Subaru Natsuki woke up to the sound of his own breathing.
It was not a scream. That surprised him more than anything else. After feeling the void open beneath his feet, after surrendering to the cliff with a decision that still burned in his chest, part of him expected to wake up shattered, screaming, clutching the mattress as if the fall were still happening. But the first thing he did was breathe. A deep, trembling, almost incredulous breath of air entered his lungs and scraped his throat like physical proof that he was still there.
The white ceiling of the guest room was above him.
The bed was soft. The pillow smelled good. The sheets were clean. The morning light entered through the window with that insulting softness that the Roswaal mansion seemed to reserve for the days when someone had just died in another world that no one else remembered. Subaru blinked several times, without moving, letting the details hit him one by one: the room, the bed, the elegant silence, his entire body, his intact hands, his uncut throat, his bones in place, his heart beating too fast for someone who shouldn't have a heart after crashing against the bottom of a ravine.
He had returned.
The conclusion did not come as clean relief. It came with nausea, with fear, and with a joy so intense that it almost made him cry before he could understand it. He had jumped. He had chosen to die. He had bet everything on a cruel rule that had never given him a manual and, even so, the world had allowed him to return. That meant Rem could breathe again. That Ram could look at her sister with annoyance and adoration instead of hugging a corpse. That Emilia wouldn't have to drag him down a hallway to a room where the fifth day was a rotten joke. That Beatrice wouldn't have to watch him run toward the void after protecting him.
And that Link…
Subaru turned his head sharply.
The sofa was occupied.
Link was awake.
Not sitting up in panic, not with the lost gaze of someone who had just returned from death without understanding why, but sitting cross-legged on the sofa, one hand resting on his knee and the other holding his forehead. His hair was messy, his sleep clothes slightly wrinkled, and his expression, for the first time in a long time, did not seem made solely of contained rage. There was tiredness, yes. There was darkness behind his eyes, of course. But there was also something different, a decision put on like a clean shirt after days of blood. His mouth curved slightly, not in a full smile, but in the beginning of one that seemed to have been rehearsed in front of a broken mirror.
—We're back —said Link.
Subaru opened his mouth, but it took him a moment to respond. There were so many questions stuck in his throat that none managed to come out first. Where were you? What happened to you after you left? Did you feel my death? Did you die when I jumped? Did you see anything? Do you know Rem died? Do you know I killed myself to save her? Are you okay? The last one was the most useless of all, but also the one he most wanted to ask.
Link glanced at him sideways.
—Don't make that face. It looks like you saw a handsome ghost.
—You added the handsome part.
—It was necessary for historical accuracy.
Subaru let out a short, broken laugh. The sound hurt and saved him at the same time.
—You're… weird.
—You too. But in your case it's less new.
—No, I'm serious. You're calmer.
Link lowered his hand from his forehead. His eyes went to the window, then to the door, as if expecting the past to walk in with a tray.
—I got tired of waking up as if death were still sitting on my chest. Today I'm going to try something else.
—Something else?
—Smiling before I break.
Subaru didn't know what to answer.
That sounded horrible. It also sounded useful. And, for some reason, it sounded very Link: not a true healing, not a miraculous overcoming, but a way of choosing where to put the wound so it wouldn't get in the way while walking.
Before he could say anything, twin voices came from the foot of the bed.
—Nee-sama, nee-sama. Our dear guest seems to have woken up with less noise than expected.
—Rem, Rem. Our dear guest may have learned that screaming early gives a bad impression.
Subaru froze.
Ram and Rem were there.
Alive.
The phrase was absurd, because for them nothing had happened. They were standing next to the bed in their impeccable uniforms, their white caps, their synchronized expressions and that mixture of courtesy and soft cruelty that, in another context, would have made Subaru respond with some nonsense. Ram, pink hair, sharp visible eye as always. Rem, blue hair, serene gaze, hands clasped in front of her apron. The same image that had greeted him on so many first mornings. The same image he had used as an anchor when he threw himself from the cliff.
