The reception room was quiet when Subaru entered, but the tension in the air was palpable.
Rem led the way, her steps brisk, her eyes forward. Following close behind, Subaru barged into the room, chest heaving, his breath ragged from the rush. His eyes swept over those already gathered.
Crusch sat with composed elegance, her amber eyes immediately locking onto him. Beside her stood Ferris, posture relaxed but gaze alert, tail swishing with idle curiosity. Wilhelm stood near the far wall, arms crossed behind his back, exuding quiet authority. And seated at the edge of the room, Tanaka leaned slightly forward, brows drawn, as if anticipating something unpleasant.
"You look like you've already heard the news," Crusch said without preamble. Her voice was clear, cutting through the quiet with practiced sharpness. She studied Subaru carefully, as if measuring his emotional state against the urgency of the moment.
Subaru shook his head slightly, sweat still clinging to his brow. "Not exactly. Rem said she sensed something… but she didn't have details."
"I didn't see anything. It wasn't a vision—just a feeling, a ripple through the bond I share with my sister. Something's wrong,"
Rem frowned with frustration, biting her lip in regret at her own powerlessness.
Watching this, Crusch gave a small "Oh?" of realization and admiration.
"I have heard stories about the twin waiters under Margrave Roswaal's care. I see, even though the distance between the royal capital and the territory is as great as it is, it is possible to exchange information to a certain extent."
"As I mentioned, it's all very vague. That's the best I could manage with my limited abilities."
Rem bowed humbly, downplaying Crusch's praise. Watching the exchange from the side, Subaru stepped forward and waved his hand, saying:
"Let's skip all that for now. I want to hear the important part. From the way you're talking, sounds like you've got more detailed info, right?"
"In terms of reliability, it's a bit questionable, you know? This info kinda slipped through a lot of people's cracks to get here."
Ferris, with his usual mischievous gaze, responded to Subaru's impatience. Subaru glared back, prompting Ferris to coyly tilt his head, placing a finger to his lips.
"But if we combine this fuzzy info with Rem-Chan's sixth sense, we might start seeing the full picture?"
"Stop stalling. Just give me the conclusion."
Subaru slammed his hand on the reception table and leaned in intimidatingly, but it wasn't Ferris who responded.
"I understand your impatience, Natsuki Subaru."
The one who called out Subaru's full name was Crusch, her green hair swaying as she turned to face him.
Her sharp gaze made Subaru feel as though cold water had been poured over him. He involuntarily held his breath and took a step back.
"There have been some troubling movements near Margrave Roswaal's domain. I've heard the territory has been placed under alert on his orders."
"Troubling movements? An alert?"
Subaru raised his eyebrows at the ominous words.
Crusch nodded and folded her arms.
"This was all anticipated from the start. The moment Roswaal endorsed Emilia as a royal candidate—in other words, publicly supported a half-elf."
"You mean the locals are losing it over it?"
"That is certainly one reason. As long as the Witch of Envy's infamy remains, Emilia, being a half-elf, will inevitably face prejudice."
The concern Subaru voiced was instantly confirmed.
Once again, Emilia's lineage was dragging her down—and Subaru couldn't forgive that. She hadn't done anything wrong, yet the world still tried to trip her up.
And he couldn't help but hate those "citizens," faces he didn't even know, who judged her on prejudice alone.
"She chose this path, fully prepared for the consequences. Your outrage is misplaced."
"Like hell it is. It's not about her being used to it or bracing for it. The whole point is—there's no damn reason she should have to put up with it in the first place."
Then, Subaru exhaled and looked up, his voice regaining urgency.
"So all this—these movements, this alert in Roswaal's domain—you're saying it's not just protests. It could become something worse?"
"An amusing expression, but an accurate one. I won't go into every detail, but broadly speaking, that's correct. Wouldn't that also explain your retainer's instincts?"
At her question, everyone turned to look at Rem.
Maintaining her poker face, Rem met the eyes closest to her—Subaru's. Matching the intention behind his gaze, she gave a small nod and spoke:
"What I sensed from Sister was a mix of some urgency and a lot of anger... I don't think she meant to send it. It must have slipped through because she couldn't hold it in."
"That empathic link of yours—do you two usually feel each other that often?"
"No. We can control it to some extent. But when emotions get too strong, they can overflow and get transmitted regardless of our will."
As she spoke, her voice grew weaker toward the end.
