——Even within the city of
The rooftop was designed to accommodate a considerable number of soldiers for archery in times of emergency, but having this many people—over a hundred—gathered in one place was beyond anything anyone had envisioned.
The sight of burly men pressed shoulder to shoulder might have suggested they were some sort of punishment detail, and the gloomy atmosphere they projected could easily have suffocated both those inside and outside the cordon. Yet the expressions on their actual faces bore no trace of such despondency. In their eyes burned a serious, earnest light.
And at the far end of the over-one-hundred gazes directed at them, there stood a wide-open space.
There, amid— *—Ptui.* —the ragged spatter of liquid, a black-haired boy spat the blood pooled in his mouth onto the floor.
A face caked in nosebleed, swollen eyelids, a head swaying unsteadily back and forth—he was a wreck from a single glance, battered beyond recognition. Barely able to stand, it was a wonder he was standing at all, and yet the boy steadied himself with one knee braced against the ground and lifted his face.
—A fist crashed head-on into that face, flattening the bridge of his nose with a sickening crunch, and the boy was sent flying backward more spectacularly than ever before.
He flew, and flew, and tumbled, and sprawled into a starfish.
He lay there with all four limbs flung limp, looking as though the accumulated damage would make it impossible to rise again— "Not… done yet…"
The one who overturned that assumption was none other than the boy lying in his starfish sprawl.
Slowly pushing his upper body upright, smearing his mouth further with a fresh gush of nosebleed, the boy nonetheless hauled himself back to his feet and let out a long, shuddering breath.
Then— *—WHAM.* The opponent's fist swung down, and once again the boy was hammered with a devastating blow.
△▼△▼△▼△ "——This is my reckoning. So please, don't interfere."
If she hadn't been told that in advance,
But she held that urge in check, biting down on her lip, and respected his feelings. That was all Beatrice could do for her partner,
*—WHAM.* The hard crack of impact echoed, and Subaru's face snapped to the side with a pained groan. His teetering body nearly toppled, but he caught himself, teeth clenched, and faced forward again.
The next fist drove into the bridge of his nose, and his head whipped back violently. It whipped back, but— "Not… yet… not yet…"
Subaru squeezed the words out through blood-red, bloodshot eyes, blood trickling from his nose in a steady drip.
At the sound of that voice, the man with the skeletal tattoos—who had been pounding Subaru for over twenty strikes already—Weitz, twisted his fearsome scowl and raised his fist once more.
And so again Subaru's noseblood scattered, and the rooftop floor of the great citadel grew filthier still.
This had been repeated countless times over the past several days—today alone, for over an hour.
"Subaru…"
At first glance, it looked like a duel between Subaru and Weitz, but a one-sided beating was hardly something one could call a duel. Standing stock-still, Subaru took Weitz's fists head-on.
And Beatrice watched—no, it wasn't only Beatrice.
"————"
Surrounding them on the citadel's rooftop, more than a hundred people had crowded in.
Every one of them belonged to the "Pleiades Garrison" that Natsuki Subaru had gathered as allies within the Empire, and they were also witnesses to this so-called duel.
Yes—this ritual in which Subaru was being beaten, one-sidedly, without end— "Sparta."
Standing beside Beatrice, who was clutching the hem of her skirt, the deer-girl
Gazing at the same scene, Tanza's profile—with its dark, unreadable eyes—made Beatrice feel a sharp, bristling pain, as though the girl were silently declaring that she understood Subaru's feelings even better than Beatrice did.
Because, after all— "…Betty doesn't understand why Subaru has to do this."
Subaru had imposed this ritual on himself—this one-sided beating—of his own free will.
He had asked Beatrice to witness it as his reckoning, and so Beatrice, enduring the ache in her chest, could do nothing but stand here and try to grant that wish.
The death of
Those whose wounds were shallow suffered precisely because they were shallow; those who had been cut deep and raw were instead busy staunching blood and tending to the pain of their gashes.
And tragically, Beatrice belonged to the former, while Subaru was as far into the latter as one could possibly be.
"————"
When this "Sparta" began, Subaru had called it his reckoning.
With a body shrunken by Infantilization, he had met the gladiators from the island, and—citing the way things had unfolded and his own calculations in recruiting companions—he had concealed his identity, deceived them, and dragged them into the heart of this war.