Subaru felt his heart dissolve.
Ram and Rem spoke again, alternating with that naturalness that only they could make seem normal.
—Dear guest, are you feeling unwell?
—Dear guest, perhaps you have an illness that affects your ability to respond?
Subaru slowly raised both hands, not to defend himself, but to confirm that he could move them. The warmth of small hands returned to his memory. During the previous loop, in the middle of sleep, they had held his. Ram and Rem. One on each side. They had been there when he couldn't hold himself up alone. That warmth had given him the courage to jump, not because he wanted to die, but because he couldn't abandon a world where those hands ended up cold.
—Lend them to me for a second —he said.
Ram and Rem looked at each other.
—Nee-sama, nee-sama. Our dear guest is asking for something strange upon waking.
—Rem, Rem. Our dear guest seems to have confused the maids with loan objects.
Subaru didn't wait for permission. Not because he wanted to be rude, but because if he hesitated for one more second, he might start crying. He leaned forward and extended his hands toward theirs, seeking that warmth he remembered, that proof that the world he had chosen to recover was really there.
His fingers brushed Ram's.
And then something red interposed itself between his other hand and Rem's.
It wasn't violent. There was no blow, no threat, no sudden movement capable of justifying a scream. A thin, narrow, controlled kagune emerged from Link's back and extended with the precision of a living rope until it gently wrapped around Subaru's wrist, stopping it a few centimeters from Rem's hand. The red flesh didn't squeeze hard enough to hurt. It simply said no.
Subaru slowly turned his head.
Link was smiling.
But the smile didn't reach his eyes.
—Bro —said Subaru, in a tone too low for the twins to understand the real weight of the word—. Seriously?
Link tilted his head.
—Reflex.
—Reflex?
—Latino, jealous, and freshly awakened. A dangerous combination for morning diplomacy.
Rem looked at the red appendage with absolute attention. Ram did too. Rem's hand, stopped before it could be touched, did not immediately pull back. That made the scene much more awkward. Subaru was still holding Ram's hand with a mixture of emotion and embarrassment, while his other wrist was held by Link's kagune. Ram lowered her gaze to her fingers caught by Subaru, then to the kagune, and finally to Link.
—The other dear guest has awakened with an additional limb and a worrying lack of manners.
—Good morning to you too, Ram —said Link, without yet withdrawing the kagune.
—Ram does not remember having granted permission for such familiarity.
—You're right. Good morning, Ram-sama.
—That was worse.
Subaru, still with Ram's hand between his, let out a laugh that broke before it could turn into crying. Ram tried to pull her hand away, but Subaru held it for just one more instant, not with force, but with desperate gratitude.
—Yes —he whispered—. I knew it. No doubt.
Ram frowned.
—Dear guest, you are very wrong about many things.
—Probably since birth —added Rem, recovering her composure with a serenity that almost made Subaru crumble with relief.
—There it is —said Subaru, finally releasing Ram's hand—. Music to my broken soul.
—Nee-sama, nee-sama. Does the dear guest enjoy being insulted?
—Rem, Rem. The dear guest may be a masochistic pervert.
—Don't deny my complexity as a person —said Subaru, placing a hand on his chest.
Link slowly withdrew the kagune from Subaru's wrist, but did not hide it completely. The red limb folded next to the sofa, visible, calm, like a carefully domesticated warning. Then he looked at Rem and gave her a slight bow, not exaggerated, not servile, with a cleaner courtesy than in other awakenings.
—Excuse the interruption, Rem. It wasn't out of distrust toward you.
Rem held his gaze.
—Then why was it?
Subaru felt the danger of the question like an invisible blow. Link, on the other hand, did not hurry. That was another difference. In previous loops he would have improvised too much, protected himself with a clumsy joke or a phrase that revealed more than necessary. This time he breathed, smiled a little more, and chose words that did not deliver the full truth but were not pure lies either.