To sum up her words, the wave of emotion from Ram that reached Rem this time was irregular. If Ram had used their empathic bond to call for help, it would have been more consistent, clearer, and likely ongoing.
But this time, it was a one-off overflow. That meant—
"She's... trying to keep us out of it?"
The fact that even Crusch, based in the royal capital, had heard about it said enough.
And for Ram, who was far more composed than Rem, to let such intense emotion slip through—it had to be serious.
Her allies were still few, and her enemies far too many. In such a dire situation, how many people could she count on who'd take her side without hesitation?
Yes, that's exactly why—
"I have to go help her."
The words came like breath—soft, but unshakable.
All eyes turned to him.
Crusch closed one eye, Ferris narrowed their playful gaze just a touch, Wilhelm and Tanaka remained unreadable as ever, and Rem—
"Y-you can't, Subaru-Kun…!"
She tugged on his sleeve, her lips trembling, wide eyes filled with panic, confusion, and a desperate plea.
"You have to obey Lady Emilia and Lord Roswaal. They told you to stay at Crusch-Sama's mansion and focus on recovering. I feel the same… Subaru-Kun's top priority should be healing your injuries—"
"And what if, while I'm lying around, something irreversible happens? What then? I couldn't live with that. So I have to choose."
Brushing past Rem's clinging gesture, Subaru stepped forward and looked directly at Crusch.
He straightened himself, meeting the calm, amber gaze looking back at him.
"You heard me, Crusch-San. Rem and I are going back to Roswaal's mansion—to Emilia-Sama's side. Until things are resolved, treatment will have to wait—"
"—If you leave here, you'll be considered my enemy."
Crusch cut him off coldly, her tone utterly composed.
The words were so sharp that Subaru felt as if he'd been physically slashed. And just like a cut wound gradually spreading pain, the meaning began to settle in.
"W-what do you mean…?"
"Let me clarify something. The only reason you're being treated here by Ferris and being hosted as a guest is because of a contract."
"Contract…?"
Subaru echoed, and Crusch nodded.
She held up a single finger.
"The contract was made between Emilia and me—through Ferris as an intermediary. It stipulated that you and Kazuki Tanaka would be treated, and in return, a fair compensation would be agreed upon."
"..."
Subaru's lips parted slightly, but he didn't speak.
Emilia's resolve when she asked for aid. The weight she carried when she said their lives mattered.
But even so, this—
Tanaka's case had already shifted, his condition deteriorated beyond normal healing. A damaged gate was one thing, but the loss of something vital—his ability to hold mana entirely—rendered treatment meaningless. Followed by his request to abandon his hopeless condition.
But Subaru was different.
He could still be healed. His injuries, though severe, weren't beyond Ferris's abilities.
Which meant the contract still bound him.
"I honor the contract with Emilia because it was made before the royal selection began. Since then, politically, Emilia and I are rivals. As such, I have no obligation to show kindness to anyone in her camp. But—a contract is a contract."
She repeated the word contract several times, emphasizing its weight.
"If you choose to leave this household before your treatment is complete, the terms will be considered broken. There will be no ill will between us—but from that moment on, Emilia and I will be enemies in the full sense of the word. Naturally, as someone acting under her banner, you too… will be considered my enemy."
The room was silent.
"…You know," a new voice broke the tension, casual and dry, "it'd be great if you all stopped escalating things like we're in the final act of some war drama."
All heads turned toward the source.
Tanaka. He'd been silent the whole time, sitting quietly near the back of the room, his expression unreadable, his presence nearly forgotten—until now.
Subaru blinked at him in mild surprise, then muttered, "You've been quiet for a while. Got something useful to add?"
Tanaka shrugged, eyes half-lidded as he leaned forward, elbows resting lazily on his knees.
"Not really. I don't even get why my opinion matters in this kind of scene."
The comment came out flat, intentionally detached—but even as he said it, something flickered in his gaze. He knew that answer wouldn't satisfy anyone.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, then shifted his gaze to Crusch.
"Let's clear something up first," he said, more seriously now. "About our connection to Emilia."
The shift in tone made the room subtly lean toward him again.
"I get what you're saying—about the contract, about the rivalry in the royal selection. I'm not pretending those things don't matter. But the idea that walking out of this mansion automatically makes us your enemy? That's… kinda absurd."
Crusch didn't respond. Her gaze remained level, arms folded, posture unyielding—but attentive.
