—As the time for the banquet drew ever closer, the tension mounted with each passing moment.
"————"
In the antechamber where five had gathered, there was no conversation. Silence reigned.
Subaru, like Abel who sat in silence sharpening his focus, uttered not a word. Even Flop was quiet—the heaviness of the air was plain for all to feel.
Things had gone well up to this point. There should be no problems remaining.
But people were not so simple a design as to be able to think that and leave it at that. No matter how well the cross-dressing had turned out, the tension before the real thing—before the genuine article—only continued to climb.
Yet no matter how loudly his heart hammered, no matter how persistently cold sweat tried to soak his back, the flow of time could not be halted, and the appointed hour arrived at last.
"Preparations for the banquet are ready. It's your turn."
The voice of the soldier on watch duty called out, and in that instant, the taut tension finally gave way.
Exchanging glances, Subaru and the others picked up their respective instruments and followed the escorting soldier out of the antechamber. They underwent a light body search, but given that they wore little more than thin garments, there was no room for them to be concealing weapons of any kind.
Passing the inspection under the dual barrage of curious and lecherous eyes, Subaru and the others were led into the banquet hall.
However— "Hk—"
"Taritta?"
Subaru furrowed his brow at the sight of Taritta, her cheeks rigid and her steps leaden.
She hadn't answered Subaru's voice, which he had kept low so the escorting soldier wouldn't hear. Judging by the look in her eyes, her mental state was not difficult to read.
Extreme tension had seized hold of her entire body.
Leaving the settlement she'd grown up in, unable to rely on her sister the chief, and charging straight into the heart of enemy territory with virtually no weapons to speak of—such a plan had no doubt inflicted tremendous stress on her.
Her complexion and breathing suggested she might collapse at any moment. Subaru tried to encourage her, but nothing reassuring came to mind.
"It'll be fine" or "Leave it to me"—such easy words of comfort.
Would they really ease Taritta's frayed nerves?
Just as Subaru stood frozen, unable to take even one step past his own anxiety— "Taritta."
"————"
"There is nothing to worry about. Look at me."
It was a voice dripping with arrogance and self-importance, yet brimming with absolute confidence.
Empty words with no basis behind them—no different from the hollow reassurance Subaru had just been struggling to find. Yet the effect of those glib words of comfort was extraordinary.
Taritta exhaled a faint breath and blinked.
She who had been on the verge of forgetting to breathe, whose eyes had been growing glassy, was brought back to her senses. One sentence. Just one sentence, yet the voice carried within it a power to move another's heart with tremendous force.
Those who possess something effortlessly leave in the dust the desperate efforts of those who do not.
He had been painfully aware of this truth many times before, and now he was being shown it in vivid fashion once again.
"I'm not angry anymore, though."
Muttering that to reassure herself, Subaru took the words as comfort. But he quickly realized that Taritta's wasn't the only tension that had eased—his own had loosened as well, and the corners of his mouth curled upward.
He would never say it aloud, of course, since Abel would only lord it over him.
And then— "Well met. I hear you lot are going to put on quite the splendid dance and song."
In the grand hall where the banquet was being prepared, nearly thirty imposing men greeted Subaru and his companions. The briefing had said ordinary soldiers would not be permitted at tonight's feast, so those present must have been officers and other high-ranking military figures.
Among these "generals," the one who had spoken was the man seated in the farthest chair.
"…That's
Subaru murmured under his breath. He stole a glance at Abel, and the veiled dancer subtly lowered her chin—a quiet confirmation of Subaru's question.
Accepting that nod, Subaru studied his opponent more carefully, and his carefully arranged brows drew together.
Zikr Osman—commander of the Imperial forces stationed in the citadel city of
A man who held the rank of Second General in the Empire—Subaru had expected some fearsome warrior, but the reality shattered every image he had conjured.
First, he was short. Even compared to Subaru, who was far from tall, Zikr appeared at least half a head shorter. He and Kuna would probably see eye to eye.
Of course, a short stature did not automatically disqualify someone from being powerful—Garfiel was proof enough of that. But unfortunately, Zikr didn't particularly look the part of a powerhouse either.
What struck the imagination most was his large, distinctive hairstyle.
If one had to put it into words, "afro" would be the most apt description. Perched atop the head of this compact man, it gave off an almost mascot-like charm.
He'd heard beforehand that this was a military strategist, and sure enough, he didn't look like the type to have earned his laurels through swordsmanship.
"We find ourselves saddled with a tiresome problem at present. Cooped up inside the city, morale has been declining day by day. That is why I organized this banquet. You understand your role, I trust?"
"Yes. We are most honored to have been extended such an invitation."
With Abel kneeling before the grandiose words tossed out by Zikr, who sat with his cheek propped on his fist, Flop and Taritta followed suit. But Abel, who stood at the rear, did not.
For a brief moment, Zikr's gaze narrowed, and an uneasy atmosphere spread among the "generals."
Sure enough, one of the soldiers who had set down a wine cup rose to his feet and glared at Abel.
"Why aren't you kneeling? You know this is in the presence of the Second General—"
"Wait. Don't get riled up so easily. This venue was opened for the sake of the banquet. What one asks of those who earn their living through performance is not etiquette and ceremony, but distraction from boredom."
"Hm… If the General says so…"
The one who chided the soldier for his outburst was none other than Zikr himself.
His magnanimous demeanor convinced the soldier to reluctantly sit back down. All the while, Abel maintained his position behind the veil, not so much as flinching.
"Nothing. Not even a twitch in the face of a warrior's intensity. You must be quite confident in your dancing. But your first impression is terrible. I expect you to turn that around."
"…I thank you for your generosity. But please, rest assured."
Zikr chose to read Abel's arrogance in the most favorable light possible. To Subaru, who had answered from his kneeling position, the general raised an eyebrow with interest.
Thinking of what came next, his chest ached—but this was a rare opportunity. He would make the most of it and ensure Abel tasted total defeat.
"—What we shall present to you this evening is a radiant dancer from beyond the Great Waterfall. Hair of lustrous black that seems to swallow the sunlight, skin of pristine beauty blessed by the spirits, a peerless countenance that would make even the denizens of heaven envious—tonight, she shall dance for your most distinguished pleasure."
Rising to his feet, Subaru recited the opening words.
Over-the-top though this grandiose preamble was, to prove that it was no idle boasting, Abel's veil was slowly lifted.
When the dancer's face was finally revealed, the assembled company—who until that moment had been exasperated by rumors of the dancer's haughtiness—all gasped in unison.
