When her name was called,
Then, the instant Subaru saw her right hand and right leg step forward at the same time as she began walking toward the center — he thought, *I've gotta do something about this.* From behind, her stiffness was so severe you could tell from just a few paces away. In everyday life, this would be the kind of scene where you'd praise her adorable clumsiness with an "Emilia-tan is totally like a puppy!" — but right now, Subaru could see no way that would work in her favor.
Just before reaching the center, she finally noticed the hitch in her gait. Emilia's limbs settled back into a normal posture as she stepped forward — into the center of the great hall, under the gaze of the Council of Wise Men.
— Emilia-tan, are you gonna be okay?
"There's no need to worry, Subaru."
"You're reading my mind, are you? Like I'm some open palm or something."
Glancing sideways at Subaru while addressing his unease, Reinhard indicated Emilia's advancing back with a chin nod.
"Subaru, you don't seem to know what kind of reputation Emilia-sama has in the royal castle. — At the very least, she is not being looked down upon the way you're worried about."
"Even so…"
Her right hand and right leg had come out simultaneously. Textbook high-tension nervousness, right down to the last detail. If she followed that up by flubbing her lines, biting her tongue, turning red, and crouching down — the whole catastrophic chain — it would be absolutely unwatchable.
If it came to that, Subaru was prepared to endure the contempt and scorn of every last person in this gathering of the kingdom's most important figures.
— The problem was, his readiness never once veered in the direction of "smoothly cover for her and salvage Emilia's honor." That was the
But Subaru's wildly off-target resolve was rendered moot by an equally off-target interpretation.
"Did you see that? The way her hands and legs moved in unison…"
"Could it be some precursor to a special spell passed down among the elf race?"
"That's magical beauty, no doubt about it. I simply cannot look away…"
The awestruck voices of the attending knights reached Subaru's ears, and he groaned at their content. Talk about paranoid — no, this was sheer grandiose delusion.
Anyone who truly knew Emilia would not even consider the possibility that her movements were anything more than simple nervousness.
The third knight's take was, at least, essentially the same as Subaru's own assessment.
In any case, even if her movements were stiff to the point of locking up — the fact that she stood in a position where such behavior was being interpreted that way, that it was being promoted not as mockery but in dead earnest — told Subaru that she was far from being welcomed in a friendly manner.
When Emilia reached the center, the murmuring naturally died down.
All that remained was Emilia, and the footsteps of a tall figure striding over beside her with crisp, deliberate bootfalls — Roswaal. Once the blue-haired giant took his place at Emilia's side, the stage was set.
Surveying the pair, Marcos, the proceedings moderator, nodded solemnly. He then shot a sharp glare toward Subaru's group — particularly at the one who had just spouted that idiotic rumor — straightened their backs, and spoke.
"Then, Emilia-sama. And
"Oh my, yes yes. You know, now that the knights have followed along as escorts, it really does make me feel rather out of place, doesn't it~?"
Roswaal responded in his usual languid tone, turning to Emilia with a "Right?" Emilia offered no reaction whatsoever.
Given her earlier stiffness, expecting a normal response was out of the question. Roswaal's utter inability to read the room was irritating even to Subaru, but that negative feeling was instantly swept aside.
Because — "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, members of the Council of Wise Men. My name is Emilia. I have no family name. Please, just call me Emilia."
Her voice — clear and sharp as a silver bell — resonated against the eardrums of everyone in the hall, carving her name into every heart. There was no tremor in it, no wavering in the gaze that looked straight ahead.
Where had the nervousness of moments ago gone? Emilia, standing before the Council of Wise Men and weaving her introduction, was in no way inferior to any of the candidates who had preceded her.
No — there was something in the way she delivered her address, an otherworldly, almost bewitching charm that no other candidate could ever possess. Subaru did not know whether this stemmed from the fact that she alone was not a pure human.
But at the very least, Subaru was thoroughly captivated by that magical allure of hers. His earlier resolve, the discourtesy she had been shown by those around her — all of it vanished clean from his mind, erased by the sheer magnetism of her figure standing there.
"And as for Emilia-sama's sponsor — though it is a humble role — I, Roswaal L. Mathers, Margrave, have the honor of serving in that capacity. I thank the esteemed Council of Wise Men for your time."
"Oh my. So the sponsor is not a knight, but you, the Court Magician. Would you care to elaborate on the circumstances there?"
Stroking his chin as he steered the conversation along with a leisurely air, Miklotov's gaze sharpened like a blade. He fixed Emilia with that piercing stare and spoke softly but firmly.
"Regarding candidate Emilia-sama. Her background and heritage as well, if you please."
"As you wish."
Roswaal bowed at the waist, gesturing toward Emilia with an extended hand. Receiving her nod, he began to recount — in a booming, confident voice — the story of their first meeting.
It was content Subaru had never heard before, and he tightened his body, straining not to miss a single word.
"First, as I'm sure you are all aware, let me begin with Emilia-sama's origins. Those striking silver hair, that translucent white skin, those purple-blue eyes that seize the viewer's heart, and that silver-bell voice you could never forget even in your dreams. As you well know, these hallmarks of supernatural beauty are proof of her elven blood."
