The day was breaking over the kingdom of Lugunica with an almost insolent regularity, over and over again.
Yet, that morning, the sun was not content with merely illuminating the world: it was flooding it with a blinding, almost theatrical light, a rare enough occurrence to be noted.
It shone much brighter than usual, as if even it, this intangible thing at the other end of the universe that merely bathed the world in its light, ordinarily indifferent to the troubles of mortals, was itself aware that a new page was opening, that a new arc had just been officially sealed in the fabric of the narrative.
Among the immemorial lands that this infinite clarity irradiated without the slightest consideration, one place in particular drew all its attention. A place where its light seemed to concentrate with an absurd pride, as if it finally judged something worthy of it.
It was a remote location, right in the middle of a dense and suffocating forest. A quite well-known forest, in an estate whose reputation was already firmly established.
And in this forest stood a village. A simple village, with not much to say about its contents, or rather whose contents would be addressed much later.
And on the outskirts of this hamlet of wood and earth, among the many dwellings that the sun was already swallowing with its unrivaled radiance, only one glittered brighter than the others. A manor. Yes, a manor, in a place that should have been devoid of one.
An architectural anomaly that common sense should have proscribed. An immense manor, larger than the main hall of the community itself, of a familiar enough appearance that it was pointless to dwell on its architecture, already detailed far too many times.
No one in the village knew how it got there, and no one had dared to ask.
And on the balcony of this manor, once again, a man was seated.
Dressed in his eternal immaculate white, he did nothing more. With his gaze fixed on the horizon, he watched what was unfolding below, a steaming cup of tea cupped in his hand.
Kozuwa Kurisu, a pure out-of-concept and out-of-script entity, slouched in his armchair.
He savored the cool breeze, motionless in his armchair, adopting the calculated posture of a seasoned actor with the nonchalance of a man simply enjoying the fine weather.
Or rather, waiting. He was waiting for a certain thing to finally land on him, for the signal to be given, as if watching for the precise moment when an interdimensional camera would deign to turn its invisible lens onto his face so that he could finally act of his own accord.
Kurisu exhaled softly, letting the steam rise into the morning air. He took a slow sip of his favorite tea, an Earl Grey, and set the cup down with almost ceremonial care on the small glass table.
Then he suddenly raised his eyes toward a point in the sky that seemed physically empty, at least to anyone not on the same plane of existence.
Anchoring his gaze into that void, the man in white smiled.
Kurisu : « Well, well... Is that not you, my dear readers ? »
He let these words slip out with that characteristic smile, the smile of someone who has just noticed that the curtain has risen.
Kurisu : « Ohh, did you miss me, huh ? What must it be... two, three weeks ? »
He dropped this with a small amused smirk, tilting his head to the side.
Kurisu : « Well, from your point of view, obviously. Because here, barely a few days have passed. Heh... »
He chuckled to himself, resting his chin in the palm of his hand before lowering his gaze toward the thatched roofs of the awakening village below.
Kurisu : « You know where we are, don't you ? »
He asked the question to the invisible screen, and let the silence stretch out as if he were genuinely expecting an answer.
He paused artificially, straining his ear toward the void.
Kurisu : « Well yes... of course, you can't answer. »
Taking a deep breath, this time he let go of the joke a little to adopt a more formal, more grounded tone, almost that of a museum guide, albeit imbued with biting irony.
Kurisu : « We are currently at the Sanctuary of Roswaal's domain, as you have undoubtedly guessed. »
He finished his tea in one go and finally stood up, hands behind his back, his gaze lost on the horizon.
Kurisu : « After all, doesn't Arc 4 begin now ? We're nearing the end soon, huh ? »
He murmured this to himself, with a hint of nostalgia that he would no doubt have denied if it had been pointed out to him.
But suddenly, he seemed to hear something. Kurisu grimaced, as if a high-pitched voice had just yelled directly into his inner ear.
He brought a hand to his ear, tugging at it as a sign of attentive listening, like someone catching a voice from very far away, and shook his head.
Kurisu : « Ohh ? What ? What happened in the meantime ? How have things unfolded since last time ? »
He was answering someone no reader could hear. A moment later, he grimaced again.
« Hmm... Honestly, I have absolutely no desire to dwell on the subject. It's tiresome. »
Then he suddenly raised a triumphant index finger toward the sky, as if struck by a brilliant idea.
