The second morning of the fifth loop found Link with his hands buried in the earth, four kagunes deployed behind his back, and the uncomfortable certainty that if the world wanted to kill them again, it would at least have to do so while he was working.
The garden of the Roswaal mansion was too elegant for someone who had learned to survive on improvisation, broken muscles, and decisions made with a dry throat. The paths were delimited with a precision that seemed to insult chaos. The hedges did not grow; they obeyed. The flowers were not planted; they were placed as if each one had signed a contract with the property's aesthetics. Even the earth seemed more refined than some people Link had known in his previous world. And there he was, a boy who declared himself an Oni because denying the obvious no longer served any purpose, trying to prune branches, move sacks, and lift tools without turning that landscape into a scene of botanical crime.
Rem supervised him.
That was the dangerous part.
Not because of the chain. Not because of the mace. Not because the memory of other nights had disappeared; it had not. Link could still close his eyes and hear metal dragging across the earth, see the cold light in Rem's blue eye, feel the instant when his red arm stopped because the face coming toward him was not just any enemy, but her. But that morning Rem was not carrying a weapon. She carried a clipboard, white work gloves, and a serenity so impeccable that it seemed more dangerous than any attack. She had explained the areas of the garden he could touch, the ones he should not touch, the tools he could use with his hands, the ones he should not use with the kagune until he demonstrated more precision, and the plants that Roswaal appreciated enough to turn their destruction into an administrative problem.
Link listened to every instruction as if it were a survival lesson.
Not because he feared a gardening fine, although with Roswaal one never knew, but because Rem was speaking. Her voice was calm, professional, clear. Each instruction fell on his ear with a clarity that seemed unfair to him. In another loop, that same voice had demanded answers while Subaru fell apart under torture. In this one, she explained that he should not drag fertilizer sacks near the exposed roots of the ornamental shrubs. The world was a cruel joke with excellent rhythm.
—Link —said Rem, pointing to an area beside the side path—, those sacks must be moved to the exterior storage. They should not be placed directly on the white tiles because they leave difficult-to-clean stains. If you need to use your… additional extremity, Rem recommends that you do it slowly.
—Additional extremities —corrected Link, raising one of the four kagunes carefully—. Now there are four. It seems important not to discriminate against any of them.
Rem looked at the red appendages without stepping back.
—Then Rem recommends that your four additional extremities behave better than Subaru during work.
Link let out a low laugh.
—That is a very low bar, Rem.
—Low bars are useful to start. Subaru still trips over them.
The comment was so dry, so exact, and so unexpectedly normal that Link had to look away so as not to smile too much. The four kagunes moved behind him with obedience earned through blows of pain and repetition. One took the first sack from below, another held the side to prevent it from breaking, the other two extended like support against the ground to balance the weight without making it look like a spectacle. The first time he had tried something similar, he would have lifted the sack with too much force and probably thrown it toward a window. Now he lifted it slowly, containing the pressure, listening to the tension of the fabric, smelling the damp earth inside, and measuring every movement as if he were carrying glass.
Rem observed the entire journey.
—Better than yesterday —she said.
Link set the sack in the indicated place with so much care that it almost looked like a bow.
—Does that count as praise?
—It counts as evaluation.
—In this mansion, positive evaluations are a kind of administrative romance.
Rem blinked.
—Rem does not understand that category.
—It is because it was just born. I'm innovating.
—Rem recommends innovating less during work hours.
—I will make a sincere effort and probably insufficient.
Rem noted something on her list.
—That will also be recorded.
—My insufficiency?
—Your recognition of it.
Link placed a hand on his chest with moderate theatricality.
—Rem, if you keep documenting my flaws with so much attention, I'm going to start feeling special.
She looked at him sideways.
Not smiling. But her silence had a minimal pause, a space so small that anyone else would have ignored it. Link did not. It was dangerous to give meaning to every detail of Rem, but he had already lost that battle in a forest that no longer existed.
—Link should focus on the next sack —she said.
—Yes, Rem.
—He should also avoid answering with that tone.
—What tone?
—That one.
Link lowered his head to hide a smile.
—I don't know what you're talking about.
—Rem suspects that you do.
—Rem suspects many things.
The phrase came out heavier than he intended.
For a second, the morning changed.