"————"
Among them, the shock was greatest for Zikr, who found himself gazing straight into Abel's eyes.
Perhaps because he had already shown a lenient disposition toward their side, he had been mentally prepared to receive the reveal with magnanimity—but the impact was tantamount to being struck without warning.
He had, quite literally, forgotten to breathe and lost his voice.
"—Might we be granted the honor of having our dancer perform?"
Subaru bowed his head in proper etiquette. Flop likewise bowed, raising his respective instrument to request permission for the banquet to begin.
At that, Zikr nodded, and Subaru exchanged a glance with Flop.
They confirmed that preparations were in order, and commenced their performance.
"—Tonight, we present to you a dance from our dancer's homeland, from beyond the Great Waterfall. A performance from the farthest reaches of the world—please enjoy to your heart's content."
"Beyond the Great Waterfall" was an embellishment, of course.
But it wasn't a lie in the sense that this was an unknown dance unknown to the Imperial soldiers. Both the music and the dance were not from this world—they were things Subaru had brought from his own world.
Naturally, considerable arrangements had been made, but given that the fundamentals were entirely different, the dance alone was more than enough to captivate the audience's attention.
And yet— "————"
When the dancer in question was so breathtakingly beautiful that she mesmerized all who laid eyes on her, with such flowing grace, perhaps the exotic song and dance from another world hadn't even been necessary.
"————"
There was a saying about "sakana"—accompaniments to drinks. The term didn't merely refer to food served at drinking parties, but to any form of entertainment that served to encourage the flow of alcohol.
Naturally, this included after-dinner entertainment, and dances were referred to as "sakana dances"—a proper part of the drinking experience. However, never before had such a thing displayed quite this level of effectiveness.
The soldiers' eyes were stolen by the dancer's performance, their throats parched, their souls seemingly dried out and thirsting for drink.
Almost involuntarily, the frequency and pace at which they raised their cups to their lips quickened, and one by one, their cheeks flushed red. The fastest to imbibe was none other than Second General Zikr himself, who sought to quell the pleasant numbness spreading through his brain.
And once judgment had been stolen by wine and dance, even unthinkable blunders could occur.
For instance, giving in to the desire to see a sword dance, and offering up a blade at the dancer's request—an absolutely unheard-of, catastrophic lapse.
"—You lose, Zikr Osman."
And so, with the tip of the drawn sword pressed to his throat and a decidedly masculine voice emanating from the dancer's lips, "womanizer" Zikr Osman still wore the glazed eyes of a man lost in rapture.
△▼△▼△▼△ —I did it, Subaru cried inwardly with the certainty of victory.
The sword in Abel's hand was positioned to easily pierce Zikr's windpipe.
Zikr, forced to crane his neck back and expose his throat, had no avenue for counterattack. It could be said with certainty that they had succeeded in neutralizing the enemy commander.
And they had done so sooner than originally planned, at precisely the right moment.
Their original plan had been to build a reputation as a traveling troupe within the city, then infiltrate Zikr Osman's inner circle. Ideally, they would be invited to Zikr's quarters, where they would seize him and compel the Imperial garrison in Guaral to surrender.
That premise had been overturned by the decision to hold tonight's banquet.
"—At the banquet, we will neutralize every remaining officer and soldier in the city in one fell swoop."
Those had been Abel's words when he announced the change of plan upon being invited to the feast.
The payoff for success would be enormous, but so too the risk—a high-risk, high-return operation. Subaru had agreed to the change of plan on the condition that he could revert to the original strategy depending on circumstances.
That said, he hadn't imagined things would go this smoothly.
"————"
"I'll say it again, Zikr Osman. You lose. Surrender immediately and order your men to lay down their arms. Otherwise, your wine cup will be filled not with wine, but with blood."
Abel pressed the blade closer to the immobilized Zikr and repeated his demand for surrender.
Yet in Zikr's eyes, there was no fear of the life-threatening situation. It wasn't the resolute gaze of a man who had steeled himself as an Imperial soldier. If anything, there was hesitation in his eyes.
Hesitation. Doubt. That sort of light.
"Dancer, you… no, you are…"
As though beholding something overwhelming, the hesitation in Zikr's eyes became unmistakable.
This was not the reaction of a man simply confronting a dancer—and Subaru had barely registered that thought when— "Damn you,贼! Acting on your own—!"
Among the stunned "generals," one who had recovered his wits lunged at Abel in a flash.
But before their hands could reach Abel's back, their arms and legs were pierced by thrown knives—faster than they could close the distance. The one who had hurled the blades was Kuna, who had twisted her body into motion.
"Sorry about this, but the Chief told me to protect Abel's face."
In hand was a tambourine-like instrument she'd picked up to join the fight. During Abel's dance, she had quietly pilfered knives from the dining spread.
And the sight of soldiers collapsing with blades embedded in their limbs gave the remaining "generals" pause.
However, there was one shadow that managed to dodge Kuna's blades and leap back a considerable distance.
"You think a few knives can stop Imperial soldiers? How laughable!"
The howling, bearded giant caught the additional thrown knives on his arm and swept them aside with a flourish.
Then, drawing his greatsword without hesitation and heedless of his bleeding, he charged straight at Abel.
"Abel—!"
Abel, whose back was turned as he held Zikr at bay.
Subaru screamed his name, but the dancer didn't so much as flinch.
The greatsword descended toward Abel's back—and— "—Kuh!"
In that instant, the one who gritted her teeth and took aim at the man was Taritta, who had seized a bow from one of the soldiers.
She nocked an arrow, drew the string, and locked onto the soldier charging at Abel. In Taritta's green eyes, light had taken on a sharp edge—murderous intent.
To save Abel. To stop the violence. She was poised to take the man's life.
"You can't kill him!!"
"Hk—"
But an instant before the arrow was released, Flop cried out.
Hearing his words, hesitation flickered in Taritta's eyes, and her aim wavered ever so slightly. The arrow that flew struck not the man's back, but his right shoulder.
"Gah!?"
The man staggered under the tremendous impact and let out a pained grunt, toppling over. But the greatsword in his grip still carried its momentum, spinning as it hurtled toward Abel's back.
It looked as though the blade would crash into the back of Abel's head—but it grazed the very base of his skull by the narrowest of margins and drove into the floor with a thunderous clang.
Abel, who had nearly lost his life, survived by the thinnest of threads.
And then— "—Ah."
