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Chapter Text

The smell of sizzling oil and broth rolled out into the street, thick enough to turn heads. Lantern-light spilled from the windows of the Pleiades Kitchen, warm and golden against the dusk. Inside, the tables were crowded—mercenaries with their blades stacked by the door, merchants haggling even as they chewed, and demi-humans laughing loud enough to rattle the beams.

“Order up! Victory Bowl, extra spice!” Subaru shouted, sliding a steaming plate across the counter with the flourish of a stage magician. “Careful, folks—this one bites back harder than a Kararagi wife in divorce court!”

The line of customers roared at his joke. The big wolf-kin at the bar slapped the counter and barked out, “Oy, Boss, ya got more fire than the dish!”

Alcyone flicked a spark over the stove, keeping the oil steady, while Maia hummed and spun dishes clean as fast as they came in. Merope fussed over the garnish, tilting sprigs of herbs until they sat just so. To the crowd, they looked like tricks of a foreign chef with uncanny timing. Only Subaru knew they were family—the silent stars orbiting him.

The kitchen’s rhythm pulsed like a heartbeat. Order in. Flame flare. Dish served. Laughter. Coins clinked down on the counter. Again and again until the night blurred into a haze of sound and light.

“Hey, is this that ‘star-chef’ I been hearin’ about?” a merchant asked between mouthfuls, tugging at his wine-red coat. “Foreign fella with food like nothin’ else in Kararagi?”

Subaru rubbed the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. “Rumors travel faster than unpaid tabs, huh?”

Another voice cut in. “Tastes kinda like Lugnica grub, don’t it? Strange, but good.”

The comment stabbed a little too close, but Subaru swallowed it with a smile. “Let’s just say the recipe came a long way, pal.”

The rush went on until lanterns burned low and stools emptied. One by one, the voices drifted out into the night, leaving only the creak of the beams and the hiss of cooling pans. Subaru slumped into a chair, rubbing at his wrist. It trembled faintly, stubborn as ever.

Vega drifted down, unseen by all but him, and rested against his shoulder. The tremor eased.

“Yeah, yeah,” Subaru muttered, voice too tired for bravado. “I’m fine. Just tired. No big deal.”

Silence answered him—gentle, watchful.

He leaned back, staring at the lantern-light shadows trembling on the ceiling. This place, noisy and warm and fragile, was his. He’d built it with his own hands, piece by stubborn piece. A kitchen on the border of nowhere, clinging to life like its owner.

Tomorrow, the door would open again. New faces, new voices. More laughter. More coins. More proof he hadn’t disappeared.

Subaru smiled faintly, eyes slipping shut. “Welcome to the Pleiades Kitchen. Don’t forget to tell your friends.”

The empty room held the words like a promise. Subaru began closing the restaurant—flipping chairs, sweeping crumbs, scrubbing the floor. Couldn’t have his prized place dirty now, right? Just as he was finishing the dishes, the shop bell rang.

“Sorry, we’re closed for the night,” Subaru called through the kitchen.

“Not even for your prized customer, Su?”

The voice rolled deep and easy, like smoke drifting in. Subaru turned, already grinning despite himself.

Halibel. Tall as the doorframe, fur catching the lantern-light, golden kiseru clenched between sharp teeth. A shadow of Kararagi, but one who never hid what he was.

“You know the rules,” Subaru said, drying his hands with a towel. “No late orders. My kitchen needs beauty sleep.”

Halibel huffed a laugh. “Beauty, he says. This place already shines brighter than half the taverns in Banan. Word’s spreading, you know. Pleiades Kitchen. Travelers, merchants, even League dignitaries. They want to see the madman who opened a diner instead of dying on the battlefield.”

Subaru barked out a laugh. “Haha! I’ve had enough of dying on the battlefield, thanks very much.”

“With those soft hands of yours? Never.” Halibel smirked, teeth flashing around his kiseru.

“My hands,” Subaru shot back, waggling his fingers, “are the hands of a master chef, I’ll have you know. My battlefield is about timing and perfe—”

“ANYWAY,” Halibel cut him off with exaggerated drawl, waving one clawed hand, “I’ll have my regular.”

Subaru sighed, shaking his head but unable to hide the smile tugging at his mouth. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“That’s why you like me,” Halibel said, leaning casually against the counter, smoke curling from his kiseru like he owned the night. His golden eyes followed Subaru with an amused, knowing look.

“So, the Kararagi Firefang Stir-Fry? Coming right up!” Subaru called back, determination sparking in his eyes.

With a flick of his wrist, Alcyone leapt into action, maintaining a perfectly steady flame under the sizzling wok. Subaru moved through the motions with practiced precision—spinning, chopping, tossing—each movement timed to the whispers of Taygete, his wind spirit, who guided the smoke and scents just right so the aroma reached every corner of the restaurant.

The kitchen pulsed with life, a symphony of sizzling oil, fragrant spices, and the quiet hum of supernatural precision. The scent of the Firefang Stir-Fry rolled out into the dining area, wrapping Halibel in its warmth before the dish even reached him.

Subaru paused for a moment, hands hovering over the final garnish, a small, satisfied grin spreading across his face. Turns out I was actually talented at something, he thought, feeling a rare swell of pride.

Halibel leaned forward, sniffing the steam rising from the plate. “Hmph. Not bad,” he said with a grunt, a hint of approval hidden beneath the casual tone. “Let’s see if the taste matches the hype.”

Subaru served it with a flourish, Taygete stirring the air to carry the perfect aroma, and watched as Halibel took the first bite.

The wolf-man’s eyes widened just slightly, golden irises glinting in the lantern-light. Then, a slow nod. “Yeah… that’ll do.”

The restaurant became filled with a rare silence, the only sound being the loud, unapologetic smacking of a wolf who, apparently, had never been taught to chew with his mouth closed.

Subaru shot Halibel a pointed look, towel still in hand. “You know, some people actually enjoy savoring their food quietly,” he said, a teasing edge in his voice.

Halibel didn’t even glance up, gold eyes focused on the steaming stir-fry. “Quiet? In a kitchen like this? Not a chance, chef,” he said, crunching down on another bite with all the subtlety of a small boulder rolling across cobblestones.

A faint breeze rippled through the room, carrying the scent of sizzling oil and herbs—Taygete’s invisible fingers nudging the steam just so. Subaru felt the air stir, the heat shift slightly, and knew the wind spirit was pleased with the rhythm of his cooking.

Alcyone and Maia pulsed softly in the air, constellations of faint light that hovered above the flames, tiny sparks of approval tracing the movements of his hands. Merope’s glow fluttered at the edges of the counter, invisible except for the subtle warmth that brushed the skin like a whisper.

Subaru let out a breathy laugh. “Fine. Eat like a wolf. But next time, try not to scare my spirits half to death.”

Halibel finally looked up, a wry smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Scaring spirits, huh? You’re the one dancing around like a madman with fire and knives. I’m just giving you company.”

A soft gust swept through the kitchen again, stirring napkins and making the candle flames flicker—Taygete teasing, Merope chiming in, invisible but undeniably present. Subaru could feel them all moving around him, coaxing the perfect timing out of his motions, smoothing each flick of his wrist, each swirl of sauce.

After finishing his meal, Halibel set down a few coins—surprisingly enough, he actually paid—and leaned back, letting out a satisfied sigh. “A timeless classic, as you say, Subaru,” he said, the faintest trace of a grin tugging at his golden eyes.

Subaru chuckled, wiping his hands on his towel. “Glad it hit the mark. Took me long enough to perfect it.”

Halibel’s gaze drifted around the kitchen, lingering on the faint, shimmering constellations hovering invisibly above the stove. “You’ve got a lot more than skill here, chef. Discipline, timing… patience. It shows.”

Subaru’s lips curved into a small, proud smile. “Yeah, well… when the world keeps knocking you down, you learn fast what’s worth holding onto.”
Halibel nodded slowly. “Fair enough. Here’s something as a tip… There’s a group in the mercantile district that talks more than they should, spilling scraps of news for anyone paying attention. Not Kararagi-related, but… apparently the royal camps are heading to Pleiades Tower. Their goal is to conquer it and ‘assist’ the victims of Lust and Gluttony.”
Halibel’s expression shifted, a hint of solemnity creeping into his golden eyes. “I know your past, Subaru… just thought you should know.”
Subaru froze, memories he had tried countless times to bury pressing against his mind. His grip tightened, knuckles whitening, a storm rising within him. Before it could overwhelm him, the faint shimmer of his spirits—Alcyone, Maia, Merope, and Taygete—swept around him, their presence calm and precise. They soothed his racing thoughts, grounding him with the quiet authority only they could command.
Subaru exhaled slowly, letting the tension drain. A thought formed in the back of his mind, a small, grateful promise. I really do owe them one.
On a lighter note, Halibel cut in, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Also… there’s a group of mercenaries heading into town soon. Should bring some good business. And a buddy of mine mentioned the Hoshin Company is making some odd moves right now… oh, and one more thing—”

He paused, letting the words hang just long enough to tease Subaru, then gave a small, knowing nod. “Keep your ears open, chef. That’s all you need for now.”

With a faint chuckle, Halibel rose from the bar, the lantern-light catching on his black fur and glinting golden kiseru. “Don’t work too hard,” he called over his shoulder, slipping out the door into the night, leaving Subaru in the warm glow of the Pleiades Kitchen, the smell of sizzling oil and spices still lingering in the air.

The bell above the door jingled softly, marking Halibel’s departure, and Subaru exhaled, hands on his hips, watching the street settle back into the quiet hum of evening.

With the restaurant now calm, Subaru returned to the final touches of his cleaning—wiping counters, sweeping the floor, and straightening chairs—until the Pleiades Kitchen gleamed under the lantern light. Satisfied, he slung his bag over his shoulder and set off down the street, the familiar rhythm of his footsteps echoing against the cobblestones.

Luckily, it was only about a thirty-minute walk to his home. The path took him past shuttered shops and dimly lit lanterns swaying in the gentle breeze. By the time he arrived, the small house came into view—modest, unassuming, but warm and homey in a way that made the world outside feel a little less chaotic.
Walking in, he set his bag on the couch and made his way to the bedroom, shedding the day’s grime as he ran a bath. The warm water washed away the lingering scents of oil and spice, leaving him feeling lighter, almost unburdened.
Just as he reached for the bedroom door, a voice—soft but unmistakable—halted him mid-step.

“Not so fast, chef…”

Subaru froze, his hand on the knob. Then he remembered.

“Yes… Zarestia?” he asked, eyes widening as the figure before him came fully into view.

She stood there, her milky-white hair catching the lantern light, kimono swaying with a breeze that seemed to follow her, sharp yellow eyes fixed on him with playful insistence.

“Where’s my food?” she demanded, crossing her long legs with an impatient tilt of her head.

