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By the fourth day, Subaru Natsuki had already developed a fairly serious theory about the Roswaal mansion.
The mansion was alive.
Not alive in the nice, magical, wonder-filled sense Emilia would probably use if someone asked her about the atmosphere of the place. No. Subaru was convinced the mansion was a silent, elegant, and deeply sadistic creature, designed to move hallways when no one was looking, hide useful doors, multiply staircases, and place dust exactly in the spots where Ram would inspect five minutes later. Every time he thought he was beginning to understand the layout, a new corridor appeared, or a room he could swear he had never seen before. Every time he felt even slightly more competent, a badly folded napkin or a cup placed three centimeters out of position reminded him that confidence was a trap.
Besides, he was sleeping alone now.
In theory, that should have been an improvement. After all, having a room of his own in a noble's mansion was something any normal person would celebrate. But Subaru had not been a normal person for several days, and nighttime solitude, comfortable as it was, had an unpleasant way of leaving space for thoughts that, during the day, he could drown with work, complaints, and glances toward Emilia. Link also had his own room now, assigned near the wing facing the gardens to make his outdoor work easier and, according to Ram, "so that the dirt he brings in has a shorter route to the place where it should not enter."
Subaru still considered it unfair that Link received a room closer to the garden, because that meant fewer stairs.
Link, for his part, considered that Subaru should shut his mouth and learn to fold sheets without looking like he was fighting a map.
That morning, however, the routine changed as soon as breakfast ended.
Roswaal, seated at the head of the table with that smile that seemed to hide three more conversations beneath every word, announced that Rem would be going to the nearby village to collect provisions, run a few minor errands, and confirm certain orders for the mansion. The phrase was normal. Harmless. Domestic. But the moment Subaru heard "Rem" and "village," he raised his hand with a speed that would have served him better in his butler duties.
"I'll go!"
Ram, who was removing a plate, did not even look at him.
"Barusu was not summoned."
"That's precisely why I'm offering my services voluntarily, generously, and with full working spirit. Besides, as an apprentice servant, I need to know the surroundings, the suppliers, the trade routes, the neighboring town, and any possible place where I can buy snacks on my day off, if mercy ever exists in this mansion."
"Ram doubts mercy would want to associate with Barusu."
"Even mercy doesn't want me!"
Emilia, seated not far away, smiled softly at seeing him so enthusiastic.
"I think getting to know the village could be good for Subaru. It would also help him get more used to this place."
Subaru turned toward her as if he had just received a royal declaration.
"Emilia-tan supports my community development!"
"It still sounds strange when you say that," Emilia replied, though she already seemed less confused than in the first few days.
Link, who was finishing a fairly generous portion of bread with meat, lifted his gaze when he heard the conversation. He had been quieter that morning, not because he lacked energy, but because the work of the last few days had taught him that mornings were easier if he ate first and spoke afterward. His appetite remained something Ram observed with administrative distrust, while Rem seemed to have already included it in her kitchen calculations.
"I'm going too," Link said.
Subaru turned toward him.
"You? To the village?"
"I'm a gardener. I need to know suppliers for seeds, soil, plants, tools, and whatever they use here so flowers don't die under my incompetence."
Ram looked at him.
"The novice gardener admits his incompetence. Progress."
Link pointed at Ram with a piece of bread.
"I admit I'm learning."
"Ram admires your optimism."
"That didn't sound like admiration."
"It wasn't."
Subaru narrowed his eyes, looking at Link with exaggerated suspicion.
"No, no, no. This isn't about suppliers. You want to go because Rem is going."
Link looked at him with the calm of a man who had decided to deny the truth with all the strength available.
"That is a serious accusation."
"And accurate."
"I have work-related reasons."
"Your work-related reasons have blue hair."
Link bit into his bread.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Rem, who was standing by the wall with a tray, kept her expression calm. Subaru would swear nothing had changed on her face. Link, however, felt that she had heard absolutely everything and that his soul had just left his body through a side door.
Roswaal brought his hands together with a broad smile.
"I see no problem with both of them accompanying Rem. Subaru-kun can familiarize himself with the village's inhabitants, and Link-kun can observe useful materials for his work in the gardens. That said, do try not to cause unnecessary trouble."