Gently, Abel's braided black hair came undone and spread outward.
The tip of the greatsword had sliced through the hairpin, undoing the carefully tied knot. No—the unraveling didn't stop there. The loose wig had served its purpose, and the false black hair tumbled to the floor.
The dancer's long hair was instantly transformed, and in its place stood Abel, bearing only his own black locks upon his head.
—With the hairpin went the soft impression of the dancer he had been playing, and in its place stood the cold, ruthless emperor.
"Second General! Let us deal with these—"
"Silence! Don't defy me!"
Groaning from their knife-pierced limbs and arrow-shot shoulders, the soldiers still attempted to resist, but Zikr's voice cut them off.
No matter how many fell, if the enemy swarmed them recklessly, Subaru's side would be overwhelmed in an instant. That was the last form of counterattack they wanted to face.
But Zikr would not let his subordinates do it. He had been pinned down, his "generals" had been rendered immobile—he understood that the outcome was decided.
And therefore— "If I do as you say, my men's lives will be guaranteed?"
"That depends on your attitude, 'Coward.'"
"Gu—"
Zikr, who had shown a posture of meekly accepting the surrender demand, now received Abel's merciless insult, his face flushing red as he clenched his teeth.
This was the face of a man who had tasted a humiliation greater than being captured by enemy scheming—the face of a man who knew true disgrace.
Looking down at Zikr's mortification, Abel snorted.
"I've heard tell, Zikr Osman. Before you were called 'womanizer,' you bore the name 'Coward,' did you not?"
"…A derogatory term unbecoming of an Imperial soldier. And that's why you chose this scheme?"
"————"
"If I, besmirched by 'womanizer' and 'coward' alike, were to yield to a woman's blade out of concern for my own skin…"
If that were the case, what a humiliation it would be.
Or if it were true, the disgrace might have been enough to make Zikr die of shame. But Subaru and the others had heard that the reason Abel had deemed this plan viable—when plotting its execution—was at least somewhat different from that.
It was— "A strategist who conducts war with skill and caution. He has few flashy victories to his name, but equally few casualties among his own forces. An excellent commander, but lacking in initiative. Hence, 'Coward.'"
"Yes, that is so. I, however…"
"What exactly have you misunderstood?"
"Huh?"
At Abel's narrow-eyed question, Zikr's eyes widened.
Without pausing, Abel continued, sword still in hand, addressing the man whose face was plastered with confusion.
"Those who call you a coward are either posturing after the fact, or fools who cannot see the results. I wagered on your nature as my winning hand."
"————"
"You despise unnecessary losses. Therefore, I judged that you, a strategist branded 'Coward,' would not choose to resist in this situation. —Will you disappoint me?"
Abel's gaze sharpened as he pressed the blade against Zikr's neck and posed the question.
To anyone who didn't know Abel's identity, these words could only sound like the raving of a lunatic.
Trusting in the opponent's cowardice and incorporating that into the plan's execution.
To say such a thing directly, without any certainty that it wouldn't provoke the other party into a rage—indeed, it was almost as though Abel were deliberately courting the other's fury, inviting the situation to deteriorate.
This was a man who, even dressed as a woman, could not bring himself to be the least bit humble.
And yet, before this Abel, Zikr Osman drew a sharp breath.
What passed through his eyes was an emotion difficult to put into words—if forced to articulate it, perhaps it was a surprise bordering on awe.
It was almost as though a maiden had received a gift from her beloved—such a fresh, almost innocent reaction it seemed— "—I shall lay down my arms. I will issue the order to my men as well."
"A wise decision."
At Zikr's quiet, head-bowed answer, Abel gave a calm nod.
Though he was dressed as a dancer, the gesture was so suffused with dignity that no one dared oppose it. At Commander Zikr's surrender, the Imperial soldiers one after another dropped their weapons.
And then— "What are you standing around for? Go burn the flag on the rooftop at once."
"Huh? Me—me?"
"You. Only you. You've done absolutely nothing of use since things started moving."
Abel's cold gaze pierced Subaru, who pointed at himself and blinked in disbelief.
Per Abel's instruction, Subaru scanned the grand hall.
Kuna, who had neutralized the enemy with thrown knives. Taritta, who had shot the giant. Flop, who had prevented the giant from being killed and ensured the "bloodless surrender" held. Abel, who had secured the weapon disarms.
Truly, when the giant had bounced back, only Subaru had fallen on his ass and done nothing.
"Hurry up. Without Mizelda and the others, disarming everyone would be beyond even me."
"F-fine! Yes, yes, my apologies!"
As he spoke, Subaru headed for the balcony and nimbly climbed to the rooftop. From the roof of the city hall, he could survey the nighttime expanse of Guaral—it was quite the sight.
Then, while bathing in the cold night wind, Subaru collected the torches from the walls and set fire to the Imperial flag—the flag of the Sword Wolf—that had been flying above the city hall.
—To signify that the fall of the citadel city of Guaral had been accomplished.
△▼△▼△▼△ The first to notice the change was Jamal, who had been keeping an eye on the city hall.
Jamal had been casting furtive glances toward the building where he'd left people behind. While Todd found the man's transparent anxiety tiresome, he continued his patrol of the city.
As a city with considerable history, there was no shortage of ways through its formidable walls. Some ordinary houses had built underground passages; there had even been smuggling operations using children to scale the walls. Todd systematically shut them down while remaining vigilant for the anticipated attack.
"Pulling out isn't an option. That means they'll definitely come for the city. Use the tunnels to seize the city hall in one go, or set fire to the streets… Hm, are there other possibilities?"
If the goal were simply to conquer the city, there were plenty of methods that involved massacring soldiers and civilians alike without discrimination.
Fire, water, burial—people died easily enough. When one abandoned all scruples, there was no limit to the cruelty humans could unleash.
What sort of horrific method would that black-haired boy employ?
What was truly terrifying was that he seemed inept at such things on the surface yet was apparently quite capable of them.
The real danger wasn't what had already been uncovered, but the undiscovered tunnels yet to be found.
That was why, even with a hole in his gut, Todd couldn't simply lounge around the barracks.
"Everyone's so careless and rough around the edges, it's infuriating."
Not everyone was on Jamal's level, but there were plenty of people who lacked attention to detail.
Todd didn't consider himself particularly sharp or clever either, but as long as he was aware of his own shortcomings and stupidity, there were always ways to compensate.
He simply couldn't understand how everyone else could live without ever questioning whether they were fools.