Link felt it. Rem did too, although she couldn't know why. The air between them became denser, not because of immediate threat, but because of what one remembered and the other did not. Rem tilted her head slightly, as if she were checking if there was a hidden meaning behind a too-simple sentence. Link corrected the gesture immediately. He made two kagunes take the second sack and the third pick up a fallen tool beside the path, turning the tension into practical movement before she could ask a question.
—I meant that it's part of your job —he added—. Suspecting idiots before they do something idiotic.
—Then Rem has a lot of work with Subaru and Link.
—Grouped into the same category so quickly. I feel honored.
—You shouldn't.
—I know, but I have questionable emotional standards.
This time Rem lowered her gaze to her list. Then she observed the already completed tasks: sacks moved, tools organized, an area pruned without destruction, earth leveled acceptably, and no important vegetal corpses. Finally she nodded.
—You may enter, but you will not manifest the four kagunes inside the mansion without authorization. One or two, only if the task requires it. Slow movements. Nothing near fine tableware, windows, or people. If Ram orders you to withdraw, Link will withdraw.
—Understood.
—And if Subaru asks, Rem did not authorize an emotional intervention. Only limited labor assistance.
Link smiled.
—Rem, that was almost complicity.
—It was damage control.
—In this mansion, I think that counts as preliminary friendship.
—Rem will withdraw the permission.
—I'm going.
He entered the mansion through a side door, after cleaning his boots well and retracting the kagunes until only one remained visible, folded near his back like a red rope waiting for an order. Rem walked beside him, not too close, close enough to supervise and far enough that the presence of the kagune did not seem like an immediate threat. The change of environment hit him immediately. Outside, the smells opened and dispersed in the air. Inside, the mansion stacked them: waxed wood, soap, clean fabric, food from the kitchen, flowers in vases, old dust in high corners, faint mana from hallways, the trace of Puck near Emilia, and, beneath everything, the smell of Subaru, human anxiety mixed with something dark that Link still didn't know how to name.
Subaru appeared when they turned toward a service room, carrying a pile of folded clothes higher than was sensible. Half of it threatened to fall on his face, and yet he walked with an absurd smile.
—Step aside, step aside! The great Subaru Natsuki, laundry hero, transports a textile tower toward its glorious destiny! Anyone who gets in the way will be ironed by fate!
Ram walked behind him with an expression that said destiny was considering resigning.
—Barusu, if you drop that pile, Ram will officially classify you as a threat to fabric.
—It won't fall! My balance is legendary!
A sheet slipped.
Link extended the kagune without thinking, catching it in the air before it touched the floor. The movement was quick, but not violent. The sheet remained suspended between Subaru and Ram, held by the red tip with a delicacy that contrasted almost comically with its organic appearance.
Subaru poked his head out from one side of the pile.
—Oh. Emergency gardener.
Link took the top half of the clothes with the kagune and supported it on his arms.
—Laundry hero, your tower has just requested foreign aid.
—I didn't need help! It was an aerial redistribution maneuver!
Ram looked at Rem.
—Rem, why is the gardener inside the mansion?
Rem made a brief bow.
—Link finished the initial garden tasks and requested permission to assist with physical labor. Rem authorized it under restrictions.
—Rem, Rem. Rem's judgment has brought a second problem to a place where Ram was already busy with the first.
—Nee-sama, Nee-sama. Rem considers that two problems can neutralize each other if properly distributed.
Subaru raised a finger from behind the clothes.
—As the main problem, I oppose being used in neutralization experiments.
Link tilted his head toward Ram.
—I'm here to prevent Subaru from turning work into a funeral for domestic objects.
Ram looked at him for a few seconds.
—Acceptable. But if the red appendage touches a single cup, Ram will make Barusu write an apology on behalf of both.
—Why me? —protested Subaru.
—Because Barusu needs to practice writing and humiliation. Both skills will be useful.
—I can't argue against that logic without worsening my position.
Link worked inside during the next hour.
It was not spectacular. In fact, the most important thing was that it shouldn't be. He helped move baskets, carry water, lift a small piece of furniture while Ram cleaned underneath, reach high objects without using a ladder, and hold doors open with a kagune while Subaru passed carrying things. Every time the red appendage moved inside the mansion, Rem observed it, Ram judged it, and Subaru made comments that ranged from "that's very useful" to "it offends me that your tail does better domestic work than me." Link tried not to smile too much. Sometimes he failed.
But while helping, his attention kept returning to Subaru.