Kurisu : « Ah yes ! Don't panic ! Author-san will take care of it for you ! »
With a nonchalant wave of his hand, he brushed aside the airspace, blowing through his teeth as if to shoo away an annoying bug.
Kurisu : « After all, it's better to get to the interesting things than waste time with this kind of boring exposition, isn't it ? You're not here for that, are you ? You're not here for that, huh ? »
He whispered this last sentence as if confiding a state secret.
Kurisu : « Pff, anyway. While our dear and esteemed Author-san brings you up to speed... As for me, I have other fish to fry. Literally. Kekeke ! »
In an imperceptible snap of air, Kurisu's white silhouette instantly vanished from reality, leaving his empty armchair and his still-steaming cup behind.
Thus, that dear and devoted Author-san took it upon himself to give his precious readers the answers to their questions.
Car rather than forcing you to endure three chapters of carriage rides and tiresome political meetings, it was better to get straight to the point, wasn't it ?
And since nobody likes Excel spreadsheets, here is the summary, with as few sighs as possible.
A lot had happened since the last memorably brutal « lesson » administered by Kurisu to Subaru.
Subaru, yes. He was still present, somewhere, for that matter. But that wasn't to be discussed right now.
Let's just say the boy had a lot, a lot to digest, and he was only just beginning to understand what « no longer dying for nothing » meant when you'd spent weeks knowing nothing else. Nothing more.
Impatient readers can come back later.
First of all, the consequences of the archbishop's attack.
The surge provoked by that strange man's attack had left deep scars. The passage of that absolute anomaly had turned the battlefield into a true slaughterhouse.
Several people were severely injured, some to the point of remaining crippled for life, but at least they were alive. And seeing the carnage left behind by that strange man named Regulus Corneas, it was an unnamed miracle.
No one understood how it was possible. No one had a theory that held up for more than five minutes.
For the kingdom's healers and the coalition, this overall survival felt like the intervention of a god. It had been done as if a divine power had at least spared their lives.
For once, the people talking about a « divine power » weren't far from the truth, even if the god in question would have laughed hard upon knowing it.
But of course, everything wasn't rosy. The toll remained heavy.
Priscilla Barielle and Crusch Karsten were the most severely affected. They remained plunged in a deep coma as a result of their physical and magical injuries, even at this very moment.
Their lives were not in danger, but they wouldn't be able to do anything for several days, or even weeks.
As for the operation against the Cult, that was a whole other story. Everything had gone rather well, almost cleanly. The strike team had cleared the domain cleanly. The operation was a bloody and definitive success :
The Sloth faction had been completely purged, and Archbishop Petelgeuse Romanée-Conti was definitively erased from the equation.
Let there be no mistake: the fight had been fierce, some had returned tired, others with deep cuts, but nothing comparable to what had happened on the convoy route.
The combat had been an absolute success.
All the survivors of the coalition, meaning the camps of Crusch, Priscilla, and Anastasia, headed back toward the capital with glory and victory. They reported to the Council of Elders and shared the credit among the four candidates who had participated in the battle.
Naturally, the greatest prestige rightfully belonged to Emilia's camp. And most particularly to Natsuki Subaru, without whom none of this would have been possible.
Give unto Caesar what belongs to Caesar.
All members of Crusch's, Priscilla's, and Anastasia's camps themselves knew it.
And after all, wasn't it thanks to Subaru that they had carried all this through to success ?
Without his intuition, his improvised leadership during the titanic fight against that White Leviathan monstrosity, would they have survived ?
Or without his grit and skills against the Archbishop of Sloth, could they have discovered his weakness ?
Of course he had to have his share of the credit !
The other factions recognized this capital role of his — partly out of honesty, but also because an instinctive terror whispered to them that ignoring the exploits of Emilia's camp could attract the gaze of a monster in a white coat capable of erasing them from existence with a single thought.
But Subaru himself was not yet ready to hear it.
But... ohh, but all this was only meager consolation. A meager repayment compared to what it had cost. The true wound of this battle wasn't physical, it was mental.
Rem, ohh, that poor Rem, was still bedridden at the Roswaal manor, plunged in a mysterious lethargy.
Thanks to Kurisu's subtle and almost invisible intervention which stabilized her spiritual wave, her physical body remained in perfect health and her mind was not at risk of dissolution.
