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As promised is debt, honestly I don't find this loop relevant so I'll skip it.
----
Subaru Natsuki woke up with his throat closed before he could scream.
His body wanted to. The memory arrived before the air, as if someone had opened the wrong door inside his head and let the entire night in at once: the chain, the tree, Rem's voice asking for truths he didn't have, the healing that didn't save but prolonged, the throat opened by an invisible cut, the warmth of blood running down his neck, Link's expression appearing between the trees and falling an instant later as if the world had decided to turn him off without explanation. Everything returned together, without order, without mercy, and without giving him time to build a joke around it. Subaru opened his eyes, sucked in air with a horrible sound, and sat up abruptly on the guest bed.
There was no tree.
There was no chain.
There was no blood.
The room in Roswaal Manor was intact, clean, spacious, bathed in a soft light entering from the window as if the world had the bad taste to pretend innocence. The sheets were perfect. His body was whole. His throat had no cut. His chest rose and fell. His hand, his legs, his face, everything was restored with that cruel perfection he knew too well. For a second, Subaru brought his fingers to his neck with so much force he almost hurt himself, expecting to feel the open line. There was nothing. The smooth skin answered him with a normality that made him nauseous.
On one side of the room, on the sofa, Link was also awake.
He didn't scream.
That was the difference.
Subaru woke up like a house on fire. Link woke up like a door closing with a key. He was sitting on the edge of the sofa, leaning forward, with his elbows on his knees and his hands intertwined until his knuckles turned white. His eyes were open, fixed on the floor, but they didn't seem to see the carpet. They saw trees. They saw a library door. They saw Subaru with his throat open. They saw Rem holding a chain. They saw Beatrice standing in front of a corpse that shouldn't exist. His breathing was slow, too slow, as if he were counting every intake of air to make sure he didn't break something inside him.
—Link… —said Subaru with a broken voice.
The Latino barely raised his gaze.
For a second, Subaru expected to see in him the same question as always: Did we die? But Link didn't ask. Maybe because he already knew the answer. Maybe because he was too tired of asking a question the world always answered the same. His right hand rose to his own throat, not because he had received a wound there, but because he remembered having seen Subaru's open. Then he touched his forehead. There were no horns. There was no blood. Nothing. His face became emptier.
—We're back —he said.
His voice sounded clean.
Too clean.
Subaru hated that. He would have preferred him to scream, to hit something, to let out insults in Spanish even if no one understood half. That calm was worse. It was the calm of someone who had put the pain in a box and sat on top of it so it wouldn't escape.
—You saw it —murmured Subaru.
Link didn't respond.
—You saw me die.
—Yes.
—And then you…
—Yes.
Subaru swallowed. The words "you too" got stuck behind his teeth. They couldn't understand it yet. Not fully. Subaru knew he had died and come back. He knew Link remembered. He knew Link had died immediately after, like other times, but his mind refused to accept the shape that truth was starting to take. It was too big, too absurd, too cruel. If he looked at it directly, he might crumble right there, in front of a room that had already seen him wake up too many times.
Link stood up.
It wasn't a brusque movement. It was exact. The kind of movement one makes when deciding that the body doesn't have permission to tremble even if it wants to. He walked to the window and looked at the garden. The mansion was still there. Rem was still there, somewhere, alive, without remembering the mace, the chain, the torture, or the moment when Link asked her to stop. Ram was still there, without remembering the wind that opened Subaru's throat. Beatrice was still there, probably in her library, without remembering that she had dragged Link from a sewer, without remembering that she had seen his dead body. Emilia was still there, worried about two guests who couldn't explain anything without sounding crazy.
—I can't see her —said Link.
Subaru looked at him.
—Rem?
Link closed his eyes.
The answer was already in the way he clenched his jaw.
—Not today.
Subaru lowered his gaze. He didn't know if he could see her either. But his horror was different. Rem had tortured him. Rem had demanded a truth he couldn't deliver. Rem had looked at him like an enemy. And yet, that Rem wasn't there. The Rem of this new loop was a maid who would probably enter with a tray, bow politely, and ask if the guest was feeling well. That was the unbearable part. Death didn't just kill them; it returned the executioners to a state of innocence that they couldn't hate without feeling like monsters.
There was a knock on the door.
Subaru went rigid.