—Because I woke up and saw Subaru trying to touch the hand of a beautiful woman without even introducing himself properly. Someone had to defend the dignity of the room.
Rem blinked.
Ram looked at him as if she had just found a new species of idiot.
Subaru's eyes widened.
—You used me to flirt?
—Not without shame.
—You said it with a straight face!
—There was shame on the inside.
Rem lowered her gaze slightly. It wasn't a blush. It wasn't romantic softness. It was a minimal pause, a discreet analysis of an unexpected phrase. Then she made a professional bow.
—Rem does not consider it necessary for Link-sama to defend her dignity in that way.
—Then I'll keep that in mind for next time.
—There shouldn't be a next time —said Ram.
—The Roswaal mansion seems like the kind of place where there is always a next time —murmured Link.
Subaru heard it. No one else seemed to catch the weight.
The door opened before the silence could grow too much.
Emilia entered with contained haste, her silver hair moving over her shoulders and Puck floating beside her, half asleep, but with eyes much more attentive than his expression allowed. Subaru felt everything inside him lean toward her. After Rem's room, after the cliff, after the horror of having pushed her away out of fear of punishment, seeing her again like this, alive and worried, was like receiving direct light on a wound.
—I heard voices —said Emilia—. I'm glad to see you both woke up.
Subaru smiled.
This time it wasn't the frantic smile of someone trying to cover cracks at all costs. It was a trembling smile, yes, full of too many memories, but honest.
—Good morning, Emilia-tan. Seeing you in the morning is as effective as an emotional resurrection spell.
Emilia stopped.
—Emilia… tan?
Puck yawned on her shoulder.
—It started fast.
—It's a habit —said Subaru, rubbing the back of his neck—. A bad one, according to most educational systems. But I will defend it until my last breath, although I hope that last breath takes a while.
Emilia smiled with concern.
—I don't quite understand what you're saying, but you seem lively. That makes me happy.
Subaru felt the phrase pierce his chest. In the canon of his broken life, Emilia always did that: she said something simple and left him defenseless.
Link, from the sofa, stood up. The kagune had already retracted, although the fabric on his back was slightly tense. He looked at Emilia with respect and then at Puck with a mixture of caution and familiarity that the spirit immediately noticed.
—Good morning, Emilia-sama. Puck.
Puck tilted his head.
—Such a calm greeting for someone who just showed a very uncalm red thing.
—I'm practicing calm.
—And how's it going?
—The fact that no one jumped out the window is progress.
Puck let out a small laugh.
—I like that unit of measurement.
Emilia looked toward Link's back, worried but not scared. She had seen his power in the capital, or at least part of it. She had seen three red appendages moving in the middle of chaos, protecting, striking, holding more than a human body should hold. For her, Link was already strange. For the mansion, it was still necessary to make it official.
Subaru jumped out of bed with an energy that didn't quite match his mental state. He almost lost his balance, but turned it into an absurd pose so quickly that Ram looked at him as if she had just confirmed several suspicions about his intellect.
—Sorry for the weird start —said Subaru, looking at Ram and Rem—. There are things I want to say before everything else. First, thank you for taking care of us. Second, sorry for asking for hands as if I were checking merchandise. Third, I trust you. So let's get along.
The twins exchanged a look.
Subaru saw the caution in that gesture. He had seen it before. Now he accepted it. He couldn't demand trust from the first minute. He couldn't arrive with a heart full of memories and ask others to feel the same weight. The only thing he could do was start over. Earn every word. Every nickname. Every correction. Every small gesture that, in the dead worlds, had become something precious.
Link observed the scene without intervening. Subaru noticed it out of the corner of his eye. That was another sign that something had changed. Link wasn't trying to steal the moment, nor cover the awkwardness, nor hide behind a comment. He was letting Subaru do what he had to do.
Emilia tilted her head, confused.
—Start over?
Subaru looked at her.
—Yes. I think it's time to complete the levels of the Roswaal mansion.