She had thus been transported to the Roswaal Manor to be bedridden under the supervision of Frederica and Petra.
Fortunately, they had said she would wake up soon, in a few days at most. But for now, nothing helped: she was still sleeping. And that uncertainty weighed heavily on Subaru.
And that wasn't all.
And the reason for all of them being present in this remote place? Simple. Just like in the original story, a letter from Roswaal had arrived at the manor to invite them to the Sanctuary. It was pointless to dwell on this event which served no purpose.
Here is simply the official reason for their arrival : to pass the trials and succeed in breaking the barrier to save the trapped villagers.
Nothing more, nothing less. What could possibly go wrong ? It was simple, right ?
Ohh, everyone knew it would be anything but simple.
But the hour was no longer for exposition. It was time to continue this story, to resume the thread of events.
Such was what had unfolded during the few days following the end of this very grueling Arc 3, the one that had rewritten the world.
It was time to begin this new arc, which would rewrite not the world, but the minds of many in this place.
And while Author-san was clearing his throat with a thoroughly personal satisfaction, the man in white was already downstairs.
Space contorted slightly. Without the slightest sound, Kurisu reappeared right in the middle of a path bordered by ancient ruins.
Kurisu hadn't taken the stairs. Nor had he bothered to walk through the front door. He had simply ceased to be on the balcony to begin being in the street, as if the distance between the two were merely an administrative detail.
Kurisu : « Ah, the lovely smell of moss and expired family secrets... »
He was now walking on the dirt paths of the Sanctuary, hands in his pockets, cheerfully whistling a pop melody completely unknown in this dimension.
He crossed paths with villagers who stepped aside as he passed with a slightly too forced politeness. Some lowered their eyes. Others quickened their pace. A child playing by the roadside stared at him for a moment, then was yanked back by his mother, who whispered something in his ear.
Kurisu pretended not to notice anything. It was funnier that way.
But suddenly, a soft and composed voice hailed him from the doorstep of a stone house, right near him :
Sylphy : « Ohh, good morning, Mari-sama. »
Kurisu turned his head.
It was a beautiful young woman, with long blonde hair and bright eyes, stepping toward him, offering him an impeccable curtsey and a smile imbued with sincere devotion.
Kurisu : « Ohh, my little Sylphy ! What a pleasure to see you ! »
He exclaimed with a big smile as he approached her.
Kurisu : « So, is everything going well ? You don't have any problems with the locals, do you ? »
Sylphy nodded gracefully.
Sylphy : « Yes, Mari-sama. For now, we are living peacefully, and no one has been obnoxious or hostile toward us. I would even say they are rather kind and benevolent. »
She replied in a composed, measured tone, with that calm which was her signature.
Kurisu nodded in understanding with evident satisfaction.
After all, when he had taken these women under his banner, he had guaranteed them protection and comfort, promising to take care of them. And if there was one rule he never deviated from, it was keeping his word to those he considered under his protection.
Of course he would check on that sort of thing, even though he would have preferred to have his tongue cut out rather than admit it out loud.
As for whether the villagers were kind out of goodness of heart or simply because they knew to whom these young women truly belonged, that was a question Sylphy undoubtedly asked herself as well, and which she kept to herself with a perfect smile.
But before he could add anything, two voices rose a little further down the alley.
Voice : « Look, it's him, he's over there ! Come quickly ! »
Voice : « Be careful, you're going to fall... »
Kurisu looked in that direction.
Two beautiful young women were approaching at a fast pace.
One had long green hair and deep amber eyes: Marielle, who walked with a measured step, arms slightly outstretched as if to catch in advance what was bound to happen.
The other, wearing purple pigtails swaying to the rhythm of her frantic run, sported dazzling blue eyes: Celestia.
The latter was running out of breath at full speed toward him while clutching a small box against her, her face radiating determination.
Celestia : « Hel... Hello, Mari-sama ! I... I absolutely must show you— waaaahahh ! »
She tangled her feet in a pebble that hadn't asked anyone for anything.
Carried away by her own momentum, Celestia headed straight for the ground, letting out a cry of terror.
The box slipped from her hands, tracing a perfect parabola in the air.
Without even losing his smile, Kurisu raised his right hand. In a fluid movement and without the slightest effort, he snatched the box out of the air before stabilizing it in the palm of his hand.