Subaru blinked, caught between exasperation and awe. “You… you didn’t even wait?” he asked, stepping back slightly, still damp from his bath.

Zarestia’s aura filled the small house, her presence simultaneously elegant and intimidating. The air shifted with every subtle movement she made, hinting at the power coiled beneath her graceful form.

“It’s… in my bag on the couch,” Subaru said quickly, pointing toward the living room. He hoped—prayed, really—that he had remembered to pack it before leaving the restaurant.

Zarestia tilted her head, strands of milky-white hair sliding over her shoulder like spilled starlight. Her sharp eyes followed his gesture, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“You’d better not be lying to me, chef…” she said, her voice equal parts playful and dangerous, the faintest stir of wind curling at her feet.
Subaru swallowed and forced a shaky grin. “When have I ever lied to you? Go on—check for yourself.”
“What a handful you are, contractor,” she said over her shoulder, walking away with a sway that made the air itself seem alive.

Subaru blinked, staring after her for a moment, then let out a relieved sigh. Seeing his chance, he bolted for his bedroom, the exhaustion of the day catching up with him in full force.

He collapsed onto his bed, letting the soft sheets swallow him whole. The faint scents of the kitchen still clung to his hair and clothes, but it didn’t matter—he was finally home, finally allowed a moment of peace.

Taygete, Alcyone, Maia, and Merope hovered faintly around the edges of his room, invisible yet comforting—a quiet constellation of presence that wrapped the space in gentle reassurance. Subaru could feel their subtle motions: Taygete nudging a breeze across his face, Alcyone steadying the air with a faint shimmer, Maia tracing tiny patterns of warmth along the bed, and Merope pulsing softly near the window like a quiet guardian.

He closed his eyes, letting the rhythm of his heartbeat slow, and for the first time in hours, allowed himself to drift toward sleep. Their invisible touch eased the weight of his thoughts, and for the first time in a long while, he hoped the night would pass without the intrusion of nightmares.

Chapter Text

Morning came softly, sunlight spilling through the shutters of Subaru’s modest home. For once, he wasn’t jolted awake by nightmares or drenched in cold sweat—only the warm weight of a blanket and the faint hum of his spirits lingering close, like a quiet lullaby that never fully faded.

He stretched, groaning as his joints popped, eyelids heavy with the rare luxury of real rest.

Then a voice—bright, sharp, and impossible to ignore—slammed into his half-asleep brain.

“HUBBY!!!”

Even half-asleep, Subaru knew exactly what was coming next. He had just enough time to mutter a half-prayer—Please, not the ribs again…—before a blur of energy came crashing into him like a meteor.

With a startled yelp, Subaru found himself pinned to the mattress, the air knocked out of his lungs as a pair of warm arms wrapped him in an overly enthusiastic embrace.

“Morning, Subaru!” chirped the voice above him, sweet and mischievous all at once.

Blinking blearily, he finally focused on the culprit—his wife, Miyu. A pair of twitching feline ears peeked through her messy bed hair, her tail swishing lazily behind her as if it had a mind of its own. Bright eyes—far too awake for this hour—sparkled down at him with unabashed affection.

“Up, up, hubby! Can’t be lazing around when you’ve got a whole diner to run!” she teased, her grin wide enough to show the sharp little canines that reminded him she was more cat than human.

Subaru groaned dramatically beneath her weight, though the corners of his mouth betrayed him with a reluctant smile. “I was hoping for a gentle wake-up call. You know… sunlight, birdsong, maybe even breakfast in bed. Not… broken ribs.”

She only laughed, tightening her hug around him. “You’ll live. Besides, you look cuter when you’re complaining.”

Subaru groaned, heat rushing to his cheeks despite himself. “C-Cute, she says…!”

Miyu smirked, clearly pleased with the reaction. Her tail flicked lazily behind her as she leaned back just enough to catch his flustered expression. Job well done.

Then, with all the authority of a queen addressing her servant, she boldly declared, “Now then—how about my personal chef make me breakfast?”

Subaru groaned, tossing the blanket off. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

“Good morning, hubby~,” Miyu sang, ears flicking. “Now—pancakes. And don’t even think about escaping until I’m full.”

The word—escaping—made his breath hitch. It wasn’t the first time something simple had dragged him back—back to the dark, back to the chains, back to the voices that mocked him for something he wasn't. But it didn’t swallow him whole, not anymore. Four years had dulled the sharpest edges of the memory. He could feel the echo, the phantom sting, but he could also push through it.

Miyu’s smile faltered just slightly when she saw the flicker in his eyes. Without a word, she leaned in and pressed her forehead against his. “Hey. With me?” she whispered.

“…Yeah.” He breathed out, letting Alcyone’s warmth and Taygete’s faint breeze steady him. A small smile tugged at his lips. “Just… had a flash. Don’t worry, I’m still good for pancakes.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Miyu grinned, tail swishing. “Now get cooking, chef. Your queen demands it.”

Subaru chuckled, shaking his head as he stood. “Bossed around in my own home. I should’ve flipped a different coin.”

Together, they shuffled down the short hallway toward the kitchen. The wooden floor creaked under their steps, sunlight spilling across it in pale stripes. When they entered the dining room, Subaru froze.

Perched casually on the edge of the table, arms crossed and one leg dangling, was Zarestia—his wind spirit. Her sharp green eyes flicked immediately to him, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Well, well. Took you long enough,” she drawled, her voice like a breeze that carried both playfulness and bite. “I was beginning to think you’d waste the whole morning tangled in bed.”

Miyu puffed her cheeks, tail swishing harder. “Excuse you, I was giving him proper motivation to get up.”

Zarestia tilted her head, her silver hair catching the light. “Motivation, huh? Looked more like suffocation from where I was sitting.”

Subaru pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering, “And this is how my morning peace officially dies.”

“Pancakes will be out ASAP!” Subaru announced, forcing cheer into his voice as he rolled up his sleeves. He glanced toward the kitchen hearth and clapped his hands together. “Alcyone—mind giving me a steady flame?”

The fire spirit, no more than a faint emberlike glow hovering near the stove, flared obediently, a soft warmth filling the room as the flame sparked to life. Subaru gave a satisfied nod. “Perfect. Breakfast, engage.”

As he busied himself with mixing flour and eggs, his hands moved almost on autopilot, but a tiny shiver ran through his shoulders at the sound of the whisk striking the bowl—a sound that, just for a heartbeat, dragged him back. He blinked rapidly, forcing the muscles in his jaw to unclench, and shook it off. Four years. It’s just breakfast.

Behind him, Miyu slid into a chair with a playful huff, ears twitching, while Zarestia didn’t so much as budge from her perch on the table.

“So,” Miyu said sweetly, though her narrowed eyes betrayed the edge beneath her tone. “Exactly how long have you been spying on us this morning?”

“Spying?” Zarestia’s smirk widened. She twirled a strand of silver hair around her finger, utterly unbothered. “Please. If you’re loud enough to wake the birds outside, that’s hardly my fault.”

Miyu’s tail lashed once, sharp as a whip, but Subaru quickly cut in before the sparks could ignite. He paused for a split second, feeling the faint twist in his stomach, then spoke. “Ladies, ladies,” he said, whisk tapping against the bowl like a gavel. “Breakfast is a sacred time. Save the death match until after I’ve eaten.”

Zarestia arched a brow. “You assume you’ll survive your wife’s cooking demands long enough to eat.”

Subaru grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Lives longer, huh? Funny, I was about to say it’s only because I’m scared of what happens if I burn the pancakes.”

He leaned over the counter, wagging a finger at her. “Careful, or I might start experimenting with extra syrup… on you.”

Miyu’s ears twitched, and her tail flicked sharply. “Don’t you dare!” she snapped, though the corner of her mouth threatened a smile.

Subaru chuckled, clearly enjoying the rare morning sparring. “Ah, the perks of being your husband—endless entertainment before breakfast.”

After a few more rounds of playful banter—Zarestia teasing Miyu about her “tyrant tendencies” and Miyu firing back with mock indignation—Subaru finally set the pristine stack of pancakes on the table.

Steam curled lazily from the golden-brown layers, syrup glinting like liquid amber over the top. The sweet scent filled the room, momentarily softening the tension and teasing from earlier.

“Well,” Subaru said, wiping his hands on a towel, “breakfast is served. Try not to fight over the first bite—or blame me if it disappears too fast.”

Miyu’s ears perked, tail swishing in anticipation, while Zarestia leaned forward, green eyes gleaming. “Let’s see if your cooking is as good as your insults,” she said, reaching for a pancake with a playful smirk.

Subaru watched them, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. As they finished their meal, he washed the plates and started getting ready to open the restaurant.

“Well, sadly, I have to head out and open the restaurant,” he said, sighing as he grabbed his coat. “The bills won’t pay themselves. Miyu, make sure you get good sleep before your night shift at the hospital.”

Miyu leaned back in her chair, tail flicking lazily. “Or,” she said with a sly grin, “I could just win the lottery, and you’d never have to work a day in your life.”

Subaru raised an eyebrow, mock horror on his face. “Ah, so you’d trade my impeccable pancake skills for a jackpot, huh?”

“Absolutely,” Miyu replied, eyes sparkling. “But only if the pancakes are worth it.”

Zarestia, perched gracefully nearby, chuckled softly. “Night shift or lottery dreams… are you sure this is the one for you, contractor?”

Miyu straightened, ears twitching defensively. “Hey! Says the one freeloading—you don’t even need to eat, yet you’re an extra zero on our expenses!”

Subaru laughed, shaking his head. Truly, he was happy now. Glancing between Miyu and Zarestia, he felt a quiet swell of gratitude—these two, in their own ways, made the house feel like a home.

With a final glance at the two of them, he stepped out into the morning sunlight, leaving the cozy chaos of home behind for a little while—but carrying its warmth with him.

As he made his way to the restaurant, his mind drifted. Four years had passed since everything—since the darkness, the pain, the memories that once threatened to consume him. The weight of it still lingered at the edges of his thoughts, but now it was tempered by the life he’d built, by the people who made him feel alive again.

He thought of Miyu. She had become a regular long before the restaurant gained any popularity, always arriving right when he opened up shop, cheerful and insistent, offering help in ways he hadn’t thought he needed. Back then, he would have brushed her off, guarded and wary, yet her persistence had slowly broken through his walls. Even now, the memory made him smile—a quiet warmth spreading through him as he walked, sunlight spilling over the streets, carrying him forward into the day. He could almost hear Zarestia teasing him when he got home, and Ignis flickering nearby, Alcyone silently agreeing that he’d been completely outmatched by her dedication.

He thought back to the mess that was Zarestia when he first met her a year ago. Luckily, he had managed to fix that entire situation with some good timing and a bit of luck. That same line of thinking carried him to his stars—his spirits—who had saved him when he was rotting in that cell, truly his saving grace. 'speaking of spirits...'

