My consciousness drifts, far away, floating between the waves.

In the quivering ripples, my awareness rises and falls in the twilight, caught between dreams and reality.

“—There’s no other way—”

“—Is there? Do as you please after that.”

From a distance, or perhaps near, I hear voices exchanging words at the boundary of here and there.

A voice that clings, a voice that pushes away, a voice filled with tears, a voice that is frozen with emotion. Voices.

Suddenly, my hand is enveloped by a soft sensation.

I am reminded by a memory, having touched someone’s hand like this countless times before.

I must have felt this warmth before.

However, the sensation pulls away unexpectedly.

Leaving my hand, it goes far, far away, high up where I can’t reach it.

And then—

“—I will surely save you.”

Only this strong resolve remains, left behind.

Everything fades away, being abandoned, drifting away. Far, far away.

And then—

※※　※　※　※　※　※　※　※　※　※　※　※

How many times have I experienced being forcibly cut off from consciousness and waking up like this?

As I gaze at the unfamiliar ceiling pattern, I, Natsuki Subaru, think blankly.

There’s an old pillow talk saying that you’ll finish counting the stains soon, but in terms of the cultural level of this other world, it feels like it’s going to take quite a while, and I wryly smile—my side aches, and an involuntary groan escapes.

“Ooh, that hurts…”

As I try to touch my sore side, an explosion of discomfort bursts from my left arm. As I raise my left hand to my face, I realize the absurd state it’s in.

The white scars from my fingertips to my wrist are densely packed. Moreover, those scars are connected by an uneven and ugly thread, making it look as though a child, bad at sewing, had stitched it up haphazardly.

But it’s not only there that I feel discomfort.

When I lift the hem of my clothes, I find similar stitching on my taut right side. In addition, there are scars and stitches on both ankles, around my upper right arm and shoulder, and even on my rear—there are countless of them. All of them had scars and stitches, giving me the sensation of being a bit of a modified human.

As I stroke the varying parts of my body, verifying the transformations, memories gently begin to return alongside the faint pain.

Yes, I was searching deep in the forest for the children and encountered a magical beast—

“I thought I was definitely dead…”

I shielded Rem from the attack and was drenched in the beast’s fangs.

The beast’s jaws easily crushed my flesh, tearing and shredding me like a rag. I felt my life slipping away, and half-convinced that it was over.

“They wouldn’t call me a mummy. But seeing how patched up I am with all these stitches, maybe ‘frankenstein’ fits better.”

Or, if I had a screw tossed in my head, I’d probably fit the image of Frankenstein.

Just as I think so, I suddenly realize my own carefree nature.

“—Right. This isn’t the time for foolish thoughts. What about Rem and the children?”

I hop up from the simple bed, looking around to grasp the situation.

An unfamiliar ceiling, a shabby sleeping space. This small room filled with tatty furniture certainly doesn’t resemble Roswaal’s Mansion.

And then, just next to the entrance—sitting on a wooden chair, with her head bowed in sleep, I notice the presence of a Silver-Haired Girl.

“Emilia-tan…”

She shows no sign of responding to my call.

It appears her sleep is quite deep, as her breathing is notably steady. Her beautiful silver hair is slightly disheveled—as if there hadn’t been time to groom it—and above all, I can see marks of blood and mud on her clothes.

I, the injured one. Waking up in a bed. Emilia sitting beside me, asleep. And her clothes are stained with blood.

Even for someone as thick-headed as me, I can piece together the situation.

In other words,

“I got myself in debt to Emilia-tan again…”

“Well, maybe you should be thanking Emilia a little, but I think this time you should be more grateful to someone else,” a voice replies.

In response to my self-reproachful mumble, a gray cat peeks from the depths of her silver hair.

He lightly pats Emilia’s cheek with his paw, floats up, and positions himself in front of my face.

“Hey, good morning! How do you feel waking up?”

“Not exactly feeling amazing. I’ve turned into a modified human without realizing it. I’m tempted to become a masked hero seeking revenge on the organization before they meddle with my brain.”