Several people in the hall gasped at Roswaal's words.
Elf — given how Emilia was treated, it was presumably already a well-known fact, and in the context of the royal selection, it was an Otherworldly difference that could not possibly be hidden.
After the earlier example with Anastasia, Subaru had used the analogy of an American president who couldn't be Japanese, but just how deep was the chasm between the elf race and the human race?
"A girl with elf blood…"
"Otherworldly beauty, an otherworldly air — there is no mistaking it."
"To put an elf on the throne is out of the question entirely. It cannot even be compared to the case of Anastasia-sama. And that is merely on account of her being an elf alone…"
The elderly members of the Council exchanged glances and murmured critical words. In particular, an elderly man with a bald head bearing a large scar — his attitude was particularly inflexible.
"Half human blood — in other words, a half-elf, correct?"
He spat those words out with veins bulging on his forehead, then made a rough, dismissive gesture with his hand — a crude motion meant to push Emilia away. Indeed, he then declared: "Just looking at her makes me sick. A half-demon with silver hair — and you don't see why even allowing her into the throne room is a disgrace?"
"Bordeaux, you go too far."
"Miklotov, do you not see? That silver half-demon is the very image of the one called the
Even raising his voice against Miklotov's attempt to rein him in, the old man — Bordeaux — rose to his feet. He descended the steps and strode directly up to Emilia in the center with heavy, thudding steps.
"The ruin that once drank half the world dry and drove every living creature into a maelstrom of despair. Do not tell me you are unaware of this."
"————"
"Just one look at your appearance and heritage, and imagine how many people tremble at the very thought. To place such a being upon the throne — inconceivable. You would be called a madwoman by other nations and your own people alike. And this is the Dragon
Bordeaux spread his arms wide and stamped his feet, growling in a wild tone and with aggressive body language. Emilia remained silent through all of it. But Subaru, in her place, was reaching his limit.
Even so — "Subaru, these are members of the Council of Wise Men. Don't be rash."
"Cut the crap, Reinhard. What else could that be but harassment? If the Witch herself had actually done something back in the day, maybe I'd get it — but just looking similar to her, and she gets treated like this? Then every bald old man out there oughta be like that? The bald geezer I know is way less of an asshole."
"You're starting to go off-topic, Subaru."
Reinhard stopped Subaru with a split-second judgment as Subaru nearly exploded in a fit of rage. But Subaru's fury was not the kind that could be restrained so easily.
Nose flaring, he glared at Bordeaux's profile as if he could kill the man with his gaze. The old man noticed the murderous stare, glanced at the two of them, and muttered: "The escort contingent is being noisy, I see. Knight Reinhard is escorting another candidate. In that case, that black-haired boy must be…"
"Bordeaux-sama, are you quite finished?"
Just as Bordeaux's eyes took on a hostile gleam and he seemed about to make a move toward Subaru, it was Roswaal who put the brakes on it.
He stepped forward with his usual air of obtuse innocence and took Bordeaux's glare head-on. Despite his advanced age, the old man's sturdy frame was nearly the same height as the tall Roswaal. Meeting each other's gaze at close range, the old man stared into Roswaal's mismatched eyes.
"If you mean have I said my piece — I've barely begun. Your actions warrant far more than that. Do you understand, First Court Magician?"
"Oh, I understand perfectly. The outrage I have committed, Bordeaux-sama's generous opinion on behalf of the Council of Wise Men, and the feelings of the citizens who will be looking upon Emilia-sama — I understand it all."
Accepting Bordeaux's intimidating words with ease, Roswaal raised a finger and continued.
"Howeeeever, have you forgotten? The part Bordeaux-sama objects to has no bearing whatsoever on the royal selection."
"What do you mean?"
"As it happens, Priscilla-sama herself said as much at the very start. That the royal selection begins as long as five candidates assemble — even if only in form. Once it begins, all that remains is to proceed in accordance with the Dragon Crest stone's provisions. Isn't that right?"
Roswaal leaned forward, slipping out of Bordeaux's gaze, then redirected the conversation toward the Council on the dais. Miklotov accepted it, closing his narrowed eye.
"Oh my. So what you are saying is this: the important point is that Emilia-sama was chosen by the Dragon, and whether she actually qualifies to take the throne is beside the point?"
"Exactly so. I want to start and finish the royal selection as quickly as possible, and return the kingdom to its normal state. Otherwise, I won't have the leisure to enjoy my hobbies~."
With that, Roswaal casually discarded any possibility of Emilia actually ascending the throne. The shock of that remark exceeded even his earlier offensive outburst, and Subaru could do nothing but stare in blank astonishment.
The man who supported Emilia — knowing full well how hard she was working toward becoming queen — was saying *what*, exactly?
Leaving the dumbfounded Subaru behind, Roswaal happily twirled his raised finger and pressed on.
"A proxy — though that sounds rather harsh — perhaps you could think of it that way. Emilia-sama's appearance is, well, exceptionally distinctive. Anyone who sees her will inevitably think of the Witch of Envy. For us, that makes her an extremely easy-to-understand piece on the board."