Before he could spiral any further down memory lane, a cheerful voice cut through his reverie. “Subaru! Morning, man. You opening early again?”

He turned to see a fellow shop owner from a few streets over, balancing a tray of fresh bread. Subaru forced a smile, grateful for the interruption. “Yeah, someone’s gotta keep the caffeine flowing and the pancakes warm.”

The other man laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “I swear, you’re addicted to making other people happy. Or maybe it’s just your way of keeping busy.”

“Maybe a little of both,” Subaru admitted, shaking his head with a grin. “But it works—for me, anyway.”

Subaru waved goodbye to his fellow shop owner, the clatter of the morning streets fading behind him as he stepped into his own space. The familiar scent of wood, oil, and lingering spices greeted him like an old friend. Even after four years, the restaurant still felt like a sanctuary—a place he could carve out control, away from the shadows of his past.

He set his coat on the rack and ran a hand along the polished counter, letting the tactile comfort ground him. Alcyone flickered to life near the stove, her warm glow seeping into the room and into him, steadying his heartbeat. Taygete stirred the air around his shoulders, a soft breeze teasing his hair and carrying away some of the lingering tension, playful and light as ever. Merope hovered silently near the prep table, her cool, reflective presence like a gentle tide, reminding him to breathe and think clearly. Maia moved with quiet efficiency, brushing past him to adjust an ingredient or straighten a cutting board, grounded and practical, keeping the space orderly and safe.

They had all saved him once—when he was trapped, broken, rotting in that cell—anchors in a world that had tried to break him completely. Even now, their presence was a subtle but constant reassurance, a reminder that he wasn’t truly alone.

As he arranged ingredients and checked the inventory, his thoughts wandered. Four years ago, he had been a different person—scarred, wary, haunted by shadows that still lurked in quiet corners of his mind. But the small, steady presence of his spirits, and the unexpected kindness of people like Miyu, had slowly begun to patch the holes. Each bottle on the shelf, each spice jar, told a story of early mornings, trial and error, and moments of small triumph.

By the time the first customers began trickling in, the restaurant hummed with life. Plates clinked, orders were shouted, and the scent of breakfast filled the air. Subaru moved with practiced ease, guided subtly by Maia’s grounded presence, reminded of timing by Taygete’s playful nudges, comforted by Alcyone’s warmth, and kept calm by Merope’s quiet watchfulness.

And as the morning sun spilled through the windows, he allowed himself a small, fleeting smile, thinking, Four years. And I’m still standing.

Chapter Text

All the camps in the Royal Selection (except Priscilla’s) agreed to a cooperative expedition to the Pleiades Watchtower. After three failed attempts in the past, and with the wisemen finally agreeing to let Reinhard join, the group was formed. It consisted of Emilia and her spirit Beatrice, Garfiel, Otto, Julius, Anastasia, and Felix.

This time, failure was not an option.

To say the last three expeditions were an embarrassment isn’t far from the truth. Each time, they were met with puzzles that seemed almost otherworldly, and magibeasts that drained their resources dry.

Crusch’s condition was terrible—worse than terrible. All she could do was lie in bed, her days consumed by the endless agony of Lust's curse.

Felix was desperate to save his lady. Desperate enough to leave her side, even if it tore him apart, to stand with the expedition and fight for the chance to bring her relief.

Anastasia was desperate to repair her shattered Od. Julius wanted to reclaim his stolen name.

And the Emilia camp… they were desperate too. Desperate to prove themselves, desperate to protect what they’d built, desperate to reach the truth waiting at the Watchtower. Desperate to understand why everything felt so wrong.

Ever since the attack on Priestella, something had been off. To them, the world felt duller, thinner, as though a thread had been pulled from the weave. A laugh was missing. A presence they couldn’t quite name, yet always felt absent.

Meanwhile, the Royal Selection itself had stagnated. Wrath and Pride had been captured, Greed had fallen, and beyond that—nothing. No progress, no triumphs. Only silence, and the weight of all that was still unresolved.

But then Pride escaped. Vanished without a trace.

And the Witch Cult had been eerily silent ever since. No attacks. No proclamations. Nothing. The stillness spread like a sickness, leaving the masses uneasy, gnawed by a single question: what were they planning next?

Half a day into their journey, the expedition had already settled into its rhythm. Wagons creaked under supplies, boots crunched along the dirt road, and the forest canopy whispered with the wind. The mood was cautious, measured—every soul in the caravan knew what lay ahead was far more dangerous than the road beneath their feet.

Emilia rode near the front, Beatrice perched on her lap like a stubborn guardian, arms crossed and eyes sharp. Garfiel ranged to the side, never still, sniffing the air as though daring a fight to come to him. Otto sat hunched over a map, muttering logistics under his breath, while Julius walked with quiet grace, his eyes scanning for threats.

And in the rear, Anastasia’s carriage rolled smoothly along, Felix riding close by, expression tight with unspoken worry. Reinhard’s presence—calm, unwavering—was a silent reassurance that this time, at least, they would not be turned back so easily.

“What does the Gospel say, tssuuuu~~?” Roy murmured, glancing at his brother Lye, the other Archbishop of Gluttony.

Lye squinted at the worn pages. “It says… ‘Attack the candidates to… advance the plot?’”

Roy blinked. “…plot?”

The question hung in the air for only a moment before the scene cut to the caravan, bumping along the dusty road, the expedition pressing forward under the blazing sun. Patrasche at the rains making sure the carriage moved swifty

Reinhard’s eyes, sharp and unyielding even under the blazing sun, scanned the horizon. His Divine Protections hummed faintly, a subtle warning that something was off. He straightened, hand brushing the hilt of the Dragon Sword Reid, though he did not draw it for the sword would not let him.

“Everyone,” he called out, voice calm but carrying the authority of the Sword Saint. “Stay alert. Something is not right.”

The moment the words left Reinhard’s lips, the caravan lurched with tension. Even the earth dragons pulling the carriages stamped their claws uneasily, the weight of the miasma gnawing at their instincts.

“The Witch Cult—two Archbishops!” Reinhard’s voice rang out, sharp and undeniable. His usual calm carried an edge of urgency that made every heart present skip a beat.

Felix’s ears flattened, his tail swishing with dread. “Two Archbishops…? That’s bad news, nyan!” he hissed, already weaving healing mana into his hands just in case.

Otto’s grip tightened on the reins, his voice cracking as he blurted, “Two of them at once? H-how unlucky can we get?!”

Garfiel cracked his knuckles, a dangerous grin spreading across his face. “Tch. Who cares if it’s two, three, or a whole damn swarm? I’ll tear ‘em apart!”

Beatrice clutched Emilia’s sleeve, her tiny body tense, her voice sharp but steady. “Betty feels them too, I suppose. The stench of miasma this thick… they’re close.”

Anastasia’s carriage shuddered to a stop, her merchant’s mask unable to hide the flicker of fear in her eyes. “Archbishops, here of all places? This expedition’s barely started…”

Above them, the sky seemed darker, the blazing sun muted by the creeping fog of miasma. And then, from the ridge ahead, two figures emerged—distorted silhouettes carrying an aura that seemed to twist the air itself.

Reinhard stepped forward, the wind itself parting around him, and said the words no one wanted to hear but everyone needed:

“Gluttony.”

Roy’s mocking laugh slithered through the air. “Tssuuuu~ ah, what a beautif—”

He never finished.

Reinhard vanished from where he stood, the ground cracking faintly under the force of his step. In less than a blink, he was between the Archbishops. His hand lashed out once, then twice—two effortless, open-handed strikes faster than thought.

Silence followed.

The grins on Roy and Lye’s faces froze, their words cut short as their bodies staggered. A heartbeat later, their heads tumbled cleanly from their shoulders, as though the world itself had decreed their end. Reinhard hadn’t drawn Reid; he hadn’t needed to.

He exhaled once, steady, as though brushing away dust. His gaze swept back to the caravan.

The tension that had gripped the group broke all at once—shoulders sagging, lungs filling, a collective sigh of relief rippling through the caravan. Even the earth dragons seemed to ease, their heavy steps settling into rhythm again.

“I’ll admit it,” Felix spoke up, his usual lilt carrying a tired edge. “I’m glad Gluttony’s dead. But…” He glanced down, his ears drooping slightly. “…I was hoping it’d be Pride among ‘em.”

At that, silence returned, heavier this time. The name alone was enough to drag the air down.

Pride—the Archbishop no one could quite understand. An enigma. He had tried to infiltrate his way into Emilia’s camp, wearing the mask of her knight, trying to claim her victories as if they were his own. When he escaped his cell, the outrage had been immediate and absolute. The people demanded answers.

The only trace he left behind was a crude scrawl on the wall:

“Subaru was here.”

…..

Subaru Natsuki?

The name struck like thunder, though no one spoke it aloud. Yet the sound of it rang in their minds, and with it came the shattering.

Memories—raw, unrelenting—poured in. His voice, his reckless grin, his stubborn promises. A hand reaching out to pull them up when they had fallen. His sacrifices, his pain, his defiance.

Emilia’s breath hitched. Beatrice’s small hands trembled against her dress. Otto staggered, as if his very body had been yanked backward through time. Garfiel’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth groaned.

For four years, there had been a hole in their lives they couldn’t name, a silence they could never fill. And now, all at once, they knew what was missing.

The forgotten had returned.

Reinhard’s eyes flickered, the faintest tremor passing through him before the Divine Protections smothered it. He could not weep, could not waver, could not even allow his voice to crack. His heart ached, yet the blessings wrapped chains around every flicker of grief.

Ah, he thought, bitterly. I’m a monster until the end.

The Sword Saint, revered as flawless, stood frozen in silence while those around him reeled with raw, overwhelming remembrance. They could cry, shake, curse the heavens—he could do none of it. All he could do was stand there, cold and unyielding, as if Subaru’s return had stirred nothing in him at all.

And perhaps, he thought, that was the cruelest wound of all.

Beatrice’s tiny fists clenched, her eyes welling with tears. She delved inward, searching for the old contract that had once bound her so faithfully to Subaru—only to find emptiness. Her voice, sharp and bitter, broke the still air.

“What a useless spirit you are, I suppose,” she muttered, the words tasting of both grief and frustration.

Emilia’s lips trembled as memories of Subaru’s smile, so full of warmth and mischief, flickered through her mind. The words he had once spoken so casually—words that had a way of settling fears and lifting spirits—echoed painfully now in their absence.

She realized, with a quiet ache, why the world felt so muted, so heavy, whenever he was gone. Every laugh that once seemed bright now carried a shadow, every success dulled by the memory of him standing beside her. The joy he had brought into her life was a light she had taken for granted—until it was gone.