A microsecond later, a dull thud echoed as Celestia miserably crashed her face against the packed earth.
Marielle : « Ahh... I told you you were going to fall... »
She sighed, bringing a hand to her forehead, exasperated once again by her friend's clumsiness.
Kurisu laughed a little upon seeing the young woman on the ground.
Kurisu : « Pff... ! You really should listen to Marielle, Celestia. You'd save yourself a lot of bruises. »
He said this while struggling mightily to hold back a burst of laughter.
Celestia : « Uheuh... yes, Mari-sama... »
She replied in a muffled voice.
The young woman with purple hair got up painfully, sitting on her knees, a drop of blood gently trickling down from her nose.
Marielle immediately handed her a handkerchief, without a single extra word of reproach, like one does for someone they've already scolded a thousand times and love anyway.
Marielle : « Good day to you, Mari-sama. »
Marielle bowed sumptuously, a gesture to which Kurisu responded with a simple, amused nod.
He then lowered his gaze to the box he was still holding.
Kurisu : « By the way... what is that ? »
Celestia : « It's... a gift...! For you...! »
She said this, finally standing, the handkerchief pressed against her nose, her cheeks red from a mixture of shame and pride.
Kurisu : « Oh, really ? »
Kurisu raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and opened the box.
A familiar and enchanting scent instantly drifted out.
Inside lay a carefully decorated cake, the perfect alliance of intense dark chocolate and a mint-infused cream, the two flavors he particularly liked.
Kurisu : « Ohh... you actually managed to remake it ? I'm impressed. »
He observed the features of the cake closely. It was the perfect replica of a dessert from his original world, a dessert he loved more than reason. A taste he had mentioned during a casual conversation weeks earlier.
Marielle nodded.
Marielle : « Yes. After you told us about it, we looked for equivalent ingredients in the forests of Lugunica to try and make it. Well... it was mostly Celestia who spent her nights on it. »
Marielle cast a sidelong glance at the person in question, who was lowering her head.
Marielle : « She absolutely wanted to make up for all the glassware she's broken at the manor lately because of her clumsiness... »
Sylphy : « Ohh, I see. Indeed, she's been breaking a huge amount of it lately... The number of cups she's destroyed is quite terrifying. »
Sylphy thought back to the number of times Celestia had fallen for no reason at all since they had settled in the village.
There had been the jug, the three plates, the vase offered by a villager, and the front door, by a mystery no one had managed to solve.
Celestia : « Ehhhhh ?! Shut up, both of you ! »
Celestia exclaimed, as red as a peony from shame, hiding her face in her hands amid the muffled laughter of the other two women.
Kurisu observed the cake, then the embarrassed young woman. A logical thought crossed his mind:
« After all... I can make as many appear as I want with a snap of my fingers. It had no use... There was no need to... »
But seeing the young girl's face, her shining eyes, her hands still trembling a little from running, the scratches on her fingers, and the sincere effort placed inside that box, he remained silent for a second.
He let out a very slight, almost imperceptible sigh, and reached out his hand.
Kurisu : « I see... Thank you, Celestia. It's very well made. »
He placed his palm on the head of the purple-pigtailed young girl, gently stroking her hair.
Celestia : « I... uh... ehehe... »
The young woman froze under the contact, her face igniting with an even brighter shade.
Red this time in a completely different way, accompanied by a goofy, delighted stutter, shining eyes, a shy smile on her lips.
At the very same moment, deep within his consciousness, Kurisu froze. A strange doubt, an imperceptible fissure slipped into his reflection.
« Ahh... what is happening to me ? Has this world really softened me to this extent ? »
He sincerely asked himself, and for a fraction of a second, his gesture remained suspended a little longer than necessary.
For an entity like him, a being who wasn't supposed to feel any real emotion, a demon detached from any moral anchor, being sincerely touched by such an insignificant attention was a theoretical anomaly.
At worst, he could have pretended. He could have simulated gratitude. But to truly be so ? He who felt nothing ? It was almost impossible.
But the warmth he had just expressed was not feigned. And that realization left him briefly perplexed.
Next to them, the emotional landscape abruptly changed.
Sylphy and Marielle maintained their magnificent facade smiles, though it seemed to crack slightly upon seeing Kurisu's affectionate gesture toward Celestia.