"You would turn a five-candidate royal selection into a de facto four-way contest?"
"Wouldn't fewer options reduce the likelihood of a split? Not to mention, with the kingdom in turmoil over the vacant throne, the risk of interference from foreign powers is all too real. If that is the case, should we not be devising strategies to minimize the danger?"
Bordeaux stroked his chin thoughtfully at Roswaal's proposal. The other elderly Council members were similarly murmuring "Well, if that's the case…" — showing at least some inclination toward the idea.
The scheme: elevate Emilia as a proxy candidate, reducing the royal selection to a foregone conclusion.
Comparing the merits and drawbacks, Bordeaux judged which way the scales tipped.
The old man who had maintained the most unyielding opposition now showed a glint of understanding on his harsh face and nodded.
"Very well. I withdraw my earlier objection. Let the matter proceed as your recommendation stipulates —"
"Like hell it does —!!"
A roar rang through the great hall. The echo served as a cue, and the room fell deathly silent.
The only sound that remained in the hushed chamber was the ragged breathing of the boy who had shouted.
Under the gaze of every person present, the boy — Subaru — flushed red with rage, glaring at Roswaal and Bordeaux as they neared their agreement on this vile scheme.
Receiving that glare, Roswaal closed one eye and regarded Subaru with only his yellow one.
"Oh my, oh my. Can you not read the room? This is not the time for someone in your position to interject. Apologize and leave."
"My opinion stands — cut the crap. And here's the next thing I've got to say: the ones who should be apologizing are you two."
"More and more surprising. — Do you not want to live?"
Closing his yellow eye, Roswaal fixed Subaru with his blue one instead.
The casual, airy demeanor was gone from his bearing. In its place was a crushing, bone-chilling supernatural pressure that made onlookers shudder. It seemed to warp the very atmosphere around him — likely caused by the sheer, overwhelming mass of his mana.
Facing that overwhelming presence, Subaru gritted his teeth as a blazing memory surged through his mind.
He remembered Roswaal swinging his arm in the forbidden forest, reducing the Juggernaut — the very thing Subaru had struggled so desperately against — to charred black in an instant. Even an entire pack of magical beasts had been annihilated before him with the ease of crushing an infant's hand.
Given the precision of his previous mana use, evaporating Subaru alone from this spot would be even easier.
There was supposed to be a bond of trust between them — but in this moment, he could place no hope in that, nor did he.
After all, Roswaal had been the first to betray that trust.
"And just when things were coming together, this insolence. I'll give you one last chance — crawl on your knees and beg for forgiveness, and I may just grant it. What do you say, Natsuki Subaru?"
The torrent of hostile intent bearing down on him made Subaru's knees buckle violently. A tremor spread to his fingertips, and had he not been clenching his jaw, his teeth would have been chattering uncontrollably.
A fear so deep it chilled him to the core seized him, and every instinct screamed to flee this place immediately.
— But.
"I — I told you! The ones who should be apologizing are you, not me!"
His voice was shaking. It was cracking, too.
But even so, Subaru did not lower his head.
Emilia was here.
And right now, her wish was being trampled upon. Standing here before that, how could he possibly break?
After she had been betrayed at this very hour, who else would stand up for her? Before those who spoke ill of her based solely on her race and her appearance, who else would serve as her bulwark?
He had no power. His will was weak. But he had one thing — sheer stubbornness.
Some unknown force of indeterminate origin drove Subaru forward, and the only thing it would not allow was for his trembling knees to give way.
Before that powerless, purely obstinate determination of Subaru's, Roswaal narrowed his mismatched eyes ever so slightly.
"Very well. Without power, you cannot enforce anything. I suggest you learn that lesson firsthand. I only hope you can put it to use in your next life."
The instant the final ultimatum was delivered, the overflowing torrent of power took shape and materialized.
What was born was a blazing fireball sheathed in aurora-like radiance that illuminated the entire hall. The mass of flame hovering above Roswaal's raised palm was roughly the size of a human head, but the heat generated — as if creating a miniature sun — was intense enough to lightly scorch Subaru's skin even from a distance.
A manifest embodiment of unmistakable malice. Before Roswaal, who had entered a combat-ready state, Bordeaux and the candidates standing relatively nearby tensed. Bordeaux twisted his rugged face in anger, while the candidates retreated behind their respective knights.
And Emilia, who stood alone without a knight to shield her — "Wait, Roswaal. This isn't — the conversation hasn't…"
Her purple-blue eyes wavered between confusion and agitation as she looked back and forth between Roswaal and Subaru. The look she gave Roswaal held confusion, and the gaze she turned on Subaru held — "Emi…"
"I shall show you the pinnacle of fire mana's destructive power. — Algoa."
With a cold finality, Roswaal thrust his palm toward Subaru.
In other words, he hurled the fireball from his palm. It drifted forward — slowly, yet with absolute certainty — to scorch Subaru's body to ash.
With death bearing down on him, Subaru's mind screamed at his body to dodge laterally. But his body did not obey the thought in the slightest. Were his legs trembling? Was his body frozen with terror?