Julius’s jaw clenched, the memory twisting in his mind like a knife. He saw Subaru in that cell—bruised, bloodied, yet he rembered what subaru was when Julius’s own name had been devoured, a lifeline in the darkness. And how had he repaid that kindness? By having a part, however indirect, in Subaru’s torment. The thought burned him with guilt and rage, a bitter reminder of the cruel ironies that fate often dealt.

Felix’s shoulders slumped, his ears drooping as shame weighed him down like a stone. He had betrayed everything he had sworn to uphold as a healer, letting the name of duty and the trust of Crusch twist him into an instrument of suffering against a friend. The realization clawed at him, each heartbeat echoing his own despicable failure. He had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed, and the bitter taste of guilt left him hollow, broken in a way no spell or healing could mend.

Otto’s eyes went wide, a painful knot forming in his chest as memories of their friend surged unbidden—laughter shared, small acts of kindness, the unwavering loyalty that had once bound them together. Garfield's jaw clenched, chest tight, as the weight of their shared past pressed down on him. Each memory was a shard of warmth now edged with sorrow, a reminder of what they had lost and the friend who had suffered while they had been powerless to stop it. The bond they had once taken for granted now burned sharply, driving home the cruelty of fate and the cost of their failure.

"Felix" Emila said with an cold glare you were in charge of Subaru correct?

Felix flinched at the accusation, ears flattening as Emilia’s piercing gaze bore into him. His voice came out small, strained, weighted with shame.

"Y-yes…" he admitted, barely above a whisper, the confession tasting bitter on his tongue. "I… I was supposed to keep him safe… but I failed. I…"

His words faltered, choked by the weight of guilt, as the room seemed to close in on him, every heartbeat a reminder of the trust he had shattered.

Felix’s ears twitched nervously, his eyes darting around as the crushing weight of guilt threatened to swallow him whole. “I—I didn’t do it alone!” he stammered, his voice rising. “It was… it was all of you! You turned him in, too! This… this is everyone’s fault!”

His words sparked a tense ripple through the group. Eyes met eyes, and thair e thickened with unspoken accusations. The fragile balance of shame and grief shattered, and the blame game began. Each heart sought to deflect, each mind scrambled for justification, as the memory of what had been done to Subaru ignited a storm of finger-pointing and recrimination.

…

Far away, within the echoing halls of the Roswaal mansion, the atmosphere was no less suffocating.

And in his study, Roswaal L. Mathers smiled faintly, mismatched eyes glinting in the candlelight. He traced a finger across the edge of a worn book, the Gospel resting open beside him.

For four years, Roswaal had been gnawing at the edges of fate. Every plan he wove unraveled too soon. Every move on the board felt clumsy, forced. He had all the pieces—knights, bishops, rooks—but the queen was gone, the irreplaceable piece, the one who turned chaos into checkmate.

And then, like lightning splitting the night sky, the name surged back into him.

“...Subaru Natsuki.”

The Gospel slipped from his fingers, landing open on the desk. Roswaal swayed, mismatched eyes wide, his breath coming ragged. His painted smile cracked into something raw, unguarded.

“Four years—four years I wasted, fumbling in the dark… and it was him. Always him. My queen. My irreplaceable piece.” His voice trembled, breaking into a fevered laugh. “Ahh, how deliciously cruel! To lose sight of the one who carried the game itself!”

His laughter echoed through the study, jagged and unrestrained. He pressed a trembling hand against his face, half-mad with relief and despair. “He’s back… ohhh, he’s back. The board is mine again.”

At the doorway, Ram froze. She had only come to deliver tea, but the words struck her sharper than any blade. Subaru. She remembered him now—every memory rushing back, every moment of warmth, every irritation, every sacrifice.

Her crimson eyes widened. The teacup rattled in her grip, spilling hot liquid down her fingers, but she barely felt it.

“Barusu…” she whispered, the name foreign on her tongue yet achingly familiar.

Roswaal’s laughter carried on, manic and victorious, but Ram heard none of it. Her heart hammered, trembling as the realization consumed her. Subaru was back. The one they had all forgotten… had returned.

Chapter Text

The accusations reached a fever pitch, the caravan trembling beneath the weight of shouted words and bitter glares. Felix’s voice cracked as he lashed out, ears flat, tail bristling.

“You think I’m the only one guilty? I—” He froze, too late to catch himself, eyes darting nervously. “I… I just followed orders! We all turned him in, we all watched it happen! Don’t you dare put it all on me!”

Silence crashed down like a hammer. Otto frowned, suspicion flickering in his eyes. Garfiel’s jaw tightened—he’d caught the slip, but couldn’t yet name it.

Before the storm could rise again, Reinhard’s voice cut through—calm, steady, commanding.

“Enough.” His gaze swept across them, unyielding. “Whatever sins were made, whatever blame there is to bear… it will not bring him back. What matters now is finding where Subaru is. Nothing else.”

The air stayed brittle with unspoken truths, but their focus shifted—uneasy, fragile, shared. Subaru was out there. Suffering. And for all their failures, they would not abandon him again.

Anastasia adjusted her scarf, breaking the silence that had settled like ash. “...There might be a place to start.”

The others turned toward her.

“There’s a place in Banan, Kararagi,” she said slowly, eyes narrowing in thought. “A restaurant my company looked into a while back. We were considering a sponsorship — the place had an odd name. Pleiades Kitchen. Supposedly one of the most talked-about spots in the district. Always full. Travelers, mercenaries, even League officials.”

She paused, her voice softening. “But it wasn’t just the food that caught my attention. It was the owner. A young man — foreign, polite, but strange. Black hair. Sharp tongue. Always smiling, even when it didn’t reach his eyes. And sometimes, he used terms that sounded... otherworldly.”

Her gaze flicked briefly toward Emilia. “Sounded familiar, doesn’t it?”

The air thickened, quiet enough to hear the wheels creak beneath the caravan.

“He… calls himself Alcor,” Anastasia continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “Everything fits too neatly to ignore.”

A collective intake of breath swept through the caravan. Emilia’s hand tightened around the reins, eyes wide as the pieces clicked together.

“Subaru…” Julius murmured, disbelief cracking his usually composed voice. “You mean… he’s alive?”

Felix’s ears twitched nervously, tail flicking against the floor. “Alive… and running a restaurant?” His voice held awe, but beneath it, a flicker of guilt burned. The memory of what he had done to Subaru clawed at him sharper now that hope had returned. He swallowed hard, trying to regain composure. “I… I know it’s dangerous, but maybe we should finish the expedition first. The Watchtower… it’s important. If we don’t secure it, more could suffer—”

“No,” Emilia cut him off, her voice firm, cold as steel. “We aren’t leaving him. Not again.”

Otto’s eyes narrowed. “Everything else can wait. We’ve failed once; we won’t do it twice.”

Garfiel’s fists clenched on the bench, knuckles white. “He’s out there… suffering. And all this while, he suffered because of us!”

Felix’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again, searching for words to sway them. They can’t know… not yet… A cold knot of panic twisted in his stomach. But the resolve in the others’ eyes—their unity—was unshakable. They would stop at nothing to get him back.

Reinhard’s voice cut through the tension, calm but firm. “There’s a problem. The Royal Selection candidates cannot leave Lugnica while it’s ongoing. I, too, am restricted by the Reinhard Law. That means… you’ll face greater difficulty finding him.”

Felix’s ears twitched, heart hammering. And if they find out what I did…

The weight of Reinhard’s words settled over the group, yet it did nothing to dull their resolve. If anything, it honed it to a blade’s edge. Subaru’s location would not remain hidden for long.

“We should head back to Roswaal’s mansion,” Emilia said firmly, her gaze sweeping over the others. “We’ll regroup there—and decide who’s going to bring him home.”

~Cut to Subarus Dinner~

The lunch rush was in full swing. Steam rose in thick clouds from the stoves, filling the air with the scent of seared meat, sharp herbs, and sizzling oil. Voices overlapped—laughter, arguments, clinking dishes—all blending into the steady heartbeat of the Pleiades Kitchen.

“Order up! Double Victory Bowl with spice, and don’t cry to me when your tongue falls off!” Subaru shouted over the chaos, tossing a plate onto the counter with theatrical flair. The crowd laughed, some jeering playfully, others already too busy devouring their meals to care.

Alcyone steadied the flames with invisible precision. Maia kept the plates spotless. Taygete nudged a cooling breeze across the room, guiding the scent of grilled peppers toward the waiting tables. To any normal customer, it was just good cooking. To Subaru, it was the symphony of his spirits—his family.
He wiped the sweat from his brow, flashing that trademark grin. “Alright, folks, next round! Who’s hungry enough to regret it later?”

The crowd erupted in laughter, the Pleiades Kitchen buzzing with warmth and noise once more. For a while, it was enough—enough to drown out the ghosts of memory, guilt, and everything he refused to name.

But when the laughter dipped, when the chatter softened and the sizzling oil was the only sound left, the silence pressed in. Subaru felt it—an ache under his ribs, a tension that wouldn’t ease no matter how wide he smiled.

Something didn’t feel right.

He glanced toward the door, the windows, the street beyond. The day looked normal—sunlight spilling through the shutters, wind brushing the hanging signs outside—but his gut twisted anyway.

Knowing his luck, something was bound to disturb the peace he’d worked so hard to build.

And right on cue—because of course it was—Od Lagna's hateful ass heard him think it. The door slammed open with a bang that rattled the plates on the counter.

A breathless messenger stumbled inside, eyes wild, voice cracking as he shouted, “Breaking news! Gluttony’s been killed!”

The room fell silent. Utensils froze midair. The only sound was the faint hiss of oil on the stove.

Subaru blinked once, twice—his grin faltering for the first time all day.

“…what?”

The room went still. Even the sizzle of the grill seemed to fade.

Subaru blinked, forcing a laugh that didn’t quite land. “That so? Guess someone finally skipped dessert, huh?” he said, trying for casual. But no one laughed this time.

The man stumbled closer, voice trembling with excitement. “They say it happened out west—near the Pleiades Watchtower! A combined royal expedition finally did it. Emilia’s people, Anastasia’s too. Even the Sword Saint was there!”

Something inside Subaru went cold.

The words shouldn’t have meant anything. Shouldn’t have felt like a blade pressed to his chest. But they did.

He turned back to the stove, though the fire had gone out. His reflection in the metal hood looked pale, haunted.

The messenger kept rambling—about how the Witch Cult’s grip was breaking, how this was a new dawn for the world free from the Cult. Subaru barely heard any of it. His thoughts were miles away.

If Gluttony was gone… then so was the one link to his lost name.

And that meant—someone out there had changed everything.

The room buzzed with chatter again, but Subaru barely heard it. His mind was a storm.

He forced a smile, clapped his hands together. “Alright, folks! That’s enough excitement for one afternoon. We’re closing up early—half off for the trouble!”

A few groans, a few laughs. Coins clinked on tables, chairs scraped against the floor. He waved and joked his way through it like always, but his smile never touched his eyes.