“Modified… oh, you mean the stitching? It was necessary. But to heal you, we had to rely on tools with the mana you had in your body being insufficient. If we hadn’t done that, you’d definitely be in pieces by now.”

“That’s a chilling thought! Still, can’t someone more skilled at sewing have done it instead?!”

While I wouldn’t mind the stitches themselves, their clumsiness invites complaints. Especially considering I hold a title in sewing, I’d want to teach the basics.

In response to my words, Pack waves his little paws.

“Well, it’s been a while since I inserted needles into someone’s body. I was quite overwhelmed.”

“How could it possibly be you? You did well to sew with that tiny body of yours!?”

“It was easier because you weren’t moving. I had to freeze the wounds since the bleeding was severe, but just bear with it, okay?”

“So that’s why the scars are so white… Since I’m a boy, I won’t freak out over scars though.”

While inspecting the various scars, I turn to face Pack again.

He looks a bit puzzled at my posture, but I bow deeply to him.

“Thanks to you, I’m saved. I’ve received my life again.”

“Yeah, yeah, being honest is good. You did enough to deserve it. Since you fell ill, it’s not fair for you to get all forgotten. So what do you say?”

Pack responds without any embarrassment to my gratitude. As the weight in my heart lifts from his words, I take a moment before saying,

“That was nice to say, but… honestly, what happened after that? To be real, I don’t remember anything from the time I was bitten by those dogs in the forest.”

“’Bitten by dogs’ is such a cute way to put it. When you were brought in, considering your state, I thought it was more like ‘Munch Munch Crunch Smash Crush Chomp’.”

“Hey, hey, that sound effect definitely suggests I’m dead. I’d be missing five or six arms—one alone wouldn’t suffice for me.”

“Yeah, well, the blue-haired maid was in pretty bad shape too.”

Hearing that so casually, my throat goes dry. To Pack’s remark, he adds, “More importantly,”

“In that girl’s case, due to her demon transformation, her wounds heal rapidly. By the time we carried you back to the village, there weren’t any noticeable external injuries. She didn’t even need healing magic.”

“Don’t scare me unnecessarily… Anyway, Rem made it back to the village, huh? And what about that other kid I carried with me?”

“You can be assured about that. Along with the six children, there was one more, making it seven in total. And you and the blue-haired child were strong enough. Ultimately, your judgment turned out to be spot-on.”

Pack claps his little paws, but the softness prevents any sound from coming out. As the sight brings a smile to my face, I shake my head.

“Pack, I have a few things I want to ask; is that okay?”

“Only if you keep it down so Emilia doesn’t wake up. My manifestation relies on the mana accumulated through the night, and when I came out during the night, I had to utilize Emilia’s Odo.”

“Odo?”

“Mana is drawn from the outside world. Conversely, Odo is the soul’s power inherently contained within a living body. Unlike mana, using Odo drains your life force, so I’d rather you not use it too much.”

As he says that, Pack glances toward Emilia, as if looking at a troubled girl.

Surveying her sleeping face, I’m able to accept his words seamlessly. If it were Emilia’s turn to do something to save someone, she wouldn’t hesitate even if it meant sacrificing her own life. I can imagine that when Pack needed to act last night, if it meant using my own vitality, she’d do it without a moment’s hesitation.

“So, does that mean I made Emilia-tan drain her own life to save me?”

“That’s one way to look at it. But the main reason I was needed yesterday was actually to break the curse on the children you brought back from the forest.”

“Break the curse… That’s right! What about the children? Are they okay?”

“You can put your mind at ease.”

As I lean in closer, Pack raises a hand to calm me down while morphing his cat-like face into a charming smile.

“Thanks to recovery magic, their weakening was mostly mitigated, and the curse was successfully broken as well. There’s no problem with the children’s curses being broken.”

Pack smacks his chest like a drum to emphasize, and I let out a deep breath, relieved that my actions didn’t end up being meaningless.

