Mash Kyrielight remembered it all too clearly.
It had been at the beach, in a tiny Singularity—one so insignificant that it would have faded on its own even if they'd left it alone. So Adam and the Servants from Chaldea had turned the place into a vacation spot. Summer meant swimsuits, of course, and everyone had dressed accordingly.
Mash had just slipped into her brand-new bikini and gone looking for Adam so he could see it. But no matter where she searched, he was nowhere to be found. She asked around, checked every corner—nothing. Someone mentioned they'd seen him with Swimsuit Jeanne.
Just as Mash was about to give up, she spotted them on a secluded stretch of shore: Adam and Swimsuit Jeanne stepping out together.
Jeanne's cheeks were flushed an unnatural, almost indecent red. The moment she noticed Mash, she fidgeted nervously with the bottom of her bikini, tugging at it like she was hiding something shameful.
At the time, Mash hadn't thought much of it.
Then she noticed the faint lettering on Jeanne's thighs—glistening, wet, like she'd just come out of the sea. Yet if she'd been swimming, everything should have been soaked. Why was only the lower half wet? Had she simply walked along the edge?
And lower still, where the fabric clung damply to her abdomen, pale pink lines shimmered in and out of view.
Mash understood instantly. Her face went tight.
Back in the present.
Mash pressed her lips together at the memory and glanced sideways at Jeanne.
Right now Jeanne was arguing with Metatron Jeanne about something.
"What exactly did you mean by that?" Jeanne demanded.
"'Play more wildly with Adam than usual'? What are you talking about?"
Metatron Jeanne's smile only grew brighter and more delighted.
"What do I mean? It's simple. Our Chaldea has its own Jeanne, too. And let me tell you—she's something else. She and Adam would vanish for 'tactical coordination' discussions every single day. Sometimes the whole day. I even caught you and Martha joining in."
Jeanne's face turned scarlet. Her eyes darted left and right as she scrambled for an excuse for her counterpart.
"I-I… maybe we really were just… talking…"
Metatron Jeanne gave a dismissive little laugh, the look on her face saying she'd seen right through every lie.
"Still denying it? Fine. Truth is, I've been with Adam and you at the same time, too."
Jeanne froze, stunned, then let out a startled yelp the moment the words sank in.
"Eh?!?!"
Metatron Jeanne nestled back into Adam's arms and began tracing lazy circles on his chest, eyes half-lidded as the memory resurfaced.
"You were the one who asked for it, remember? You wanted the Archangel me to watch you fall because of Adam—it excited you even more. That expression you made… I still remember it perfectly. And your tastes were surprisingly intense. You really like being humiliated, don't you?"
Metatron Jeanne leaned close to Jeanne's ear and described every detail of that night in a soft, vivid whisper.
——
At the time Metatron Jeanne had already been spent, lying to the side savoring the afterglow of her own clash with Adam. Then she heard the other Jeanne making incoherent sounds—slurred words heavy with excitement, raw need, and pure bliss.
When she looked up, she saw the saint with a red ball-gag between her lips, drool spilling freely. A blindfold covered her eyes, yet the flush of ecstasy was unmistakable. Her wrists were bound behind her back, but she showed no desire to struggle. In fact, she was begging Adam to degrade her further.
From Metatron Jeanne's viewpoint it had started with Adam in control, but soon he simply stopped moving. Jeanne had shifted from manual to automatic, rocking back and forth in utter abandon.
——
Jeanne found herself strangely captivated, craving every last detail. When she snapped back to reality, she couldn't believe the thoughts that had flashed through her mind.
No. She refused to believe it. If she accepted any of this, the old Jeanne could never come back.
"That's impossible… I would never do something so… filthy."
"I could never… I could never…"
Metatron Jeanne gave a lazy chuckle and delivered another blow.
"I manifested using your body, you know~ I know every inch of it better than anyone. One touch of special play and you fall apart like a weak little fish. You're so pure on the outside, but deep down you have the same desires any normal woman does—you just bury them deeper than most. Push them down too far and they explode. Once you tasted the forbidden fruit with Adam, it was like a dam breaking. There was no stopping the flood."
"I-I…"
Jeanne clenched her thighs together; they were already damp. Whether Metatron Jeanne was right or not, one thing was undeniable: the vivid scene she had just described had played out so clearly in Jeanne's mind that her body had reacted on its own.
A tiny, adorable whimper escaped her.
Faced with such ironclad evidence, Jeanne had no rebuttal left. The images kept replaying behind her eyes. She slowly turned her gaze toward the man responsible—Adam—and found him smiling right back at her. The moment their eyes met, Jeanne whipped her head away, too embarrassed to hold his stare.