"From the start, we weren't exactly Emilia's retainers," Tanaka continued. "And we weren't anything official in Roswaal's domain either. Just guests, strays she chose to shelter."
He paused, then added, quietly:
"And right now, especially, we're not acting on her behalf. Not politically. Not strategically. So if we go back there…"
He took a breath.
"It's not some declaration of allegiance. It's not a betrayal of your hospitality. It's just… checking on people who matter to us."
For a moment, no one spoke.
And then—
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't misunderstand," Ferris interjected coolly, their usual teasing tone stripped away, replaced by a quiet firmness.
"Ferris," Crusch said, a gentle edge to her voice, "that's enough—"
"No, I'm going to say it," Ferris cut in, tail flicking with agitation. "The misunderstanding's already spiraled too far, nya. Someone has to set the record straight."
Their voice softened, but the weight behind it only grew heavier.
"What Lady Crusch is doing right now isn't cruelty. It's an act of mercy, nya."
Tanaka's gaze narrowed slightly.
"I can see that. I'm not stupid."
"Then why act like this?" Ferris asked, ears twitching. "Why argue when it's clear what she's trying to do?"
Tanaka's reply came quietly, but without hesitation.
"Did we ask for it?"
The silence that returned wasn't as harsh as before—but it was heavier, more thoughtful.
"Honestly," he continued, voice low but clear, "that whole threat about us becoming your enemies? It just sounds like a convenient excuse. Something dressed up as concern."His tone didn't waver, but there was no malice in it—just weariness."Your consideration… is unnecessary."
Then, with a quiet breath, he added:
"A lion should not concern itself with the matters of sheep."
That line struck a nerve.Crusch's calm, collected façade wavered—barely.Her gloved hand tightened slightly at her side, leather creaking under the pressure of her grip.
Subaru turned, raising an eyebrow at Tanaka, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Wow," he said, half-impressed, half-exasperated. "You can be a smooth talker when you want to."
Tanaka merely shrugged, brushing off the remark as he folded his arms again.
He had made it clear from the start. He wasn't a representative of anyone's will but his own. The idea that someone like him could be considered an ally to Emilia—or an enemy to Crusch—was, in his eyes, equally absurd.
"That being said," he added, lifting his chin slightly, "I still agree with Crusch-san."
"Huh?" Subaru blinked, stunned. The word slipped out reflexively, and around the room, expressions mirrored the same confusion.
Tanaka continued, unfazed by the reaction.
"Like she said, Emilia joined the royal selection with her eyes open. She knew the risks. If people start opposing her, stirring up trouble, that's part of the path she chose."
He turned slightly, addressing Subaru more directly.
"The tension, pushback, political sabotage—then it's within Emilia's expectations."
Subaru's brows furrowed, lips parting slightly to respond, but Tanaka didn't give him the chance.
"And if it's not? If it's something more serious?"
"Then she'll deal with it," Tanaka said flatly. "She's not alone. She has Puck. She has Ram. Those two are more than enough if things start to get ugly."
Subaru's gaze sharpened, ready to interject but Ferris cut in, "Even if you go, Subaru-kyun, nothing will change. It's pointless."
"Enough."
His voice dropped. It wasn't cold—it was tired.
"I know you want to help and I know you'd help If the situation is dire. "He paused, letting that acknowledgment hang in the air.
"But if in the process, you end up dying... then I'm against it. Period."
The room fell silent again. Longer this time. Heavier.
Everyone stood still—processing, weighing, watching.
Then Ferris finally broke the silence with a pointed question.
"If you were agreeing with Crusch-Sama this whole time… what was all that arguing about?"
Tanaka didn't answer immediately.
He exhaled through his nose, arms folding again, eyes narrowing with a faint twitch in his brow.
His face was unreadable. But when he finally spoke, his voice was calm and dry:
"I don't like people telling me what to do."
The reaction was swift—and total.
Everyone stared at him.
Stunned.
Speechless.
All the arguments. All the tension, the righteous defiance—it had all been driven, at least in part, by sheer, unfiltered stubbornness.
Crusch stared at him, eyes wide with momentary disbelief. Then—just for a second—her lips curled ever so slightly at the corners.
A silent smile.
It was so subtle that no one noticed.