And just like that, as human nature dictates that relief isn’t without consequence,

“Oh…”

Right when the reassuring feeling washes over me, my stomach lets out a loud cry.

My hand instinctively touches my belly, feeling the emptiness and akin to pain, reminding me that I had missed dinner last night.

“By the way, I don’t feel hungry if I’ve absorbed mana.”

“I wasn’t asking! But since mana is everywhere, it’s like you’re saying you can eat by just breathing air like a plant.”

“Water and sunlight aren’t needed either. Only love is required. It’s a crucial thing not to forget when associating with spirits.”

“Yeah, yeah. May I check the outside or something?”

I point at the door, and Pack nods a few times, saying, “I think that’s fine. It’s a good idea to move around a bit and assess your patched-up state. Ah, the threads will automatically absorb into your body and disappear once they become accustomed.”

“Oh, good. There’s no way I can look fashionable with these wormy, writhing stitches. It feels like I was born two hundred light-years too early.”

Pack tilts his head with a smile in response to my worst joke.

It seems my humor didn’t land. It was supposed to lead into a punchline of “Light-year is a distance though,” then segue into “That’s the sense of a completely different star.”

Getting Pack’s permission, I head for the door.

On the way out, I bow slightly to Emilia, who’s still fast asleep next to the door. As I lower my head, I catch her serene sleeping face, and filled with a childish urge to tease her, I hesitate; the stern gaze of her guardian makes me reconsider. Giving up, I exit.

And then,

“Ah, well, of course, that makes sense.”

Stepping outside through the entrance straight ahead, I find the village in a commotion, and I can’t help but exclaim.

Though it’s still just after sunrise, many shadows are already gathered in the village square at the center.

It’s a tiny village. Judging by the number of people there, it’s almost the entirety of the village’s population. Elderly folks, women, and children huddle together in concern, while a group of strong-looking youths stands guard around them.

Surrounding the villagers to protect them are the youth group that worked hard searching for the children last night. Seeing that I can’t find the faces I’m looking for within their ranks, I scratch my head and move toward another building bustling with comings and goings.

At that moment, I hear from behind,

“—Balus, you’re awake.”

Stopping in my tracks and turning around, I realize who called my name, and seeing their face, I can’t help but feel relief wash over me.

Standing behind me is the pink-haired maid—Ram.

She has rolled up the sleeves of her familiar serving attire, carrying a large basket filled with steaming sweet potatoes.

The slightly steamy potatoes emit a faint aroma reminiscent of salt, causing my empty stomach to rejoice with expectations and excitement.

My stomach suddenly grows loud with the sound Pack had mentioned before, and Ram snorts,

“How shameful, demanding food immediately after waking up, even after such critical injuries. Were you bitten by a dog and caught a virus?”

“What kind of state makes you get a virus from a dog? By the way, oh, really? You were worried about me?”

Stretching up, I approach Ram with a playful swagger and a smug look.

Ram narrows her eyes at my teasing attitude.

“Eat it up.”

“Mmmph!”

She forcefully shoves the steaming sweet potatoes into my mouth, effectively choking me.

To boot, the heat ravages my mouth, and I tilt my head upward, gasping as I breathe roughly like a beast. Then I manage to exclaim,

“I thought I was gonna die! But it was delicious!”

“Was it good? Freshly made… or should I say, freshly steamed?”

“What’s with that smug face? It’s irritating! But it was tasty!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll give you another one, so just shut up and devour it.”

She hands me another potato, and like a child, I excitedly take it. After looking down on me for a while, Ram says,

“Well, I should sincerely thank you for what happened last night. Thank you for your hard work.”

“You’re so high-handed with that ‘thank you’. I mean, it’s cool, but… is it really that worth it for you to say thank you?”

“If there’s any disadvantage to the villagers, the lord is held accountable. If the children were being threatened by the Urgalm… I can’t help but think Balus was right to act.”

“Urgalm, huh… That must be the name of that black magical beast.”