By the time the last patron left, silence filled the diner. Only the ticking of the clock on the wall and the faint hiss of the cooling grill remained.

Subaru leaned against the counter, hands trembling slightly.
“Gluttony’s dead, huh?” he muttered. “Then why the hell does it feel like I’m next?”

He rubbed his face, trying to shake it off, but the unease clung like grease. The peace he’d fought for—the quiet days, the laughter, the sense of safety—it all suddenly felt paper thin.

The bell above the door jingled.

He sighed. “Sorry, we’re closed—”

“Then you better open back up,” a familiar drawl cut in.

Subaru froze. Slowly, he turned toward the doorway.

Halibel stood there, arms crossed, eyes sharp beneath the lazy grin he always wore. The scent of smoke and sand clung to him—like someone who’d walked through a storm and hadn’t decided if he survived it yet.

“Didn’t figure you for the type to run from good news,” Halibel said.

Subaru’s mouth went dry. “Depends on what kind of ‘good news’ we’re talking about.”

Halibel stepped closer, the easy grin fading. “The kind that makes old ghosts wake up.”

He chuckled low, the sound somewhere between amusement and pity. “Hero of Pristella, Knight of the Half-Elf, the Witch Cult’s walking nightmare…” His grin widened, all teeth now. “The Lolimancer, wasn’t it?”

Subaru immediately turned beet red. “H-Hey! That name was never official!” He slammed a hand on the counter, face burning.

“You better not tell Miyu or Zarestia!” Subaru blurted, voice cracking slightly as he pointed an accusing finger, cheeks burning.

Halibel laughed, the sound sharp and easy. “Ha! As if your fame wouldn’t be known already. Word about the ‘Lolimancer’ made its rounds long before you opened this little restaurant.”

Subaru froze, horrified. “Y—you’re kidding.”

Halibel tilted his head, smirk widening. “Relax. Miyu might’ve heard, but Zarestia? Still blissfully unaware. For now.”

Subaru groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Please no… I won’t ever hear the end of this. She’ll make it my nickname.”

“Could be worse,” Halibel mused, pretending to think. “She could ask for a reenactment.”

Subaru’s head snapped up, eyes wide in horror. “You’re evil.”

“Occupational hazard,” Halibel said lightly, but the grin faded as his gaze drifted toward the window. “Jokes aside… we’ve got a problem, Subaru.”

Subaru straightened, the tension in his shoulders returning. “What kind of problem?”

Halibel’s tail flicked once, slow and deliberate. “Gluttony’s power isn’t an easy one to untangle. When he died, the pieces he stole started slipping back into place. People who were close to you—really close—will start remembering. Faces, names, moments. It’s already happening.”

Subaru’s throat tightened. “And everyone else?”

“For strangers? Acquaintances? It’ll take longer,” Halibel said, voice low. “Some might never remember at all. But using that alias—‘Alcor’—that’s bought you time. As long as they know you by that name, their memories stay tangled. Keeps the world from catching up too fast.”

Halibel exhaled through his nose, a thin plume of smoke curling from his kiseru. “Even with my information network, that’s all I could really figure out, sadly,” he said, tone edged with frustration. “Gluttony’s curse doesn’t just fade—it unravels. And no one’s ever been around long enough to see what happens when it’s gone completely.”

Subaru let out a humorless laugh. “Great. So I’m back to being the world’s favorite mystery meat.”

Halibel’s ear twitched, but he didn’t smile. “You joke, but this is the kind of storm that gets people killed if they stand still too long.”

He turned, adjusting his coat as he made for the door. The clack of his claws against the floor was steady, deliberate.

“I’ll dig up what I can—see who’s sniffing around and what they actually know,” he said over his shoulder. “If anything changes, you’ll be the first to hear it.”

He paused at the doorway, glancing back with a faint, wry grin. “And hey… if you ever need to talk, just let me know. You’ve earned at least one friend who won’t bite.”

With that, he stepped out into the sunlight, leaving Subaru standing alone in the quiet hum of his restaurant, the smell of oil and spice still thick in the air.

Subaru let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Whelp… I might as well close up shop. What do you think, my stars?”

The faint, shimmering presences of Taygete, Alcyone, Maia, and Merope pulsed softly around him, invisible yet undeniably present. The air seemed to hum with their quiet agreement—or maybe their subtle protest.

The kitchen, warm and alive just moments ago, now felt still, waiting, like the calm before the storm.

Subaru’s thoughts churned like a tempest. Memories of his old camp surged forward—the laughter, the camaraderie, the small victories they’d shared. And then, like shadows over sunlight, the betrayals and abandonment cut through: the pain of being left behind, the sting of those he had trusted turning against him. Every smile, every shared joke, was now tinged with a bitter aftertaste, a reminder of what had been lost and what could so easily be taken again.

He had truly been happy these past years, and a pang of guilt pricked at him. Was it wrong for his happiness to last? After all he’d endured—after all the suffering, the betrayals, the sacrifices—did he not deserve even these fleeting moments of peace, these simple joys he’d clawed back for himself?

The question lingered in the quiet kitchen, unanswered, as if the walls themselves held their breath.

But then he heard the answer.

The bell above the door chimed—a soft, familiar sound that somehow struck him harder than any alarm. Subaru’s head snapped up, the weight in his chest tightening.

And there she was.

Miyu stepped through the doorway, sunlight catching in her hair as the door swung shut behind her. Her eyes swept the room, landing on him with a mix of surprise and something unreadable—concern, maybe. Or suspicion.

Subaru straightened instinctively, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Miyu… hey. You’re, uh—early for lunch?”

"Subaru we need to talk"

The fake smile faltered instantly. Subaru froze, mid-step, the words landing like a knife to the gut.

That tone—steady, clipped, and deadly serious—wasn’t one Miyu used lightly.

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to buy time he didn’t have. “That’s… never a good way to start a conversation,” he muttered, forcing a weak laugh. “Should I be worried, or are we skipping straight to panic?”

Miyu didn’t answer. She just met his eyes—steady, calm, unblinking.

Yeah. He should definitely be worried.

"Your name has finally been returned"

Subaru’s eyes widened, a spasm of panic flickering across his face. “W-what?!”

Miyu’s gaze didn’t waver. “How come you never mentioned you were THE Lolimancer?”

Subaru’s face turned a deeper shade of red, heat creeping up his neck. He stammered, words tumbling out in a flustered jumble. “I-I… that was… uh… it’s not… I mean… Miyu!”

Miyu’s laughter rang out, sharp and bright, filling the quiet restaurant. “Oh my gods, Subaru! You really thought you could hide that from me?”

He cringed, burying his face in his hands. “I—It’s not what it sounds like! I didn’t—Miyu, please, don’t—”

But she only laughed harder, shaking her head. “Oh, I knew there was something… I just didn’t expect this!”

The tension in the kitchen hung like a drawn bowstring, and Subaru could feel the heat of embarrassment radiating from every pore.

He thought, 'Whoever gave me that title has to be a complete asshole.' The words, unspoken, burned in his mind as his face flushed hotter, the absurdity of it all clashing with the reality of Miyu’s amusement.

Subaru nearly choked on his own breath, the words slamming into him harder than a punch. “W-WHA—Miyu!” His voice cracked as his arms flailed, like he was physically trying to swat the words out of the air.

His face went scarlet all the way to his ears. “D-Don’t just say stuff like that! That was—That’s—It’s complicated!”

Miyu’s grin widened, leaning casually against the counter. “Ohhh? Complicated, huh? You’re turning redder than an appa, my dear Lolimancer~.”

Subaru buried his face in his hands with a groan. “I’m never living this down…”

Miyu leaned on the counter, her smile downright wicked. “Definitely not, hubby~~~”

He froze, peeking at her through his fingers. “...Hubby? Really?”

She tilted her head, eyes soft but teasing. “Well, I remember you — Knight of the Half-Elf, madly in love with her, everyone swooning over the heroic ‘Lolimancer.’ Sounds exactly like my husband, doesn’t it?”

His face turned an even deeper shade of red. “It sounds like whoever made up that title should be launched into the sun!”

Miyu giggled, but there was warmth behind it now. She reached out, brushing her fingers over his knuckles. “You’re still the same dork I married, Subaru. Titles or no titles.”

He dropped his hands at that, meeting her gaze. “…You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Of course,” she said softly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not worried. Gluttony’s death… it’s already stirring up trouble. And you’re right in the middle of it again, aren’t you?”

Chapter Text

He dropped his hands at that, meeting her gaze. “…You’re enjoying this way too much.” “Of course,” she said softly.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not worried. Gluttony’s death… it’s already stirring up trouble. And you’re right in the middle of it again, aren’t you?”

Subaru gave a short, humorless laugh. “Lady Luck seems to not like me very much.”

Miyu stepped closer, her expression softening as she rested a hand against his chest. “That’s okay,” she said with a small smile, eyes glinting with warmth. “The only lady you’ll ever need is standing right here.”

For the first time that day, Subaru felt the tension in his shoulders ease—just a little. The chaos of the world outside faded, leaving only the quiet hum of the restaurant and the woman in front of him.

“Guess I can live with those odds,” he murmured.

“You better!” Miyu shot back, crossing her arms with a mock glare. “I’m not letting my man go around looking at hussies.”

Subaru blinked, halfway between laughing and choking. “H–Hussies?! Where did that even—Miyu!”

She smirked, poking his chest. “You heard me. My husband’s too handsome for his own good. Can’t have you getting tempted by some doe-eyed waitress or passing noblewoman.”

Subaru groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You make it sound like I’m the problem!”

Miyu tilted her head, grin widening. “You usually are, dear.”

For a moment, the tension lifted completely—just warmth, teasing, and the faint scent of lunch still hanging in the air. But beneath the banter, a flicker of unease lingered in Miyu’s eyes. She knew peace like this never lasted long for him.

She knew his story—and the weight he carried. The scars no one else could see, the memories he never spoke of. Even when he smiled, she could feel it—the quiet fear that everything he had now could vanish, just like before.

She also knew how easily others were drawn to him—his kindness, his stubborn heart, the way he always tried to save everyone but himself. But they didn’t know him like she did. They couldn’t. Because no matter how many eyes turned his way, he always came home to her. And that was all either of them would ever need.

Subaru’s lips curved into a sheepish grin, heat creeping up his neck. “Huh… I guess I’m a lucky guy then, aren’t I?”

Miyu smirked, stepping closer. “Lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it. Just remember… you only get one, and that’s me.”

He chuckled softly, reaching for her hand. “Yeah… only you.”

Far away, a certain half-elf paused, her instincts prickling. Something was wrong—she could feel it in her bones.

“Subaru… I’ll find you soon,” she whispered to herself, determination hardening her voice. “You won’t have to suffer much longer. And… I’ll tell you how I feel.”