Ram closed her eyes.
—Ram doesn't understand half of the dear guest's words, but she suspects that the understandable half isn't promising either.
—That counts as acceptance of the challenge.
—No.
—I'll accept it anyway.
Breakfast arrived with a normality that Subaru decided to protect as if it were fine glass.
The dining room was the same as always: spacious, elegant, too clean, with a table that seemed to have more protocol than some entire countries. Roswaal occupied the head of the table with his painted smile, his impeccable makeup, and that gaze of someone who observed more than he said. Beatrice was present too, sitting with her book, pretending disinterest that would have been more convincing if she hadn't looked at Link twice before everyone settled down. Emilia took her place with Puck nearby. Ram and Rem moved around the table with clockwork precision.
Subaru sat down and forced his body not to tremble.
Rem was alive.
Ram was alive.
That was the base.
Everything else could be built on top of it.
Link sat down next to him. Subaru noticed that his posture was more relaxed than in the last loops, but not careless. There was something in the way he looked at the room that seemed learned: he didn't fix his eyes on Rem, he didn't avoid looking at her in panic, he didn't lose himself in her like a lovesick idiot. He observed her when necessary, responded to her with courtesy and, from time to time, dropped a light, measured phrase, without boldness.
When Rem served him water, Link accepted the glass with a brief nod.
—Thank you. The way you serve makes even the water seem more polite.
Rem looked at him.
—Water does not possess education.
—Then it must be thanks to you.
Subaru choked on his own saliva.
Ram, from the other side, spoke without changing expression.
—The secondary guest has a very efficient way of wasting words.
—Wasted words are the foundation of all good conversation —said Subaru, recovering.
—That explains the main dear guest —replied Ram.
—I didn't know you were already studying me as a social phenomenon!
Roswaal let out a soft, drawn-out, pleased laugh with the scene.
—What a lively atmosphere for two young people who woke up after a long recovery.
Subaru felt the word "recovery" like a needle. Link did too, although he didn't show it.
Roswaal continued with the necessary explanation, talking about the insignia, Emilia, the political importance of what happened in the capital, and the reward they could request for their participation. Subaru listened attentively, or at least pretended to without getting too ahead. He already knew the structure. He knew where he should nod, where to be surprised, where to avoid seeming too informed. This time, however, he couldn't afford to act like an exact copy of a previous loop. He had learned that imitating too well also raised suspicions. His job wasn't to repeat the past, but to build trust without seeming like an actor rehearsing a play that only he had seen.
Then Roswaal looked toward Link.
—Before talking about rewards, I think it would also be convenient to clarify the nature of our other guest. Beatrice mentioned some very interesting details.
Beatrice clicked her tongue.
—Don't use Betty as an introduction for your annoying conversations, I suppose.
—But your report was so useful.
—It was a warning, not entertainment.
Link set the glass on the table.
He didn't seem surprised. Subaru immediately looked at him, expecting the usual tension. Link responded with a small smile, one that said I'm not going to run even if I want to.
—It's fine —said Link—. We can talk about that.
Emilia tensed a little.
—Link, you don't have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable.
—I do. If I'm going to stay here, I prefer the big oddities to be on the table before someone finds them by accident in a hallway.
Ram raised an eyebrow.
—The expression "big oddities" does not reassure Ram.
—That wasn't its function.
Rem placed a pitcher on the table calmly.
—Then what was its function?
Link looked at her. Not too much. Just enough.
—To avoid unnecessary misunderstandings.
Subaru felt the phrase had more weight than it should. Link wasn't just talking about horns. He was talking about chains, wind, death, jealousy, fear, everything he couldn't name in that dining room without destroying the loop. But for the others, it was just a strange boy preparing to show an ability.
Link closed his eyes.
The pressure under his forehead appeared cleanly. Subaru saw him contain the urge to force it, saw him breathe before letting the change happen. The horns emerged slowly, complete, dark at the base and reddish toward the tips, curved backward with a symmetry that made the entire dining room seem to hold its breath.