The boy's smile was there, wide, loud, full of energy. But underneath, Link could smell the acid. Not literal at first. Then yes. A bitter trace, faint, hidden behind the hallway where Subaru had disappeared a minute earlier with the excuse of looking for a cloth. Link stopped, turned his head, and felt the smell of water, empty stomach, and bile washed too quickly. When Subaru returned, he had a clean face, the smile in place, and his eyes a little too bright.
—What? —Subaru asked upon noticing his gaze—. Do I have the beauty of someone who just worked heroically?
Link did not respond immediately.
Rem observed from one side. Ram did too.
—You have the beauty of someone who needs to sit down —said Link.
Subaru raised his thumb.
—I'll sit when my duty allows me!
Ram, who was folding a cloth with cruel precision, spoke without looking up.
—Barusu's current duty consists of not worsening Ram's day.
—Then my duty is impossible by definition.
—He finally understands something.
Subaru laughed too loudly.
Link felt that laugh scratch his chest. He couldn't stop him there, not in front of everyone. Subaru was playing the functional Subaru because he knew that if he slowed down, the room with dead Rem, the cliff, and the secret that united them would catch up to him. Link understood it. He hated it, but he understood it. He himself was doing something similar with Rem: smiling, flirting just enough, moving earth, asking permission, pretending that love and fear could walk in line without pushing each other.
Emilia's moment arrived shortly after, as if the canon had a soft way of intervening when Subaru's body could no longer hold the performance.
They had finished a series of small tasks when Emilia appeared in the hallway with Puck floating beside her shoulder. Her presence immediately changed the air. Subaru straightened so much that he almost dropped an empty basket. Link saw how his friend's face truly lit up for half a second, before the mask of enthusiasm returned to occupy everything.
—Emilia-tan! Your appearance has restored my productivity by two hundred percent. I regret to inform you that I am now legally invincible.
Emilia looked at him with concern, not with the easy smile he expected.
—Subaru, you are very pale.
—That is because my inner beauty is coming out as noble whiteness.
Puck sniffed the air and moved his tail.
—You lie terribly for someone who practices so much.
—Feline betrayal!
—Spirit feline, technically.
Emilia took a step closer. Subaru tried to step back casually, but his legs did not cooperate with enough naturalness. Link saw him waver slightly. Rem did too. Ram, of course, saw it before everyone and closed her eyes with an expression that said Barusu was about to become a literal burden.
—Subaru —said Emilia, this time more firmly—, come with me for a moment.
—I'm in the middle of my glorious workday.
—Precisely.
—Does that mean glory will have rest?
—It means you will have rest.
Subaru opened his mouth to protest. He didn't manage to form the sentence. Emilia took his hand gently and pulled him enough for his resistance to become ridiculous. Subaru turned red from the contact, babbled something about noble escorts, battleships, and the responsibility of not wasting such a precious moment. Emilia ignored him with a kind determination that was much harder to challenge than any order from Ram.
Link did not follow them immediately.
He shouldn't.
That moment belonged to Subaru.
He knew it from the stories Subaru had told him the night before and from the fragments of the canon that the world seemed to repeat with variations. Emilia was going to take him to rest, to give him that impossible refuge where Subaru would stop acting for a while. The lap pillow, the care, the hand in the hair, the instant where Rem would see him asleep and perhaps, just perhaps, her suspicion would crack enough for the winning loop to advance. Link had no right to interrupt it. Not because he didn't want to protect Subaru, but precisely because he did. Some things were not protected by getting in the middle.
Ram looked at him.
—The gardener seems to have understood that he should not follow.
—I'm learning when a scene does not belong to me.
—Surprising.
—It hurts that everyone is surprised when I do something intelligent.
—Ram can stop being surprised if she prefers.
—No, no. Leave me my crumbs of prestige.
Rem, however, followed with her gaze toward the hallway where Emilia had taken Subaru. There was concern in her, although discreet, trapped behind her duty. Link saw it. And that vision, more than anything, reminded him why he could not allow his memories of other loops to reduce her to her worst version.
A few minutes passed.
Ram reorganized tasks with brutal efficiency, declaring that Barusu, due to temporary uselessness, should be removed from any serious labor calculation. Link and Rem continued with minor tasks inside the mansion, although the attention of both occasionally deviated toward the wing where Emilia had taken Subaru. Finally, Rem received an indication from Ram to check the state of the main guest and confirm whether he could resume work later or if he should be classified as sick decoration.