No — neither.
It was not that his will had failed to reach his lower body. His will was accelerating too fast, and his body simply could not keep up.
His vision slowed to an unnatural crawl, and Subaru felt death with its jaws wide open bearing down on him — felt it in his skin.
A sensation he had not felt in a long time. And the possibility of it being directed at him by Roswaal — that was a memory he had wished, even during the second loop, to be spared of until the very end.
Consciousness left reality behind, and he could not even move his eyes.
And so the only thing remaining in Subaru's field of vision — apart from the incoming fireball — was Emilia, reaching her hand out toward him from the corner of his sight.
Seeing the genuine anguish in her expression, Subaru felt a bizarre, misplaced sense of relief.
Here he was, his life under direct threat, and the girl who harbored feelings for him was watching with worry. — The fact that he could feel relief in that situation — just how abnormal it was — was something Subaru had no time to register.
And then, as a result — *'If you have no power, you cannot enforce anything. My, my — what a fine line. Ah, I agree with that sentiment entirely.'* The voice that rang out was familiar, yet it had lost all its usual warmth and struck Subaru's eardrums with a glacial edge.
The instant the fireball would have made impact — before the red-hot death bearing down on him — Subaru forgot even to blink.
And so his eyes witnessed every detail of what unfolded before him.
At the moment of collision, the fireball reached out its tendrils of flame to envelop Subaru's body and burn him to nothing. But in that same instant, a pale, blue-white radiance spread across Subaru's entire body, clashing head-on with the heat that could evaporate a human in a heartbeat — and, in the end, nullified it completely, leaving behind only a wisp of white steam.
That impossible, superhuman feat — the being who accomplished it so casually drifted in the air before Subaru, at eye level.
*'You humans certainly have a lot to say for yourselves, running your mouths in front of my daughter like that.'* Arms crossed, giving a small snort through its pink nose — a gray-furred kitten, its round, dark eyes freezing over with a coldness never before seen, delivered those words.
※※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ The sudden appearance of this being left every person in the great hall speechless.
Floating in midair and surveying the surroundings with imperious disdain was a tiny, palm-sized cat-like spirit —
If you knew his usual obtuse manner, his easygoing way of speaking, his relentlessly at-own-pace personality — the more you knew of that face, the more impossible it was to conceal your shock at his current appearance.
While Subaru stood frozen in surprise, he also noticed that the newcomers — those seeing Puck for the first time — were similarly shaken. But what alarmed them was something entirely different from what had startled Subaru.
It was — "The Margrave Roswaal's magic was neutralized head-on…?"
"And in that amount of time, with virtually no incantation?"
"Before we even address that, that concentrated mana — one must not stare directly at what is visible! You'll be swallowed!"
One of the knights issued a warning, propping up a wavering colleague by the shoulder.
A similar reaction could be seen among several of the civil officials, all of them staring at the floating Puck with looks of sheer terror.
" — Huh? What? What's going on?"
Subaru could not comprehend their reactions.
The being before him was Puck. A gray kitten. Sure, the atmosphere felt different from usual, but there was nothing that warranted every knight going on maximum alert.
Even staring as hard as he could, Subaru could not find a single element that would cause the kind of distress they were describing.
Subaru could not hide his confusion. And amid that confusion, Puck — who, to anyone who knew him, was being unbelievably arrogant — gave a dismissive *hmph*.
*'You don't seem to understand, Roswaal L. Mathers. When I chose to hold back against you before, it was only because my daughter wished it. Without that, I would have been perfectly content to sink this entire country to the bottom of a permafrost abyss.'* As he spoke, a wind suddenly began to swirl around Puck.
It was a wind that carried a biting cold painful to the skin, and as it encircled Puck, it gradually expanded outward to engulf the entire hall, bathing every person present in its frigid air. Naturally, confusion began to spread through the venue.
" — Would you please calm yourself, Great Spirit?"
From the dais, a gravelly voice called out to Puck, the cause of the disturbance.
It was Miklotov. Even the Council members had been visibly shaken, but he alone remained seated in his central chair without so much as shifting his posture, a keen light kindled in his eyes.
"Such power, and such dense mana. You must be a Great Spirit of considerable renown."
*'Oh my. Here's a young man who at least knows his manners.'* "Oh my, oh my. To be called a young man at my age — what a rare and delightful experience."
Puck made a gesture as if raising a single eyebrow, and Miklotov responded with a small smile. The old man's demeanor seemed to please Puck, for the spirit nodded without dropping his arrogant air.
*'As for what kind of being I am — unfortunately, I'm afraid you lot know more about that than I do. I'm simply a spirit who has existed for a very long time. As for what you choose to call me, that is entirely your prerogative.'* "Mmm, indeed. Quite so."
Miklotov nodded in understanding, stroking his beard. He then turned his gaze to Roswaal, who had remained silent. Receiving that look, Roswaal — who had kept his mouth shut since his magic was nullified — shrugged.
"If we go back to the story of how I first met Emilia-sama. I encountered her far to the east of the royal capital of Lugunica — in the
"Elior Forest…!"