The wind caught her words and carried them away into the dusk. Behind her, the others trudged on in silence, each lost in thought. The road to the Roswaal Mansion felt longer than ever.

No one spoke, but the air between them was heavy. Otto’s usual chatter had gone quiet, replaced by a furrowed brow and a distant stare. Garfield kicked at the dirt, jaw tight, as if angry at the ground itself. Even Julius’s calm demeanor had cracked—his gaze lingered on the horizon, his hands clenched just a bit too tightly.

Beatrice… was distraught, to say the least. Her small hands were buried in the folds of her dress, eyes rimmed red. She hadn’t spoken since they’d heard the news.

Felix walked a few paces behind, tail low, guilt clinging to him like a shadow. Reinhard, silent at the front, looked every bit the knight bound by duty—yet the faintest flicker of frustration crossed his features, as much as the divine protections would allow.

Anastasia trailed near the rear, her expression unreadable. She’d said little since their last discussion—too little, perhaps. There were things she hadn’t mentioned about that restaurant, about “Alcor.” About the woman who was beside him. But until she was certain, she’d keep it to herself. The others didn’t need every detail just yet.

When the gates of the Roswaal estate finally came into view, a quiet sigh passed through the group. It was time.

They would rest, gather themselves, and decide who among them would go to find him.

No matter what it cost.

The heavy iron gates creaked open, and the Roswaal estate came into view—unchanged, pristine, and yet colder than memory. The gardens were too still. The windows reflected only the gray light of evening.

As they crossed the courtyard, the front doors opened with their familiar groan.

Ram stood at the threshold, posture straight as ever. Her face was calm—too calm—but her eyes moved quickly over the group, searching, hoping against all odds to see a certain fool among them.

“Welcome back to the manor,” she said evenly.

Emilia stepped forward, her voice warm but heavy with exhaustion. “It’s good to see you again, Ram.”

Ram inclined her head slightly. “Likewise, Lady Emilia. Though… I take it Barusu isn’t with you.”

Silence fell like a shroud. No one dared meet her gaze. Beatrice’s small hands trembled, and even Otto looked ready to speak before swallowing his words.

Ram’s sigh was soft—barely audible, but full of something between disappointment and quiet fear. Then, after a beat, she straightened and said, “There’s something you should know.”

Everyone looked up.

“It happened shortly before you arrived,” she continued, her tone sharper now, controlled but quivering at the edges. “Rem… has awakened.”

The words hit like a thunderclap. Emilia froze, eyes wide. Otto blinked rapidly, as if unsure he’d heard right.

Ram went on, eyes downcast. “She hasn’t spoken much—still weak, still… confused. But the first thing she asked was if Subaru was safe.”

Her voice faltered for a heartbeat. “I didn’t have an answer for her.”

She paused then, her usual composure flickering. “I don’t know the full story—only that something happened.”

Her gaze sharpened, sweeping across the group. “Please, fill me in. You were there when it happened, weren’t you?” Her tone was calm, but there was a dangerous edge beneath it—one that made even Garfield hesitate.

Reinhard, ever the voice of reason, stepped forward. “Let’s talk about it inside,” he said gently, his expression composed but firm. “This isn’t a conversation for the doorstep. And… you should call Rem. She deserves to hear it too.”

For a moment, Ram’s eyes flickered—something fragile beneath the practiced mask. Then she gave a short nod. “Very well. But if any of you hold back, I’ll know.”

The group followed Ram into the grand hall, their footsteps echoing softly against the marble floor. The once-familiar warmth of the mansion felt muted—like a memory dulled by time. Dust lingered faintly in the air, catching the light from the tall windows.

Ram led them toward the sitting room, her pace brisk, movements precise as ever. She didn’t look back, but everyone could feel the tension radiating off her in waves.

Emilia sat near the fireplace, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Beatrice settled beside her, eyes glimmering faintly but unfocused—lost somewhere between hope and dread. Otto hovered awkwardly near the door, exchanging a worried glance with Garfiel, who crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, jaw clenched.

Felix perched on the arm of a chair, tail flicking nervously, while Julius remained standing, his posture impeccable but his gaze heavy with guilt. Reinhard stood beside him, the steady anchor in the room, though even he couldn’t hide the weariness in his eyes.

Ram returned a moment later with a tea tray, setting it down with her usual precision, though her movements lacked their usual grace. “She’ll be here shortly,” she said quietly. “She’s… still unsteady on her feet.”

A quiet settled over them again—thick, uneasy. The fire popped once, the sound sharp in the silence.

Emilia broke it first. “Ram,” she said softly, “before she comes… can you tell us how she’s been? Really?”

Ram hesitated, eyes flicking toward the door. “Restless,” she admitted.

The words hung in the air, heavy and aching.

And then—from the hallway—came the faint sound of footsteps. Slow, careful, and hesitant.

Rem stepped into the room, the soft rustle of her dress the only sound as every head turned toward her. Her face was pale, her blue eyes still carrying that same gentle light—untouched by the years that had passed. Time had not dared touch her; Gluttony’s curse had preserved her exactly as she’d been the day she fell.

But the look in those eyes—hopeful, searching—made the air grow heavy.

Her gaze swept the room, lingering briefly on each familiar face: Emilia, Beatrice, Ram… and then moving past them, searching for one face in particular.

Her hands trembled slightly as she took another step forward. “…Subaru?”

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Her voice cracked, the faintest tremor breaking through her composure. “He’s… he’s here, right? I—I heard his name. That he—he saved everyone again.” She forced a small, hopeful smile. “So he must be—he must be—”

Ram’s expression softened, but she didn’t move.

It was Emilia who finally stood, her throat tight as she whispered, “Rem… please, sit down. There’s something we need to tell you.”

Rem froze where she stood, the hope in her eyes flickering like a candle in the wind. “…Tell me what?”

The words tore out of her—raw, desperate, trembling. “What happened to my hero?!”

The sound of it cut through the air like a blade. Beatrice flinched. Otto looked away. Even Garfield, usually brash and loud, couldn’t bring himself to speak.

Ram’s mask of composure cracked, if only for a heartbeat.

Emilia swallowed hard, her voice breaking as she stepped closer. “Rem… Subaru—he’s alive. But…” She hesitated, the weight of truth pressing down on her chest. “He’s not here. He’s far away, somewhere none of us could reach in time.”

Rem’s breath hitched. “Alive…? Then why—why isn’t he—?”

Reinhard lowered his head, his tone solemn. “During the battle in Pristella… the Archbishop of Gluttony devoured Subaru’s name—and his very existence. To the world, he ceased to be.”

Afterwards, he came looking for us. When he found us, Lady Beatrice immediately noticed the overwhelming miasma surrounding him and accused him of being an Archbishop. Garfield acted swiftly, bringing him down, and he was arrested—accused of being the Archbishop of Pride.

Rem’s breath hitched. She knew all too well what had happened to Witch Cultists in prison… she could only hope that Subaru had been spared such a fate.

A couple of months passed in confinement. Then, he escaped. Not a single person was harmed during his escape—but it wasn’t until later that we realized the truth: he had fled to Kararagi, and had been living there for the past four years.

Four years… she had been asleep for that long! All the moments she had missed with Subaru—every smile, every shared struggle, every quiet word of comfort—lost to the passage of time. Her chest tightened, and a bitter mix of relief and grief surged through her.

“Wha…when he was in prison… nothing bad happened, right?” she asked, voice trembling.

Felix froze. His ears drooped, tail curling around his legs. The weight of the past months pressed down on him like a boulder. Subaru had been placed under his care, and he knew—he knew—what he had done to him.

Felix’s ears twitched nervously, tail flicking, as he stammered, “I—I was only following orders… I was told to… interrogate Subaru. We never went any further than that. I swear.”

The room went deathly quiet. Felix’s words hung in the air like smoke.

Otto’s eyes narrowed, jaw tight. “Never went any further? Is that supposed to make us feel better, Felix?!”

Garfield's fists clenched, knuckles white. “You had him under your care! And you did… what exactly?!”

Julius’s normally calm expression cracked. “This is no time for half-truths or excuses! Lives were at stake!”

Even Anastasia, usually measured and composed, let her eyes blaze. “You’re supposed to protect him, Felix. Not… this!”

Beatrice, small but sharp as ever, jabbed a tiny finger at him. “Betty feels it too! Betrayal isn’t something that just disappears!”

Felix’s ears flattened completely, tail between his legs. Sweat prickled at his brow. The weight of their collective stares pressed down on him, each one a silent accusation sharper than any blade.

Reinhard, silent but imposing at the front, let the tension settle without a word—but the subtle hum of divine protection made it clear: there would be no lies here.

Felix’s voice dropped to a whisper, trembling. “I… I tortured Subaru Natsuki… under the impression that he was Pride.”

The room froze. Every eye locked onto him, disbelief and fury radiating from the group like heat from a forge.

Otto’s face went pale, fingers gripping the reins of his composure. “You… what?!”

Garfiel’s jaw tightened until it ached. “You tortured him?!” His voice was low, dangerous—like a predator ready to strike.

Julius’s hands clenched, knuckles white. “Felix… do you understand the weight of what you’ve just said?!”

Anastasia’s normally poised expression faltered, her eyes sharp and cold. “He trusted you… and you… did this?!”

Beatrice, voice sharp and accusing, added, “Betty… Betty can’t even—how could you?”

Felix sank to his knees, ears flat, tail tucked tight against his legs. Sweat beaded on his brow, chest heaving. “I… I thought I was doing the right thing… I thought he was a cultist.”

Before Felix could say another word, a Morningstar hurtled toward him—only to be stopped in midair by Reinhard’s outstretched hand. The force of his Divine Protection crackled faintly, holding the weapon frozen.

“How dare you touch my hero!” Rem roared, her oni horn peeking through her hair as she stepped forward, eyes blazing with fury.

Beatrice’s small frame tensed, and with a sharp motion, she summoned a cluster of glimmering Yin Crystals, aiming them directly at Felix. “Betty won’t forgive this!” she spat, her tiny voice carrying more weight than expected.

Emilia stood a few paces away, silent. Her hands clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white, and with a subtle motion, the air around her grew colder. Frost crept along the edges of the floor, the temperature dropping several degrees as her magic whispered through the room. The very air seemed to press down on Felix, chilling him to the bone.

Felix, still kneeling, ears pinned back and tail trembling, shivered violently. “I… I didn’t… I swear… I only—”

Rem’s glare and Beatrice’s poised attack, combined with the creeping chill and Emilia’s unyielding stare, left him utterly paralyzed. Every instinct screamed that no excuse would suffice.

Before the tension could escalate any further, Reinhard stepped forward, his presence immediately commanding attention. The faint hum of his Divine Protection seemed to push back the charged air, creating a calm—but unyielding—barrier around the group.