Subaru stood still. Though his features remained composed, a storm churned beneath the surface. Anger coiled inside him, smoldering and sharp, but he refused to let it consume his expression. Instead, he let it solidify into resolve—clear and final.
"I'm going back to the mansion… back to Emilia," he said quietly.
"It wasn't long, but I appreciate the help."
"Subaru-Kun!"
Rem's voice rang out—strained, pained, a sudden break in the quiet. She reached toward him as if to pull him back, to stop him from throwing himself into danger again. But Subaru raised a single hand—not harshly, but firmly—and the gesture alone was enough to halt her.
He turned, meeting the gazes of everyone in Crusch's camp.
Ferris let out a long, exasperated sigh, clearly displeased. With his arms crossed and ears flicking in annoyance, he spoke without hiding the bitterness in his voice.
"Accepting advice sincerely is also a sign of a person's maturity, you know?"
Subaru, without flinching, gave a wry smile.
"Thanks to your advice, I could make my decision. Much appreciated."
A tense silence settled over the group—until Tanaka stepped forward, voice cutting through the air.
"Let's say you go back and help them," he said flatly. "Why?"
Subaru blinked, confused by the question's simplicity.
"Why?" he echoed. "Because I want to help Emilia, obviously."
Tanaka's expression darkened.
"And why is that? Give me a real reason."
Subaru's brows drew together.
"What do you mean, a real reason—?"
"You've got a crush on her. That's not a secret. Hell, everyone in this ridiculous world could see it from a mile away."
Without letting those emotions show on his face, Subaru said this quietly.
Though his fury still blazed inside him, he chose not to let it erupt outward. Instead, it burned within, forging a single, unwavering conclusion.
"I'm going back to the mansion… back to Emilia. It wasn't long, but I appreciate the help."
"Subaru-Kun!"
Rem cried out, voice desperate, as Subaru firmly declared his farewell. But he silenced her with an open hand and turned to face Crusch's camp.
Ferris let out a long, deep sigh and wore a clearly displeased expression.
Shaking his head and making no attempt to hide his exasperation, Ferris said:
"Accepting advice sincerely is also a sign of a person's maturity, you know?"
"Thanks to your advice, I could make my decision. Much appreciated."
A tense silence settled over the group—until Tanaka stepped forward, voice cutting through the air.
"Let's say you go back and help them," he said flatly. "Why?"
Subaru blinked, confused by the question's simplicity.
"Why?" he echoed. "Because I want to help Emilia, obviously."
Tanaka's expression darkened.
"And why is that? Give me a real reason."
Subaru's brows drew together.
"What do you mean, a real reason—?"
"You've got a crush on her. That's not a secret. Hell, everyone in this stupid world who saw you how you act around her knows that by now."
Tanaka's voice sharpened, not out of malice, but from something rawer. Frustration. Maybe even disappointment.
"So what is this?" he pressed. "Are you doing this to impress her? Hoping she'll change her mind and take you back? Are you trying to show her she was wrong to push you away? If that's the case, then stop. Just… stop being pathetic."
Subaru stiffened.
"What… did you just say?"
"You heard me," Tanaka growled. "She shut you out, and you're still chasing after her like a dog that doesn't know it's been kicked. Have some fucking self-respect."
Subaru's voice rose, anger breaking through.
"So we're supposed to just abandon her? Because of pride? That's what this is about now? Who's the real pathetic one here?"
Tanaka's eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped into something cold.
"Look at yourself."
His words were slow, deliberate.
"What would your folks say if they saw you like this?"
The moment the words left Subaru's mouth, Tanaka froze.
His posture tensed like a coiled spring—his fists clenched at his sides, knuckles pale. The anger that flashed in his eyes wasn't explosive; it was something far more dangerous. Controlled. Buried. And rising.
He slowly stood, his face twisting into the angriest expression anyone had seen from him yet. But when he spoke, his voice was low. Tightly reined. Audible—but sharp enough to cut through the silence.
"Don't you fucking dare..."
Everyone turned toward him, startled.
Tanaka closed his eyes and exhaled heavily, dragging a hand over his face as though trying to pull the fury away with it. When he lowered it, his gaze locked on Subaru.
"Come with me," he said, tone clipped but calm.
"We're talking. Somewhere else."
Without waiting for agreement, he turned and walked off toward the hallway.
*********************************************************************************************************
They found a secluded room down the corridor—quiet, dimly lit, and untouched by the earlier tension. The moment they stepped inside, Tanaka shut the door with a firm, echoing click.