Every last person in the world was a fool, so shouldn't they all do their best as fools?
"Huh?"
Lost in thought, Todd was about to move on to the next house when Jamal's idiotic voice from behind suddenly made him stop.
He looked. Jamal had halted and was staring in the direction of the city hall with a dumbfounded expression.
Frowning, Todd asked what the matter was.
"Oh come on, you've got to be kidding me."
"What's wrong, Jamal? What's happening at the city hall—"
Todd was about to say "something happen?" but as he drew up beside Jamal and looked in the same direction, the words died in his throat.
At the city hall, the invited dancers were supposed to be providing entertainment, and a banquet doubling as a morale-boosting affair for the "generals" was underway.
So it wouldn't have been strange if someone had gotten a bit rowdy.
Not strange—but— "No way…"
Even so, the Imperial national flag flying atop the city hall being set ablaze was beyond acceptable.
Even Todd was rendered speechless by this act of barbarism that went far beyond mere revelry. The flag, licked by flames, billowed and burned in the hot wind, casting a red glow against the night sky.
And there, right beside the burning flag, was a woman's figure that he had seen inside the city hall.
A musician distinguished by her voluminous black hair and sharp features. Her name, if he recalled correctly— "—Natsumi Schwartz."
Yes, that was the name she had given when he asked.
He remembered how Jamal had cornered her, how she had shrunk and cowered like a frightened waif. Yet that very same woman now stood with a torch in hand, defiantly burning the Imperial flag.
There was nothing of the meekness he had encountered in that corridor.
This could not possibly be some drunken stunt.
That was, without question, an act of aggression against the Empire. And the burning of the garrison flag meant that the location had fallen into enemy hands.
It was at that moment that a bolt of realization struck Todd's brain.
"No way—was that you?"
Eyes wide, Todd studied the black-haired woman with the torch—Natsumi Schwartz—and was struck dumb by the infinitesimal possibility that had taken root within him.
The more he thought about it, the more it aligned. The more he looked, the more the pieces fit.
And precisely because of that, the effect was devastating.
Who on earth could have conceived of such a thing?
To use that method, to break through the enemy's watch network head-on and seize the heart of the stronghold— "I never thought… coming straight at us like that."
Who would be reckless enough to attempt such a thing?
Of course, they had been on high alert for anyone hidden among cargo or in carriages, and the checkpoints had been reinforced accordingly. But a foot approach—one that attracted attention at that—was completely outside expectations.
The very first infiltration had already heightened their vigilance. Under those circumstances, a normal person would shift toward stealth, toward avoiding public notice— "Could it be—was that all a setup too? Deliberately letting us see them, to plant the false sense of security that a frontal approach was impossible?"
And then, having slipped into the city, been invited to the stronghold as dancers, brought down the city hall, and burned the Imperial flag—Natsumi Schwartz, exactly as she had planned.
"…This is bad."
He was genuinely chilled to the bone by the sheer thoroughness of the plan.
He had thought he'd spared no effort to find the optimal play, but his opponent had effortlessly surpassed that, mocking him in a war she had been born to fight.
Todd was startled to find himself shuddering.
"Son of a bitch! What the hell is going on?! We need to get back to the city hall—"
"Idiot, stop! You want to die too?"
"What?"
Unlike Todd, Jamal hadn't realized who was behind the flag-burning.
From this distance, the details on the city hall rooftop would be invisible to his eyes. It was only because of Todd's extraordinary vision that he could see it. And precisely because he could see, he had to hold Jamal back.
With the garrison flag burning, the city's fall was a foregone conclusion.
At this very moment, Zikr and all the "generals" at the banquet were likely already dead. If Jamal charged in blindly, he'd only meet the same end.
"You scared, you?! Is that what an Imperial soldier is, huh?!"
"Pride won't win battles or save your life. Besides, even you should be able to see it—the city hall is done for. The Second General and the rest are dead. Before long, the Shudrak will march into the city."
"————"
"If we don't run before then, our only option left will be a heroic death in battle."
Jamal was not the type to meekly accept the humiliation of surrender.
His alternative was to charge into the enemy camp with weapons drawn, go out in a blaze of suicidal valor, and take about ten of them with him before dying.
One might call it a fitting death for a Sword Wolf—but from Todd's perspective, it was little more than throwing his life away.
Life was a finite resource.
Worth spending to secure victory, certainly—but wasteful to throw away on wounded pride.
They had been together long enough. Todd figured they were close enough to offer this much advice. Probably.
"There's a hole in the wall I just sealed up nearby. I'm getting out through there. What about you?"
"G-guh… You want me to show my face again?!"
"If you're alive, there's always a chance to wash away the shame. But once you're dead, that's it. Anyway, I'm heading out. I'm not riding with no chance of winning."
In truth, he wouldn't get on board even if the odds were merely slim—but there was no time to argue every last detail with Jamal.
Turning on his heel and breaking into a run, Todd heard Jamal curse under his breath—"Son of a bitch!"—and after a moment's hesitation, grudgingly follow.
If only everyone were this predictable, things would be simpler. But the world wasn't that accommodating.
At any rate— "I suppose I'll remember the name Natsumi. —Mother of War, indeed."
△▼△▼△▼△ When the Imperial flag burned and the fall of the city hall became clear, the Imperial soldiers surrendered with surprising obedience.
The city garrison was no different, and for Subaru—who had aimed for a bloodless surrender—it was a tremendous relief, albeit an unexpected development.
"I always used to wonder why, when watching historical dramas about the Warring States period, the battle would end the moment the enemy general was captured…"
In Subaru's mind, when the general fell, the next highest-ranking officer would simply take over and the fighting would continue.
It would only end when one side was annihilated or nearly so—that was how a layman expected it to work. But in reality, battles didn't play out that way.
Even the Imperial garrison, which should have overwhelmingly outmatched them in raw numbers, surrendered their weapons the instant Commander Zikr's capture became known.
"Tha' was something else, Na, Subaru… I mean, Natsumi."
"Mizelda."
Subaru, who had been clutching his borrowed chest in relief at the success of the operation, was addressed by Mizelda, who was drinking straight from a jug of liquor with characteristic gusto.
She and her team had been positioned outside the city as a separate unit. Upon seeing the Imperial flag burn, they had realized the city hall had fallen and entered the city. The garrison guards, having learned of the Imperial soldiers' defeat, hadn't tried to stop their confident advance.
Thanks to the Shudrak's help, they had succeeded in capturing the vast majority of the Imperial forces.