Ram closed her eyes.
"Roswaal-sama asks the impossible."
"Ram, please, have a little faith in me," Subaru said.
"Ram has faith that Barusu will cause trouble."
"That doesn't count!"
Rem then spoke, serene as always.
"If Roswaal-sama allows it, Rem will guide Barusu and Link during the errands. Both of you must follow instructions and not separate without informing Rem."
Link went still.
So did Subaru.
Ram opened one eye.
"Rem called them by name."
Subaru pointed at himself with dramatic emotion.
"I've ascended from Barusu to Barusu and Subaru depending on the situation! My identity fights to reclaim territory!"
Link, on the other hand, did not say anything immediately. The word "Link" in Rem's voice had been simple, practical, without any romantic intent. That was exactly why it was lethal. After days of hearing "secondary guest," "novice gardener," and variations of disaster with legs, hearing her call him by name felt as if someone had cleaned a window inside his chest.
"Yes," Link said, too late. "I'll follow instructions."
Subaru opened his mouth.
Link looked at him.
Subaru closed it.
The departure was organized after breakfast. Rem prepared a list of errands with impeccable precision: fabrics, spices, certain vegetables, some tool pieces ordered from a local artisan, sacks of grain, fruits, and a specific order of herbs that Beatrice had requested with a note so unpleasant that even the paper seemed annoyed. Ram reviewed the list and added two observations. Roswaal gave the final permission. Emilia asked them to be careful, and before Subaru could turn that phrase into a twenty-minute emotional speech, Ram placed an empty basket in his hands and told him that if he had energy to talk, he had energy to carry.
They left shortly afterward.
The road to the village was not long, but it was enough for the mansion to fall behind them like an elegant painting in the middle of the landscape. Rem walked ahead with the confidence of someone who knew every stretch of the path. Subaru stayed beside her for the first few minutes, trying to make conversation with her, with the scenery, with Link, and with any bird that passed nearby. Link walked a little behind, observing the fields, fences, trees, road marks, and the way the air changed away from the mansion.
The world outside Roswaal's walls felt more alive.
Not safer. That was something else. Link no longer believed in safety as a free concept. But there was the smell of worked soil, grass, animals, distant cooking smoke, and wood drying in the sun. His sense of smell was still too sharp when he focused, but there, in the open space, the aromas did not crush him the way they did in the provisions storage room. He could separate them better. He could identify moisture under the soil, freshly cut leaves, wildflowers, leather from straps, metal from the tools Rem carried carefully stored.
Subaru looked toward him.
"Are you smelling the road?"
"I'm breathing."
"Your face says, 'I'm using hound powers to judge plants.'"
"Your face says, 'I'm about to say something that will make me deserve a punch.'"
"My face is very expressive."
"That's the problem."
Rem listened to them without intervening too much. Sometimes she corrected Subaru when he drifted off the path to look at something flashy, or warned Link not to touch a plant he did not recognize. The walk had a strange calm, almost domestic. Subaru talked about how enormous Roswaal's land seemed to him, about how in the mansion even breathing seemed to require training, about how Ram could turn any simple task into a moral evaluation. Link answered little, but his comments were enough to keep him going. Rem replied when necessary, almost always with brief phrases, though not cold ones. Link noticed that, outside the mansion, she seemed just as orderly, but less surrounded by that silent pressure of permanent service. Or perhaps that was only what he wanted to see.
The village appeared at the end of the road as a cluster of simple houses surrounded by fields, fences, and small dirt paths. It was not large or luxurious. It was humble, alive, full of everyday sounds: animals, children, tools, voices, doors opening, footsteps on wood. To Subaru, who came from a world of buildings, convenience stores, and paved streets, it looked as if it had come out of an illustrated book. To Link, there was something familiar in the honest poverty of places where everyone knew one another and no one could entirely hide their problems.
As soon as they entered, several gazes turned toward them.