Link didn't move.
—Dear guests —said a voice from outside, clear, polite, twin in rhythm—. Have you woken up?
It was Rem.
Subaru's face lost color.
Link turned toward the door. For an instant, something red seemed to move under the fabric of his back, not coming out, not breaking, but awakening with an animal reaction. The Latino closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and forced his body to stay still. When he spoke, his voice didn't tremble.
—We're awake.
The door opened.
Ram and Rem entered with their usual perfect coordination. Ram had the same cold expression, barely bored, as if the world had never left its axis. Rem carried a tray with water and clean cloths. Her blue eye passed first over Subaru, then over Link, and the attention stopped on both with that professional precision that had once seemed calm and now felt like a blade covered in silk.
—Good morning, dear guests —said Ram—. It seems both of you are conscious.
—That depends on how we define conscious —responded Subaru by reflex, but the phrase came out without life.
Ram observed him.
—The main guest seems to have the face of someone who has seen his own grave.
Subaru couldn't respond.
Rem took a step toward him with the tray.
—Guest-sama, are you feeling unwell?
The word opened a wound that wasn't on his skin. Subaru gripped the sheets with his fingers.
Link turned his head toward the window.
Rem noticed the gesture. Not because it was emotionally obvious, but because Rem noticed deviations. That was her nature. If a spoon was misplaced, she saw it. If a guest avoided looking at her as if her face were a weapon, she saw that too.
—Guest-sama —she said—, are you also indisposed?
Link took a second to respond.
—No.
Rem waited.
—Then, do you need assistance?
—No.
The coldness was so clean that even Subaru looked at him.
It wasn't vulgar rudeness. It wasn't contempt. It was distance raised like a wall. Link didn't raise his voice, didn't make a joke, didn't smile awkwardly like in other awakenings. He didn't tell her she was beautiful. He didn't blush. He didn't try to soften the tension. He spoke like someone who had decided to cut the rope before it tangled around his neck again.
Rem blinked once.
Ram tilted her head slightly.
Rem left the tray on the nearby table and served water for Subaru. He accepted it with trembling hands, but couldn't help looking at her fingers when she approached. They were clean hands. Maid's hands. Hands that served water. Hands that in another loop had held a chain while he screamed. Subaru drank too quickly, choked, and coughed. Rem moved to help him, but Link spoke before she reached him.
—I'll take care of it.
The phrase wasn't loud, but it stopped Rem's gesture.
Link crossed the room, took Subaru's glass, and carefully removed it from him. Subaru looked at him, still coughing. Link gave him two dry pats on the back, nothing gentle, nothing dramatic.
—Breathe through your nose. Swallow slowly.
—Y-you're… treating me like a child…
—Today you earned the right.
—I don't know if that's an insult or care.
—Both.
Rem observed the exchange with attention.
Ram did too.
Subaru recovered some air, enough to attempt a miserable smile.
—Thank you, unlicensed Latin nurse.
Link looked at him.
—Don't make me regret it so early.
That response, minimal as it was, brought a fragment of normality. Small, dry, rough, but real. Subaru grabbed it like someone grabbing a rope in the middle of a well. Ram, perhaps out of nonexistent mercy or pure practicality, announced that Emilia-sama was worried and that Roswaal-sama would be informed of their awakening. Rem asked if they could dress themselves. Subaru responded with an affirmation that was too quick. Link said yes, but before the twins left, Rem looked at him again.
—Guest-sama.
He didn't turn.
—Yes?
—If Rem has done something to make you uncomfortable, you can inform her.
Subaru stopped breathing.
The room seemed to run out of air.
Link kept his gaze on the window. Outside, the garden was illuminated by a clean morning. He saw falling trees. He saw Rem's face on the other side of a chain. He saw the way her eyes hadn't hated, but decided. That was worse. If there had been hate, it would be easy. If there had been cruelty, it would be easy. But it had been duty, fear, protection. And now she was there, asking politely if she had done something wrong, because for her she hadn't.
—No —said Link finally—. You haven't done anything.
Rem accepted the answer with a bow.
—Understood.
When the two left and the door closed, Subaru let himself fall back against the pillow. Link remained standing. His hands were trembling now that no one was looking. Just a little. Enough for Subaru to see.
—Hey —said Subaru.
—No.