The grand hall, formerly the banquet venue, had been cleared of the wine and food that had lined the tables, and in its place rows upon rows of restrained Imperial soldiers stood in neat lines.
Mizelda was among those who saw no reason to waste good liquor and continued drinking, though Subaru noted that this only reinforced her image as a barbarian ready to pillage at the drop of a hat.
"But with this many people… a frontal confrontation would have been impossible, wouldn't it?"
"No mat'er how many enemies there are, th' pride of th' Shudrak won't break. …Tha' said, numbers can't be overcome so easily. But you and Abel proved tha' wrong."
"————"
"Be proud, Natsumi. You showed courage through wisdom. Something we could never have done."
Mizelda clapped Subaru heartily on the shoulder, leaving behind a broad, manly grin.
With the same stride, she headed over to Taritta and Kuna—the two who had contributed most to the city hall's capture—to offer her praise.
Even from a distance, Taritta's radiant expression at being praised by her sister was heartwarming. Meanwhile, Kuna was being embraced by a relieved Holly in a way that suggested she might snap in half.
"If only our illustrious hero Kuna would stop breathing right about now… that's what I'd like to say."
"————"
A small smile escaped Subaru, aided by the relief he felt. He turned around and nearly bumped into someone who had been standing right behind him.
It was— "R-
"…Yes."
Rem gazed up at Subaru from point-blank range, and he involuntarily stepped back.
Leaning on her wooden staff, Rem studied Subaru from head to toe with her pale blue eyes. Feeling uncomfortable under that scrutiny, Subaru gave a small cough.
"W-what is it? I'm perfectly fine, you know."
"Oh, I've heard. But you seem like the type who would hide an injury and say exactly that."
"How little trust you have in me… Then again, I'm not exactly tough when it comes to pain, so I'll report even the slightest scrape immediately. Truly, truly."
"…That also sounds suspicious."
"Oh dear…"
Under Rem's skeptical gaze, Subaru's shoulders drooped.
But then he cocked his head. That remark had been curt in tone, but wasn't it, at its core, an expression of concern for whether Subaru was injured?
"A-are you worried about me?"
"Huh?"
"Oh! I'm sorry! I got ahead of myself! Of course—not like Rem would be worried about me or anything—"
"I was."
"Huh?"
Subaru waved his hands frantically, trying to retract his gaffe. But he was interrupted by Rem's own words.
Without changing her expression, Rem's eyes wavered slightly— "That's right, I was worried. Naturally. No matter how ridiculous the plan was, I was the one who made you do it. And yet I wouldn't be worried? What kind of heartless person do you think I am?"
"N-no, no, no, that's not what I meant at all! I don't think Rem is heartless! Rem is full of love, and maybe a bit intense in her assumptions, and before we got close she was somewhat aloof, but that gap is also an irresistible charm and—"
"————"
"Rem, are you… moved?"
"No, I was just thinking you're creepy."
"Guah!" Subaru's false chest was pierced by the sheer simplicity of her words.
Clutching his prosthetic bust and stumbling backward, Rem let out a languid sigh. Then she took one step toward Subaru.
"Regardless of how you say things, you pulled it off. You really did bring this city to its knees. And without a single death."
"…If we're going by the literal promise of a bloodless surrender, I would have preferred no injuries either. But I suppose that was too much to hope for."
"Perhaps. With you and Abel, you might have managed even that. …Why do you make that face?"
"…N-no reason at all?"
Rem frowned at Subaru's grim expression.
In truth, her assessment was fair. Without Abel's cooperation, this plan would never have worked, and it was a fact that he was terrifyingly quick-witted.
And yet, hearing Rem praise another man made something stir unpleasantly in his chest.
"I suppose even a fake chest can feel things after all…"
"…I feel like you're saying something really pointless…"
Under Rem's deadpan stare, Subaru waved both hands and deflected.
There was no point conveying his jealousy to Rem—she'd only find it unsettling. That was only natural, but the sting was real nonetheless. Unrequited love was a bitter thing.
"No, in this case it's more of a reflex…?
"Oh! Natsumi-chan, there you are! I heard it was amazing—congratulations!"
"M-Medium!"
Medium came barreling in with thunderous footsteps and a booming voice. Subaru leaned back to avoid her enthusiastic approach, but it was pointless since she compensated for the distance by leaning even further forward.
Medium wore a beaming smile, with two girls—Utakata and Rui—perched on her shoulders, and happily surveyed the soldiers in the hall.
"All these people were captured by Natsumi-chan and the others, right? I'm so impressed! So, so, so, how's big sis doing? Did big sis do her best?"
"Big sis—well, Medium, Flore is—"
"I'm right here, little sister!"
"Oh!"
A single heavy footfall and a booming declaration of presence—a handsome young man had appeared in the hall, and Medium's already wide eyes grew even wider.
There, unmistakably, was Flop—her longtime companion.
"Big bro! It's you, isn't it?! So big sis wasn't really big sis, the one I thought was big sis was actually big bro!?"
"Hahaha, I haven't the faintest idea what you're saying, little sister! But here I am regardless. Whether I'm brother or sister, does it really matter?"
"Right! Then maybe I'm not a little sister—I'm a little brother! And I'm huge!"
"Sister or brother, brother or sister—we're still family, and nothing changes that!"
The Okkorl siblings' conversation was unique, to say the least, but it carried its distinctive rhythm all the way to a conclusion.
Flop laughed as Medium hugged him around the waist, and with the girls on her shoulders, she began to spin in circles.
The result was Flop's feet lifting off the ground as he went into a full rotation, and the hall filled with the delighted laughter of siblings and children alike.
"This is quite surreal…"
"Medium was worried about Flop too, you know. …And speaking of, how long do you intend to keep wearing that outfit? For the rest of your life?"
"That's a bit excessive! No matter how cute I look, this is merely a temporary guise… I must eventually return to my true form."
"'Eventually' means you plan to stay like this for quite a while longer, then?"
"I simply haven't had time to change! It's only a matter of circumstance!"
Rem looked at Subaru with the unmistakable expression of someone eyeing a deviant, and Subaru didn't have the mental fortitude to endure it for long.
In truth, the reason he was still in his disguise was that he'd been kept busy with small tasks—burning the Imperial flag, greeting the "Shudrak people" who entered the city afterward, and so on.
The situation simply hadn't allowed him time to change. It was not, under any circumstances, a deliberate choice to remain as Natsumi Schwartz.
"There really isn't any, is there?"