It was not hostility. Mostly curiosity. Rem was known there; that became clear immediately from the way some adults greeted her with respect. Subaru, with his apprentice clothes and smile far too wide, attracted attention through his own noise. Link, taller, with worker's hands and a way of looking around that was too alert, received evaluating glances. He did not look noble. Nor like a villager. He was something else, a new presence beside the mansion's maid.
"Rem-neechan," called a girl from near a fence.
Rem turned toward her with an almost imperceptible softness.
"Good morning."
Subaru raised a hand with immediate enthusiasm.
"Good morning, little citizen of this honorable village! I am Subaru Natsuki, apprentice butler, hero in training, specialist in frequent mistakes, and future trusted man of Emilia-tan."
The girl looked at him.
Then she looked at Rem.
"He talks weird."
Link let out a dry laugh.
"Very smart."
Subaru brought a hand to his chest.
"Defeated by childhood honesty in less than ten seconds."
The children appeared as if they had smelled opportunity. First two. Then four. Then several more, coming out from behind houses, fences, and piles of firewood. Some already knew Rem; others approached out of pure curiosity toward the outsiders. Subaru, who had a natural ability to turn himself into a spectacle, quickly ended up surrounded. He tried to introduce himself with a dramatic pose. The children laughed. One girl asked him to repeat the pose. A boy asked if he came from the capital. Another wanted to know if Link was his older brother. Subaru replied that Link was "the monstrously strong gardener of the mansion," which made several children look at Link with shining eyes.
Link raised a hand.
"I don't lift children."
Three hands lowered in disappointment.
"I don't do tricks either."
Two more lowered.
Subaru, on the other hand, opened his arms as if accepting his destiny.
"I do tricks. Well, not good tricks, but loud ones."
Rem looked at the list in her hands.
"Barusu must help with the errands."
Subaru straightened.
"Of course, Rem. I am fully focused on the logistical mission."
A little girl tugged on his sleeve.
"Do the pose again."
Subaru looked at the girl.
He looked at Rem.
He looked at the girl again.
"The logistical mission can include child diplomacy."
Link saw the opportunity fall from the sky so clearly that he almost felt fate, for once, wink at him.
"Subaru," he said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I have an important task for you."
Subaru looked at him suspiciously.
"I don't like that tone."
"These children know the village better than we do. We need someone to talk to them, find out where the shops are, who sells the best fruits, where to get decent tools, and also make sure they don't get in the way while Rem handles the important errands."
Subaru narrowed his eyes.
"That sounds reasonable."
"Because it is."
"That makes it more suspicious."
Link leaned slightly closer and lowered his voice.
"Besides, if you get the children to adore you, you can tell Emilia that you helped keep an entire village happy."
Subaru went still.
The trap fell.
"Emilia-tan... hearing that I was loved by rural children..."
"Exactly."
"My reputation as a community hero..."
"Unstoppable."
"My path toward domestic greatness..."
"Full of children asking for weird poses."
Subaru raised his thumb.
"I accept this mission."
Link returned the thumbs-up solemnly.
"I knew I could trust your vanity."
"Vanity?! This is social strategy!"
Rem observed both of them calmly, but Link thought he saw that she understood perfectly what he had just done. Subaru let himself be dragged by the children toward an open area near a fence, where he began teaching them an exaggerated version of his poses and greetings. In less than a minute, half the group was imitating him with ridiculous shouts. The other half laughed. A small dog, light-furred and harmless-looking, appeared between one child's legs, wagging its tail.
Link looked at the dog for a second.
Something about its smell seemed strange.
He could not say what. The entire village was a mixture of animals, soil, food, wood, sweat, and smoke. But the dog had a different note, sour, like old dampness hidden beneath clean fur. Link frowned, but in that instant Subaru leaned down to greet the animal with a stupid voice, and the dog licked his fingers. The children laughed. Subaru made a dramatic comment about having gained a canine ally.
Rem gently touched the list with her fingers.
"Link."
He turned at the sound of his name.
Again, that absurd blow in his chest. But this time he managed not to look like an idiot.
"Yes."
"We must continue with the errands."
"Right."
They walked together toward the first house-shop.
Subaru stayed behind, surrounded by children and noise.