Link accompanied her to the entrance of the hallway, but stopped before reaching the door.
—Can I wait here?
Rem looked at him.
—Does he not wish to check Subaru's state?
—Yes. But if Emilia-sama is taking care of him, entering without need would be… too much.
Rem did not respond immediately.
That consideration seemed to weigh on her more than expected.
—Rem will check first.
Link nodded.
He stayed in the hallway, near a window, with the kagunes completely hidden. From there he heard the door open without noise. He did not see the entire scene, only a part from the angle of the corridor: Emilia sitting on the floor or beside a low space, Subaru deeply asleep with his head on her lap, his face finally free of that horrible tension that had accompanied him all day. Emilia stroked his hair with a tenderness so clean that Link felt a strange, almost painful respect. Puck rested nearby, silent. Rem entered, stopped, and immediately understood that Subaru was not pretending. He was not acting. He was not exaggerating to win sympathy. He was exhausted to the bone.
—Is Subaru simply asleep? —asked Rem, in a low voice.
Emilia responded softly, enjoying a little seeing him finally calm, as if the noisy boy had become a child once sleep defeated him. Link did not hear every word clearly, and he did not want to force his senses. There was intimacy in that room, an intimacy that did not need to be invaded to be understood.
Then he heard the phrase that mattered.
—Subaru is a good boy.
Emilia did not say it as a political argument, nor as a calculated defense, nor as a disguised order for Rem to stop suspecting. She said it because she believed it. And that, in the Roswaal mansion, was more powerful than many strategies.
Rem came out shortly after.
Her face remained serene, but something had changed slightly. Not total trust. Not acceptance. Not yet. But the image of Subaru asleep, vulnerable, without tension, held by Emilia like an exhausted child, had done its job. In the canon and in that altered version, Subaru's sleeping body said something that his too-noisy words could not say: that there was fear, yes; that there were secrets, yes; but there was also humanity.
Link moved away from the wall.
—Is he okay?
—Subaru is sleeping deeply —replied Rem—. Emilia-sama considers that he will not be able to continue working today.
—She is right.
—Rem will inform Nee-sama to reorganize the remaining tasks.
Link looked toward the closed door.
Subaru had held on until there. He had smiled until he broke. He had reached the point the canon needed, but at the cost of being out of work. If everything continued as in the volume, Ram and Rem would take care of redistributing tasks. But now there was an extra variable: him.
A variable with four red arms, plenty of strength, and a reason too personal not to let Subaru sink further by trying to do everything alone.
—Rem —he said.
She stopped.
—Yes, Link?
He straightened up. He did not smile. He did not flirt. Not this time.
—Let me take Subaru's place for today.
Rem observed him with attention.
—What do you mean?
—His tasks. The ones that remain. Whatever Ram would have assigned him in the afternoon. Carrying, cleaning, moving, organizing, whatever does not require fine knowledge of protocol. I can cover the physical part. If there is something I don't know how to do, give me instructions and I'll do it slowly. If it is too delicate for me, I'll leave it. I'm not going to pretend I can replace him in everything, but I can prevent the burden from falling entirely on you.
Rem did not accept immediately.
That was correct.
—Link was assigned to the garden —she said—. Besides, he has not yet demonstrated sufficient control to work without supervision inside the mansion.
—Then I will not work without supervision. Supervise me yourself.
The phrase came out too direct.
Link noticed it too late.
Rem did too.
For a second, the shadow of coquetry threatened to return, but Link contained it. This was not the moment. Subaru was asleep on the other side of a door, and Emilia was taking care of him. The request could not sound like an excuse to spend time with Rem. Although a part of him, the stupid, in love, and dangerously honest part, could not deny that working under her supervision mattered more than was prudent.
—I mean —he corrected, lower—, you or Ram. Whoever corresponds. I'm not asking for freedom to walk around the mansion with red tentacles as if I owned the place.
—That would be inappropriate.
—It would be very visual, but yes, inappropriate.
Rem kept her gaze on him.
—Why do you insist so much?
Link breathed slowly.
The answer could be ruined if he chose wrong.
—Because Subaru is trying to save everyone in his own way, and his way is killing him from the inside. If I can carry even a small part of what he is trying to carry alone, I want to do it. I don't need to be understood. I just need permission.
Rem lowered her gaze toward the closed door.