Considering the ferocity of that battle and the enormous role the Garrison had played, without Subaru's intervention the casualties would have been far worse, or the fortress city itself might have fallen.
So Subaru's judgment and choices had been the right answer, the correct path to saving the Empire.
And yet Subaru himself could not forgive that—and so he was seeking punishment like this.
"Uah…"
A tiny hand settled atop Beatrice's, which was gripping her skirt so tightly her knuckles had gone white.
A quick glance revealed that
And the fact that she was causing Spica worry like this—that too made Beatrice feel wretched.
Spica was the only person here, besides Beatrice herself, who had no ties to the Pleiades Garrison. Beatrice wished with all her heart that all of the girl's concern and anxiety could be directed toward Subaru instead.
"I'm sorry about that. Spica, your—"
"Oh my. I was wondering why there were so many shadows on the rooftop, and when I drop by it turns out the boss is doing his 'Sparta' again. Today, just like every other day—getting beaten to a pulp without so much as raising a hand. Appearances really are deceiving, aren't they? He's a remarkably dutiful man."
"————"
Just as Beatrice was squeezing Spica's hand in return, a figure with a carefree voice and manner casually hooked one leg over the rooftop fence and made his presence known at the scene of the "Sparta."
He carried himself with the casual ease of someone skipping a stairstep on the way up, but nimbly hopping onto the rooftop of a fortress nearly a hundred meters off the ground was no simple feat. Then again, common sense had never applied to this kimono-clad swordsman—"Blue Lightning"
"Cecilus-dono."
Cecilus was balancing on one leg atop the fence, shading his eyes with one hand as he watched the "Sparta." At Tanza's call, a dopey grin spread across his face.
"Hey, hey, Tanza-san. You know, standing up here at this angle compared to you feels refreshing—it gives me a weird, delightful feeling. I suppose this is my standard, and the children-size version was the costume I wore for so long, but I've been around you longer in that form, so doesn't it feel a bit strange?"
"It does, in a way. I'm the type whose eye level—both of body and heart—doesn't change regardless of physical height, so honestly, I can't say my impression of you has changed all that much."
"Ha ha ha ha! Nice joke!"
Cecilus clapped and laughed at Tanza's deflating response, then swung his gaze in a full circle until it landed on Beatrice. When Beatrice furrowed her brow under that blue-eyed stare— "The boss's partner looks awfully displeased."
"…Of course she is. There was no need for Subaru to go this far, was there?"
"Let's not get into whether it was necessary or not. If we boil it down to the extreme—arguments about whether life is worth living or worthless aren't exactly the height of elegance, are they? Besides, even if it wasn't necessary, there was a reason. Even if it doesn't exist inside you, it exists inside the boss. Clear as day."
"————"
"Well, personally, I think he's been way too earnest about it. He deceived the Garrison members—all of whom he's been with since the Sword Slave Island days—and now he's determined to apologize with absolute sincerity until every last one of them forgives him. That said, the Garrison members are all hot-blooded sword slaves to begin with, so of course they'd settle it this way."
Cecilus rattled off all this in a smooth, rapid-fire monologue, then pointed at the battered Subaru.
Annoying as it was, nothing Cecilus had said was wrong. Just as he'd described, the beating Subaru was taking from Weitz as his reckoning was an act of atonement to the Pleiades Garrison.
Members of the Pleiades Garrison: nine hundred and thirty-one in total. That meant nine hundred and thirty-one blows as a cleansing rite.
Taking on every strike that Weitz—standing in for the entire Garrison—delivered, that was the ritual Subaru had imposed on himself and won the Garrison's agreement to: "Sparta."
"Even though you're splitting it up across multiple days, that's still nine hundred blows, isn't it? Even I would die if I took that many. To be honest, I've never once considered the scenario of just standing there getting punched defenselessly, so the whole premise feels like it doesn't hold together… About how many has he taken so far?"
"Two hundred and fifty-six, including today's total."
"I see, I see… It makes my head spin just hearing it!"
Cecilus declared this without a shred of malice after hearing the count from Tanza.
Beatrice wanted to snap at his flippancy, but it would have been pointless. She gave up on commenting, squeezed Spica's hand back, and focused her thoughts on worrying about Subaru.
During this "Sparta," Subaru had forbidden Beatrice from using healing magic on him.