Emilia’s eyes were still sharp, the air around her chilling as her ice magic dropped the room’s temperature a few degrees. Beatrice’s tiny hands glowed with tightly focused Yin crystals, aimed directly at Felix. Rem’s oni horn glinted as she leaned forward, her fury palpable.

“Enough,” Reinhard said, his voice low but carrying the weight of absolute authority. The icy edge of Emilia’s magic stilled, Beatrice’s crystals froze mid-air, and Rem’s stance softened just enough to contain her rage. “This is not about punishment. This is about truth.”

His gaze swept over Felix, steady and unblinking. “You will answer for your actions. I will not allow allies to become executioners in this moment.”

Felix, shivering from the cold and cowering under the combined fury of his friends, swallowed hard and lifted his gaze. “I… I’ll tell everything… I swear…”

Reinhard inclined his head once, as if this confession had been expected. The room, though still tense and heavy with emotion, finally allowed a small measure of control to return. Every eye remained on Felix, but now the focus was on understanding, not immediate retribution.

A voice cut through the drama, smooth and amused. “My, my… what a rowdy bunch you all are.”

All eyes snapped toward the source. There, leaning casually in the doorway, was Roswaal. His painted smile betrayed no judgment, but his eyes glittered with a knowing amusement.

Behind him, Petra and Frederica stood like twin sentinels, their gazes sharp and unrelenting. Both fixed Felix with deathly glares that could have frozen the very air, making him shrink even further under their scrutiny.

Roswaal’s grin widened. “Ah… and here I thought I’d walked into a quiet reunion. Clearly, I was mistaken.”

The room fell into a taut silence, the only sound the faint shuffle of boots against the floor. Even Reinhard’s Divine Protection couldn’t completely mask the weight of the maids’ stares. Felix’s ears twitched nervously, tail flicking, and his entire body seemed to shrink beneath the combined glare of those who would not tolerate excuses.

Roswaal’s gaze swept over the group, lingering on each face with theatrical interest. “Now… shall we all settle down and hear the full story? I do so enjoy a good tale of drama—and it seems you’ve brewed quite the storm while I was away.”

Chapter Text

Gonna use this chapter to clear up a few things I forgot to mention earlier (a.k.a. the plotholes my dumbass left behind).
~~~~
Subaru & Miyu:

Miyu is a cat demi-human with long, silver hair that flows past her shoulders in soft, silky waves. Her sharp amber eyes gleam with alertness and intelligence, and her triangular ears peek through her hair, twitching with every emotion. She has a slender, athletic build, moving with graceful agility and quiet strength. Her skin is fair, and her features are delicate but expressive, capable of soft warmth or sharp intensity. Even in casual Kararagi-style clothing, she radiates a presence that is both playful and commanding, impossible to ignore in any room.

Her heart is stubbornly loyal to Subaru. She first met him as a regular at his small diner in Kararagi, long before it became popular. Her teasing nature hides a fierce protectiveness, and though she jokes often, she’s the first to bare her claws when someone threatens the man she loves.

They’ve been married for two years and dated for one and a half years.

10/10 BEST GIRL
~~~~
Subaru’s Spirits:

Zarestia – Great Spirit of Wind (you all should know this one). After Subaru contracted her, she basically turned into a shut-in who refuses to go outside. Always demanding food though—Subaru’s stuck as her personal chef.

Alcyone – Fire; nurturing presence, comforting energy.

Maia – Earth; practical, steady.

Merope – Water; quiet, grounding, reflective.

Taygete – Wind; playful, breeze-like.

After contracting four lesser spirits to escape his cell, Subaru promised them a human lifetime full of leisure and happiness. So, without any training—just four years of chilling, goofing off, and vibing with him—they naturally grew into quasi-spirits.
~~~~
The Four-Year Time Skip & Royal Selection Delay:

Gluttony’s attack led to Emilia’s camp losing credit for their achievements, which got handed off to others.

Crusch (the nobles’ favorite) ended up in poor condition.

Rumors spread that tanked Anastasia’s credibility.

Priscilla just vanished into Vollachia.

And the nobility? Yeah, they weren’t thrilled about Felt’s sudden rise in influence.
~~~~
Extra Clarifications:

Julius didn’t torture Subaru in this fic (he never struck me as the type), but he definitely looked the other way.

Felix, on the other hand, was ordered by the Wisemen to extract information from Subaru… and let’s just say he went a lot further than he ever should have.

Chapter Text

The room fell into a taut silence, the only sound the faint shuffle of boots against the floor. Even Reinhard’s Divine Protection couldn’t completely mask the weight of the maids’ stares. Felix’s ears twitched nervously, tail flicking, and his entire body seemed to shrink beneath the combined glare of those who would not tolerate excuses.

Roswaal’s gaze swept over the group, lingering on each face with theatrical interest. “Now… shall we all settle down and hear the full story? I do so enjoy a good tale of drama—and it seems you’ve brewed quite the storm while I was away.”

Felix swallowed hard, ears drooping, tail curling tightly around his legs. His voice trembled, barely above a whisper.

“Th… the Wisemen… they ordered me to extract any and all information from Subaru. But I… I went too far. I… I tortured him. I didn’t have to… I broke my vows as a healer. I… I… I did things I shouldn’t have, all to find ways to heal Crusch.”

The words hit like a hammer.

Garfiel’s jaw tightened, fists clenching so hard that the chair he was leaning on groaned. With a violent roar, he ripped the armrest free, hurling it across the room. “You—YOU MONSTER!” he bellowed, eyes blazing.

Beatrice’s small frame tensed, tiny hands flaring with Yin crystals. "I SHOULD KILL YOU WERE YOU STAND CAT"

Rem’s oni horn glinted as she stepped forward, eyes blazing with fury. “How could you betray him like that? After all he’s done, after all he endured?!”

Emilia’s frost magic curled along the floor, chilling the room several degrees. Her voice was low, heavy with controlled anger. “Felix… you swore an oath. HE WAS YOUR FRIEND.”

Felix shrank beneath the combined weight of their stares, ears flattened, tail tucked tight. Sweat prickled at his brow. “I… I thought I was following orders. I… I thought he was the Archbishop of Pride. I didn’t know what else to do. I… I went against my vows… I should have protected him…”

The room seemed to close in around him. Every eye burned into him with fury, every muscle in the group coiled like a spring ready to snap. The thought of doing anything but violence hovered over them like a tangible cloud.

Garfield's hands twitched, fists curling with suppressed rage. Beatrice’s small frame trembled, her Yin crystals pulsing faintly as if ready to strike. Rem’s oni horn gleamed, her eyes locked on him with unrelenting wrath. Even Emilia’s frost magic coiled along the floor, sharp and biting, a warning more chilling than any blade.

If not for Reinhard’s steady presence, the femboy healer would have been torn apart where he knelt. His voice, calm but firm, cut through the tension. “Enough.”

The subtle hum of his Divine Protection radiated outward, pushing back the storm of fury just enough to hold the group at bay. “Felix will answer for his actions. But we do not act in blind anger. Subaru’s life is still at stake.”

Felix swallowed hard, chest heaving, and nodded, tears welling in his eyes. “I… I understand. I’ll do whatever it takes to help… to make it right…”

Garfield's jaw remained tight, fists unclenching just slightly, though his eyes still blazed. Beatrice’s crystals dimmed but did not vanish, her small hands trembling with contained fury. Rem’s glare softened fractionally, but the heat behind it did not fade. Emilia’s frost remained, the chill in the room a constant reminder of their anger—and their restraint.

Reinhard’s gaze swept across the group, firm and unyielding. “We move as one. Anger will not save Subaru. Strategy, unity, and resolve will. Felix… your knowledge may yet save him, but only if you prove your loyalty in action, not words.”

Felix’s ears twitched nervously, tail flicking. “I… I will. I swear it.”

The tension remained, thick and suffocating, but the immediate threat of violence had been contained—just barely.

The room remained charged with anger and unease. Felix’s confession had shaken everyone, but the matter at hand could not wait. Subaru was still out there, and they had to decide who would go to Kararagi to find him.

“My, my…” Roswaal’s voice cut through the tension, smooth and amused. He leaned lazily against the doorway, painted smile in place. “I think I know the perfect people to go.”

Beatrice’s small frame stiffened, tiny hands clenched. “This better not be another one of your games, Roswaal!” she snapped, faint crystals flickering at her fingertips.

Roswaal’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Oh, I assure you, my dear Beatrice, this is no game. This… is strategy.”

Rem stepped forward, her eyes sharp with resolve. “I’m going,” she said flatly. “No matter what you say. I won’t sit here while Subaru suffers.”

Behind her, Garfiel slammed a fist into his palm, teeth bared in fury. “Damn right. I’m bringin’ the Captain back home. Ain’t no one stoppin’ me.”

“Betty will find her contractor,” Beatrice declared, chin high.

“I’m going too,” Emilia said quietly but firmly, frost curling along the edges of her hair. “I’ll bring Subaru home… no matter what it takes.”

Roswaal’s smile widened, a glint of eerie satisfaction flashing across his mismatched eyes. “Just as foretold…”

The others didn’t notice the faint laugh that followed—a sound too soft to be heard, yet heavy enough to make the air shift.

Then, with a theatrical clap of his hands, Roswaal straightened. “Well then! Our little rescue party still needs a few more pieces.” His gaze slid toward Felix, who stiffened under it. “Felix, I recommend you go as well… Consider it a chance to make up for your mistakes, hmm?”

Felix flinched, ears twitching. “Y-yeah… I figured you’d say that…” he muttered, guilt thick in his tone.

Roswaal’s smile turned on Petra next. “You should go too, my dear. After all, you’re quite the capable girl—and someone will need to keep this lot from killing each other before they even reach Kararagi.”

Petra crossed her arms but didn’t argue. “Fine. But only to bring Subaru back.”

Roswaal’s gaze shifted again, this time landing on Otto. “And of course… our dear negotiator. You, my boy, have a knack for talking your way out of the impossible. You’ll go too.”

Otto let out a weary sigh. “I suppose it was only a matter of time before I got roped in…” he muttered under his breath. He was more than willing to save Subaru—but the way Roswaal smiled, that calm, painted grin—it told him the clown was planning something.

Finally, Roswaal’s gaze drifted toward Anastasia, his voice dripping with mock courtesy. “And as for you, Miss Hoshin… since you’re so familiar with the land, might I trouble you to guide them? Of course, you’ll be… handsomely rewarded for your efforts.”

Anastasia’s smile was sharp and calculating, her fox scarf twitching with interest. “Reward, huh? Guess I can’t say no to that. But don’t think I’m doin’ this for you, clown boy. I’m goin’ ‘cause someone’s gotta make sure this doesn’t turn into a suicide run.”

Roswaal’s chuckle was low and melodic. “Oh, I would expect nothing less…”

He let the silence linger for a beat, the faint crackle of magic humming in the air. Then he clapped his hands together. “Of course, there is one tiny complication,” he said, his smile never fading. “Our dear Emilia and her entourage are technically forbidden from leaving Lugnica while the Royal Selection remains underway.”