"I see. As for Abel, he's with the general in the inner room."
"You don't believe me at all!"
Rem pointed in that direction, and Subaru trudged off obediently.
He would have liked to stay here and celebrate the bloodless surrender with Rem and everyone else, but he couldn't let his guard down and revel in triumph.
In the end, the fall of Guaral was merely a waypoint. He still had to consider the civil war that would shake the Empire and what position he himself would occupy in it.
For that purpose— "Excuse me."
Subaru pushed open the door to a side room at the back of the grand hall.
It had originally been the private office of the city hall's master—the mayor—but the original occupant had been driven out, and a new ruler now sat in the chair.
Originally Zikr the Second General, but now an even more imperious figure.
"—You. Still wearing that getup, are you?"
Cheek propped on his fist, Abel snorted. He had already shed the dancer's costume and donned men's clothing.
Before him was Zikr's shaggy head, bowed in submission, and no one else remained in the room.
"Please refrain from commenting on my appearance. More to the point—you're alone with the Second General without any guards? Have you no sense of self-preservation?"
"If this man showed any inclination to resist, I would have pressed a blade to him. But he harbors no such intent. Right, Zikr Osman?"
"Yes. That is quite correct, Your Excellency."
When Abel tilted his chin to prompt a response, Zikr addressed him as such.
"Your Excellency"—a title laden with the reverence reserved for a clear superior. It was proof that Zikr had judged Abel to be far more than a cross-dressing rogue.
In other words, Zikr was kneeling here with full understanding of Abel's true identity.
"You told him?"
"There was no need. It appears he realized during the dance. Or rather, to be precise, he understood intellectually afterward."
"?"
Subaru tilted his head, uncertain what the difference meant.
But Zikr, in response to Abel's assessment, bowed his head even deeper, as though expressing yet greater admiration.
In truth, Zikr was one of those rare individuals who had truly grasped the reality that Abel was the emperor—something that had been difficult to feel until now—and was openly declaring his respect.
"Be that as it may, it's all the better that you discerned it without being told. Zikr Osman, serve me. I will not treat you poorly."
"Yes! For Your Excellency's sake, I, Zikr Osman, shall pledge my very life!"
"W-wait, wait, are you serious?! You haven't even heard the full story yet?!"
Zikr swore fealty to Abel on the spot, while the latter remained seated.
It was convenient, certainly, but the conversation was proceeding almost too smoothly. However, Zikr shook his head vigorously in response to Subaru's questioning.
"With Your Excellency before me, making this request of me—then answering the call is my duty as an Imperial 'general.' More than that, I wish to swear my loyalty to Your Excellency beyond what I have pledged before."
"Oh? Why is that? Was my dance truly that captivating?"
"It was magnificent, truly. But that is not the sole reason."
Despite Abel's cold humor, Zikr's fervor burned bright. He pressed both fists to the floor, his expression radiating pure, unbridled elation.
"That Your Excellency remembered my epithet—indeed, remembered the dishonorable title I had been cursed with—and moreover, chose to believe in it…"
"As is natural. If one aspires to rule the Empire, one must understand every corner of its territory. The same applies to one's subjects. A 'general' is someone I may call upon at any time to serve as my own hand and foot. If I cannot even identify my own limbs, how can I expect the emperor's stride to be steady?"
"Absolutely not! And that is precisely why this fills me with such honor!"
Zikr trembled with irrepressible elation as he swore his burning loyalty to Abel.
Honestly, when viewed purely by the sequence of events, this was almost too convenient an outcome—but Zikr's profile was so intense, so earnest, that even Subaru couldn't find room to doubt his sincerity.
At the same time, Subaru was overwhelmed by Abel's magnetic charisma—his pull—and the fierce self-confidence and conviction as emperor that supported it.
He didn't know how many "generals" the Empire possessed, but even if Zikr was somewhat exceptional among them, could Abel have truly memorized them all well enough to be confident of this outcome?
Moreover, considering the possibility that a different "general" might have been stationed in this city, Abel must have been certain that regardless of who it was, he could bring about this result.
The emperor—the figure above the clouds—knew him, had analyzed his strengths and weaknesses, devised a strategy accordingly, and Zikr had been flawlessly ensnared and defeated.
Perhaps this was the feeling of a high school baseball pitcher who had just been hit for a home run by his idol professional player.
That might be a stretch, given that the real event had been a far more serious matter of war.
In any case— "If Zikr Osman pledges his allegiance, the generals under him will follow. Combined with the citadel city, we can finally say we've assembled a reasonable fighting force."
"That said, if we remain on guard against outsiders, our forces will inevitably fall short. First, we should invite the reinforcements expected from the capital into the city and call for their surrender."
With a man who knew the Empire's inner workings and could formulate strategy now added to their ranks, the war council rapidly took on a more serious character.
Unlike Abel, who accepted this without resistance, Subaru felt a strong reluctance toward the preparations for full-scale war. That was why he had wanted to discuss matters with Abel before the conversation advanced.
After taking the citadel city—the matter of Subaru and Rem's treatment.
But the topic Subaru had been about to raise was, unfortunately, not taken up.
Because— "—Reinforcements from the capital."
At Zikr's words, Abel's muttered response made the room's air tremble.
In front of Subaru and the others, whose eyes went wide at Abel's reaction, he rose abruptly from his chair and strode back into the grand hall.
And then— "—Seal the city's main gate at once! Ignore anyone who claims to be an envoy!"
Abel's roar shocked everyone in the hall.
Naturally, even Subaru and the others—who had been talking with Abel just moments ago—had no idea what was happening, so Mizelda and the rest couldn't possibly grasp Abel's intent.
But the urgency in Abel's demeanor was more than enough to sense that something was wrong.
"Taritta, go tell them to close the main gate."
"Sister, what exactly—"
"Go! Don't shame the name of the Shudrak!"
Mizelda's fierce voice cracked like a whip against Taritta's hesitation.
Startled by the killing intent in that single command, Taritta's eyes went wide and she rushed out of the hall. She would order the guards to seal the main gate.
That much of Abel's instruction would be carried out—but— "Chief, what's happened? It's rare to see you so flustered."
"I have no time for your pleasantries, merchant. We must reorganize immediately. Zikr Osman—convince the other generals. Mizelda, you and yours—"
"Grrrgh!"
Abel dismissed Flop's concern and fired off orders with brisk efficiency.
He commanded Zikr and Mizelda, leaders of their respective groups, to rally their people—but the orders were cut short midway, interrupted by a high-pitched child's tantrum.