Their light eyes had narrowed by a fraction of a millimeter.
Celestia, precisely, suddenly felt an icy shiver run down her spine.
No, distinct, coming from her left and right, like two icy drafts that had no business being there, as if two invisible blades had just rested on the back of her neck.
A cold sweat trickled down her back.
« Brrrr... what was that ? »
Seized by sudden panic, Celestia turned her head toward her two companions. But there was nothing. Everything had vanished. Sylphy and Marielle were giving her angelic, perfectly calm and benevolent smiles, almost too much so.
Celestia was left dumbfounded, wondering if she wasn't simply hallucinating under the impact of shame.
« Did I... Did I dream it ? »
She wondered, confused, more than shocked, and very wisely decided not to think about it anymore.
But the hour was no longer for improvised romantic comedy.
Kurisu withdrew his hand from Celestia's head.
In a fraction of a second, all the gentleness in his gaze evaporated, replaced by a cold lucidity, razor-sharp.
Kurisu : « So... Is the plan progressing well ? »
He asked this of the three women.
The change in tone was so brutal that the three women immediately straightened their posture.
Nervousness and clumsiness faded to make way for absolute professionalism. The smiles didn't entirely disappear, but they changed in nature.
Celestia stood straighter, Marielle crossed her hands in front of her, and it was Sylphy who spoke, with the precision of an officer delivering a report.
Sylphy : « Yes, Mari-sama. Everything should be ready within two or three days at most. The preparations concerning the villagers and the management of the barrier are proceeding exactly as planned. »
She said it perfectly, without the slightest hesitation, without the slightest superfluous warmth.
Kurisu remained pensive for a moment. Then he smiled, with a smile a bit too satisfied to be honest.
Kurisu : « Hmm... very well. That should be more than enough. Thank you for everything. »
He simply finished. The three young women bowed in a single movement.
Sylphy, Marielle, Celestia : « You're welcome, Mari-sama ! »
They exclaimed in perfect unison.
He set off again, a cake in his hands and the look of someone who has nothing to reproach themselves for. Two or three days. Time to let a certain boy catch his breath a bit, understand a bit, before the serious things began.
He slipped a finger into the cake's cream, tasted it, and smiled.
« Perfect. »
He wasn't talking about the cake.
..........
Thus, Kurisu continued walking, his boots echoing on the dirt paths only at a lazy pace.
He left the three young women to go about their mysterious occupations, without looking back, his precious pastry still wedged in the crook of his arms like a war treasure.
He walked for a while longer, passing the last houses, where the villagers became scarcer and where gazes turned away more quickly. He reached a spot slightly off the beaten path, a bit set back from the rest of the dwellings.
A house of modest appearance, but whose current occupant was more than notoriously infamous, whose shutters were half-closed as if to conceal something no one wanted to see.
He did not knock.
Without bothering with the slightest politeness, Kurisu raised his leg and forced the door open with a violent kick. The door leaf slammed heavily against the interior wall, instantly shattering the monastic silence of the room.
And he barged in, like a man returning home after a long day.
Kurisu : « Hello, clown ! »
The cry echoed through the small room plunged in semi-darkness.
There floated an odor of medicinal plants, half-consumed candles, and something heavier, older, that the herbs couldn't quite mask.
Before him, lying in a bed, bathing in the dim light of a convalescent room, was a certain court mage.
Half of his face and torso disappeared under bandages of a dubious white, the apparent sign of a serious injury suffered during recent attacks.
At least in appearance. A grotesque staging, obviously, because everyone knew full well that beneath those bandages, the man was doing wonderfully.
Roswaal L. Mathers.
Beside him, standing near the bed, holding herself very straight with an immediate defensive posture, was a maid with pink hair and a sharp gaze.
Ram.
Kurisu : « Ohh, and I see the rose is here too, huh ? »
He did this upon spotting her, with that casualness characteristic of him, flashing her an insolent wink.
The young woman was already on her guard, shoulders tense, a hand trembling near her skirt, even though she knew perfectly well that she could do absolutely nothing against the entity that had just violated their privacy.
This certainty, more than fear, was what grated on her nerves the most.
Kurisu : « Hmm, what were you up to before I arrived ? A little crisis meeting ? »
He chuckled with a mischievous laugh, tilting his head to the side.