He didn't speak.
Instead, he began pacing the room like a caged animal. Back and forth. His fists were clenched. His jaw, tight. Rage radiated from him, but it didn't explode—it simmered, barely contained beneath the surface.
Subaru lingered near the door, uncertain, guilt tugging at his conscience. He watched Tanaka's movements for a few beats before finally speaking, voice low and cautious.
"I'm sorry about…"
"I don't give a shit about that," Tanaka snapped, cutting him off without turning around.
The words were raw. Immediate. But there was no hatred in them—only frustration. Deep. Worn. Heavy.
He stopped walking and stood there, staring at the floor for a long moment, the silence between them pulsing.
Tanaka wasn't just angry. He was worried.
Looking after Subaru wasn't about friendship anymore.
It was about the truth Tanaka alone fully understood—the crushing weight of return by death.
He knew exactly what it could do to a person. The psychological toll. The way dying again and again could corrode identity, unravel sanity. And if Subaru ever truly broke—if he snapped—then the consequences wouldn't stop with him. The entire world could fall apart.
Tanaka had seen it.
A broken Subaru wasn't just a tragedy.
He was a catastrophe.
Tanaka let out a long breath and finally looked over his shoulder, his voice quieter, but no less firm.
"Do you care about Emilia?"
The question came out like a challenge, but there was something searching in it too.
Subaru looked up. His throat tightened—but after a moment of silence, he spoke.
"Of course I fucking do."
Tanaka stared at him for a moment longer. Then nodded, slowly.
"Then that's it."
He walked closer, expression unreadable, but calmer now.
"That's the reason. That's the only reason. You don't do it because you want her to love you. Or to prove anything. Or to get anything in return."
He looked directly at Subaru now. Not with anger—but with clarity. With exhaustion. With experience.
"I know the kind of shit you've been through. God knows I really know—because I'm the only one who does. And you lived it more me. So no… I can't blame you for how you're acting."
He took a step closer, letting the words fall slower, sharper.
"But I still have to say this—even though you already know it deep down."
Tanaka's voice lowered. It wasn't cruel. Just painfully honest.
"If we go back and stay with Emilia… we're useless."
Subaru tensed, but Tanaka didn't stop.
"You're not a knight. You're not strong enough to protect her—not yet. And I can't be one either, because, well, I'm apparently dying."
He chuckled bitterly before continuing.
"You were a butler—but let's be real, Rem and Ram never needed your help to begin with. They've got things handled. And me? I spent my time stacking books in the library because that child likes me."
He let the silence stretch before finishing the thought.
"Our existence there was never necessary."
Subaru lowered his gaze and exhaled heavily.
"…You know, you really have a way of saying the most hurtful shit imaginable."
Tanaka shrugged, but his expression was gentler now.
"Maybe. But that doesn't make it any less true."
He turned slightly, as if to walk away, but paused.
"Yes, you saved Emilia. Yes, we saved the village. And those things mattered. I won't take that from you."
"But those victories don't change the fact that we were never meant to be part of that world's core. We're expendable. Always were."
He faced Subaru again, more composed now.
"And I didn't help her so I could buy time in that mansion. And I'd like to believe you didn't either—not because you wanted someone to owe you, but because you chose to help."
Subaru slowly nodded.
Tanaka stepped forward, closing the space between them. With a tired smile, he lifted a hand and gave Subaru a light tap on the shoulder.
"Alright. Let's go back—for now."
His eyes softened, just a little.
"And let's stop fighting, okay?"
There was a beat of hesitation.
"You're my only friend from our world…"
*********************************************************************************************************
That evening, under a slowly darkening sky, the three of them prepared for departure. Tanaka, taking the lead, sought out Crusch to inform her of their decision.
To his surprise, she met the news not with suspicion or resistance, but with a composed nod and measured courtesy. Not a trace of hostility—no probing questions, no scolding remarks. In fact, she even offered them one of the Karsten family's dragon carriages for their return.
The gesture—unexpected and generous—softened something in Tanaka's chest. He hadn't realized how much he needed that quiet affirmation until he got it.
"On behalf of my master, I thank you for your kindness up to this day."
"Think nothing of it. It was also to our benefit. Now then, I'd like to talk about your transportation to your domain."
"Though it is shameless of me to ask, I would be grateful for your support. I want nothing more than to return to my domain as soon as possible and be of use to my master."