On the other side, Subaru was sleeping with his head on Emilia's lap, finally without smiling, finally without pretending he could do more.
—Subaru-sama seems to be very important to Link-sama.
—He is.
—And yet, Link seems different when he talks about him than when he talks about other people.
—Because Subaru is war family.
Rem looked at him again.
—War family?
Link smiled slightly, but this time without humor.
—We don't share blood. We share worse things. That unites quickly.
Rem did not respond.
Perhaps the phrase was too strange. Perhaps too human. Perhaps Rem, with her own history of blood, sister, and loss, understood more than she could admit in front of a strange guest with hidden horns.
—Rem will consult with Nee-sama —she said at last.
—Thank you.
—Do not thank yet. Nee-sama might refuse.
—Ram would deny the dawn if she considered it inefficient.
—Rem cannot completely refute that.
Link almost smiled.
Rem started walking toward the dining room, where Ram would be finishing reorganizing tasks. Link followed her at a respectful distance. Before turning the corner, he looked once more toward the closed door.
Subaru was still asleep.
Emilia was still taking care of him.
The winning loop was still breathing.
And Link, for the first time since he woke up in that fifth round, felt that perhaps his role was not only to protect with strength, nor to carry other people's sins, nor to die dragged by an invisible chain. Perhaps he could also do something simpler, smaller, and harder to despise: take a broom, a sack, a basket or a task that was not his, and allow his friend to sleep a little more.
Ram received them with a dry look when Rem explained the situation.
—Barusu has been officially demoted to useless lap pillow —Ram dictated.
—That was cruel even without him being awake to defend himself —said Link.
—The absence of Barusu improves the quality of the conversation, but does not eliminate his responsibilities.
—That's why I'm here.
Ram measured him from top to bottom.
—The gardener wishes to become a temporary replacement for the main disaster.
—I prefer "interdepartmental emergency assistant."
—Ram prefers short words.
—Then yes.
Rem remained beside Ram, waiting. Link felt that curious pressure again: two sisters, two judges, one with visible edge and the other with duty in silence. If he failed, it would not be just clumsiness. It would be one more mark on the trust Subaru needed to build.
Ram closed her eyes.
—Very well. For today, the gardener will take part of Barusu's physical tasks. Rem will supervise his movements inside the mansion. He will not touch fine tableware. He will not touch documents. He will not touch Emilia-sama's clothes. He will not touch strange doors. He will not touch anything that seems more expensive than his common sense, which includes almost the entire mansion.
—I love that the list is clear and humiliating.
—If that bothers you, you can return to the garden.
Link looked at Rem.
She did not smile, but her expression seemed to say that this was the best offer he was going to receive.
—I accept —he said.
Ram pointed to a large basket beside the wall.
—Then start with that. There is clothes to take to the service wing. Slowly. If a single garment falls to the floor, Ram will blame Barusu in his dreams and you while awake.
Link made a kagune emerge slowly from his back. Then another. Only two, as he had promised. Both moved with care, surrounding the basket on the sides, without squeezing too much, lifting it barely from the ground. Rem approached to check the balance.
—Lower —she indicated.
Link obeyed.
—Less tension on the right side.
He obeyed again.
—Do not use the kagune as if it were a human hand. The weight is distributed differently.
—Yes, Rem.
Ram observed the exchange.
—Rem, it seems the gardener learns when you speak.
—Rem is not sure that is enough to consider it learning.
—It hurts, but motivates —said Link.
Rem looked at him.
—Then proceed.
Link advanced with the basket suspended, Rem at his side, Ram behind them judging the entire world. Down the hallway, the afternoon light was beginning to change. Somewhere in the mansion, Subaru slept on Emilia's lap, being cared for in a way he needed even if he was embarrassed to admit it. In another place, Beatrice was probably pretending not to be aware of anything. Roswaal, without a doubt, observed the movement of pieces that seemed small, but that in reality could decide a tragedy.
And Link walked.
Not toward a battle.
Not toward a death.
Not toward an impossible confession.
He walked toward a pile of domestic tasks that were not his, with two kagunes lifting a basket, Rem correcting his rhythm, and his heart tight with a dangerous hope.
If Subaru had to fall asleep to stay alive, then Link would take his place that day.
Not as a hero.
As a gardener.
As a friend.
As an idiot with hidden horns who, for the first time in many loops, understood that saving someone could also mean letting him rest.