Kurisu : « Wait, don't tell me you... »
Ram : « How dare you say that, you who... »
Ram wanted to spit her venom. She took a step forward, fury distorting her face.
Mais une main pâle et couverte de bandages se leva lentement depuis le lit, l'interrompant net. C'était celle de Roswaal.
Ram : « Roswaal-sama… ? »
The young woman looked at him, shocked.
The man's bandaged face had lost every flicker of joy, every trace of theatricality or malice that usually accompanied him.
His heterochromatic eye, usually so expressive, had become of an abyssal coldness, totally devoid of that unhealthy amusement which characterized him, the gaze of someone who no longer has the luxury of playing.
He slowly turned his head toward his maid.
Roswaal : « Leave us alone, Ram. Will you ? »
Ram : « But he... »
She could only utter those two words.
Roswaal : « Ram. »
He uttered only that single word. Just once, without raising his voice. But upon meeting the man's gaze, Ram froze instantly.
She had never seen her master like this, and she understood, without anyone explaining it to her, that arguing was no longer an option. The situation went far beyond the scope of a mere provocation.
She swallowed her pride and simply nodded.
Ram : « At your orders, Roswaal-sama. »
She bowed with a perfect curtsey, a bit too stiff, before heading toward the exit.
But as she crossed paths with Kurisu, right as her shoulder was about to pass his, the man in white leaned imperceptibly toward her and whispered a few words into her ear, in a voice as soft as velvet :
Kurisu : « That's good. After all... I wouldn't have wanted you to end up like your sister. »
He said it in a very cynical way, almost gently, and that was precisely the worst part.
Ram froze. Immediately. Her blood ran cold in her veins. Her breath hitched.
« This monster... did he know what had happened to Rem ? » she thought, suddenly seized with dread.
« Why was she in that state ? »
Although Barusu had spoken to her about it briefly upon their return, the boy had refused to dwell on the subject, partly because he didn't know much more himself, terrified by what he had seen.
« Was it because of this man ? Was he responsible ? »
She couldn't tell. She was incapable of formulating the slightest coherent thought.
She could only walk, put one foot in front of the other, and walk out without a word, not without slowly turning her head toward him, to shoot him the look most laden with hatred and murder of which she was capable.
Kurisu answered her with the most incomprehensible of smiles. But it wasn't a mocking smile. It was an almost... tender smile. A soft, unfathomable expression.
As if he wanted to say much more than what that simple expression conveyed, as if he knew infinitely more about Rem's salvation than he let on, or as if he were simply savoring the psychological torture he had just inflicted.
Ram lost her expression, deeply unsettled, and closed the door behind her without a word.
On the other side of the door, she stood there for a few seconds, her back against the wood, her heart beating harder than she would have admitted. Then she clenched her fists, and walked away in silence, without looking back.
Inside, the space remained silent for a few seconds. The tension in the room was palpable, heavy, suffocating. The two men looked at each other.
Roswaal with a closed, calculating gaze, his fingers clenched on the sheet. Kurisu with his radiant smile, the box still under his arm.
Then suddenly, Roswaal tried to resume a normal expression, to find that sing-song tone, that mask he had worn for four centuries and which had always served as his shield.
Roswaal : « Well noooow... To whaaaat do I owe the honoooourrr of thiiiis vi— »
Kurisu : « I already know everything, Roswaal. »
He was cut off short. The mage froze in his bed, and his heterochromatic eye twitched greatly, as if under the impact of an invisible blow.
Roswaal : « What... what ? »
He did this, shocked, his mask cracking all at once.
Kurisu didn't answer immediately.
Ignoring his host's shock, Kurisu calmly pulled a wooden chair to the bedside, and settled into it with the nonchalance of a noble in a tea salon, crossing one leg over the other.
He placed the box on his knees, popped the latch, and opened it.
He pulled a small silver fork from his pocket, as if by magic, and sliced a piece of the mint and chocolate cake made by Celestia.
He brought it to his mouth and closed his eyes in pleasure.
Kurisu : « Hmmm… Delicious. Celestia really outdid herself, huh ? It tastes almost the same as in my memories. »
He savored his bite with a provocative slowness while taking another, eyes half-closed.
Roswaal looked at him with an indecipherable expression. His brain was spinning at breakneck speed.
« What did he mean by knowing "everything" ? »
Was he speaking of his plan to resurrect his master, Echidna, or something related ? But that information, the white anomaly had already known for a long time. So... perhaps...