"Wh-wh-what happened?! Rui-chan, what's going on?!"
"Nn! Nn! Aa—nn!"
"Ruu! Calm down! It's not good to be upset!"
Medium, whose elaborately decorated hair was being tugged, spun around in surprise with wide eyes. Perched on her shoulders, Rui was frantically making noise while Utakata tried to soothe her.
But Rui only grew more agitated. Not only that, she was shedding copious tears, her expression rigid with fear.
"Rui-chan, please calm down! What's wrong? If something happened, I'll listen properly, so please don't cry—"
"Nn!"
"Huh? Something over there?"
Unable to watch the sobbing child, Rem approached her. When Rui noticed Rem coming closer, she pointed tearfully toward a corner of the hall.
Rem's gaze followed the gesture. Involuntarily, Subaru and Abel looked too. But there was nothing there. —Nothing, that should have been.
"Mizelda!"
"M-m-m-me—!!"
Glaring into that empty space, Abel called Mizelda's name first.
As if waiting for the signal, Mizelda swiftly raised the bow on her back, snatched four arrows in her right hand, nocked them all at once, and drew.
From Mizelda's powerful physique came the devastating strike of the Shudrak chief.
Four arrows flew in a spread, hurtling toward the empty space Rui had indicated. Each arrow carried a force reminiscent of the "hunter" who had killed Subaru in the forest.
If it had been Subaru on the receiving end, his torso would have been torn clean off.
The floor and walls, which should have been harder than arrows, shattered, and debris erupted into the hall in a cloud of dust.
Soldiers who had leaped back to avoid being caught held their breath as Subaru and the others peered into the smoke, searching for the cause of Rui's distress— "—If that's all you've got, I won't be able to kill you."
A languid voice drifted softly into the smoke-filled hall.
A woman's voice, his eardrums registered. Easygoing, carefree, devoid of emotional fluctuation, and quiet in volume.
In a moment of extreme tension, it was jarringly out of place.
But the result that voice produced was devastating.
"————"
—In the blink of an eye, Mizelda's entire body was engulfed in a raging inferno.
△▼△▼△▼△ "—!!"
In an instant, flames enveloped Mizelda from head to toe, and she let out a soundless scream.
The sight of her reduced to a human-shaped pillar of flame froze everyone into inaction.
"—Holly!!"
"R-right!!"
Kuna's shout snapped Holly into action, and she lunged for a large water vessel. Lifting it with her boasted strength, she hurled it with all her might at Mizelda's feet.
The vessel shattered, and the water that poured forth engulfed Mizelda. The burning woman collapsed to the floor.
The flames had lasted only an instant, but the searing pain across her entire body was beyond imagination.
What on earth had just happened? Subaru couldn't keep up with how rapidly the situation was changing. But he did notice that the figure at the center of the chaos in the hall had multiplied.
Not just Subaru—the others were gradually registering the newcomers as well.
—Standing there was a beautiful girl with most of her tawny skin exposed.
Hair close to silver-white, an eyepatch covering her left eye, a luxuriant tail extending from her hip, and in her hand what appeared to be a branch picked up from somewhere nearby.
Her expression seemed devoid of emotion, looking rather young, which struck an oddly dissonant note against her mature, feminine figure.
But there was no doubt that this lovely girl was the one who had triggered everything that had just transpired.
What she had done, what her purpose was, who she was—all of it was a mystery— "You.
But in the midst of everyone's paralysis, one person knew her name and called it out.
Standing tall, his sharp eyes fixed on the girl—Arakiya—was the emperor who had been driven from the throne of the Holy Volakian Empire.
The overwhelming presence that had instantly won Zikr's fealty—Arakiya faced it head-on, yet she waved the branch in her hand left and right without a trace of tension.
"Your Excellency. It's been a while."
"You appear to be in good health as well. —Chisha is as merciless as ever, I see."
"He won't do it, though. Because it's dangerous."
The exchange lacked any tension—but that was only from Arakiya's perspective.
Even if communication was possible, Abel's taut expression made it clear that this was not someone with whom the situation could be improved through conversation.
After all, what sort of person was this, who addressed Abel with such casual ease while fully recognizing him as the emperor?
"Arakiya, First General—"
"…What did you just say?"
Involuntarily standing shoulder to shoulder, Subaru's face went rigid at the words Zikr had forced out.
He wished it were a mishearing, but the sweat beading on Zikr's face told Subaru his expression was deadly serious. The last hope of having misheard evaporated.
And to prove that it was no illusion, Zikr continued— "Arakiya the First General… one of the 'Nine Divine Generals,' the Empire's strongest!"
"And she is the Second of the Nine Divine Generals. —In other words, the second highest in the Empire."
"The Empire's second…?!"
Abel's clarification completed Zikr's exclamation, and Subaru let out an undisguised scream.
At the center of the hall's collective shock, Arakiya raised her branch and puffed out her chest proudly.
"Impressive."
"————"
Slowly, a siege formation of Shudrak warriors began closing in around Arakiya. Mizelda had been taken down in the opening move. Seventeen remained—including the noncombatant Utakata—so it was unclear whether they had sufficient fighting strength.
But— "Like hell I'll let our hard-won victory be disrupted—!"
Spitting those words like a curse, Subaru snatched up one of the confiscated swords.
Drive them out, drive them off, beat them down and capture them—whatever it took, he would make this conquest of Guaral certain.
"It won't matter how hard you try."
In the next instant, a violent wind that seemed to twist the very fabric of the hall swept through. Subaru, the Shudrak, and the restrained Imperial soldiers—all were indiscriminately swept up and jumbled together.
"————"
Heaven and earth flipped. Up, down, left, right, front, and back became meaningless as Subaru's body was slammed against the floor, the walls, the ceiling—the pain nearly snatching away his consciousness.
"…Ugh…"
What had happened? Lying on the ground, staring up at the shattered ceiling, Subaru's brain slowly processed and analyzed the information. —A tornado.
A tornado of incredible magnitude had been generated indoors, in an instant, and it had swallowed Subaru—no, all of them—and spat them out with brutal indifference.
People and objects, friend and foe alike, had been ravaged by Arakiya's tornado without discrimination.
And yet, the reason Subaru had barely managed to retain consciousness was— "H-how many more… will you hurt…"
Mumbling weakly, Zikr let his arm fall limp. He had been holding Subaru.