Several exclamations of surprise overlapped at the name Roswaal uttered.
As if that reaction was exactly what he expected, Roswaal nodded.
"Yes, the Elior Forest. A place said to have been suddenly covered in ice over a hundred years ago, forming an ice-bound barrier that repelled all who tried to enter — or leave. And with it, the encroaching permafrost."
"If I recall, it was said that a freezing wind gradually froze the surrounding area over time, and the frozen zone expanded year by year — a place with quite the ominous reputation."
"Frozen earth, plants, atmosphere, living things — in other words, it was a white apocalypse. Everything was drawn into eternal slumber and never returned."
Clapping his hands, Roswaal gestured with an open palm toward Emilia, then Puck.
"And the two of them had been living quietly in the depths of that frozen forest."
"So the permafrost of Elior Forest was…"
*'My doing, you could say. Though really, I was just trying to make it a livable environment.'* Puck replied to the astonished Miklotov with complete nonchalance.
To Subaru, who had little connection to the area in question, the story was hard to imagine, but judging from the reactions around him, this was clearly a matter of enormous consequence.
Any remnant of Subaru's earlier outburst had already been swept aside entirely.
In response to Puck's answer, Miklotov furrowed his brow and let out a low murmur.
"Mmm, I see. Power sufficient to render the Elior Forest in that state — that magnitude is comparable to any spirit preserved in legend."
*'Scary, isn't it?'* Puck read ahead and voiced the thought before Miklotov could — words bordering on praise — though what the spirit actually felt behind them was another matter entirely. Miklotov closed his eyes briefly.
Then, with a look of understanding settling in his narrowed gaze, he looked down at Roswaal.
"Mmm, I believe I have a general understanding now. But what was the reason for your contact with the two who lived in the depths of Elior Forest?"
"Part of a survey, you might say. Elior Forest was quite close to my territory — within a few years, the permafrost's spread could have affected my lands. I wanted to conduct a preliminary investigation before that happened."
"I failed twice, though," Roswaal added, holding up two fingers and smiling wryly at his own failures. His expression then sharpened.
"On my third attempt, I made it through the forest, and there I encountered the two of them. At first, I was attacked without so much as a word of explanation… Oh my, I was quite flustered, I tell you."
*'Humans who had made it through the forest were a rare sight. Our welcome may have been a bit too enthusiastic.'* The two reminisced about that time with casual ease, but no one in the hall could laugh.
What they were describing was, without exaggeration, the kind of battle that made the earlier magical confrontation look like child's play.
"The welcome that nearly reshaped the terrain was chilling enough, but what truly shook me came after. The transcendent spirit who had been attacking me without mercy laid down her weapon at the words of a single girl."
He casually mentioned that the terrain had "nearly" changed — a remark that was anything but casual — and pointed toward Emilia.
She remained silent, her face tilted slightly downward. Whether she was even listening to Roswaal's words was unclear — her purple-blue eyes had a distant, unfocused quality that was hard to read.
Subaru caught a faint sense of unease in her demeanor, but there was no time to pursue it. Puck turned and continued in Roswaal's stead.
*'My precious girl — my contracted girl — pleaded with me. And I would grant her request above all else. Conversely, I obey no will but hers alone.'* Having stated that outright, Puck continued with 'And so —' surveying the hall. Under the weight of that dark gaze, people shrank back. Finally, Puck's stare locked onto Bordeaux. A grin — the kind of grin that deserved its own sound effect — spread across the kitten's face.
*'You should be grateful to her that you people aren't frozen solid right now. If this child hadn't been holding me back, this hall would be an ice sculpture gallery by now.'* The words were delivered in a measured tone, but the bone-deep cold that accompanied them pierced the hearts of everyone present.
That his words were no empty threat had already been proven by his clash with Roswaal. The reality that every person in this room had their life in the hands of a single spirit — someone's gasp was deafeningly loud in the silence.
And it was precisely because of that — "Ho ho ho."
— that Miklotov's quiet chuckle was so utterly incongruous.
Puck turned a cold gaze on the laughing man, focusing his frigid stare on the old body. But Miklotov met it head-on.
"Mmm, yes, it does make one's blood run cold. — I will say, for Roswaal, this was a rather inventive bit of theater."
Even under that absolute-zero gaze, Miklotov's composure did not crack. The remark itself was enigmatic, but hearing it, Roswaal's expression shifted dramatically.
The serious look of moments ago gave way to his usual obtuse expression.
"Oh my, oh my — did we get found out~?"
"I would say it was a reasonably well-crafted script. The Great Spirit's performance was beyond praise, though you may have gotten a touch carried away, yes?"
Leaving the bewildered onlookers behind, Roswaal slapped his forehead at Miklotov's assessment. As the two exchanged their knowing looks, Puck — still hovering — played with the tip of his long tail.
*'See, Roswaal? I told you going overboard was a bad idea. I might be able to get away with it, but your usual character is known to everyone. Even if you're going to act, you need to do a better job.'* "That cuts deep~. I was actually quite confident in it, you know. That really hurts~. Honestly~."