Without Subaru beside them, the village suddenly became quieter. Not completely silent, because the children's shouts still reached them from behind as living proof that he existed, but enough that Link suddenly felt Rem's presence beside him with too much clarity. It was not a date. He knew that. It was a work outing, with a shopping list, mansion errands, and a maid supervising a novice gardener who could still break pots if he got distracted. But a part of his brain, the most useless and human part, decided that walking through a village beside Rem, carrying baskets while she explained the names of ingredients, counted as a date even if only he knew about it.
"He is very proud of himself," Rem said, glancing toward where Subaru was making the children laugh.
"Subaru runs on attention, hope, and secondhand embarrassment," Link replied. "If you leave him with an audience, he entertains himself."
"Did you do it to be alone with Rem?"
Link almost tripped.
Rem looked at him calmly.
There was no teasing in her expression. No accusation either. It was a direct question, said in the same tone she would use to ask whether a tool was clean or a plant had been watered. That made it much worse.
"I..." Link cleared his throat. "I did it so Subaru would be useful."
"That does not answer the question."
"Also so the children wouldn't get in the way."
"That does not answer the question either."
Link looked at the sky for a second.
"Yes."
Rem blinked.
"I see."
"But not in a weird way. Well, maybe a little weird, but not bad. I just wanted to talk to you without Subaru saying stupid things every three seconds."
"Barusu says stupid things frequently."
"Exactly. It makes human communication difficult."
Rem kept walking.
"Then you may talk."
Link was not prepared for that.
He had imagined, perhaps, that Rem would ignore him, or respond with a professional phrase, or tell him it was unnecessary. Instead, she had given him permission. A simple one. Direct. As if, to her, it were perfectly reasonable that if he had created the chance to talk, then he should talk.
The problem was that now he did not know what to say.
"I like it when you call me Link," he finally blurted out.
The phrase came out more honest than he expected.
Rem barely turned her face toward him.
"That is your name."
"Yes, but until recently it was 'secondary guest,' 'novice gardener,' 'that problematic one,' and probably other titles Ram keeps saved for emergencies."
"Ram still uses 'novice gardener.'"
"Ram can use whatever she wants. If she doesn't insult someone, she gets sick."
Rem did not smile, but her gaze softened slightly.
"Ram would not get sick from that."
"I'm not so sure."
They walked to a small shop where an older woman sold fruits, herbs, and some vegetables. Rem greeted her with impeccable politeness and began reviewing the list. Link stayed to the side, observing. The way Rem negotiated was different from Felt, of course. Felt would have squeezed every coin with her teeth and a thief's gaze. Rem was calm, precise, impossible to rush. She asked about quality, dates, quantity, price, and delivery. She did not bargain aggressively, but every question pushed the agreement toward the point she wanted. The seller seemed to respect her too much to try to cheat her.
Link used his sense of smell to inspect the fruits when Rem asked him. Some were perfect. Others, though they looked good, had a slightly fermented smell near the stem. Link separated them. The seller looked at him in surprise.
"Good nose, boy."
"I'm practicing."
Rem observed the separated fruits and nodded.
"Correct."
That "correct" was worth more than the entire basket.
The next stop was with an artisan who had tool parts ordered for the mansion. Replacement handles, small fittings, a wedge to repair an exterior door, and a pair of thick gloves that, according to Rem, were for Link.
"For me?"
"Yes. Your hands damage some tools due to excessive pressure. The gloves could help distribute your strength better."
Link took the gloves. They were made of thick leather, well-stitched, reinforced at the palm. They were not luxurious, but they were sturdy. He tried them on. They were a little tight, but comfortable.
"You ordered them before knowing I'd come."
"Rem requested them yesterday."
Link looked up.
"For me?"
"Yes. They were necessary for your work."
The answer was practical. Professional. Without sentimentality.
Link, of course, received it as a direct stab to the heart.
"Thank you," he said, lower.
"You must take care of them. If you break them, others will be requested, but it would be better if they lasted."
"I'll take care of them."
The artisan, who was watching the scene with amused curiosity, let out a laugh.
"Young Rem always thinks of everything. You're lucky, boy."
Link put on the gloves with absurd seriousness.
"Yes. I am."