Ram did not move.
Rem didn't either.
But Subaru felt it: the silence changed in density.
Link opened his eyes.
He smiled.
This time he let the smile go a little further, not all the way to his eyes completely, but enough so it didn't seem like an apology.
—I am an Oni —he said.
The statement fell with the weight of something that did not ask for permission.
Subaru remained still. In other loops, Link had hesitated. He had asked, he had negotiated with his own identity, he had treated the word Oni like an ill-fitting garment that could hurt others just by wearing it. This time no. This time he took it and held it in front of everyone. Not as conquest. Not as mockery. As fact. As tool. As a flag planted on ground he still didn't fully understand.
Rem was the first to speak.
—Are you sure?
She didn't ask with contempt. Nor with acceptance. Her voice was professional, but beneath it there was a tension that Subaru already knew how to read with too much pain.
Link held her gaze.
—I don't know everything it means. I don't know the history, nor the customs, nor the wounds that word may open. I'm not going to pretend that I do. But I have horns. My body responds to mana in a way that is not human. My strength is not human. And if I deny the word just because it feels too big, I'm going to keep being dangerous out of ignorance. So, to start: yes. I am an Oni.
Ram closed her eyes.
—An Oni who declares his ignorance with too much confidence.
—An ignorant Oni is still better than an idiot pretending to be normal.
Subaru raised a finger.
—As a professional idiot, I would like to defend our community.
—You are another category —said Link.
—That sounded discriminatory!
Beatrice observed the horns with a furrowed brow.
—You are not a normal Oni, I suppose.
—I have never been normal in anything important.
—That was not a technical answer.
—I don't have a technical one.
—Evident.
Roswaal rested his chin on one hand, delighted.
—Complete horns. What a notable rarity.
Link looked toward him.
—I'm not a collector's item.
—Of course not. But you will understand that, in this mansion, the rare draws attention.
—In this mansion even the doors draw attention.
Beatrice immediately looked at him.
Subaru did too.
Link realized too late that he had said too much. Not enough to break anything, but enough for Beatrice to narrow her eyes with suspicion. He smiled calmly, as if he had only made a silly observation.
—The mansion is big —he added—. I'll get lost. That's all.
—Sure —murmured Subaru, low enough for only Link to hear.
Roswaal allowed the moment to pass. Then he returned to the main topic.
—So, Link-kun, what reward do you desire?
Subaru prepared himself.
This was the important part. In the canon of his decision, Subaru needed to stay and work. Earn trust. Detect the sorcerer. Prevent Rem from dying. Prevent everyone from repeating a tragedy. Link had to enter that structure without breaking it. If he asked for money and left again, the board would break. If he asked for too direct training, suspicion would grow. If he tried to drag Rem away from everything, the loop would fall apart before it began.
Link looked toward the dining room windows.
Outside were the gardens.
—Work —said Subaru before him.
Everyone turned toward the black-haired boy.
Subaru straightened in his chair. He felt Emilia's eyes on him, Roswaal's curiosity, Ram's anticipated criticism, Rem's attention, Beatrice's annoyance, and Link's silence. He swallowed. This time he couldn't sound only like a boy excited to stay close to Emilia, although that part also existed and it would be useless to deny it. He had to sound like someone who truly wanted to live there.
—I want to work at the mansion —he said—. As an apprentice servant, assistant, person who breaks things under supervision or whatever the work structure allows. I have no money from this place, I have nowhere to go, I don't know the rules and I owe a life… or several. I want to pay that by working. Learn. Be useful.
Ram looked at him with immediate coldness.
—The dear guest shows surprising confidence for someone who has not demonstrated a single domestic skill.
—My main skill is persistence.
—That doesn't wash dishes.
—But it allows me to survive the dishes until I learn.
Rem spoke calmly.
—Persistence without technique can cause more work for others.
—Then I will learn technique.