Subaru, standing nearby with Rem, glanced between them before speaking up.
"Hey, just curious—how long does it take from here to Roswaal's mansion?"
He tried to picture the last time they made the trip. If memory served, it had taken seven to eight hours—leaving in the early morning, arriving by late afternoon. So why was everyone acting like it was such a long journey?
Crusch offered a vague smile, but it was Rem who answered, her voice tinged with hesitation.
"Considering we'll have to switch dragon carriages along the way… about two to three days."
"Three days!? But it didn't even take half a day to get here!" Subaru protested, disbelief on his face.
Rem's expression shifted—eyebrows drawn together, eyes lowered slightly.
"We can't use the Lifaus Highway like before. The season's changed… the 'Mist' has started to appear."
"Mist? So what? Can't we just push through it—"
"The mist is caused by the White Whale, you know?" Ferris interjected, walking over with his arms crossed, a frown playing on his usually smug features."If we ran into it, we'd all be dead. That's not up for debate. Even kids in the countryside know that much."
The name—"White Whale"—made Subaru pause, a chill running through him. The term meant nothing to him, but the dread in their voices was unmistakable. The conversation moved on, but he was left behind in confusion, unsure whether to ask or stay silent.
In the end, Crusch and Rem agree on this: "We will borrow a dragon carriage from the Karsten household and switch carriages at villages along the way on our return trip."
Subaru found himself frustrated, thinking they could just push forward without rest, but since the carriages were pulled by living creatures, fatigue was unavoidable. Unlike cars that keep going with fuel, this world had its own inconvenient reality.
Either way, things were finally in motion.
There was no time left to hesitate or waste.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tanaka leaned slightly out of the carriage and called up toward the front.
"Rem, did you calm that thing down?"
He was referring, of course, to the earth dragon—Crusch's own, lent for the journey. It had nearly lunged at him when he'd tried to approach earlier. This wasn't unusual; even back at the Roswaal mansion, the dragons hadn't exactly taken a liking to him. But those beasts had at least grown used to Rem's presence and were domesticated under Roswaal's household.
This one, however, had never met Tanaka before—and apparently decided it didn't like him on sight.
Rem responded without turning around, already seated at the reins, her posture as upright and poised as ever.
"Yes, Tanaka-kun. You can get in now. It was a bit temperamental at first, but I made it clear who's in charge. It should listen properly from now on."
Tanaka blinked, then chuckled nervously.
"I-I see... So you laid down the law, huh. You're kind of a strict coach-type."
With a breath of mild unease, Tanaka climbed into the back of the carriage. The interior was plain but serviceable. Through a small window at the rear, he could still make out the terrace of the Karsten estate across the garden, its white stone catching the last blush of daylight.
Two distant figures stood by the main gate—Crusch and Ferris, most likely. Their outlines were faint against the fading sky, but Tanaka raised a hand in farewell anyway, unsure if they could even see him. Still, it felt right to do.
A few paces away, Subaru was finishing his own parting.
"Well, we're off. If fate allows, let's get along next time too."
Wilhelm nodded slowly, his stern expression giving way to a faint smile—the kind that held both respect and steel.
"If being greeted by a flurry of strikes from a wooden sword suits your tastes, you're welcome anytime."
It was a half-joke. But it came with a gentleman's bow, deep and sincere. Subaru smiled back, grateful.
With a short, throaty neigh from the dragon, the carriage rumbled into motion. Hooves struck dirt. Wheels creaked into rhythm. The estate—its warmth, its people—began to shrink behind them.
The journey home had begun.
As the landscape rolled by, Tanaka leaned forward slightly, steadying himself on the bench.
"Alright, here's what's going to happen."
Subaru raised an eyebrow, already sensing a plan he probably wouldn't like.
"Once we arrive, you and I are staying in Arlam Village. Rem will return to the mansion on her own, check everything out, and come back to report. If all's clear, we move in. If not, we adjust accordingly."
Subaru made a face.
"You really think all of that is necessary? It's not like I was planning to storm the front gates or something."
Tanaka gave him a sideways glance.
Subaru looked away, grumbling under his breath but not offering a rebuttal.
Tanaka turned his attention back to Rem.
"Also—Rem."
"Yes?" she answered without looking back, her tone alert.
"No one must know about my condition. Not a word. Not even to Roswaal."