That’s quite a grand name. Just hearing it once implies that simply encountering it would threaten your life.

Nodding at my thought, Ram stares toward the forest and says,

“Last night, I managed to fix the breached barrier. I also checked the barrier throughout the night for any issues, so no magical beasts should come through here.”

“Unless they sneak out, right? If the kids crossed the barrier and brought back a baby, it would be pointless.”

“That hurts my feelings. Since the barrier was established, there haven’t even been any skirmishes with magical beasts, so I let my guard down. —I’ll give them a piece of my mind.”

Her tone suggests she’s somewhat frustrated, too. While I’m disgruntled about being dragged into this, for her, it probably relates to the villagers who aren’t heeding Roswaal’s instructions.

Given her excessive loyalty, I can’t help but feel pity for the villagers being lectured.

While composing a secret prayer for those unfortunate villagers, I suddenly become lightheaded.

My body sways unsteadily, and as I press my hands to my head, Ram lightly supports me.

“Don’t push yourself. Truth is, without the Great Spirit and Beatrice, those were wounds that should have killed you.”

“Mentioning Beatrice means I also owe her, huh… How regrettable!”

“It’s rare for Beatrice to step outside the Forbidden Library. Though it is a troublesome situation outside, she normally wouldn’t act.”

Straightening up thanks to Ram’s support, I gently shake my head.

I’m feeling bloodless right now. A weariness similar to the first morning at Roswaal’s Mansion is settling in, and my limbs feel heavy, likely due to a significant deficit of mana. According to Pack, I had endured severe injuries previously.

Given my naturally low reserve of mana, it’s not surprising I’m running low.

“I’ll observe the village’s progress a little longer before heading back to the mansion. I’m also concerned about the children who had their curses lifted… and about the Urgalm countermeasures.”

“Countermeasures—does it mean just throwing up barriers and calling it good?”

“Maybe that would’ve worked for skirmishes in the past.”

In response to my small question, Ram replies with her usual nonchalant expression.

However, being gazed at by her seemingly emotionless eyes sends chills down my spine.

She reiterates slowly, word for word,

“After what happened to the village, and especially with you being a relation to Roswaal, there’s no way we can remain uninvolved.”

“W-What are you planning to do…?”

Spiraling into honorifics out of instinct, Ram suddenly lets her intimidation fade and lightly runs her fingers through her pink hair.

“I’ll eliminate them. —That said, it’ll be after Roswaal returns. Once he’s back, it’s not a lengthy task.”

I have no grounds to oppose her words, filled with complete trust.

While I may not fully grasp Roswaal’s level of power, I can understand the immense trust Ram places in him.

Afterward, I swipe two more steamed sweet potatoes from Ram before parting ways.

The direction she heads afterward is toward the cluster of villagers still anxiously huddled together. Her actions seem to be thoughtful in her way. The choice of steamed sweet potatoes as a gesture of goodwill truly shows Ram’s detached demeanor.

“Still, these steamed sweet potatoes are amazing. The saltiness is just perfect.”

Nibbling on the steamed sweet potatoes I received, I continue my stroll through the village.

While checking on my physical condition, I also simultaneously confirm the well-being of the children I collected from the forest. The children themselves, probably exhausted from last night and from the lifting of their curses, are still fast asleep, but their parents shower me with an abundance of gratitude.

To be honest, I hadn’t acted with the expectation of gratitude, leaving me feeling incredibly flustered and overwhelmed, resulting in my stammering away without being able to deliver a proper joke.

Feeling cold sweat from the unexpected reception, I assess that I’ve achieved my main objective. I return to the room I originally woke up in, contemplating whether to wait for Emilia to awaken, but I recall that I haven’t even faced the blue-haired girl yet.

—Suddenly, the image of a grinning demon drenched in blood flashes through my mind.

In that moment, I tremble, but it isn’t fear that overcomes me.

It’s an overwhelming feeling, difficult to put into words, akin to standing before a distinctly superior entity, possibly what people might call awe.