Her heartbeat thundered so loudly she was sure everyone could hear it. She had no idea what feelings she was even supposed to have toward the person who would one day… do those things with her.
Adam was about to say something when a familiar sweet scent drifted through the air. Someone was coming.
"Yahoooo~ Hello, everyone!"
A cheerful greeting rang out.
Everyone turned toward the voice.
A man and a woman approached.
The woman had long silver hair adorned with an ornate red headdress. Her blue eyes sparkled with lively intelligence. She wore a striking outfit dominated by red and black, paired with white thigh-high boots—an elegant, distinctive look.
The man had pale hair and a cool, refined face. His luxurious attire featured purple and green accents, giving him an air of graceful mystery.
Before they could introduce themselves, Adam spoke first, voice warm with familiarity.
"Hey there, little Marie. And the one-dimensional fetishist beside her."
It was a light tease, but it cut straight to Mozart's well-known quirk—the man who could fall asleep happily to the sound of a beautiful girl's snoring.
Marie Antoinette blinked in surprise at being "opened" so casually, but she didn't mind. She'd been planning to introduce herself anyway. Grinning, she immediately acted like they were old friends.
"Oh? You know us?"
"I love the way you called me 'little Marie'—it's adorable~ You really do seem to know us well. You saw through Amadeus's true nature at first glance!"
Beside her, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart didn't look offended at all. He simply laughed.
"Can't argue with that~ Hearing it from you two stirs up some indescribable feeling inside me."
Ritsuka Fujimaru blinked at Mozart's reaction and muttered under her breath.
"So… he's an M, too?"
Jeanne had finally recovered from her earlier feverish state, though a faint blush still lingered on her cheeks. She looked at the two newcomers who seemed ready to join the group and asked hesitantly,
"Um… who exactly are they?"
The playful ice-breaking ended, and everyone began proper introductions.
The ever-enthusiastic Marie Antoinette went first.
"My name is Marie Antoinette."
"The Queen of France?"
"That's right. As for what kind of person I am, I hope you'll discover that with your own eyes and ears. By the way, I don't really know how I was summoned, and I don't have a Master~ But we're on the same side. We all want to save France."
Next came Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
"My name is Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. My situation is the same as hers. Honestly, I have no idea why I was summoned. Am I even a hero? I'm great, sure, but only as a great artist. I did dabble in a little magecraft for music's sake—mostly because I was curious about the music demons play."
When Mozart mentioned his interest in "the music demons play," Adam gave him a meaningful glance.
After the pair finished, it was Adam's group's turn.
"My name is Adam. As for why I know you two so well… you can just assume I have a True Name Discernment skill."
He looked over at the girl beside him.
"This is my Servant, Mash Kyrielight."
Mash found herself thinking of the black-clad Marie she'd once seen with Adam. She quickly shook her head, banishing the image.
"As my Master said, I am a Servant. My class is Shielder."
Marie Antoinette studied Mash, then the other Mash standing nearby. Aside from their outfits, the two girls looked identical. She tilted her head curiously.
"Hm? You two look exactly alike—are you twins?"
Adam chuckled. "You get used to face collisions when you see enough of them. Damn you, Takashi Takeuchi."
The other Mash shook her head at Marie's question and introduced herself.
"My name is also Mash Kyrielight. Unlike my mentor, I'm still only a sub-Servant. My true name is unknown."
When she tried to explain her relationship with the other Mash, she faltered.
"As for how we're related… um, how do I put it?"
They were essentially the same person, yet not.
Adam stroked his chin, eyes flicking between the two girls. A mischievous idea seemed to strike him.
"Well, since we're talking twins, why not call yourselves sisters? You started as one being, sure, but in terms of mindset you're completely different. And since this Mash is technically older, she can be the big sister and you the little sister."
The younger Mash's eyes sparkled with hope. She turned to the other Mash expectantly.
"Is… is that okay, Shishou?"
The older Mash didn't answer right away. The moment Adam suggested it, her mind had wandered straight into dangerous territory.
(Does Senpai… want to try sisters play?)
When she received no reply, the younger Mash thought she'd been rejected and drooped sadly.
She moved on, introducing the still-dazed Marie Antoinette and Mozart to Ritsuka Fujimaru.
"This is Ritsuka Fujimaru, my Master."
Ritsuka, infected by Marie's energy, greeted them with equal enthusiasm—and dropped another cryptic "French" line.