Rem looked at him briefly, and for the first time, Link thought he saw something like confusion on her face. Not a blush. Not romantic acceptance. Rem was not like that, and Link did not expect miracles. But there was a small pause, as if his answer had been more sincere than she knew how to handle in that instant.
They left the shop with the tools and a heavier basket. Link carried both effortlessly, careful not to crush anything. Rem reviewed the list.
"We still need fabrics, grain, and Beatrice-sama's order."
"Beatrice's paper smelled like a threat."
"Beatrice-sama tends to write firmly."
"That wasn't firmness. That was a curse in ink."
"You did not read the contents."
"I didn't need to. It felt judgmental."
Rem kept walking.
"Beatrice-sama can be difficult."
"She drained me until I was unconscious and called my body problematic. Yes, I'd say she can be difficult."
"But she is not cruel."
Link thought of the blonde girl in the library, her annoyance, her biting tone, the way she looked at what she did not understand as if its existence bothered her. He also thought of the fact that she had not killed him, though she could have. And that, despite her complaints, she had given him instructions to bring out his horns and later to free his kagune when he ended up turned into sushi.
"No," he admitted. "She isn't cruel. She just has her tenderness hidden beneath twenty layers of venom."
"That description could be dangerous if she hears it."
"Then don't tell her."
"Rem does not usually repeat unnecessary comments."
"That's why I trust you."
Rem stopped for half a second.
So did Link.
The phrase had come out too naturally. Not as a joke. Not as an attempt at flirting. It simply came out, and the moment it did, Link felt the air between them become clearer and heavier at the same time.
Rem lowered her gaze to the list.
"You do not know Rem well yet."
"No. But I know enough to know that when you say a tool is going to break, it breaks if I don't listen to you. That when you say a plant should be preserved, I'd better not pull it out. That if you tell me 'less strength,' you're almost always right. And that yesterday, you wrote down a recipe of mine so it wouldn't be lost. That doesn't tell me everything about you. But it tells me something."
Rem did not answer immediately.
Subaru's noise reached them from afar, shouting something about "the great Natsuki technique of heroic greeting." The children laughed. The world, for a few seconds, was absurd and peaceful.
"Rem only did her job," she said.
Link smiled faintly.
"Then you do your job very well."
Rem continued walking.
"Thank you, Link."
It was the first time his name sounded like that.
Without "guest," without "secondary," without professional distance added around it. Just Link. Calm. Simple. In Rem's voice.
He had to concentrate very hard not to drop the baskets.
They continued with the errands. They bought fabrics in a house where a woman looked Link up and down and asked Rem whether the strong young man was new at the mansion. Rem answered yes, that he worked in the gardens. The woman said it showed because of the dirt on his boots. Link tried not to feel insulted. Rem added that he was improving. Link nearly declared that phrase the greatest victory of his day.
At the grain shop, Link carried two large sacks while Rem discussed quantities. The owner tried to add a lower-quality sack to the lot, but Link smelled it before they closed it.
"That one is damp inside."
The owner was offended.
Rem requested that it be opened.
The grain smelled of dampness and was starting to spoil in one corner.
Rem looked at the vendor.
She said nothing for two seconds.
The man changed the sack without argument and added a small discount.
When they left, Rem spoke calmly.
"That was useful."
Link lifted one shoulder.
"My nose is finally useful for something other than detecting existential problems."
"You must keep practicing. Your senses can help the mansion."
"I can also help avoid buying rotten grain. Sounds less heroic, but more practical."
"Practice is important."
He glanced at her from the side.
"Was that a compliment?"
"It was an observation."
"Accepting those as compliments is the only way to survive in this mansion."
Rem said nothing, but this time Link was almost sure there was a smile hidden somewhere.
When they finished the main errands, they returned toward the area where Subaru was still with the children. They found him standing on a low crate, one hand raised toward the sky while a group of little ones imitated him enthusiastically. A brown-haired girl watched him with special attention, as if Subaru were a mixture of clown, hero, and fascinating disaster. The light-colored dog remained nearby, wagging its tail.
"And then the great Subaru Natsuki declares that every person must begin the day with energy!" Subaru proclaimed.