There was a pause, the kind that said she wanted to object—but knew better than to argue now.
"Understood."
And with that, silence returned to the cabin—broken only by the soft jingle of reins and the low, steady breathing of the dragon pulling them toward a future uncertain, but inevitable.
*********************************************************************************************************
They stopped just past midnight in a quiet village nestled between two ridgelines, where the fog rolled low and the lamps burned dim. The earth dragons, exhausted after hours of travel, had come to a halt on their own—snorting, pawing at the dirt, their flanks heaving.
Understanding their limits, they decided to rest for the night.
The inn was modest but warm, with creaky floors and the scent of herbs lingering in the halls. After a simple meal and some brief conversation, they each retreated to their rooms, their minds heavy with everything that had yet to be said.
But when morning came, Rem was nowhere to be found.
No trace of her remained—save for a single letter, neatly folded and left among the luggage.
※※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※
To Subaru-kun, and Tanaka-kun,
When you're reading this, I know you must both be angry with me.
I won't ask for forgiveness for leaving you behind and going to the mansion. But please, at the very least… try to understand.
Bringing you back in your current condition is too dangerous—not only because of the unknown situation at the estate, but because of your health. I couldn't bear the thought of something happening to either of you while under my care.
Tanaka-kun, I know this is against your wishes, but I can't sit by and pretend nothing is wrong. I will speak to Emilia-sama and Roswaal-sama about your condition. If there is anyone in this kingdom who might know something, it's Roswaal—he's the most powerful magician in Lugnica, after all.
Please, wait for me in Arlam Village. Once I've made sure everything is safe, I will come back for you.
I've left enough money with the innkeeper to cover your stay for as long as necessary. You won't need to worry about anything.
Please… take care of yourselves. I'll be back. I promise.
—Rem
※※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※
The parchment trembled slightly in Subaru's hands.
He sat at the edge of the bed, the room still cloaked in the pale blue hush of early morning. A thin stream of light seeped through the wooden shutters, dancing across the floor in soft golden streaks. The letter, tucked away carefully among the luggage, had carried Rem's voice in every stroke of ink, in every word chosen with care—and finality.
Subaru buried his head in his hands, the paper crumpling slightly in his grip as a long, heavy sigh escaped him.
"Rem… So even you think I'm just a useless, weak burden too, huh…?"
His voice cracked under the weight of those words, barely louder than a whisper.
But before the spiral of self-loathing could take hold completely, he stood—swiftly, almost angrily—shoving the letter into his coat. He gathered his things with stiff, agitated movements, determination rising in his chest like a flame trying to push back the dark.
He couldn't just sit around. He had to do something. He had to go back.
But as he reached for the door, a calm voice stopped him in his tracks.
"I'm not going."
Subaru paused, turning slowly. Tanaka was leaning against the wall near the window, arms folded, his gaze distant but firm.
"What…?" Subaru blinked, thrown off. "What do you mean you're not going? Where else would you go?"
Tanaka let out a short breath through his nose, half a scoff, half a sigh.
"Anywhere. Maybe the capital." He shrugged casually. "Find a job, start fresh. I've got some money saved up, so I'll be fine. At least for a while."
His voice was steady, but there was something beneath it—an ache he was trying not to show.
"A restaurant would take me. I've got enough experience, and the right skills. I know how to keep a place clean, how to cook a decent meal, how to talk to customers. Two months' worth of living expenses, easy, if I manage it right."
He turned away slightly, his eyes now fixed on something outside the window, something beyond reach.
"Everyone's making their own choices." His voice quieted. "So I'll make mine too."
Rem had chosen to return alone, to face the uncertainty and report their condition—Tanaka's condition—despite his wishes.
Subaru had chosen to abandon the deal with Crusch's camp and stop the treatment midway. Now he wanted to head back, to the very place they had fled from.
And Tanaka?
He had loved the mansion.
More than he'd realized until now.
That month... it had been the most peaceful time he'd known in years. The warmth of the hearth, the laughter over shared meals, the gentle rhythm of daily chores—it had felt like a dream he didn't want to wake from.
A roof over his head.
A full belly.
Safety.
And perhaps, for the first time in a long time—belonging.
It was fun.
He felt safe.
And that was exactly why he couldn't go back.
Because if he did, he'd lose whatever self-respect he had left.