—And if you don't learn?
—Then I will persist with shame, which is an advanced emotional technique.
Ram closed her eyes.
—Ram feels that the future has just become noisier.
Emilia looked at Subaru with concern.
—You don't have to work to make it up to me. Really.
Subaru looked at her, and for an instant Rem's dead room, the cliff, and the black hand of punishment approached from the back of his memory. He pushed them down carefully. He couldn't let Emilia carry that. Not yet.
—I know. But I want to do it.
The answer, simple as it was, seemed to reach Emilia better than any joke.
Roswaal smiled.
—Accepted. Subaru-kun will work as an apprentice servant under the supervision of Ram and Rem.
—May God have mercy on me —murmured Subaru.
—Ram does not guarantee such service —said Ram.
Link let out a short laugh. Then he let the focus return to him.
—I also want to work.
Roswaal tilted his head.
—Also as a servant?
—No. If you put me to clean fine crystalware, the most likely thing is that the crystalware will file a formal complaint with the nobility. I want to work outside. Gardening, exterior maintenance, carrying things, moving earth, pruning trees, repairing fences, whatever is needed. I have strength. I have endurance. And I have my own tools, so to speak.
Beatrice frowned.
—Don't call a tool something that comes out of your back.
—Would you prefer anatomical appendage for work use?
—I prefer you not to speak.
—Difficult, but not impossible.
Roswaal seemed amused.
—Could you demonstrate?
Emilia leaned slightly forward.
—Roswaal…
—I won't ask for anything dangerous. I just want to know if our guest can control that ability with enough precision to work near the mansion without causing unnecessary damage.
Subaru looked at Link.
Link returned the look.
Both understood the same thing: showing too much was dangerous; showing too little was also. Absolute secrecy fed suspicions. Visible control could turn the monstrous into useful. In this loop, they needed trust. They needed Rem to see a weapon and not only think threat. They needed Ram to file data without concluding immediate execution. They needed Roswaal to observe, yes, but not have an excuse to remove them from the board.
Link stood up.
—I'm not going to make sudden movements. No one get up suddenly. And Subaru, don't make comments.
—I'm offended that you assume I have no self-control.
—Do you?
—No.
—Then silence.
Subaru made a gesture of closing his mouth.
Link took a deep breath.
Four kagunes emerged from his back.
The entire dining room tensed.
It wasn't like in the capital. They didn't burst out like uncontrolled spears or emergency arms born from panic. This time they emerged slowly, with the fabric opening in areas already prepared in the borrowed clothes, four red, muscular, flexible limbs extending behind him like living tails. They were thinner than in combat, less violent in form, but still impossible to look at without understanding that they could break bones if he lost control.
Subaru opened his eyes.
—Four…
Emilia noticed it too.
—In the capital there were three.
Puck floated a little higher.
—And now they seem more obedient.
Link kept his gaze forward. The horns remained exposed, his face calm, but Subaru managed to see the effort in the line of his jaw.
—Before I was surviving. Now I'm demonstrating.
—Important difference —said Subaru.
—That's why you're still quiet.
—Sorry.
Link moved the first kagune toward an empty pitcher placed near the edge of the table. The tip curved around the handle with a softness that contrasted disturbingly with its organic appearance. He lifted it without spilling anything, held it in the air and set it in the center of the table. The second kagune took a napkin that had fallen next to a chair and folded it clumsily, not perfectly, but without tearing it. The third wrapped around the leg of a chair and moved it slightly to align it with the table. The fourth extended toward a decorative pot near the window, lifted it, held it suspended for a few seconds and placed it back exactly where it was.
Nothing broke.
Subaru felt a ridiculous pang of pride.
Ram did not seem impressed. That probably meant she was, but her face had signed a contract with the lack of praise.
—Acceptable for carrying objects —she said.
—In this mansion, "acceptable" is almost a declaration of love —murmured Subaru.
—Barusu still does not have the right to interpret other people's affections.