Roswaal puffed out his cheeks in a pout. Puck blew it off with a breath, and Miklotov closed his eyes wearily in silence.
These three were the only ones who seemed at ease. The one who cut into their private understanding was the bald old man who had received Puck's icy parting glare — Bordeaux. Deep lines of obvious confusion carved themselves across his stern face.
"Wh-what — wait a moment, Miklotov. What exactly are you two talking about?"
"Mmm, to sum it up in a word — this was, in fact, the form that Emilia-sama's camp's address was meant to take. A great departure in style from the candidates who preceded her, of course."
Miklotov closed one eye and looked to Roswaal for confirmation. Roswaal raised both hands in a gesture of surrender and dragged out his affirmation.
At first, Bordeaux seemed unable to process the answer, but Subaru — who had been listening from the side — arrived at the conclusion. At the same time, the sheer, calculated malice behind those indigo curls standing before him made his stomach boil with genuine fury.
In other words, through that exchange, Roswaal had — "Mmm. Allow me to spell it out. Roswaal, the kingdom's First Court Magician — a Great Spirit powerful enough to rival him on equal footing — and Emilia-sama, who commands that spirit. By presenting this hierarchy to everyone present, he demonstrated that she possesses considerable strength. — If I am to organize the script, is this not the gist of it?"
Only after Miklotov explained every last detail with painstaking thoroughness did understanding finally spread through the great hall. Once everyone accepted that the entire exchange had been a kind of performance, what arose next was not admiration for Roswaal's scheme, but rather a surge of indignation toward such soul-manipulating behavior.
Subaru's own chest was churning with a feeling much the same.
"That was a performance… a performance!? Then this whole scene was a prearranged farce! Roswaal, just what do you think you're doing!?"
The one whose face burned the reddest with rage was Bordeaux — the man who had been most humiliated. Veins bulged on his forehead as his face turned crimson, and he advanced on Roswaal as if about to spit, clearly straining his heart.
But what stopped him was Puck, who materialized right in front of Bordeaux's face. The old man saw the furball appear, recognized it as the source of the earlier cold, and immediately shut his mouth, opening and closing it soundlessly as he struggled to find words.
Looking down at Bordeaux's reaction, Puck gave a satisfying little laugh.
*'Mm-hmm, of course you're angry. I'll apologize. I'm sorry, my bad. Forgive me, sorry, I was in the wrong. — But everything I said earlier was the absolute truth.'* Though the words were an apology, the one additional sentence he tacked on made Bordeaux's heart pound. The kitten rose higher, spinning slowly.
*'That big forest is my garden, and Roswaal really is no match for me — that's true as well. The fact that I'm just existing here without doing anything is thanks to Rear's request. And the fact that I'm not doing anything to you people who speak ill of her — that's thanks to that child's kindness.'* He spoke slowly and deliberately, then finally offered an adorable smile and added, as a preface, *"Please don't misunderstand"* — *'— The reason you're not frozen right now is Emilia's mercy. Don't forget that.'* With that final remark, Puck's outline suddenly dissolved, and he vanished into a shower of particles of light.
Green-tinged particles drifted through the air, shimmering as they moved toward Emilia. They sank into her chest and, in the space of a heartbeat, disappeared from sight.
They had likely returned to Puck's vessel — a green crystal stone nestled within Emilia's bosom.
The moment Puck returned, Emilia's head wavered slightly, and light returned to her vision. The cause of her earlier unfocused stare, it seemed, had been the aftereffects of Puck's manifestation.
She blinked several times, sweeping her gaze around to take in her surroundings.
"Roswaal. What's the situation?"
"Generally favorable. If I may be candid, the ideal would have been to ride the Great Spirit's performance all the way to the end, but… even I could not deceive Miklotov-sama to the finish, it seems."
At Roswaal's reply, Emilia offered only a soft "I see." Her gaze then swept across the hall and landed on Subaru, who stood just behind her.
Those amethyst eyes fixed on him, and something fragile and fleeting stirred within them. Subaru instinctively began to form words, but not knowing what to say, he was simply caught in her gaze — and lost the chance to speak.
Left behind, Subaru watched as Emilia stepped forward and turned to face the Council of Wise Men.
"First, I must apologize for the deception. Please forgive the discourtesy shown to the Council of Wise Men."
"Not at all, not at all — the fault is ours for failing to see through it. This old fool merely charged in with some misplaced valor and fell for the Great Spirit's mercy, that is all. Besides, this matter concerns the royal selection… One must use every available means to plead one's case."
Miklotov showed his magnanimity, nodding at Emilia's bow. She let her lips relax with a trace of relief, but the one who poured cold water on that was the other elderly man who had been having nothing but bad luck since the start.
"'Every available means'…? And those means culminated in a threat, I see. You really are no better than the half-demon you are."
"That is an unpleasant way to put it. We merely showed the extent of the power at our disposal~."
"What else would you call it but a show of force? You heard what the spirit said — the spirit declared, 'If you do not comply, you will be frozen.' To make such a statement before the kingdom's most important leaders — how is that any different from a usurper's threat of 'Hand over the country'?"
