Re:Zero: No Job, No Magic, Just a Stupid Romance System

  Winter snow valley.

  The smile of the white-haired girl is more beautiful than the moonlight.

  For some reason, Allen, who was watching this scene, felt a nameless fire rising from deep within his heart. This fire made his mind numb and his body cold.

  As a swordsman, the hand holding the sword should always be steady.

  But under the cover of night, Allen's palm was trembling.

  This had only happened twice—similar in form, but utterly different in substance.

  The similarity was that both happened under the gaze of the same person.

  The difference was the expression in that person's eyes.

  The first time was in a dream, where the green-haired girl's eyes were dull and lifeless.

  The second time was at the bottom of this valley, where the white-haired girl's eyes were happy and burning with warmth.

  Sylphy's fiery gaze mingled with the fire in Allen's chest, igniting his heart. Subconsciously, he reached out, as if wanting to touch Sylphy's hair—now snow-white due to her drained magic.

  But the moment he raised his hand, it froze in the air.

  His gaze fixed again on her white hair, and in that instant, he understood why his heart was burning.

  It was because of the crumpled "memo" in the drawer of the Greyrat household.

  Behind the densely packed "future visions" he had written down countless times over the past year, Allen had constantly tortured himself:

  Should he give up the future vision? Should he try to change the future?

  Could he prevent the consequences of the Great Teleportation?

  In the storyline Allen now found himself a part of, could Paul be saved from death? Could Senis's laughter still echo within the Greyrat household?

  And… could Sylphy's hair have remained the beautiful emerald green he loved?

  If she hadn't been teleported to a high altitude, if she hadn't had to burn all her magic power to survive…

  Then maybe… maybe she wouldn't have gone white.

  But now, even before the Great Teleportation happened—when it felt like he still had time to make different choices—Sylphy's hair had already turned white.

  Ahead of the original timeline, under Allen's own gaze, triggered by the butterfly effect—

  It just turned white.

  He hadn't even had a chance to react.

  Allen's thoughts spun wildly.

  But Sylphy's movement was faster.

  As his hand lingered, suspended in hesitation, a pair of soft, small hands gently wrapped around it.

  Allen looked up at Sylphy. Her face held a hint of apology, and with great care, she brought his hand to the snowy-white hair brushing her cheek.

  He froze.

  Sylphy, clearly tired, smiled a little awkwardly.

  Allen's palm was rough, calloused from years of sword practice. That familiar touch gave her peace and security.

  A green light rose from Sylphy's palm and spread into Allen's body.

  A chantless healing spell.

  In the quiet of night, her exhausted voice remained soft and gentle.

  "Allen's expression is a little scary. I know you could have saved yourself—your skills are more than enough. That's why you wanted to throw us out mid-air. But…"

  She looked into Allen's eyes, her words apologetic, but her gaze firm.

  "I was still worried. How's your back? Is it healed now? I've been studying healing spells carefully. See? I can even use them without chanting now. Last year you said once I got good enough, I could help you. But I never got the chance. And your sword style really does wear your body down…"

  "I just wanted to say…"

  "Maybe… Allen needs me."

  Allen stared at her, dazed, and suddenly realized—

  His butterfly had already caused a storm.

  Over the past year, Sylphy had not only copied his expressions, but also learned to speak like Roxy.

  Her personality, too, had shifted. While still gentle at her core, her stubbornness—once buried in childhood inferiority—had started to emerge early.

  In the original story, this trait only truly showed through her loyalty to Ariel. When with Rudy, she was mostly the gentle, nurturing wife.

  But Allen remembered the old timeline clearly—how, even in grief after Roxy's death, Sylphy still followed Ariel and Luke to the capital, without much preparation, and ultimately died.

  As those jumbled thoughts raced through his mind—

  A soft body collapsed into his arms.

  Allen snapped out of his daze.

  "Sylphy?"

  "I'm okay, just tired. I think I burned too much magic. But don't worry—I managed to heal you."

  Looking at her lying against him, Allen felt a strange pressure in his chest. Something inside him was about to overflow—but there was no time.

  The stench of monsters still clung heavily to the air.

  Sylphy seemed to want to say something more, but Allen raised a finger and flicked her forehead. Then, without warning, he turned and hurled her toward the cliffside.

  The cliff cracked open. With precise control, Allen's fighting energy dug deep into the stone, carving out a small, hole-filled cave in mere seconds.

  As Sylphy covered her face in startled protest, Allen scooped her up and tucked her inside.

  "This way, even if monsters burrow into the cliffs, we'll detect it in advance. And this whole situation… it was because of my suggestion. So leave the rest to me."

  Sylphy peeked at him between her fingers.

  Allen had already turned his back to her.

  His arm rose in the darkness.

  He swung his sword—vibrating it with energy.

  The blade's wind surged outward in ripples.

  Before he'd even moved far, a tide of monsters had already gathered.

  They were instantly turned into blood mist.

  Fragments of flesh and blood rained down onto Allen's back.

  His voice reached Sylphy, floating gently through the air.

  "Close your eyes. Rest. Regain your magic."

  "Don't look. Don't listen. Don't think."

  Beyond the outline of Allen's back, in the thick blackness of the valley, scarlet eyes filled the dark like swarms of bees.

  There was no end in sight.

  The monsters were terrifying.

  But Sylphy only looked at Allen's back—his wounds were healed.

  She let out a soft sigh and obediently closed her eyes.

  "Okay. But you'll have to wait a long time for your next healing."

  "It's fine. I still have plenty of energy."

  "…Don't lie. Teacher said in her letter you're a big liar."

  "Trust me. Just wait."

  Sylphy smiled faintly and leaned against the stone wall.

  "Okay, I believe you. But… how long do I have to wait?"

  "…If your magic is fully spent, it'll take at least one night to recover. So, you'll need to wait for me."

  In the darkness, Allen smiled. He looked out at the endless ocean of monsters rolling toward him—and raised his broken blade.

  The monsters roared.

  The beast tide surged.

  The ground shook.

  And his voice rang through the night wind:

  "Fight until dawn!!"