Kurisu reopened his eyes, resting his amused gaze on the mage whose forehead was beginning to bead with cold sweat.
Seeing the distress setting in within the mage's gaze, he placed his fork on the bedside table for a moment and decided to speak.
Kurisu : « Stop racking your brains so hard, you're going to pop a vein. It's exactly what you think. »
He took another bite of cake, as if he had just told him the time, chewing with satisfaction.
Roswaal seemed surprised again, but he quickly pulled himself together and decided to lay his cards on the table.
That was all he had left to try: test this man's limits, measure how far his knowledge went.
He tried to keep a stony expression.
Roswaal : « So, you know about... »
Kurisu : « The assassins on their way to the manor ? Of course. »
Roswaal barely flinched.
« Very well. He knows of their existence. It's a hard blow, but I can still adapt. The probabilities remain calculable. »
Roswaal : « And about... »
Kurisu : « The snow that's about to fall on the Sanctuary ? Obviously ! » he exclaimed with his mouth full, pointing his fork toward the mage.
Roswaal seemed to grow pale. His plan was seriously starting to crumble. And yet, he still remained stony. Not yet. Not now. He refused to fall at this moment.
He was Roswaal L. Mathers. He had spent more than four centuries weaving this network of causalities for the sole purpose of finding his master.
He clung to this thought like a branch over a ravine. But something finished him off, without preamble, while the man in white continued finishing his dessert, with utter disinterest.
Kurisu : « And of course, I know full well that you intended to use Capella, the Archbishop of Lust, to top it all off. »
Kurisu swallowed another piece of cake while licking his lips, totally uninterested in the nuclear bomb he had just dropped.
That was the final straw. Roswaal felt something snap within him, something deep, ancient, which had held the mask and the man together for four hundred years.
« How... how can he ?! » the mage screamed in his mind.
The world seemed to collapse around him. This man knew his four-century-old plans, fine. Even that, he could still adapt. He could still manage. He could always try again, restructure his plan despite the variables, and arrive at the end he wanted.
Such was Roswaal L. Mathers, the mad man who had spent over four centuries with the sole goal of restoring life to his master.
But… this ? This element was written only in his own Gospel! A detail so distant, so secret! Information that the book had announced to him only a short time ago solely to compensate for the future actions of the man before him.
Kurisu poked another bite, gaze tranquil, letting silence do its work.
Roswaal knew this man was powerful. Far too powerful, absurdly powerful, perhaps even the equal of the Sword Saint himself. But that was all.
He couldn't control everything. He couldn't know the future. At least, so he thought. He couldn't be in multiple places at once, nor do absurd things.
In the mage's mind, this man was merely a monumental anomaly. A rock impossible to move, certes, but whose presence could be bypassed, whose parameters remained logical enough not to shatter his actions.
Kurisu twirled his fork between his fingers, as if listening distractedly to thoughts he didn't need to hear.
For despite everything, things were going his way. The boy had defeated the Whale. He had formed an alliance with the other throne candidates. He had destroyed the Cult.
All that remained was for him to break in the trial Roswaal had prepared so that he would finally be entirely at his disposal. He, and his power to manipulate time, which he thought he was the only one, outside of the person concerned, to know.
For not even the entity before him seemed to know it. Not even her.
He thought, despite everything, that he held the cards. To be the one playing, the one manipulating. He still believed himself to be the master of the board, the chess player manipulating the pawns.
Kurisu softly tapped the edge of the box, a small tap, tap, tap that echoed in the room like a metronome.
And the world had just reminded him, once again, with unheard-of violence, like that humiliation he had suffered a month earlier.
He was merely a pathetic pawn on a chessboard whose rules he didn't even understand. Nothing more.
« Confront this man ? I'll be annihilated. » he realized inwardly.
« Change my plans ? It's too late. »
He was now merely dancing in the palm of the being before him. At his whim, he could die right now, or, at best, see his plan fail. He had nothing left.
He was in checkmate. Defeated even before having played his first move.
What would he demand ? The immediate halt of operations ? His own death ?
Yet, deep inside him, somewhere beneath the rubble, something refused to extinguish. A stubborn calculation. One more version to try.
A piece to move, even if the entire board had been overturned. He was already searching, despite himself, out of pure survival reflex, for what he could build upon these ruins.