Bordeaux retorted hotly, ignoring Roswaal's attempt to smooth things over. But looking at the facts, Bordeaux had a point — it could not be entirely denied.
The objective of demonstrating power had been achieved. But that, conversely, had also made it known to others that they could use force as a card.
That was information far more disadvantageous for Emilia — who sought to stand at the starting line of the royal selection — than simply being seen as powerless and harmless.
To that unfavorable situation, Emilia looked up at Bordeaux on the dais and spoke.
"— Yes. I am threatening you."
With perfect clarity, she took the suspicion leveled at her and turned it into an outright confirmation.
Bordeau gasped, unable to follow up. Gazing at the old man, Emilia did not allow her eyes to waver in the slightest.
"Allow me to introduce myself once more to the distinguished Council of Wise Men. My name is Emilia. I am a silver-haired half-elf who spent a long time in the frozen world of Elior Forest's permafrost, and who commands a Great Spirit of fire mana named Puck. Those who live in the settlements near the forest call me this."
Her voice rang like a song as Emilia wove her words.
Standing before a listening audience on a stage of her own making, she paused, then closed her eyes for a few seconds as if severing something — and spoke.
"The Witch of Glaciation, who lives in the frozen forest."
The instant the word "Witch" left her lips, the atmosphere in the hall shifted.
Everyone had been conscious of it in her appearance, yet no one had dared to confront it — the embodiment of the world's most terrible calamity, wearing those very features.
No one could respond. Bordeaux, who had been full of bluster moments ago, was struck mute, as were the other members of the Council. With the sole exception of Miklotov — who, given the way he had forged his courage, simply could not be lumped in with the rest.
"To demonstrate power and state one's demands — truly, the way of a witch. — Then, what is it that the Witch of Glaciation would threaten us with?"
"My one and only demand is this — simply, that you be fair."
"…Fair."
Miklotov repeated the word quietly to himself. Emilia nodded at the murmur.
"Being a half-elf, bearing features identical to those of a hated witch — none of that can be changed. Being viewed with prejudice by everyone for that reason alone — that is equally unchangeable. But I absolutely refuse to have every possibility crushed because of it."
"In other words, Emilia-sama — you wish to be treated as an equal candidate in this royal selection?"
"Being treated fairly is something precious beyond measure in my life. To ask for anything more than that in this place would be an insult to the fairness I hold dear."
How many memories of being exposed to malice must she have accumulated in the days she had lived?
Being showered with baseless insults like Bordeaux — being persecuted solely for being a half-elf — such things must surely have happened.
And so, she wished for nothing more than to be treated with fair eyes. Simply that.
She turned. Her silver hair swept with the motion, and a pale, moonlit shimmer ran through the great hall. As everyone was drawn in by that radiance, Emilia raised her voice.
"That is why the one thing I ask of you is to treat me fairly. I will never resort to the unfair act of using a contracted spirit as a shield to seize the throne."
That was a choice Emilia could have made, if she so wished.
But she had discarded that option from the start and actively chosen a situation that might disadvantage her.
Because — "I am still immature, with shortcomings compared to the other candidates. There is so much I don't know, so much I need to learn. But I know the summit I must reach, and I will not neglect the effort to get there."
Subaru had watched her studying earnestly in the mansion, throwing herself into everything with sincerity.
And so he, more than anyone else here, knew the truth of her words.
He could not stop trembling. Subaru was aware of the bizarre contradiction — his throat was dry, yet his eyes were beginning to glisten — and he fought to keep any pathetic groan from escaping.
"I don't know if my efforts will be worthy of the throne. But the resolve to keep striving toward that — that is real. That determination alone, I will not lose to any other candidate."
And so, she continued, looking straight up at Bordeaux on the dais.
"With fair eyes — look at me. Not the 'Witch of Glaciation,' not a silver-haired half-elf. Not some family name. Just — me."
That final whisper carried a tone almost like a plea.
But the strength of will behind it, the fortitude of her heart, was unshakable.
What was given to the other candidates as a matter of course — Emilia was asking for it for herself.
To stand at the same starting line. To be given the chance to run.
For a moment, silence enveloped the great hall.
Not because no one could find words. Everyone was bracing themselves, waiting for the answer to Emilia's appeal.
At last, Bordeaux — who had borne the gaze of every person present — let out a long, long sigh.
"My opinion has not changed. Your appearance, which recalls the Witch of Envy, will undoubtedly have a negative impact on the citizenry. You remain at a disadvantage in the royal selection — that fact is unchanged."
In a low voice, he directly contradicted everything Emilia had just argued. A faint shadow passed over her purple-blue eyes.
"However —"
But.
"To interfere with the hearts of the people is a domain forbidden to all. Therefore, I cannot change how you are perceived. Still — I will atone for my discourtesy earlier. — No, let me apologize for that discourtesy, Emilia-sama."
Rising from his seat, Bordeaux knelt on the floor and offered the most respectful bow — a gesture of honor.
Surprise rippled through the hall. Lifting his head, he continued.