Subaru froze.
Barusu.
Ram had said it.
Not "dear guest." Not "Subaru-sama." Barusu. Perhaps by accident. Perhaps because her way of deforming names was inevitable. Perhaps because the world, despite everything, insisted on rebuilding small things when Subaru pushed in the right direction. The word hit his chest with such force that he had to look at his plate so no one would see the moisture that wanted to rise to his eyes.
Rem looked at the kagunes.
Not with acceptance. Not with pure fear. With analysis. That was enough for now. Link noticed and, perhaps for that reason, made the four limbs retreat a little, moving away from the table and from her.
—They don't come out on their own if I'm awake and attentive —he said—. If I lose control, I prefer to be in the garden, far from expensive plates, expensive windows and people who shouldn't pay for my clumsiness.
—A prudent consideration —said Rem.
Link smiled at her.
—I try to accumulate them. They say three prudent considerations a day prevent Ram from insulting you before lunch.
Ram spoke without looking at him.
—That is false.
—It was optimism.
—Also false.
Subaru placed a hand on his chest.
—I love the work dynamic that is already forming. I feel like both of us are going to die from excess supervision.
Link slowly hid the kagunes. The horns remained for a few more seconds, as if he wanted everyone to see them until the end and not just as a passing trick. Then he retracted them too, leaving his forehead clean, his human face and an invisible tension around his body.
Roswaal interlaced his fingers.
—Accepted. Link-kun will work as an assistant in the gardens and exterior maintenance. Ram and Rem will coordinate his tasks, although due to the nature of his ability, Beatrice will be able to evaluate him when she considers it necessary.
—Betty did not accept that —said Beatrice.
—But you will, right?
—Don't drag me into your decisions.
Link looked at Beatrice.
—I can pay with vanilla ice cream.
Beatrice blinked.
—What is that?
Subaru closed his eyes, anticipating disaster.
Link smiled with a suspicious calm.
—A pending debt that still doesn't exist.
Beatrice looked at him as if he had just said something particularly irritating.
—You speak as if you wanted to be expelled from the file before entering.
—I've been accused of worse things.
—I'm sure they were deserved.
—Almost always.
The conversation continued with practical details. Ram explained that Subaru would receive servant clothing and would begin with basic tasks, under strict supervision. Rem added that any sign of physical weakness should be reported, because both were still convalescents according to the official version of the mansion. Link accepted the exterior conditions without arguing too much, which made Ram observe him with suspicion because, according to her, sudden obedience could be a symptom of a moral illness. Subaru tried to defend him, but ended up receiving an explanation of why he was not in a position to vouch for anyone's normality.
Breakfast ended without explosions.
That, in the Roswaal mansion, could almost be called success.
Afterward, Ram led Subaru toward the service wing to give him his uniform and begin explaining his tasks. Rem accompanied Link toward a side room where they would review suitable clothing for exterior work and, according to her, "the least destructive way to adapt garments to anomalous appendages." Subaru couldn't help but look back when Link and Rem advanced down the other hallway. Link walked with his hands in his pockets, very calm for someone who had just declared himself an Oni and shown four living tentacles during breakfast. Rem walked beside him with the same composure as always.
Subaru narrowed his eyes.
Ram noticed.
—Barusu, if you get distracted looking at other people's business, Ram might reconsider letting you touch fragile objects.
—I wasn't looking at other people's business. I was evaluating romantic-labor risks.
—That sounds like something only Barusu could invent and still not understand.
—It hurts because it's true.
On the other side, Link heard enough to turn his head.
—Subaru.
—Yes?
—No.
—I didn't say anything!
—You thought loudly.
—That doesn't count as proof!
Rem looked at Link.
—Can you hear thoughts?
—No. I just know Subaru.
—An unfortunate skill —said Rem.
—Extremely.
Subaru pointed toward them.
—Betrayal! He flirts using my name and on top of that he insults me!