So the moment today's "Sparta" ended, she would rush over as quickly as possible—even a second sooner mattered—and gather her mana to mend his wounds.
"Cecilus."
In Beatrice's place, a heavy, solemn voice called out to Cecilus.
A massive man with four muscular arms folded across his chest and a fearsome expression—Gustavo—glanced from Cecilus on the fence to the scenery behind him.
"I'm not sure if I have the standing to ask a professional, but what about General
"There's nothing to hide between me and Gustavo-san. After all, starting next, you'll be ceding the post of Governor-General of the Sword Slave Island to someone else and taking up an important position in the Imperial Capital, right? Once that happens, you and I—both Capital residents—will be running into each other all the time. Well, right now the Capital is in a sorry state, so where exactly anyone will be living is anyone's guess, but…"
"————"
"Oh, pardon me—I was talking about Anya. She's still struggling to balance her heart and body, same as always. That slight little frame of hers was crammed with a spirit so enormous it looked fit to burst. She needs complete emotional stability to tame the thing, and now the one person she relied on most—her little sister—is gone. What a pickle, what a pickle indeed."
"I can sympathize with her heartache and hardship more than enough. But the role only you can fulfill is one that bears on the very survival of the Empire. It is not merely the military—I, along with every citizen of the Empire, place our hopes in you."
"What are you saying? How dreadful, Gustavo-san."
"Hmm…?"
"I'm this world's leading man, after all? Shouldering someone else's expectations—and especially an entire Empire's—is second nature to me. I won't be slacking off when it comes to Anya, either."
Cecilus answered with complete composure, but the difficulty of what he had just said with such nonchalance had been proven in plain sight.
Behind Cecilus, past the western wall of the citadel, the wide wasteland stretching beyond bore fresh scars of unnatural cataclysm everywhere.
That was the proof that Cecilus—who had shown up here looking perfectly relaxed—had been absorbing the violent output of Arakiya's power, preventing the girl from losing control of the colossal great spirit bound to the Four.
A power so immense that left unchecked it could have become a second Great Calamity. Yet no half-measures would suffice if one wanted to remain anywhere near Arakiya in her current state.
That was why, across the breadth of the entire Empire, this was a task only Cecilus could perform.
"Whether we wish it or not, people cannot stop walking. Only the dead are permitted to stop; the living have no choice but to keep moving forward. Anya's suffering and the boss's agonizing atonement—they're the same thing at their root. It's painful to watch, but perhaps it should be welcomed."
"You talk about it like it's someone else's problem, saying whatever you please."
"Someone else's problem—what an inelegant phrase. This is the boss's stage, the boss's moment to shine. That said… I believe today's portion is finished, isn't it?"
Cecilus closed one eye and murmured this to Beatrice.
At his words, Beatrice gasped "Eh—" and spun around—just as Weitz's fist slammed Subaru to the ground.
"Hah… hah… I'm done…"
Weitz lowered his fist, slicked with Subaru's blood, as he panted heavily. There was no response from Subaru, who had lost consciousness.
"Subaru!" Beatrice rushed to his side and immediately activated her healing magic. Weitz, having witnessed this, turned on his heel—but— "Hold on. Your hands need treating, too."
"Don't need it… Focus on… Schwarzwald before me…"
"I don't think that's going to happen. Spica."
At her call, Spica darted in front of Weitz and spread both arms wide with a firm "No."
Unable to push past the girl standing her ground like a wall, Weitz was helpless as Beatrice swiftly cast her healing magic. As the warm sensation of wounds closing began to spread, Weitz turned and glared.
But even a man whose skeletal tattoos gave him such a menacing air couldn't intimidate the great spirit Beatrice when his expression was twisted with agony.
"H-hey, Tanza—how many is that now?"
"Two hundred and fifty-eight, Hia-in-sama."
"Six hundred… seventy-three to go. …Long road ahead."
It was the lizardman Hia-in who asked Tanza in a trembling voice from beside Beatrice. Tanza gave him the count, and the bearded Idra shook his head with a gloomy look.
Then Hia-in glanced around and said— "Look, how about he calls it quits? He's done plenty, right? Seems like the feeling's come across and all…"
"You can talk in your sleep, lizard-face…! If I was gonna quit halfway, you think I'd have taken this job in the first place…!"