Back then, when Subaru had snapped at him, it hit a nerve. He got mad, tried to justify himself. But deep down, he knew Subaru was right—it was his pride, wounded and defensive. It was pathetic.
And yet, even knowing that, he still went through with it.
He had to own that choice now.
Tanaka reached out his hand toward Subaru, his expression softening.
"Well, I'm going to stay here for a few more days—no point wasting Rem's coin, right?" He offered a small, lopsided smile. "When you get there… tell everyone I said hi."
Subaru hesitated, then slowly took his hand and shook it.
"Sorry for dragging you into all of this in the first place."
Tanaka shook his head.
"Don't worry about me." He gave Subaru a light pat on the shoulder. "I'm sorry too… For imposing my ideals on you."
There was nothing more to say, not really. Just the quiet understanding of two people who had reached a crossroads, each heading in a different direction.
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A day and a half had passed since Subaru left the inn.
Tanaka lay on the stiff mattress, eyes fixed on the ceiling above. The early morning light bled through the gaps in the shutters, painting muted stripes across the room. He hadn't moved much—had barely blinked. Just lying there, still as stone, his thoughts circling like vultures.
He needed to decide.
Minutes bled into hours, but eventually, something shifted in his gaze. A flicker of resolve. He sat up slowly, exhaled, and stood—shoulders heavy, but spine straight.
Downstairs, the inn's reception area was quiet, bathed in the golden glow of the rising sun. Tanaka descended the stairs with his bag slung over one shoulder, his footsteps soft against the wood.
The innkeeper looked up from behind the desk, offering a polite nod. Before the man could greet him, Tanaka spoke first.
"I'm checking out today."
The innkeeper raised a brow. "Checking out? So soon?"
Tanaka placed a folded note on the counter. "If anyone comes looking for me… or if a letter arrives, please send it to the Karsten estate in the capital."
The innkeeper frowned slightly but accepted the note. "Of course, but… are you sure about this? That girl paid in advance for your stay. You could live here for weeks without worry."
Tanaka nodded once. "I know. But I can't stay here any longer."
He bowed his head slightly. "Sorry for the trouble."
"Think nothing of it," the innkeeper said with a wave of his hand. "Just… take care of yourself, alright?"
Tanaka gave him a faint smile. "One last thing. Where can I rent a dragon carriage back to the capital?"
The question hung in the air for a second too long.
Before the innkeeper could answer, Tanaka noticed something strange happened.
The man's expression went blank—utterly still. His mouth hung slightly open, his eyes glazed over… then he simply faded from view.
Blank-faced. Completely frozen.
And then—he vanished.
The world around him began to warp.
The walls, floor, and ceiling dissolved into shadow, like ink spilled into water. Reality pulled away from him in long strands of smoke until nothing remained but the void.
A tremor ran through Tanaka's chest. His eyes widened—not from confusion, but from recognition.
"…What."
Dark.
Soundless.
Empty.
And familiar.
Yet, he could never get used to the sensation.
The numbness crept in, stripping away all senses. No breath. No weight. No form.
He floated—or maybe he didn't.
There was no point in resisting. He knew this place. He knew what caused it. Knew what came next.
Still, even if the terror no longer took hold, the discomfort gnawed at the edges of his mind. The unnatural silence. The suffocating stillness. The weight of eternity compressed into a moment.
It was happening again.
The reset.
And just like before, it ended without warning.
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The silence ruptured—reality snapped back into place like a rubber band.
Tanaka hit the carpeted floor hard, knees buckling beneath him as his body rematerialized. Air rushed into his lungs like fire, and he gasped, head spinning.
"…If you'd rather not share, I won't pry," Crusch said softly, her voice cutting through the haze.
Tanaka looked up at her.
Then bent over, gripping his chest.
The dizziness hit like a wave. Nausea churned in his gut. Sweat beaded across his forehead.
Crusch's boots tapped against the floor as she knelt beside him. "Tanaka?! Are you alright? Did something happen? Should I call Felix?"
Her words echoed, distant, almost underwater.
It had been a while since the last time he felt it—that hollow numbness, the cold silence of the void. He'd forgotten how heavy it felt once it ended. How wrong his own body could feel after coming back.
He sucked in a shaky breath.
"…Fuck me."
Crusch paused, clearly worried, but unsure how to respond.
Tanaka's eyes darted around the hallway, then narrowed as a single, chilling thought rose to the surface.
"Where is Subaru?"