—I didn't say anything.
—You're going to say something emotionally irresponsible.
—Probably.
—Then no.
Subaru closed his mouth.
For once, he obeyed.
Emilia arrived shortly after.
The moment was worse than Subaru expected. She entered with true concern, with Puck floating beside her and with that expression of hers that seemed incapable of protecting itself from others' pain. She asked how they were, got too close, tried to check Subaru with magic, and Subaru felt the world lifting him by the neck again. Emilia didn't remember anything. She didn't remember that he had wanted to reach her. She didn't remember that he had died before he could explain it. She didn't remember the promised date from another line, nor the conversations, nor the absurd moments, nor the way her name had sustained him. And that was why, when she extended a hand toward his chest to check his condition, Subaru grabbed her wrist before thinking.
He didn't hurt her.
But he stopped her.
Emilia opened her eyes.
—Subaru…?
He saw himself reflected in her violet pupils and felt disgust for himself. Not for rejecting her, but for needing to. Emilia's hand was warm. Her concern was real. Precisely because of that he couldn't bear it.
—Don't have anything to do with me —he said.
The room died in silence.
Puck stopped moving his tail. Ram, who had returned behind Emilia, barely raised her gaze. Rem, in the back, remained still. Link closed his eyes, as if he had known Subaru needed to say something cruel so he wouldn't say something impossible.
Emilia didn't release his wrist immediately. Subaru did. He let her go as if she burned him.
—Sorry —he murmured, although sorry didn't fix anything—. I'm not… I'm not well. And if you stay close to me now, I'm going to say something worse.
Emilia lowered her hand slowly.
—I just wanted to help you.
—I know.
That "I know" sounded like a broken confession.
Link took a step forward, not to defend Subaru from Emilia, but to put a human barrier between two people who were hurting each other without wanting to. He looked at Emilia with naked seriousness, without the joking tone of other loops.
—Emilia-sama, it's not against you. Subaru is… bad. Me too. If you pressure us now, we're going to break things we don't want to break.
Emilia looked at him.
—You too?
Link held the question.
—Yes.
Puck floated closer to Link. His dark eyes narrowed.
—You smell different from back then.
—I don't know what I smell like —replied Link.
—I'm not talking about nose.
—Then I don't know what I am either.
Puck didn't smile.
—That I do believe.
Subaru let out a dry laugh from the bed.
—Welcome to the club.
Emilia looked at both with a sadness she didn't know where to put. She wanted to insist. It was noticeable. But Puck settled on her shoulder and touched her cheek with a little paw, a small signal, enough for her to hold back.
—It's okay —she said, although it didn't sound okay at all—. I won't force you to talk. But if you need anything, say it. Please.
Subaru didn't respond.
Link did.
—We will.
It was a lie.
Emilia knew it.
She said nothing.
Breakfast was a war without weapons.
The dining room of the mansion received the guests with the same offensive elegance as always: white tablecloth, impeccable tableware, ordered plates, morning light entering through high windows, and Roswaal seated at the head as if the entire world were a theatrical work he was enjoying from the first row. Beatrice was present, which Link noticed before sitting down. The girl with blonde curls held her book with the expression of someone who had no intention of participating in a meeting of problematic humans, but her eyes passed over Subaru and then over Link with barely disguised curiosity. She didn't remember the drain. She didn't remember the door in the forest. She didn't remember the corpse. She didn't remember having said she didn't repeat warnings to dead students.
Link felt something strange in his chest.
It wasn't tenderness.
Not exactly.
It was a debt without a recipient.
They sat down. Subaru did so like someone entering a trial. Link did so like someone who had already decided the sentence and was only waiting for the paper to be handed to him. Rem served water, bread, and soup. Link didn't look at her. Not once. When she placed the plate in front of him, he bowed his head politely.
—Thank you.
Nothing more.
Rem didn't react visibly, but Ram did with a sideways glance. Apparently, even for someone who didn't remember the loops, Link's change was too evident. In other lines, the Latino would have looked at the food like a revelation and at Rem like a beautiful catastrophe. Now he ate slowly, with precision, without visible hunger, although his body probably needed it. He didn't declare war on the bread. He didn't joke with Subaru. He didn't make comments about the food. He took what was necessary and left the rest.
Roswaal was the first to speak about what everyone was avoiding.