"Because you're the one who's angriest! Me? I'm not nearly that fired up!"
Hia-in's voice cracked upward as he extended his long tongue, and a vein bulged on Weitz's forehead. But as Weitz started to close in on him, Tanza held him back with "He's still receiving treatment."
Instead, it was Idra who sighed and turned to Hia-in.
"To be blunt, I actually agree with you. Schwarzwald's true identity was certainly shocking, and I did feel deceived, but—"
"Schwarzwald got us off that island… What more do you need…!"
"Th-then nobody wants to do this! So why are you…!"
"Because this is something Natsuki Schwarzwald—no, Natsuki Subaru himself needs. Since Tanza and his contracted spirit Beatrice aren't stopping him, I am in agreement with this course of action."
Idra and Weitz and Hia-in were interrupted by Gustavo, and with his heavy, solemn words, the surrounding gladiators also signaled their roughly similar sentiment through gestures and words of their own.
Of course, among them there were undoubtedly those who still seethed at Subaru's actions— "Uah…"
Beatrice with her hands outstretched, Spica crouching on the other side, gazing at Subaru's battered face with his swollen features and limp body.
No one looking at the scenes of those two young girls—and of Subaru flinging himself into his atonement with such raw desperation—could have felt nothing if they were truly part of the Pleiades Garrison.
"Right now, what Schwarzwald-sama needs is proof that he has not stopped in his tracks. Even if that proof comes in the form of pain."
Tanza's single remark brought a conclusive end to the issue Hia-in had raised.
Hearing this, Weitz clenched the fist that Beatrice's healing magic had restored— "I'll keep going… Even if my knuckles crack, I'll give you another six hundred…!"
"That's wonderful. Truly wonderful. Now that's how you make the most of a stage, Weitz-san."
"————"
"Hm? What's with the weird atmosphere?"
For a split second, Cecilus interjected, and everyone's eyes went wide. Most notably Weitz, caught completely off guard, stared hard at Cecilus— "I never… thought you'd remember my name…"
"I may have a forgetful nature, I'll admit! But I make sure to remember the names of players worth remembering."
"Hmph…"
Cecilus shrugged, and Weitz snorted. Then once more, he gazed down at the fallen Subaru—his expression suggesting that the image of young Subaru seared into his memory overlapped with the face before him, but that clear alignment would still take time.
And then— "I'll leave the rest to you…"
With those parting words, Weitz strode across the citadel rooftop and departed. Following his lead, the other men filed out as well—Idra dragging along the reluctant Hia-in.
Finally, Gustavo gave a nod to Beatrice and the others who remained.
"I shall also take my leave. Natsuki Subaru… I must say, Schwarzwald does have a better ring to it. I'll leave him in your care."
"You don't need to tell me that. Though—do remember this."
"What might that be?"
"If Schwarzwald is what Subaru is to you, and you continue to call him that, Subaru won't say he objects. You don't need to erase a special way of calling him, born not from idle concern but from genuine closeness."
"…I am grateful."
Gustavo bowed deeply, then slowly departed the rooftop as well.
With that, the gladiators who had come as witnesses to the "Sparta" left in a wave, and the suddenly hollow rooftop left Beatrice sighing. She glanced up at the kimono-clad girl beside her.
"You're free to go with them, you know."
"There's no need to worry about me. Unlike everyone else, there's nothing unusual about my remaining here."
"……You must also worry about your master. She is suffering as well."
"————"
The remark had not been intended as sarcasm or malice, but the fact that it had come across that way made Beatrice regret it for an instant.
It had stiffened Tanza's cheeks ever so slightly. Her master,
In other words, Priscilla and Yorna had each experienced the tragedy of a parent-child separation in death.
"Thank you for your concern, Beatrice-sama. …However, Yorna-sama has said that she will be fine on her own."
"————"
"She has insisted upon that, so—"
At Tanza's downcast reply, Beatrice realized she had misjudged her.
Tanza did not agree with Yorna's words. And yet, just as Beatrice had chosen to honor Subaru's reckoning, Tanza had decided to honor Yorna's wishes.
It was difficult for an outsider to gauge what Yorna had truly felt when she insisted she was fine on her own. —But Beatrice felt she had a glimmer of understanding.