The silhouette with white horns sprouting from the forehead, wielding otherworldly power to slay magical beasts, perfectly aligns with the inherited image of a demon.

Can I still behave normally in front of her? That thought creates a sense of anxiety.

“No, seriously, I was perfectly fine with Lam, who’s the twin. What’s there to fear? If Rem’s a demon, then so’s Ram… I’ve just had a truly extraordinary experience, haven’t I?!”

Trying to brush off my discomfort with a quip, I shake my head and clear my thoughts.

I feel this way because I keep reflecting on last night’s most shocking scene. I should recall a scene so vivid and exhilarating that I could certainly forget any harsh imagery—

I picture a steel ball shattering the head of a magical beast, blasting away its torso, and piercing through the pack.

“Even excluding the demon transformation, all I can think of is gore. Ugh, recalling it makes me nauseous…”

Shocked by the sudden memory of the feast of blood and entrails, I press my mouth shut against the urge to vomit.

As I stagger toward the edge of a building, I crouch in the grass, struggling to breathe heavily. Somehow, I seem to manage not to throw up, feeling a wave of relief.

After all, I had just managed to pack down that steamed sweet potato. Not only was it Ram’s wonderfully thoughtful dish, but I couldn’t afford to waste it and be disgraced.

After squeezing my eyes shut to hold back my nausea, I praise myself with a great nod.

Finally, lifting my face to confront Rem again, I say,

“—Right on time, aren’t you?”

Beyond the grassy thicket, a girl with cream-colored hair styled in curls appears. Once she notices me, she waves her hand and beckons,

“May I have a word? Come with me a moment… ‘Oroloroloroloro’.”

Overlapping the elegant way Beatrice speaks, I can’t hold back anymore, and all that I had previously restrained comes flooding out.

“Kyaaaaaaaaaaa!!”

I can’t help but think about how surprisingly cute that scream sounds as I continue to let the sweet potatoes spill out without stopping.

White, white, the steamed sweet potatoes keep coming, without pause.

※※　※　※　※　※　※　※　※　※　※　※　※

Once the commotion settles down, Beatrice leads me to a spot behind a building right next to the Forest of Magical Beasts.

This was once a small shop-lined area, but as it’s the morning right after the chaos in the forest, no villagers are wandering around aimlessly here.

The houses now stand empty, making this an ideal location for hushed conversations within the village.

“So, you called me here—what on earth is it?”

“That’s not the attitude of someone just restored. Are you perhaps going to reflect on yourself?”

“Ahh, thanks for rubbing my back, it helped a little. Since you helped stitch my body together, you played a part too.”

“When gratitude is expressed similarly for both, Beti may need to rethink how to approach you.”

Regardless of how that may be interpreted, it is indeed the truth that I am grateful.

However, setting aside my expectations, Beatrice appears to falter, her gaze wandering as she fidgets with her skirt edges.

Clearly, she has something she finds difficult to discuss.

Typically outspoken with me, this behavior feels uncharacteristic. Perhaps her expression reflects the atmosphere of “a child fearing reprimand from parents.”

With such a face, I can’t forcefully encourage her to continue; instead, I cross my arms and lean against the building, simply waiting for her to speak.

But my patient wait doesn’t last long.

My not pushing for her advance seems to encourage her decision.

Beatrice closes her eyes and then, with a resolve, opens them.

“Nii-cha has his own thoughts on this matter. However, it wouldn’t be fair to keep you in the dark.”

Nii-cha refers only to Pack.

I have just shared a conversation with that little gray cat, making me question the meaning behind her words.

Beatrice looks at me and declares,

“Nii-cha prioritizes that mixed girl since he’s got a stake in her. That is the right thing to do, as a spirit. But as Beatrice, I must confess I’m not entirely pleased.”

“What are you…?”

I can’t finish my question before Beatrice speaks over me.

She reveals,

“—Before the day is over, you’re going to die.”

 

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