—It seems our guests have woken up with a muuuch different mood than expected.
Subaru looked at his plate.
—We slept badly.
—That seems to fall short, don't you thiiink?
—Everything falls short today.
Roswaal smiled. Subaru's phrase interested him. Not in a human way. In an analytical way, as if he had just received an irregular piece for a board he already had planned.
—I understand. Then I'll try to be direct so as not to demand too much emotional energy from you. Due to what happened in the capital, both of you have provided considerable help to Emilia-sama. The recovery of her insignia and the resolution of the incident with Elsa Granhiert are not minor matters. Therefore, it is appropriate to talk about a reward.
Subaru closed his eyes.
In another life he had asked to work there. In another he had asked to stay as a guest. In another he had tried to recover bonds the world wouldn't let him keep. Now the word reward sounded obscene. What reward did one ask for after seeing Rem torturing him? What did one ask for when the person you loved looked at you without remembering she had held you the day before that never existed? What did one ask for when you didn't even know if asking for help was a condemnation?
Link set the cutlery on the table.
The sound was small.
But everyone heard it.
—Money —he said.
The word fell without ceremony.
Emilia blinked.
Ram barely raised an eyebrow.
Rem looked at him.
Beatrice stopped turning the page.
Subaru turned toward him, surprised not by the request, but by the tone. There was no doubt. There was no shame. There was none of that Japanese modesty that Subaru, even being a social disaster, carried as a cultural reflex. Link spoke with a different coldness, a Latin coldness that didn't come from not feeling, but from having felt too much and deciding that no one was going to see him bleed from the inside. It was the kind of voice that didn't ask permission to exist. The voice of someone who could be broken, but wasn't going to apologize for collecting what was owed to him.
Roswaal tilted his head.
—Money?
—Yes.
—What a veeery concrete request.
—Concrete ones are the best. I don't want work. I don't want a room. I don't want borrowed clothes. I don't want anyone to teach me anything today. I want money. Enough for food, lodging, clothes, transportation if necessary, and information. Enough so I don't leave this mansion as a beggar after having helped save a royal candidate from a professional assassin.
Emilia tensed.
—Link, you don't have to say it like that.
Link looked at her for the first time since breakfast began. His expression wasn't cruel. That made it harder.
—Yes, I do.
Subaru felt a shiver.
Link continued:
—I'm not going to pretend humility so the table feels comfortable. Emilia-sama recovered her insignia. Roswaal-sama avoided a political scandal. Subaru and I risked our lives against Elsa. Subaru almost died. I did too. If that's not worth a bag of gold, then the problem isn't my lack of modesty, it's the moral poverty of the nobility's reward system.
Silence.
Puck opened his mouth.
He closed it.
Subaru, even destroyed, had to admit there was something almost beautiful in the brutality of that phrase. It wasn't elegant. It wasn't courtly. It was too direct for a noble table. It was Link without the varnish of jokes, without the effort to please, without the impulse to earn a place. It was a Latino with pride sitting at the table, saying "you owe me" without lowering his eyes. The mansion, accustomed to secrets wrapped in courtesy, seemed not to know where to put that.
Ram was the first to recover.
—The secondary guest speaks with a lot of confidence for someone who woke up in someone else's bed.
—The secondary guest woke up in someone else's bed because he almost got killed helping the owner of that political cause you protect.
—Emilia-sama is not a political cause.
—Then take care of her as a person and pay like nobles.
Subaru let out air through his nose.
—Brother…
Link didn't look at him.
Roswaal clasped his hands with a smile.
—Very interesting. Beatrice, your opinion?
—He has too much mana circulating through inappropriate routes, he doesn't have a normal gate, and his horns function as regulatory organs even though he uses them clumsily. If you want a more elegant description, look for it in another book, I suppose.
—So, is he dangerous?
Beatrice looked at Link.
—Every idiot with enough strength is dangerous. This one also knows he's an idiot, which makes him slightly less annoying or more annoying, depending on the moment.
—What a generous evaluation —said Link.
—Betty can make it worse.
—No need.
Roswaal smiled.
—Then we have a guest who asks for money, shows Oni horns, and wishes to leave the mansion on the same day he wakes up. The morning is turning out less boring than expected.
Emilia looked at Link with concern.
—Why do you want to leave?