"Energy!" several children repeated.
Link stared.
"We left him alone for less than an hour, and he founded a cult."
Rem observed the scene.
"The children seem to be having fun."
"That worries me more."
Subaru saw them and raised both arms.
"You've returned! Rem, Link, witness the birth of a village tradition. I have taught the next generation the fundamentals of heroic posing, morning discipline, and basic charisma."
A girl pointed at Link.
"Does he do poses too?"
"He makes desserts," Subaru said.
The children immediately turned toward Link with interest.
Link looked at Subaru in horror.
"No."
"And he carries huge stones."
The interest increased.
"Subaru."
"And once, he got wrapped up like sushi."
The children widened their eyes.
Rem brought a hand to her mouth, perhaps to cover a cough. Link wanted to believe it was a cough.
"Subaru," Link said with dangerous calm. "Run."
"Children, protect your teacher!"
The children laughed and stood between them like a tiny, disordered wall. Link could not fight a wall of children. Subaru knew it. That was why he was smiling with such confidence.
The light-colored dog approached Subaru while he celebrated his victory, jumping around his legs. Subaru bent down to pet it.
"You understand my greatness, little furry companion."
The dog nibbled his hand.
"Ow! Canine betrayal!"
The children laughed harder. The bite did not seem serious. Barely a small mark on the skin, a playful nip from an overly excited puppy. Subaru shook his hand dramatically.
"I have been wounded in combat by a fierce beast."
"It's a puppy," said a girl.
"Appearances are deceiving."
Link stepped a little closer and frowned.
That smell again.
Sour. Damp. Hard to separate from the rest of the village.
"That dog smells weird," he murmured.
Subaru brought his bitten hand to his chest.
"Of course it smells weird. It's a tiny assassin disguised as cuteness."
Rem looked at the dog. The animal wagged its tail, apparently harmless.
"The village animals often play with the children. Sometimes they bite if they get excited."
Link kept watching it for one more second, but he had no reason to insist. He knew nothing. He understood nothing. Maybe his nose was only picking up old mud, wet fur, or some spoiled food the puppy had found. The village had too many new smells. He could not turn every strange sensation into an alarm.
Subaru, of course, had already forgotten the bite and was saying goodbye to the children as if he had just finished a national tour. Several boys and girls asked him to come back. Subaru promised he would, one hand over his heart. Link tried not to think that those promises, in this world, could become dangerous even when they were small.
Rem checked the baskets and sacks.
"We must return before it gets dark."
Subaru picked up the basket that belonged to him and then, upon finding it heavier than expected, made a choked sound.
"What did you buy? Stones? Ram's respect in solid form?"
"Grain," Rem said.
"Grain weighs like accumulated guilt."
Link took part of the load without saying anything.
Subaru looked at him with immediate gratitude.
"Brother."
"It's not for you. It's so you don't spend two hours complaining."
"I accept your love in any form."
The return to the mansion was quieter. Subaru walked beside Rem for a while trying to tell her about his success with the children, but every time he wanted to take up too much space in the conversation, Link reminded him that he had a basket he should not tilt. In the end, Subaru ended up a few steps ahead, mentally practicing how he would tell Emilia that the village children adored him. That left Link and Rem side by side again.
Not as alone as before.
But enough.
"The children accepted him quickly," Rem said.
"Subaru has that effect. He's ridiculous, but he isn't a bad person."
"Rem can see that he tries."
"Even if he's a disaster."
"Yes."
Link smiled.
"That's Subaru."
They walked in silence for a few steps.
Then Rem spoke.
"You also worked hard today, Link."
His name did something to his chest again. Less violent than before, warmer. Perhaps because he was beginning to believe it had not been an accident.
"Thank you."
"Your senses were useful. You also carried provisions without damaging the sacks."
"A great advance for civilization."
"And you did not try to carry everything at once."
"I heroically restrained myself."
"Rem noticed."