"Ciallo～(∠?ω<)⌒☆"
Adam felt the words hit him like a DNA trigger; he shivered from head to toe.
Marie Antoinette found the phrase oddly familiar but charming.
"Ciallo～(∠?ω<)⌒☆? What a fun way to say hello! Is this the new French greeting? I love it! Ciallo～(∠?ω<)⌒☆~ Nice to meet you!"
Adam thought to himself: Yeah, no… that's actually Italian.
Marie then turned to Jeanne, eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Jeanne! It's really you—the Saint who stood up for France! You're one of the people I wanted most to meet while I was alive!"
The word "saint" brought back Metatron Jeanne's earlier description of Jeanne writhing in front of Adam. The vivid image flooded her mind again. Jeanne's face burned crimson. Unable to accept Marie's praise, she spun around, dropped into a squat, and covered her head in classic defensive pose.
"…Ugh. I'm not a saint."
Marie seemed to expect exactly this reaction.
That's just a saint's modesty! Only a true saint would act this way!
"I knew you'd say that~ But at least you lived honestly, and the result speaks for itself. Everyone praises and reveres your deeds. We'll never forget you, Jeanne—the miracle of Orléans."
Jeanne stayed silent, blushing harder with every word of praise. Each compliment made her want to bang her head against a wall.
Ugh… I'm sorry. I'm a filthy person.
Marie's admiration only deepened at Jeanne's continued "humility."
As expected! Jeanne truly deserves the title of saint!
Unlike Marie's bright, natural optimism, Mozart grew more serious when the topic turned to Jeanne—after all, everything happening in France right now was tied to her.
"Always seeing only the good in people is Marie's bad habit. Don't you agree, Jeanne? That witch may not be you, but she's definitely connected. She appeared just days after you were sent to the stake. And she looked exactly like you."
The stake?
Orléans roasted chicken wings~
Ritsuka fought to keep a straight face at the sudden dark joke that popped into her head. It was way too hellish and rude to say out loud, but she couldn't help it.
No one noticed Ritsuka's internal struggle. Mozart continued.
"Marie, you praise people too much. Sometimes scolding or denying them is just as important."
Marie puffed her cheeks in protest.
"I don't need you lecturing me on that! I already know! You nag me about it every single day!"
Then, in a fit of frustration, she launched a personal attack.
"There! Happy now? You music idiot! You useless wreck! One-dimensional fetishist who only gets off on sheet music! If you love scores so much, why don't you just turn into musical notes yourself?!"
Mozart took a deep breath, savoring the "beautiful" insult like a symphony.
"Ahh, yes… exactly that feeling. You can still do it. Use that same energy to scold Jeanne a little. Tell her every flaw you can think of!"
Marie instantly turned serious.
"No, that's impossible, Amadeus~ A scumbag like you has nothing but flaws, but Jeanne doesn't have a single one. That rumored witch is clearly someone else."
The more praise Jeanne received, the deeper the guilty pleasure twisted in her chest.
"Ugh… I don't deserve to be called a saint…"
She almost wished Marie would list a few of her faults just to balance the scales.
Adam finally put an end to the playful chaos.
"Speaking of the witch, I haven't told you her true identity yet, have I?"
"Eh? You know who she really is?"
Jeanne, Marie, and Mozart all looked at him with keen interest. The culprit who had been destroying France had been a mystery for far too long.
Adam recalled the events surrounding Jeanne Alter—first the one from the initial Singularity, then the version he had spent so much time with and thoroughly tamed.
"Just a cup, really~"
The words didn't come from Adam but from Metatron Jeanne still lounging in his arms. In a way, it was a perfect double entendre.
First meaning: the Holy Grail. Jeanne Alter had been created by the Grail.
Second meaning… well.
Adam explained Jeanne Alter's true origins and the person who had used the Grail to make her.
Jeanne's expression grew complicated when she learned the mastermind was her old comrade-in-arms, Gilles de Rais.
"Gilles…?"
She couldn't approve of what he had done, yet the fact that he had done it for her sake left her at a loss for how to feel.
"He couldn't resurrect the real Jeanne with the Grail, so he used it to create a substitute and made her carry out the revenge in his heart. A Servant born from hatred… In a sense, she's pitiful too~"
"Does that Jeanne Alter know she was made by the Grail? Or does she still believe she's the dark side of you?"
Adam answered without hesitation.
"The latter. She still thinks she's your darkness."
While everyone discussed Jeanne Alter, the Dragon Witch herself was already soaring through the sky on Fafnir's back, eyes fixed on her destination—the very city where Adam and the others now stood.
***
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