The question was simple.
Too simple.
Link looked at the table. The food. The tableware. The place where Rem had served water. Subaru's chair. Beatrice's book. Emilia's hands, pressed together. He felt several possible answers on his tongue. Some were useful lies. Others were incomplete truths. The complete truth was impossible.
He chose a cold one.
—Because I can't organize my thoughts inside a house where every hallway makes me think of things I don't understand.
Subaru lowered his gaze.
—Link…
—And because if I stay now —Link continued—, I'm going to look at people who haven't done anything against me and I'm going to feel things they shouldn't have to carry. That's not fair. For anyone.
Rem understood less of what Link wanted and more of what he feared.
—Is Rem included in those people?
The question was direct.
Link held the edge of the table.
The Latino inside him, that raw pride that didn't know how to bow without reason, wanted to respond with a firm phrase, something that would cut the matter at the root. But beneath the pride there was something else. A wound with a blue name.
—Yes —he said.
The silence returned.
Rem received the answer without changing expression. But her blue eye, for an instant, lost its perfect neutrality. Not sadness. Not guilt. She couldn't feel guilt for something she didn't remember. Maybe it was just confusion at a stranger who avoided her as if she were a personal ghost.
—Rem doesn't understand.
—Better.
Subaru closed his eyes. That word was cruel. Not by intention, but by necessity. Link knew it. Rem also felt the edge.
Emilia stood up a little from her chair.
—Link, if something happened—
—Nothing happened that you can fix, Emilia-sama.
The phrase stopped Emilia like an invisible hand.
Link leaned slightly toward her. Not with servility. With respect.
—I don't say it to hurt you. You already did too much for us. But there are problems that aren't solved with kindness, and right now your kindness is too big for me.
Puck looked at Link with a less childish expression.
—That sounds very sad for someone trying to sound cold.
Link didn't smile.
—Sadness and cold don't fight. Sometimes they work together.
Subaru gripped his hand under the table.
Roswaal observed everything with attention.
—Very well. Money and temporary departure from the mansion. Anything else?
—A simple map of the surroundings. Information on inns or towns where I can stay for a few days without drawing too much attention. Clothes that don't look like patient or noble. And food for the road.
Ram looked at him.
—The guest asks for a fairly complete list.
—The guest saved a royal candidate.
—The secondary guest seems to enjoy remembering it.
—The secondary guest discovered that modesty doesn't buy bread.
Subaru, despite everything, let out a low laugh.
—That one actually hurt because it's real.
Ram closed her eyes.
—Subaru-sama also seems to be learning bad habits.
Link looked at him sideways. Subaru wasn't well. None of them were. But Subaru wasn't going to leave. He couldn't. His place was still inside the mansion, near Emilia, near Beatrice, near the center of the loop they still hadn't understood. Link hated himself a little for abandoning him there, although he knew that staying wouldn't help either.
Roswaal accepted the request with more ease than he should have.
That was suspicious.
Everything about Roswaal was suspicious.
—I will prepare an appropriate sum. It wouldn't be right for those who helped Emilia-sama to leave my home without means. Although I must ask, Link-kun: do you plan to return?
Link held his gaze.
—Yes.
He didn't know if it was true.
But he said it like a promise.
—I need answers. Some are here.
—Then this is not a farewell.
—No.
—Just a strategic retreat.
—Call it whatever you want.
Roswaal smiled.
—Strategic retreat sounds veeery good.
Beatrice slammed her book shut.
—It sounds like cowardice with new boots, I suppose.
Link looked at her.
For an instant, the library from another loop returned to his mind. Beatrice next to his corpse. Beatrice saying not to die. Beatrice without finding a sufficient insult. Now she looked at him without any of that, only with irritation and curiosity.
—Sometimes cowardice keeps the idiot alive long enough to learn —he said.
Beatrice was silent for a second.
Then she looked away.
—Learning isn't guaranteed in your case.
—Nothing is.
Subaru spoke for the first time with seriousness since Link had asked for money.
—Are you leaving alone?
Link didn't want to answer in front of everyone. But Subaru had asked in front of everyone because, if he didn't, perhaps Link would leave without giving him the chance.
—Yes.
—I don't like it.
—Me neither.
—Then stay.
Link felt the blow.