Link looked toward the road ahead. The mansion could be seen in the distance, elegant and still, as if there were no secrets hidden between its walls. The sun was beginning to lower, dyeing the fields in golden tones. Subaru walked ahead, talking to himself with exaggerated gestures, probably rehearsing a more glorious version of events. Rem walked beside him, with a calm step and the completed list. The baskets weighed in Link's arms, but not too much. The new gloves protected his hands. The smell of fruits, fabrics, grain, and tools mixed with the afternoon air gave him the strange feeling of a day fulfilled.
"It was a good outing," he said.
Rem looked at him.
"It was work."
"Yes. That too."
"Did you like the village?"
Link thought about the children, the strange dog, the vendors, the simple houses, Subaru accidentally founding a posing tradition, and walking with Rem without anyone interrupting them for several minutes.
"Yes. I liked it."
Rem nodded.
"Then perhaps you may return when more errands are required."
Link tried not to let his face reveal too much.
"It would be useful for my work as a gardener."
"Yes."
"Suppliers, tools, seeds."
"Also."
"And carrying things."
"Correct."
"Work-related reasons."
Rem looked at him from the corner of her eye.
"Of course."
Link had the horrible suspicion that Rem had just teased him without changing her voice.
And he liked it.
When they arrived at the mansion, Ram received them at the side entrance. She observed the baskets, the sacks, Subaru's state, Link's clothes, and Rem's posture in a single glance.
"Barusu returned alive. The village has been merciful."
"The village loves me," Subaru said.
"The village does not know you well enough yet."
"Ram, today the children laughed with me."
"That is not always a sign of approval."
Link carefully set down the sacks.
"The errands are complete. They changed a bad sack at the grain shop."
Rem nodded.
"Link detected it before loading it."
Ram looked at Link.
"The novice gardener was useful."
Link brought a hand to his chest.
"I'm going to save that phrase for difficult days."
"Do not exaggerate. Ram did not say it was impressive."
"By your standards, 'useful' is almost a declaration of work-related love."
Subaru pointed at Link.
"That's my expert in Ram emotional translation!"
Ram closed her eyes.
"Both of you are tired. That makes you more unbearable."
Rem took part of the provisions to carry them to the kitchen. Link immediately followed her with the rest, and Subaru, seeing them enter together, opened his mouth. Ram placed a hand on his shoulder before he could speak.
"Barusu has pending tasks."
"But—"
"Tasks."
"I wanted to tell Emilia about the children."
"After organizing the provisions you carried badly."
Subaru looked toward the hallway where Link and Rem were walking away.
"He got rid of me all day and now gets more time with Rem."
"Barusu allowed himself to be distracted by children."
"It was a community mission."
"It was vanity."
Subaru raised a finger, lowered it, and sighed.
"It was a little vanity."
Ram pushed him toward the opposite hallway.
"At least Barusu recognizes something."
In the kitchen, Rem began separating the ingredients. Link placed the sacks where she indicated, arranged the tools on a side table, and was careful not to put the fruits beside the metal objects. Rem worked quickly, but not in a rush. He helped her in silence for a few minutes, feeling that he did not need to fill every second with words.
When they finished, Rem reviewed the list one last time.
"Everything is complete."
"Then I wasn't that useless."
"No."
Link smiled faintly.
"Thank you for calling me by my name today."
Rem looked at him.
"You are no longer the secondary guest. You work in the mansion. Besides, you said you liked it."
He scratched the back of his neck, uncomfortable.
"Yes. I like it."
"Then Rem will call you Link."
The silence that followed was small, but for him it had weight.
"I'll also try to stop getting nervous when you do it," he said.
Rem blinked.
"You get nervous?"
Link closed his eyes.
He had fallen into it on his own.
"Forget that."
"Rem will remember it."
"Of course you will."
This time, yes.
It was minimal, almost invisible.
But Link saw the shadow of a smile on Rem's face before she turned back to the provisions.
And with that, the fourth day in the Roswaal mansion was marked in his memory not by a battle, nor by a transformation, nor by a magical disaster, but by an outing to the village, a pair of new gloves, a basket of sour fruits, Subaru being adored by children, a strange-smelling dog no one understood, and Rem saying his name as if it were something normal.
For anyone else, it would have been little.
For Link, it was enough to feel that perhaps, just perhaps, he was beginning to belong to that routine.
Even if tranquility, as always, had its days numbered.