But something defying all logic, all normality of understanding, occurred.
Kurisu had just finished his cake while licking his lips. He closed the empty box.
He made a large glass of iced fruit juice appear from the absolute void of space, took a loud sip, without even looking at him.
Then he pointed his fork toward the bedridden mage once again.
Kurisu : « By the way... you can do whatever you want, I won't interfere. »
Roswaal froze. The shock of this declaration was far more violent than the revelation of his secrets.
Roswaal : « Huh ? ... » he let slip, his voice broken, totally caught off guard.
Kurisu : « What ? I said I won't do anything. Your little show looks entertaining, so I'm going to sit back and wait to see how it plays out. A problem ? »
He asked this while sipping his juice, with the innocence of a child asked if he liked pie.
Roswaal : « Wh... what... how... »
He didn't understand. Everything his mind had calculated, all the outcomes he had envisioned, none included this one. The trap he was waiting for wasn't snapping shut.
Roswaal : « You... you're telling me you won't ruin or reveal my plan to anyone ? »
Kurisu nodded with disinterest, a vague gaze, almost bored by the question.
Roswaal : « Even... Even if it seriously harms the inhabitants of the Sanctuary and those of the manor ? » he asked, shocked by this apathy.
Kurisu : « Sure, no problem. That's life. »
Roswaal : « Even... even if your apprentice risks suffering unspeakable torments... and perhaps dying ? »
He barely said it, his voice almost choked.
Kurisu : « Ohh ? That'll make good training for him. Kekeke ! » Kurisu chuckled to himself, confirming that he considered Subaru's pain a simple pedagogical formality.
This froze the mage even further. That laugh had nothing cruel about it. It was worse: it was sincere.
Roswaal was dumbfounded. He didn't understand. Where was this being's limit ? What could reach him ? He had to know.
Thus, caught in the momentum of this vertigo, he asked the fateful question, the one an instinct older than his reason whispered to him to ask, the one that crossed the red line.
Roswaal : « Even... even if it were to harm your women ? »
At these words, Kurisu stopped dead in his little drinking spree. The glass remained suspended halfway to his lips. The room's atmosphere dropped by thirty degrees.
Kurisu slowly turned his head and planted his eyes into Roswaal's, and his gaze suddenly changed.
It emptied of everything, absolutely everything. There was nothing left. Amusement, nonchalance, mockery... everything had been sucked out. There remained in Kurisu's pupils only an incommensurable void.
A bottomless abyss, so black, so unfathomable, a void such that it gave cold sweats to the mage, who felt every hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
« I have never seen this man like that... Never. »
Had he touched the anomaly's only sensitive spot ?
Was he going to end up crushed, shredded on the spot for having dared to formulate this implicit threat and gone too far ?
His heart was pounding furiously.
The seconds stretched like hours. But to his great surprise, the void cracked, and Kurisu burst into thunderous laughter.
Kurisu : « Kekekekekekekekekekeke... ! »
He laughed to his heart's content, head thrown back, holding his stomach.
Roswaal looked at him without doing anything else, because he couldn't do anything else.
Kurisu : « Ahhhh, you're really funny, Roswaal ! » Kurisu said, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye while getting up from his chair.
Kurisu : « Don't worry about them. They handle themselves just fine on their own. Heh. »
He turned away, walking toward the door with a light step.
Kurisu : « Anyway, take your time with your little preparations. I'm going to have a little fun while waiting for the rest of the arc. Ciao ! »
He said this with his back turned. Roswaal saw only his back, not his face.
Oh, if only he had known, his blood would have frozen forevermore.
He would have wished to see the man's expression at that moment, for the moment Kurisu placed his hand on the door handle, his expression was entirely different.
A smile. Ohh, a smile.
At that instant, the man in white sported a terrifying smile. A literally toothless smile.
His lips had simply split into the flesh of his face, drawing a crescent moon of mystical blackness in the room's semi-darkness, like a luminous wound traced across his face.
His eyes had adopted the same distorted shape. Unmoored from all humanity, they carried only a macabre excitement and a profoundly unhealthy amusement.
A true demon's smile.
The reason for this atrocious mimicry was of a stinging irony.
« You're truly cooked, Roswaal… Kekeke... »
He was letting him play, yes. But the game board had been rigged long before the game even started.