The instant the tornado appeared, Zikr had instinctively pulled Subaru's body close, trying to shield him from the destructive onslaught. It was a small gesture, but his body had served as a cushion, and Subaru had managed to stay conscious.
But— "This can't be…"
Surveying the devastated hall, Subaru spat out the words with a sense of despair.
In the wreckage where everything had been tossed about like rag dolls, the Shudrak warriors who had been brimming with fighting spirit moments ago were all sprawled on the floor, incapacitated.
Those who had shown hostile intent had suffered the worst.
It seemed that despite the scale of destruction, Arakiya's tornado had somehow selected its targets.
"R…Rem…"
Bearing the pain throughout his body, Subaru searched the hall for Rem.
She, too, might have been struck and knocked unconscious like the others. If she'd taken a direct hit, worst-case scenarios flashed through his mind.
Then Subaru's scanning gaze found what he was looking for.
It wasn't Rem. It wasn't Rem—but it was something that caught his eye.
Because there, standing on his own two feet despite surviving the tornado, having escaped to the half-destroyed balcony and leaning against the railing while glaring at Arakiya, was Abel.
"Abel…"
How had he protected himself inside that tornado? Abel's injuries were minimal—though blood ran from his forehead and one arm hung limp, it was still a painful sight.
But the eyes that burned with undiminished spirit were fixed squarely on Arakiya.
"A mere puppet, putting on airs. Have you forgotten why you joined my forces?"
"…Your Excellency lied to me. I was deceived. That is why I won't forgive you."
"—Was that Chisha's doing as well?"
Abel's eyes narrowed slightly as he let out a heavy, blood-tinged breath.
Despite the blankness of Arakiya's expression, unmistakable anger smoldered in her eyes. She stepped slowly over the devastated ground and advanced toward Abel on the balcony.
She hadn't fled to the balcony purely to maintain appearances, but neither did the wounded, unarmed Abel seem to have any recourse.
With each step closing the distance, Arakiya's advance looked like a countdown on Abel's life.
One step. Two. She continued to approach—and then— "Nn, aaah—!!"
A cry rang out, and an instant later, a pillar toppled into the spot where Arakiya would have passed.
Stone shattered with a deafening crash—a primitive mass weapon weighing several hundred kilograms at least bore down on Arakiya.
The one who had done it was Rem, who had been hiding behind the pillar, biding her time.
She had survived the tornado and taken cover behind the column—she was probably visible from Abel's position. Masking her presence, timing her strike with Arakiya's advance and Abel's line of sight, she had pushed the pillar over.
Rem's tremendous strength channeled into the last attack she could muster in this situation.
The pillar bore down on Arakiya without missing, threatening to crush her delicate frame— "Hm?"
"—No way."
Without even looking, Arakiya's foot moved and the floor warped like candy, extending upward to brace the falling pillar before hardening once more.
It looked as though it had been that way from the beginning—like witnessing the completion of a piece of avant-garde art.
Rem's desperate strike hadn't just failed to reach Arakiya—it hadn't even made her shift her attention.
And as Rem collapsed to one knee at the base of the shattered pillar, Arakiya turned to look at her. Upon seeing Rem, Arakiya blinked in surprise.
"Oh. An oni. How rare."
"Who are you—"
"…Don't get in my way. I don't want to hurt my allies."
"Your allies…?"
Confusion twisted into rage on Rem's face.
But tragically, when the gap in power between them was this vast, anger was merely an emotion—and the will to resist was hollow.
Rem reached for the rubble, this time signaling her intent to attack by throwing.
But Arakiya waved her branch, generating a gust of wind that swept away every piece of debris around Rem.
Literally every last piece. Not just the rubble on the floor—the wall behind Rem, the ceiling, and portions of the upper story were all torn away one after another.
"I'm not good at controlling the force. I might blow you away too."
"Then—then, go ahead and do it! After everything you've done, what is there to hesitate about now? This is…"
"…That's a shame."
Arakiya drooped her shoulders at Rem's teeth-gritted response.
But despite that endearing gesture, Arakiya's actions were ruthless and simple. Slowly, she raised her branch, and a phenomenon beyond comprehension prepared to annihilate Rem's existence.
—There was no way
"Nn—aaah—!!"
With a raw cry, Subaru drove every ounce of pain out of his body as his muscles surged into motion.
In this single moment, the fear that paralyzed him, the uncertain anxiety about the future—none of it mattered. All of it was in the way.
Abandoning thought, he moved on pure instinct, throwing himself between Rem and Arakiya.
He wanted—at the very least—to shield her from the destruction that had been about to consume Rem.
He would have been fine with dying. If he could protect Rem, dying would have been fine.
He didn't want to die—that was the honest truth—and his death would undo everything, which was the curse of Natsuki Subaru's fate. But even so, he wouldn't have minded dying here.
Dressed as a woman, with a fake chest, his face painted with cosmetics, a wig on his head, every trick employed to make his skin appear pale—in this absurd costume that he had adopted in the pursuit of beauty, Natsuki Subaru stood up to face annihilation for the sake of a girl he had to protect.
"——!"
Shielding Rem with his back, Subaru spread both arms wide.
He heard Rem gasp, realizing that Subaru had thrown himself in front of her.
But what she thought of his action, what she felt—that answer would never come. That opportunity was stolen away— Before the all-consuming force of Arakiya— "What a comically pathetic gesture. But I don't hate it."
Those were the words that reached Subaru's ears as he braced himself for the end of everything.
Squeezing his eyes shut, expecting the finality to arrive—the heat, the loss, the pain, the suffering, the dryness—every conceivable precursor to death failed to descend upon his body, and Subaru drew a sharp breath.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked.
There was Subaru, shielding Rem with his back and arms spread wide. —And before Subaru, there was someone else's back.
It was not Arakiya. Arakiya stood on the other side of that back, her face frozen in shock, standing in stunned silence.
The source of that shock was a figure with a brilliantly crimson sword raised in one hand, cutting down every last trace of the destruction that had been about to crash down.
Arrogant and imperious, utterly convinced that all the world knelt at her feet—eyes the color of red.
Cradling her ample chest with one arm, her expression of cruel beauty tinged with mockery—she was someone who was never supposed to have been here at this moment.
"—Ah."
At the appearance of someone who should not have existed, Subaru could only stare, breathless.
Sheltering Subaru behind her, the breathtaking beauty who was the living embodiment of the character "Red" snorted with disdain.
And then— "There is no need to introduce myself, fool. You should be the one calling out my name."
With those words, she—