It was a small request. Two words. But behind them there was death, fear, guilt, trees, chain, and a throat opened. Subaru wasn't asking for company out of whim. He was asking him not to leave him alone in the house where he had been tortured by a person who now served water a few steps from him.
Link wanted to say yes.
That's why he said no.
—I can't.
Subaru clenched his teeth.
—What a shitty answer.
—Yes.
—I hate it.
—Me too.
Emilia looked between them, more and more lost, more and more worried. Ram and Rem remained silent. Roswaal smiled less now, but observed more. Beatrice looked at her book without reading.
Subaru lowered his voice.
—Don't die.
Link almost laughed.
Almost.
Not out of amusement. Out of absurdity. Subaru asking him that, without knowing yet that one's death seemed to drag the other in a way neither dared to name.
—You neither.
—I don't promise anything if you leave me here with all these weird nobles.
—Subaru.
—Yeah, yeah. I'm breathing.
Link looked at him. This time he let the coldness drop a little, just for him.
—Don't do stupid things without me.
Subaru tried to smile.
—That was our team style.
—Then change your style.
—I don't know if I have another.
—Invent one.
Subaru didn't respond.
After breakfast, things happened with almost cruel efficiency.
Ram received the order to prepare simple travel clothes. Rem was sent to prepare provisions. Link almost asked that it not be her, but he bit his tongue. He couldn't reorganize the entire mansion around his memories. He had no right. Roswaal ordered a bag of coins brought, not exaggerated to the point of seeming like a purchase of silence, but heavy enough for Link to understand that the debt had been acknowledged. There were gold and silver coins, organized with noble precision that would have interested him more if his mind hadn't been occupied avoiding looking toward the hallway where Rem had left.
Subaru accompanied him to the room while he changed.
The clothes were simple: resistant pants, a thick fabric shirt, a dark jacket, boots that weren't perfect but served. Link stored the coins in an inner bag, checked the belt, made sure the fabric on the back wouldn't prevent the kagune from coming out in case of emergency, and stopped in front of the mirror. There were no horns. He took them out once more, just a little, checking that they responded. Then he hid them.
Subaru watched him from the bed.
—You look like a secondary character who's going to train off-screen.
—I hope to return before the audience forgets me.
—Impossible. Your romantic trauma with Rem has too much narrative investment.
Link looked at him with absolute coldness.
—No.
Subaru raised both hands.
—Sorry.
—Don't joke about that.
The phrase came out so serious that Subaru lowered his hands slowly.
—Sorry for real.
Link breathed.
—I can't see her, Subaru.
—I know.
—No. You don't know.
Subaru accepted the blow without defending himself.
Link closed his eyes.
—I saw her hands on you. I saw how she healed you to keep asking. I saw how she looked at me when I stopped her. And I know that Rem doesn't exist here. I know that the one now hasn't done anything. I know that if I hate her, I'm unfair. I know that if I look at her like before, I'm an idiot. I know all that. But my body doesn't distinguish. My head doesn't either. And if I stay, I'm going to break in a way that doesn't serve us.
Subaru swallowed.
—I do remember her.
—You suffered her.
—Yes.
—Then understand that I can't process it sitting in front of her while she serves me soup.
Subaru looked at his hands.
—I understand.
The word came out small, but honest.
Link finished adjusting the jacket.
—You need to stay.
—I don't want to.
—I know.
—No, you don't understand. I don't want to stay near her. I don't want to stay near anyone. But I also don't want you to leave.
Link picked up the bag.
—That's called being alive in this world. Everything you need is attached to something that hurts you.
Subaru let out a bitter laugh.
—What an disgustingly good phrase. I hate it.
—Note it down when you learn to write better.
—Ram hasn't given me classes in this loop yet.
—Then survive until she does.
Subaru looked at him.
—That was low.
—It was Latin.
—What does that mean in this context?
Link opened the door.
—That I'm not going to apologize for saying the ugly truth when necessary.
The vestibule was full of farewells that no one knew how to make.
Emilia was there, with Puck on her shoulder and a concern that tried not to become a plea. Ram was to one side, holding a small folded map and a list of nearby places where a traveler could stay without too many questions. Rem waited with a bag of prepared food. Beatrice wasn't there, until a side door opened without having the right to and she appeared with her book in her arms.