Unlike Yorna, Beatrice had not experienced reincarnation, but in her long life she had seen countless souls pass beyond her reach. Before Subaru had taken her out of the Forbidden Library, she had deliberately avoided forming those bonds.
She now regretted that she had been deeply dishonest toward those who had tried to reach out to her. Unlike Beatrice, who could never have learned that lesson without being taught, Yorna may well have known and understood it through her own experience.
Even so— "…Ugh."
"Uah!"
"Spi…ca…? Ah, I… I…"
Suddenly, Subaru's eyelids fluttered, and slowly his dark eyes opened. Spica's face lit up and she pounced on him, and Subaru blinked repeatedly on the spot.
Seeing this, Beatrice let out a breath—she'd figured he'd lost his memory of everything before he blacked out.
"The others are gone already. I was in the middle of healing you."
"A-ah, right! Right, right, sorry, sorry! Ah—yeah, as always, Beako, I've got you worrying about me nonstop! I'm really hopeless without you, huh, huh!"
At Beatrice's explanation, Subaru caught up and slapped both hands against his face. With a dry *smack*, he sprang to his feet.
The momentum was so strong he nearly stumbled forward—but— "Uah-uah!"
"Oh—sorry, sorry, Spica… Hey, thanks for being a witness. You really held back from jumping in there, huh? Now that I think about it, it was kind of a tightrope—what if you'd accidentally gone BAM! and punched Weitz, right?"
"Uah-uah, uah."
"Tanza would have been way worse? …Yeah, now that you mention it, she totally would be! I mean, Tanza cares about me a ton. Weitz could've been in real trouble on multiple fronts."
Saying this, Subaru took Spica's hand—the girl who had steadied him when he nearly collapsed—and began spinning her around in a little dance right there.
His swelling had gone down considerably from the healing magic, but his lips were still split and his eyes remained slightly puffy, so Beatrice honestly wanted to keep treating him— "My reputation is at stake, so please refrain from saying whatever you like, Natsuki Subaru-sama."
Tanza sighed and nudged Subaru, who was dancing with Spica. Subaru pulled a face.
"You're only going to drop the thorns from your words after I'm back to normal size? Also, getting called anything other than Schwarzwald-sama by you, Tanza, stings more than you'd think—please stop."
"My sincerest apologies, Natsuki Subaru-sama. I have been informed that Natsuki Subaru-sama is an honored guest from the Kingdom, and such discourtesy would be absolutely unthinkable, Natsuki Subaru-sama."
"Tanzaaaa~"
At Tanza's reply, dripping with emotional distance, Subaru hugged Spica and made a crestfallen face. —That reckless, bright-as-ever composure was something Beatrice could barely stand to watch.
He demanded his reckoning from the Pleiades Garrison, and in front of Beatrice and those he was close to, he put on a brave face. It was all so he wouldn't be a worry to those around him, surely—but— "…Isn't it counterproductive?"
Putting on a bright face when he wanted to cry, trying to make everyone laugh when it hurt.
Beatrice loved that side of Subaru—of course she did. But that was only true when the sadness and the pain hadn't yet exceeded his capacity to endure.
Nobody should have to put a lid on their own sorrow and pain like this.
"Beako? What's wrong, making that cute face?"
"——Beatrice being adorable is nothing new. More importantly, the treatment isn't finished yet, so sit still, would you?"
"I'd love to say 'I can't afford to waste time,' but I've barely climbed half the mountain, so I better be in top shape. All right—perfect."
Subaru nodded, sat down cross-legged, and placed Spica on his lap with a resolute expression.
Beatrice resumed her healing magic, then glanced at Tanza. But the girl simply shook her head slowly, silently.
She too had no idea what the right words to say to Subaru were right now.
At that moment— "Boss, boss—got a second?"
Completely oblivious to the tension Beatrice and the others were feeling as they watched over Subaru, Cecilus called out to the boss with his usual carefree air.
Subaru looked up and spotted Cecilus on the fence.
"Oh—big Cecilus, huh? Seriously, you just stayed huge the whole time? At this point it doesn't even look weird, which is kinda unfair."
"If anything, I'd say the boss is the one who—when you grow up, your scowl really starts to stand out. In your kid form it was endearing, but the current boss is basically a lethal weapon."
