangible weight in the air. There was something ancient in her gaze—like a mirror to Flugel's own. Not a child's gaze, but that of someone who had seen beyond veils others couldn't.

Stillness filled the room again. But it was no longer the stillness of sleep. It was the calm before something greater. A gathering tension, unseen but not unfelt.

And Hikari's eyes did not blink.

She had questions.

And she would get her answers soon—whether Flugel was ready or not.

Flugel turned his attention to Meili, his voice warm but laced with a subtle urgency. "Meili, could you check on Rem and Emilia? I wonder if they're awake yet. I'm sure, like you, they're brimming with morning energy." He tried to sound lighthearted, masking the tension coiling deep within his chest.

Meili giggled and gave a playful salute. "You're nervous because of yesterday's fight, aren't you? It got pretty intense, after all. But no worries! Leave it to me, Subaru-nii!" With an impish grin, she skipped out of the room, her footsteps light and confident, her carefree attitude cutting through the somber air like sunlight through clouds.

As the door clicked shut behind her, a heavy silence settled over the room. Hikari climbed down from the bed, her every movement slow and deliberate, as though each step carried the weight of questions too vast for her small frame. She didn't say a word at first. Her eyes, still glowing faintly with mysterious light, stayed fixed on Flugel. There was no innocence in her gaze—only a haunting, quiet determination.

"Where is Onii-chan?" she finally asked. Her voice wasn't filled with worry or sadness, but with a subdued hunger—for knowledge, for understanding, for truth.

Flugel raised his hands slowly, a gesture of peace. "I'm your brother too, Hikari. You know that. But Subaru is resting now. He's completely exhausted. That's why I'm here in his place today. You must've felt it—the way his aura has dulled. He's in a deep sleep. His soul needs time to recover."

Hikari stepped closer. Her bare feet made no sound against the wooden floor. She reached out and gently placed her hand on Flugel's chest, right over his heart. The air between them tensed. Her expression was calm, but her gaze pierced him. "You're right... He's really not there. Not right now. But what made him so tired? What happened to drain him like this?"

Beatrice, who had been leaning against the nearby wall with arms crossed, sighed heavily. Her voice came softly but firmly. "He's been pushing himself too hard. Drawing mana constantly, almost obsessively. He doesn't stop—not for sleep, not for food, not for himself. His body can't keep up anymore. And his soul... it's wearing thin."

Hikari looked down, her fingers curling slightly at her sides. The room seemed to dim for a heartbeat. "Onii-chan is doing all this... for us. For everyone. But no one sees it. No one notices how much he's hurting. They just expect him to keep going, like he's unbreakable. But he's not. He's just... him. And I hate that I don't understand more. I want to understand."

With that, she turned and walked out. Her small frame disappeared down the hallway, her last words hanging heavy in the air like ash.

Flugel didn't move. His expression was frozen, distant. His eyes looked past the walls, past the garden, into memories too old and painful to name. 'I know everything,' he thought. 'Every path, every choice, every wound I've carried. I've endured so much... kept walking forward through pain so deep it erased who I used to be. But were my choices ever truly right? Did I protect anyone at all?'

Beatrice approached him gently. She reached for his hand, her touch light as a feather. But it was enough. Enough to break the fog. He blinked and exhaled sharply.

"Come on," she said, her voice soft but determined. "Let's go to the meeting. Bring the cookies Subaru got for you and Hikari. I have a feeling things are going to be... unpleasant. Might as well bring something sweet."

Soon, both factions gathered in the garden of the Karsten Mansion. The morning sun filtered through leaves painted silver with dew, casting golden streaks along the garden paths. Birds chirped quietly, and the air carried the scent of jasmine and freshly turned soil. It should've felt peaceful—but tension simmered underneath the surface.

Flugel stood beside Patrasche, gently stroking her mane. The dragon-horse nudged his shoulder, her eyes full of recognition and loyalty. Even now, she remembered the scent of her master, even if his soul wore a different face.

Then, slow, tentative footsteps approached. It was Rem. She walked toward Flugel with measured grace, her hands folded over her stomach, her expression conflicted but resolute.

"Subaru-kun. About what we discussed yesterday..." she began, bowing her head slightly. Her voice trembled just enough to betray the storm beneath.

Flugel turned to face her, his gaze steady. "I'm listening."

Rem looked into his eyes for a long moment before speaking again. "I want to come with you. Wherever you go. I know I'm still a maid of the Mathers Mansion, and I always took pride in that. But now... it doesn't feel like home anymore. Not without you. I want to be where you are. I want to walk the path you walk."

A soft smile touched Flugel's lips. Slowly, he opened his arms. "That means more to me than you know. I'd be honored to have you by my side, Rem. And don't worry about Roswaal—I'll deal with him. You won't face him alone."

For a moment, Rem stood frozen, stunned by the warmth in his voice. Her heart swelled, and tears welled up before she could stop them. She rushed forward, her steps quickening until she was in his arms.

And she held him tightly.

Though the body was Subaru's, the feelings were Flugel's—raw, real, undeniable. The scent of her hair, the warmth of her embrace, the quiet rhythm of her breath against his chest... It was everything he didn't realize he missed. Everything he once believed he had no right to feel again.

Time seemed to pause. The garden held its breath. Wind fell still, birds went quiet, and even the leaves stopped dancing. In that single embrace was an apology for the past, and a fragile promise for whatever future might come next. And for the first time in what felt like centuries, Flugel let himself hope.