—Betty came to confirm that the idiot really plans to leave —she said.
—Good morning to you too —responded Link.
—There's nothing good in a morning that includes such clumsy decisions.
—Then it's an average morning for me.
Beatrice clicked her tongue.
Ram handed over the map.
—The main path to the village is simple. From there you can find basic lodging or transportation to larger routes. Avoid the forests if you don't want to be eaten by animals, mabeasts, or by your own lack of orientation.
—I'll take that as professional advice.
—It was a survival warning.
—Better.
Rem approached with the bag.
Link stayed still.
She offered the provisions with both hands. He looked at the bag, not her fingers. He took it carefully, avoiding any unnecessary touch. Rem noticed that. Of course she did.
—There's bread, dried meat, fruit, water, and clean cloths —she said—. Also a small amount of salt and herbs. Rem doesn't know how long you plan to stay out, but it should be enough for the first stretch.
Link held the bag.
It weighed little.
Too little for everything it meant.
—Thank you.
—It's part of Rem's duty.
The phrase pierced him.
He didn't show it.
—Then you fulfill your duty well.
Rem lowered her gaze slightly.
—Rem thanks the evaluation.
There was no more.
It was better that way.
Emilia took a step toward Link.
—You don't have to leave right now. You can wait, rest more, talk calmly when you feel ready.
Link looked at her with respect. Emilia was good. Too good for a morning like this.
—If I wait to be ready, I'll never leave.
—And would that be bad?
Link looked toward the stairs, toward the mansion, toward the place where Subaru had to stay.
—Today yes.
Puck moved his tail.
—Take care, strange boy.
—You too, cat.
—Spirit.
—I know.
Beatrice approached a little, enough for only him to hear clearly.
—If you die outside, Betty won't go pick you up.
Link looked at her.
The phrase had no memory. But it hurt as if it did.
—I know.
—You don't know. That's why I say it.
—Then I'll try not to test your patience.
—You already failed.
Link almost smiled.
Almost.
—Beatrice.
—What?
—The vanilla ice cream can wait.
She frowned.
—What is vanilla ice cream?
Link closed his eyes for an instant.
Of course.
—Nothing. A debt of mine.
—I don't accept debts from idiots.
—Too late.
Beatrice looked at him with irritation, but there was something more in her face. Not memory. Not tenderness. Not concern. Just an absurd discomfort, as if a part of her had heard a word in a dream and didn't know why it bothered her to have forgotten it.
Subaru was the last to speak.
He didn't make a joke.
That was what made the farewell serious.
—Come back.
Link adjusted the bag on his shoulder.
—I'm going to collect interest from this world before I let it take me out of the game.
—That doesn't answer.
—It does. Just with style.
Subaru let out a broken laugh.
—Idiot.
—Also.
Link crossed the main door of Roswaal Manor with the money hidden under his jacket, the horns hidden, the kagune asleep, and his pride turned into armor. The morning received him with fresh air, too clean for someone carrying several deaths stuck in his throat. He didn't look back immediately. If he did, he might return. If he saw Subaru, he might stay. If he saw Rem, something inside him might break in a way harder to regenerate than an arm.
So he walked.
One firm step.
Then another.
Not like someone fleeing. Not completely. Nor like someone brave. He walked like someone who had decided that crumbling was a luxury for later. Like someone raised by a part of the world where pride was sometimes the only thing left when there was no house, money, or answers. Like someone who could be dead inside and still straighten his back because no one had the right to see him kneeling.
When he reached the edge of the path, he stopped.
Then he did look back.
The mansion was still there, beautiful, elegant, monstrous. At the door, the figures were small because of the distance. Subaru was still standing. Emilia too. Ram and Rem were two clear spots next to the frame. Beatrice was no longer visible, perhaps she had returned to her library, perhaps she had never really been where a normal door said she should be.
Link touched the bag of coins.
Then his forehead, where the horns slept under the skin.
The wind moved the edge of his jacket.
Link lowered his hand.
—they already paid me.
The phrase wasn't greed.
It was a private declaration of war.
To the mansion.
To the loop.
To death.
To himself.
Then he turned toward the path and kept walking, leaving Roswaal Manor behind on the first day of the fourth loop, with a bag of money, too many questions, and a coldness so well placed on his shoulders that it almost seemed calm.
Almost.