"Say whatever you want, why don't you… You came alone? Where's your lady friend?"
"Oh, I left Anya in a crater. Her durability went through the roof with the 'Rock' power, so I killed her about a hundred times. She probably won't be getting up for a while. More importantly—"
With that, Cecilus hopped lightly off the fence and landed in front of Subaru. Subaru and Spica tilted their heads in unison at the same angle.
Cecilus grinned at the two of them— "You all are heading back to the Kingdom soon, right? Before that—would you mind showing me the part where you punch His Excellency in the face?"
△▼△▼△▼△ "So anyway, I brought the boss to His Excellency! He was furious about getting beaten around on the Sword Slave Island, so I thought he'd want to see it in person!"
"Be gone. Immediately."
Vincent, who appeared to be buried in paperwork, dismissed Cecilus—saluting with a beaming smile as he burst in—without even looking up from the documents on his desk.
He was a busy Emperor, so it was a perfectly reasonable response. But no amount of reasonable treatment would make the most willful man in the Empire back down.
Cecilus puckered his lips in a theatrical pout of dissatisfaction and casually planted himself on the edge of the hardworking Emperor's desk.
"Aren't you working too hard, though? I mean, I understand that the military doesn't get days off in times of crisis, and the civil servants don't get days off in times of crisis OR outside of crisis, but still!"
"And so you imagine you're persuading me? If I were to succumb to your sweet talk and set aside my work, what would you have me do instead?"
"Let the boss punch you in the face!"
"Be gone. Immediately."
"Boo! His Excellency, the hard worker! The Empress agrees, surely?"
"Me?"
At Vincent's merciless response, Cecilus leaned sideways in his seat on the desk and called for reinforcements. The one who reacted to his voice was Medium, who had been playing with Spica on the sofa in the office.
She was brushing Spica's long golden hair, humming a thoughtful "Hmm—"
"I mean, I also think Abel-chin is working too hard, but I understand that what Abel-chin is doing is important, so I can't exactly say he should stop. Also, I don't want to see Abel-chin and Subaru-chin fighting."
"It's not a fight—it's a one-sided beating of His Excellency, which in a sense makes it a 'Sparta,' doesn't it!?"
"Be gone. Remove yourself from that desk."
Cecilus clenched his fist, growing more excited. While trying to extract the documents pinned beneath the man's backside, Vincent closed one eye and sighed.
Then he turned his dark gaze toward the entrance of the room.
"You—how long are you going to keep standing there? You're an eyesore."
"Guh… that's… well…"
"Subaru-chin! Come sit on the sofa front and center with Beatrice-chan!"
Vincent's cold voice and Medium's warm one in contrast coaxed Subaru, who had been wearing an awkward expression, to sit on the sofa in the center of the room, directly across from Medium. Beatrice, still holding Subaru's hand, took a seat beside him, and Medium gently set down cups of tea.
"Here you go. It's just humble tea, though."
"This is, nominally, my office, you know. Are you serving the Emperor humble tea?"
"Big brother taught me it's polite! I don't really understand etiquette myself, so I'm trying my best!"
As she spoke, Medium refilled the cup on Vincent's desk as well. The curling steam rising from it drew no objection from Vincent—Beatrice confirmed through her own tongue that the tea itself was fine.
While Beatrice was doing this, Subaru furrowed his brow.
"Somehow… Abel and Medium-san really ended up as a married couple, huh."
"Umuu!"
"What was that noise?"
"U… uun, it still feels a little embarrassing to hear…"
Medium's face flushed red and she let out a small neigh, but even as she was flustered by her situation, Beatrice could see that she was not rejecting it from the bottom of her heart.
Honestly, Beatrice did not know Vincent's character all that well.
But Subaru had torn into his personality plenty, so paradoxically, Beatrice figured he must have quite a few decent points—more than someone like Otto or Julius, say.
"Otherwise, there's no way I'd be comfortable leaving Medium in his care."
"Fair point. Flop-san wouldn't be so easily dazzled by money and status—he's not the type."
"Oh, oh—listen to that, Your Excellency. From the boss's perspective, your only redeeming qualities are the title, honor, and wealth of the Volachian Emperor."
"Is everyone here conspiring to make me lose my temper, stop my work, and destroy the Empire?"
If so, then it had to be said the plan was succeeding splendidly.