Ram gently pushed him with a folder against his back to make him move forward.
—Barusu walks.
—Yes, ma'am.
The hallways separated.
During the next hour, the world tried to become routine.
Subaru received his servant clothing, listened to instructions, pretended clumsiness where convenient and tried not to be too efficient where his memories could betray him. Every drawer he recognized, every corridor his feet wanted to take automatically, every comment from Ram that he had heard in another life, everything was a tiny trap. He had to learn again without seeming like he already knew. He had to fail enough to be believable, but not so much as to be useless. He had to smile, speak, joke, earn trust, observe Rem without looking at her as victim or executioner. He had to do all that with the memory of the cliff still fresh behind his eyes.
Link, for his part, was taken to review exterior tools under Rem's supervision. She showed him gloves, boots, more resistant clothing, a basic list of garden areas and some safety rules that he listened to with unusual attention. He made no comments about how beautiful she looked under the hallway light, although he thought it. He didn't say he was glad to see her alive, although it burned in his throat. He didn't try to force familiarity. He only asked practical questions about tools, schedules, restricted areas and tasks he could perform without touching delicate plants until he better understood the difference between pruning and committing botanical murder.
Rem observed him.
—Link-sama seems more serious than he suggested during breakfast.
—Breakfast is social survival territory. Work is something else.
—And what is your usual attitude?
—It depends on how many beautiful people are looking.
Rem remained silent.
Link felt that Subaru, somewhere in the mansion, must be both proud and disappointed at the same time.
—That was a moderate joke —he added.
—Rem will classify it as an unnecessary comment.
—I accept the category.
—Try to reduce them during work.
—I will do my best. I do not promise total success.
Rem nodded, as if that answer were more acceptable than a perfect promise.
When the hallways crossed again later, Subaru and Link met in front of a window overlooking the garden. Ram had gone ahead a few steps to look for something in a service room. Rem had been called for a kitchen task. For the first time since waking up, they were alone for a few seconds.
Silence fell between them like a heavy door.
Subaru looked toward the ends of the hallway to make sure no one was close enough. Link did the same, but also sniffed the air, a gesture Subaru already knew too well.
—We need to talk —said Subaru.
—Yes.
—A lot.
—Too much.
Subaru rubbed the back of his neck.
—I don't know what happened to you after you left the mansion.
Link rested a hand on the window frame.
—And I don't know what happened to you after you stayed.
Subaru swallowed.
The image of dead Rem tried to rise to his face. He pushed it down. Not there. Not in the middle of the hallway. Not with nearby voices. Not with Ram and Rem alive moving through the mansion as if the world had not had to be bought with a fall.
—I need to tell you something horrible —said Subaru.
Link didn't look away.
—Me too.
—Shall we compete for who has the biggest trauma?
—No. Not this time.
Subaru nodded. That "no" was enough to understand that both carried things too serious to turn into a joke yet.
Ram appeared at the end of the hallway, calling him with a dryness that returned the mansion to its rhythm.
—Barusu. If you're done conspiring with the rookie gardener, Ram needs to check if you are capable of folding a cloth without humiliating the cloth.
Subaru raised his hand.
—Coming.
Link looked toward the other side, where Rem was returning with a small tray and a folded list.
—Link-sama —she said—. Rem still has to show you the tool storage.
—Coming —he replied.
Subaru and Link looked at each other one last time before separating.
There was no need to promise it out loud.
They would talk.
Not during breakfast, not in front of Roswaal, not while Ram filed every detail nor while Rem listened more than she seemed to listen. They would talk when they found a safe corner, when the mansion lowered its guard enough to allow them to put together the pieces of two halves of hell that neither fully understood.
Subaru walked toward Ram.
Link walked toward Rem.
And the fifth loop, the one that had to win, began with both alive, smiling in different ways, carrying secrets they had not yet exchanged and a pending conversation that could decide if this time the Roswaal mansion would be one more tomb or, finally, the place where everyone would reach the dawn.