"You could have frozen me solid for defying you. Yet you chose not to, and instead asked for fairness. — That is a noble act."
His expression, as he spoke with such composure, was dignified — and only then did Subaru fully accept that this old man was indeed one of the kingdom's most important figures.
The shadow faded from Emilia's expression, and natural joy brightened her features. Her lips curved, and a smile bloomed like a flower.
Subaru, who could only see it from an angle, watched Bordeaux — who was face-to-face with that smile — take a sharp breath, and inwardly gave the old man the finger while thinking *God DAMN stubborn geezer!* The insult probably didn't reach him, but Bordeaux cleared his throat to cover his stiffness.
"Regardless — to seek genuine fairness will be difficult. The road of hardship stretches on ahead. Knowing that, do you still wish for the throne?"
"I've known since the very beginning that the road wouldn't be easy. Even so, I will sit on that throne. Because there is a reason I must."
To Bordeaux's test of her resolve, Emilia responded without a trace of hesitation.
Hearing her answer, Bordeaux nodded with satisfaction and returned to his seat. He extended his palm toward Miklotov, as if entrusting everything to him. Accepting it, Miklotov nodded several times while stroking his long beard.
"It has been somewhat eventful, but I believe we have had more than enough. You have nothing left to add, I trust, Emilia-sama and Roswaal Margrave?"
"Yes."
"Well, I for one still have plenty more to say, but in this case…"
"Then, thank you for your time."
Emilia's brief answer. Roswaal, still chattering away, was cut off by Marcos at precisely the right moment, forced to a conclusion.
The tall man pouted, and Emilia lightly tapped his back as they both turned to rejoin the ranks of candidates.
But — they would not be allowed to leave so easily.
"And what, may I ask, is the standing of that young man?"
The instant Emilia and Roswaal took a step toward the line, the question came from Miklotov's lips.
The old man had one eyebrow raised, a mischievous glint in his eye, and his gaze fixed on that young man — that is to say, on Subaru, who had stepped forward and now stood there awkwardly with nowhere to put himself.
"Ngh—"
That involuntary groan was entirely understandable.
After all, Subaru had charged forward in a fit of passionate rage, and then been unable to follow the proceedings, reduced to the role of a hapless spectator floundering on the stage.
Here and there he had snuck in interjections like "Eh!" and "Whoa!" and "EMM!" — but in terms of influencing the outcome, he was no different from thin air.
What he would have preferred was to simply fade out of sight along with that air. But he had been caught — dragged back into the spotlight by the old man's curiosity.
And what was more — "It would be vexing to let things proceed entirely according to Roswaal Margrave's design, after all."
Miklotov seemed to have muttered that to himself, but for some reason, Subaru heard it with perfect clarity.
In other words, payback for the earlier theater had circled around to land squarely on Subaru. It was a spectacular case of collateral damage, and the fact that his own impulsiveness had brought it about left a bitter taste.
"Ah, um, well, this person is, that is, my…"
Emilia turned and moved in front of Subaru, shielding him from the elders' view with a flurry of gestures.
Flustered and at a total loss, the composed bearing of moments ago nowhere to be seen — there stood the Emilia that Subaru knew well, the girl of their daily life.
He felt a hard-to-describe sense of relief at that, and his cheeks loosened at a hopelessly ill-timed moment. And — as if on cue — Emilia happened to catch sight of his expression from the corner of her eye.
"It's not — this person is… Why are you smiling like that? This isn't the time for that! Behave yourself!"
"'Behave yourself' sounds awfully uptight…"
Subaru picked up on the tail end of her chiding, and Emilia shot him a reproachful glare. Even that reproachful look was charming, and Subaru let out a small laugh before touching her shoulder.
"It's fine, Emilia-tan. — I'm not making any excuses either."
"Excuses? That's not — Subaru, what are you going to do? Hey, wait!"
Leaving her voice behind him, Subaru strode boldly forward.
He planted himself squarely in the spot where the candidates had been standing, bathed in the full gaze of the Council on the dais, and gritting his teeth, he forced his head up.
"Allow me to introduce myself! Esteemed members of the Council of Wise Men — greetings and salutations! I humbly apologize for the tremendous inconvenience caused on this occasion!"
He dropped into a deep bow, right hand behind his back, left palm facing upward extended forward — a posture of formal courtesy in the ancient style. The otherworldly version of an old Japanese etiquette known as *O-Kagae-nasutte*.
After a brief silence confirmed that no one had raised any objection, Subaru took it as proof that first contact had been established, and launched into a flowing routine.
He widened his stance, tilted his hips, placed his left hand on the tilted waist, and thrust his right hand high toward the ceiling in a dramatic pose.
Then — "My name is Natsuki Subaru! Servant of the Roswaal manor, and knight to the royal candidate before you — Emilia-sama!"
He struck the pose, then lowered his right hand, snapped his fingers, and — flashing a toothy wink — "Do keep me in mind, won't you~!"
With that bizarre declaration of his role, Subaru's utterly out-of-place entrance began — even as he felt the atmosphere growing colder than when Puck had made his appearance moments ago.