With this many people talking to him and his documents physically pinned down, it was only natural that Vincent's work had ground to a halt.
Vincent gave up trying to extract the documents from beneath Cecilus's backside and instead fixed Subaru with those piercing dark eyes.
"I hear you've been carrying out absurd theatrics with escaped prisoners from the Sword Slave Island, calling it your 'reckoning.'"
"…I figured you'd say it was pointless. And I won't let the 'escaped prisoners' bit slide—everyone on that island—"
"They were originally sent to Guinehive for just cause. They are, properly speaking, escaped prisoners. They took advantage of the Empire's chaos to break out, then ran wild wielding their martial prowess however they pleased."
"So what are you planning to do with everyone?"
Subaru's expression hardened at the ominous tone, and he glared back at Vincent. For an instant, a sharp tension crackled between the two.
But Medium broke that line of sight with a sharp hand-chop.
"Abel-chin, if you keep being that harsh, Subaru-chin is going to misunderstand—"
"The escaped prisoners from the island shall receive a full pardon for their service in this conflict. This has been formally recommended to me by Gustavo Molero, former Governor-General of the Sword Slave Island."
At Medium's urging, Vincent announced the Pleiades Garrison's fate in a quiet voice.
The sudden crisis facing the Garrison—and the fact that what had been brought to Vincent was addressed directly by Vincent himself—sent emotions swinging wildly.
In truth, Subaru was trembling with fury as he glared at Vincent— "H-have fun toying with people over problems that are already solved…!"
"Oh, I totally get it, I totally get it! His Excellency is like that, isn't he? Come to think of it, Chisha used to pull that kind of trick on me all the time—do smart people all share some common trait like this?"
"If we're talking about going too far, Cecilus's little grudge match against the Emperor from earlier—if that's what he wanted, Subaru could have settled it on his own ages ago."
"Ehh!?"
Cecilus's voice cracked into a falsetto. Beatrice stuck her tongue out at his reaction—satisfying to see his relentless pace finally disrupted.
Still, Cecilus simply tilted his head with a "Hmm?"
"The shock of missing what must have been a truly spectacular show will need to be healed with a detailed account later. But my question stands—if that's the case, why did the boss let me bring him here to His Excellency? He could have shaken me off coldly, the way Tanza-san did."
"That's…"
Subaru hesitated in his answer and glanced at Vincent.
Even without seeing that reaction, Beatrice knew Subaru's mind like an open book. Over the past several days, Subaru had been making an active effort to interact with Beatrice and the Pleiades Garrison, but there were certain people he simply could not bring himself to face.
That was Vincent, Yorna, and the people in Priscilla's camp.
Given Subaru's excessive sense of responsibility, that was the natural outcome. Even so, Subaru did not believe this was acceptable.
That was why he had welcomed, even if it was under duress, being brought here by Cecilus.
If that happened, then— "You've finally shown your face before my… my eyes."
"Abel…"
Subaru's dilemma. His hesitation. The whole tangled mess of emotions.
It seemed the man called the "Wise Emperor"—Vincent Volachia—had seen through all of it. Under that sharp gaze, Subaru was momentarily cowed.
But the hand Beatrice held tightened with resolve. Subaru decided to face that pressure head-on, and opened his mouth.
"Abel, I was wrong—"
"Just a moment ago, you chewed me out over problems that are already solved."
"Eh…"
"But if you ask me, the one who keeps scraping at a solved problem is you."
Having his words smothered at the outset and then hearing this, Subaru blinked.
For a beat, his expression was that of someone who couldn't yet grasp what it meant. But the instant he understood, Subaru's face transformed.
It was raw emotion—a fusion of rage and grief.
"Solved problem…? What the hell are you talking about?!"
"Most of what you've been wrangling with—atonement toward the gladiators, your attitude toward me and Yorna Mishigure, and above all—"
"Stop!!"
As Vincent tried to continue, Subaru shot up from the sofa and lunged toward him.
But a third party cut between them. —Cecilus.
Having hopped off the desk, Cecilus stepped in front of Subaru and blocked his advance toward the Volachian Emperor.
"Don't get in my way, Cecilus! You wanted to see me hit Abel, didn't you?!"
"Indeed I did, that's absolutely right. But I wanted to see the boss's 'Sparta' with His Excellency—a boring, impulsive card isn't what I'm after."
"————"
Both of them were back to their proper heights, neither of them children anymore, and the two locked eyes.
But in this staring match, Beatrice did not feel the usual urge to side with Subaru. Rather, she found herself siding with Cecilus's—no, with Vincent, who was confronting Subaru head-on.
The way he expressed it was cruel and there were surely countless gentler ways to put it—she hated that he had deliberately chosen words that drew blood and pain—but— "Priscilla's death, too, is already in the past."
"Abel—!!"
At that declaration, Subaru's voice erupted with furious intensity as he glared at Vincent. But Vincent did not so much as flinch in the face of that gaze through Cecilus.
The women—Beatrice, Spica, and Medium—were the ones whose faces tightened at the sight of Subaru's raw anguish.
"Priscilla is your… your sister, isn't she? Even so, you…"
"Yes. She was my sister. Since childhood, she was clever and willful, and try as I might, I never once succeeded in correcting that temperament—until she lost her life. …Just as with Chisha, losing Priscilla has certainly left a wound inside me. I won't deny that."
Vincent slowly shook his head and placed a hand on his own chest.
There, clearly, was hidden—beneath the pride he wore as Emperor—his own anguish over his sister and grief at her loss.
Subaru had regretted causing that, and it was precisely for that reason that he had not known what to say and could not bring himself to show his face.
But— "That is mine. It is not your concern."
"————"
"It is a matter between Priscilla and me. Would you even claim the right to meddle in that?"
"N-no… that's not… that's not what I—"
Vincent's words cut like a blade, dousing Subaru's earlier rage with cold water. Subaru's gaze wandered, unable to find the words he needed.
Even then, Vincent did not stop speaking.
Perhaps it was an interrogation that could only exist because of the time Subaru and Vincent had spent together in the Empire—time that Beatrice and the others knew nothing about.
Vincent continued quietly. It was— "Natsuki Subaru. —What were Priscilla's last words to you?"
"————"
"If they were words of curse, then I will take ownership of whatever remains inside you. But if they were not… then that is the fruit of what existed between you and Priscilla."
"————"
"Accept my sister's parting gift and make it your own flesh and blood. —That is the solution to your problem."
What words could he say? What could he do to make amends?
All those doubts and suspicions, the desperation that he could not afford to stand still, the self-punishing conviction that he had to suffer—these had been the root of Subaru's actions these past several days.
And Vincent declared that the very origin of that root was misplaced.
"Priscilla… was…"
"What?"
"…She called me… a true knight."
"Then that is everything Priscilla gave you. —You have been honored, Natsuki Subaru."
"————"
At those words, Subaru's composure broke.
The rage and grief that had dominated him was swept away, and surging from behind them was an unstoppable tide of emotion—like boiling water overflowing from a pot that had been bubbling too long.
It was, perhaps, what he had deliberately refused to look at ever since the morning he had witnessed Priscilla's death.
"Subaru…"
"Beatrice… I… I…"
"It's all right. Beatrice… Beatrice and
She stepped close to the standing Subaru and took his hand. At her words, Subaru's face crumpled as he could no longer hold back the tears that were spilling over.
And for the first time since that morning, Beatrice was certain—at last, her voice had finally reached Subaru.
"Thank… goodness…"
The moment she thought this, Subaru sank to his knees.
On his knees, Subaru wrapped his arms around Beatrice in a desperate embrace. The fragile, trembling strength of it was so helpless that Beatrice softly, willingly, wrapped her arms around him in return.
"Well, this is different from His Excellency getting punched, but it's quite the scene nonetheless."
"Perhaps you could refrain from saying such things at a time like this?"
"My apologies."
Cecilus made a little gesture of pinching his lips shut, then winked. Behind them, Medium was embracing Spica and crying along with Subaru's tears.
And Subaru, his face buried in Beatrice's chest as he sobbed, could not see what Beatrice could see.
———— The Volachian Emperor who had broken Subaru—his eyes had softened, just barely, at the outermost corners.
Even Beatrice, who had not known him long, could tell. That was, perhaps, a face that this man called the "Wise Emperor"—Vincent Volachia—rarely, perhaps never, showed to anyone.
It was the expression of a man who treasured the person who, in place of himself, shed tears at his beloved sister's final moments.