Emilia’s expression fell. “Then… we can’t go?”

“Oh, I never said that,” Roswaal replied smoothly. “Rules are only as strong as the people who can see you breaking them.”

With a flick of his wrist, a drawer slid open from the nearby cabinet. Inside were several dark cloaks, neatly folded and faintly shimmering with rune-stitched embroidery. “Luckily,” he continued, “I have a few… special garments from an old collaboration with the craftsmen of Kararagi. Costly little things, but very useful.”

Roswaal’s chuckle was low and melodic. “Oh, I would expect nothing less…”

He tapped his chin thoughtfully, gaze flicking toward Emilia. “There is, however, a minor issue. Technically speaking, royal candidates aren’t permitted to leave Lugnica while the Royal Selection remains in motion.”

Emilia’s voice cut in sharp and cold. “You think I care?” Frost curled from her fingertips

Roswaal chuckled, entirely unfazed. “Of course not, my dear Emilia. But I do care—at least enough to keep our little arrangement… discreet.”

He waved a gloved hand, and with a flicker of purple light, several folded cloaks appeared before them. “Perception disruptors,” he explained smoothly. “Expensive little things, but not forbidden. If someone doesn’t already know you, they won’t recognize your face—or even remember the cloak itself for long. Quite the handy tool for… bending the rules.”

Roswaal’s grin widened. “So, what do you say? Shall we make this rescue mission official?”

No one spoke. The fire crackled in the silence. Then, one by one, they nodded—Rem, Garfiel, Beatrice, Emilia, even Felix, though shame shadowed his eyes. The choice was made.

The hunt for Subaru had begun.

Cut to Subaru.

Miyu—the ever fantastic and super duper awesome wife—decided today she’d help him close the restaurant, just after the lunch rush had died down.

“You’ve been running around all day like a headless chicken,” she said, tail flicking with amusement. “Time to let someone competent handle this.”

Subaru blinked, juggling a stack of dishes. “Competent, huh? Last time you helped, we nearly burned the soup stock.”

Miyu smirked, grabbing a rag and tossing him a wink. “That was pre-training. Consider yourself lucky—you’ve got the master at your side now.”

Together, they moved through the diner in rhythm. Miyu wiped down tables, polished counters, and even swept the floor with a flourish that made Subaru groan and laugh at the same time. Occasionally she’d poke him, teasing about his sloppy technique, and he would retaliate with exaggerated protests.

By the time the last chair was stacked and the lights dimmed, the restaurant smelled faintly of polished wood and freshly baked bread. Subaru leaned against the counter, watching Miyu stretch, her silver hair catching the last rays of sun spilling through the windows.

“You make it look too easy,” he admitted, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Of course,” she replied, flashing a grin. “Now the real question is… what should I pick as my reward?” She leaned against the counter beside him, ears flicking playfully. “Hmm… should I draw myself a nice bath? Maybe make you cook my favorite meal again? Or…” She trailed off, voice dropping into a teasing lilt. “Maybe I should just pick you.”

Subaru’s eyes went wide, his face flushing a deep shade of crimson. He knew exactly what she meant—and she knew he knew.

Miyu’s grin only widened, sharp and mischievous, her amber eyes sparkling. “Oh? Someone’s nervous. Should I be worried you won’t survive my reward?” She leaned closer, letting the tip of her tail brush against his arm.

Subaru stumbled back a step, his words caught somewhere between panic and awe. “W-wait! That’s… that’s cheating!”

Miyu laughed softly, the sound like wind through silk. “Cheating? Oh, no… this is entirely fair. You’ve worked hard today, hubby.” She tilted her head, amber eyes glinting with mischief, and gave his shoulder a gentle nudge. “Besides… someone’s got to enjoy the rewards of a hard day’s work, right?”

Subaru could only shake his head, a small, helpless smile tugging at his lips.

Miyu clapped her hands once. “Well, I think we’ve done enough for today. Let’s finish closing up.” She moved to the counter, stacking the last plates and tidying the napkins with practiced ease. “Then… we can walk home together. No more work, no more worries—just you and me.”

As Subaru followed, she lightly brushed his hand with hers when passing, letting their fingers linger together. He felt heat creep up his neck, though he tried to hide it with a cough. Miyu caught the motion, her grin widening ever so slightly.

Outside, the streets were quiet, bathed in the soft glow of late afternoon. The hum of the city felt distant, almost unreal, as the two of them walked side by side. Miyu occasionally nudged him playfully or laughed at something small and absurd, making Subaru grin despite himself.

Every so often, their hands found each other naturally, fingers intertwining without a word. The world beyond the streets—the chaos, the danger, the unfinished battles—faded just enough to make this moment feel like it could stretch on forever.

By the time they reached the first familiar corner of their neighborhood, Subaru realized he wasn’t just smiling… he was completely at peace. And he knew, with a quiet certainty, that as long as Miyu was by his side, there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Arriving at the house, Subaru froze mid-step. There, at the door, stood Zarestia—arms crossed, yellow eyes sharp, and the faintest wind rustling around her as if even the air obeyed her temper.

“Finally,” Zarestia said, voice sharp but tinged with impatience. “It’s about time you two got here. And… I’m starving.”

Miyu rolled her eyes, arms crossed, a teasing grin on her face. “All you do is eat all our food and sleep all day. Get a job already.”

Zarestia huffed, flicking a strand of milky-white hair over her shoulder. “I am working! Finding something edible counts as work, you know.”

Subaru groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I feel like I’m surrounded by a bunch of children…”

Halibel, standing quietly in the corner, let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Halibel… when did you get here?” Subaru asked, eyes widening.

Halibel shrugged, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. “Come on, Sue~ I’m literally a ninja, as you call it. I can appear whenever I want.”

Miyu snorted, crossing her arms. “Ninjas don’t bum free food off people.”

“Oh, whatever, cat,” Zarestia shot back, smirking. “That’s why Subaru likes me more.”

“I’m literally his wife, you dimwitted dog!” Miyu snapped, wagging a finger at her, her tone sharp but teasing.

“Calm down, all of y’all,” Subaru said, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll make sure you’re all good—and fed.”

At once, the room erupted in excited chatter. Miyu clapped her hands together, eyes sparkling. “Finally! I knew you wouldn’t let us starve, hubby.”

Zarestia bounced on her heels, eyes narrowing with anticipation. “About time someone cooked something decent around here!”

Halibel smirked, golden eyes narrowing slightly. “I might stick around if only to see how fast you can keep up with all this.”

Subaru groaned, though a small smile tugged at his lips. “Guess there’s no rest for the chef tonight… Let’s get this started, y’all—don’t destroy the house while I’m busy.”

He moved through the kitchen with practiced ease, knives flashing, pans sizzling, and the comforting aroma of spices and bread filling the air.

Around him, little floating orbs—the quasi-level spirits—buzzed happily. They twirled around pans, nudged ingredients into place, and spun in little loops as if cheering Subaru on. Their delight was unmistakable in the way they bounced and glowed, though they couldn’t speak.

Zarestia, meanwhile, had become the target of their mischievous energy. One orb zipped under her kimono’s hem, making her yelp and swat at it, while another zipped across her face, narrowly missing her eyes. Miyu laughed, stepping back to watch, while Halibel shook his head, suppressing a grin.

“Oi, you little pests!” Zarestia hissed, trying to maintain her composure as the spirits continued their teasing. “If you think you can escape me—” she lunged, only for three orbs to dart around her legs and lift her slightly off balance.

Miyu clapped her hands, smirking. “Looks like someone’s finally getting a taste of their own chaos.”

Halibel chuckled. “Not every day you see a Great Spirit getting harassed by floating balls of light.”

Subaru, unbothered by the playful commotion, moved with quiet focus, knives flashing and pans sizzling. Each dish came out perfect, every flavor exactly right, while the spirits danced around him, keeping Zarestia on her toes and turning the kitchen into a lively, playful whirlwind of energy.

Subaru wiped his hands on a towel, taking a deep breath as the last dish slid off the stove. The sizzle and aroma of perfectly cooked food lingered in the air, a comforting warmth filling the kitchen. Around him, the quasi-level spirits hummed with quiet delight, orbiting the table in little circles as if applauding their chef. Zarestia, cheeks flushed from their teasing, glared at them but couldn’t hide the faint twitch of amusement at their antics.

Carefully, Subaru placed the final plate on the table. Steam curled upward, carrying the rich scents of spices, freshly baked bread, and perfectly roasted vegetables. Miyu and Halibel paused their playful banter, eyes lighting up at the spread before them.

“Dinner’s ready,” Subaru said softly, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips. He leaned back slightly, letting the quiet satisfaction of a job well done wash over him. The chaos, the teasing, the floating spirits—it all faded into the background, leaving just the warmth of food, laughter, and the rare, fleeting peace of the evening.

Miyu reached out, gently touching his arm. “You did it again,” she said, voice soft but proud.

Halibel, still leaning casually against the doorway, nodded. “Impressive, chef. Truly.”

Zarestia perched nearby, arms crossed, eyes narrowing just enough to hide her amusement. “Glad to see you finally taking care of your spirit contractor,” she said, voice laced with her usual sharpness, though the faint smirk betrayed her approval.

Subaru chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Yeah… I guess I’m learning from the best.”

Around them, the quasi-level spirits floated happily, orbiting the table and nudging little sparks of light over the dishes, adding a touch of whimsical mischief to the calm scene. The kitchen, once chaotic, now radiated warmth, laughter, and the comforting promise of a quiet evening together.

As the evening wound down, Halibel quietly slipped out, leaving Zarestia to retreat to her quarters, a faint smirk on her lips as she disappeared. Subaru and Miyu remained, standing side by side at the sink. The warm water ran over their hands, the clatter of dishes blending with quiet conversation and occasional laughter.

“You always make this look effortless,” Miyu said, leaning slightly against Subaru’s shoulder as she scrubbed a plate.

“I’ve had a lot of practice… though I’d be lost without my kitchen assistants,” Subaru replied, glancing at the quasi-level spirits twirling above them like tiny sparks of light.

Miyu nudged him playfully with her elbow. “I’m not so sure they’re helping as much as they’re causing trouble.”

“They do keep things interesting,” Subaru said, a small smile tugging at his lips. He reached over to pass her a towel, their fingers brushing for a brief moment.

Miyu caught it, her grin softening. “You know… even doing the dishes with you feels… nice.”

Subaru’s smile widened, warmth creeping into his chest. “Yeah… it does.”

The two of them continued their quiet work, the soft hum of water and the gentle clinking of plates filling the room. Outside, the last rays of sunlight faded, leaving only the golden glow of the kitchen and the simple, rare peace of the evening—shared, unspoken, and perfect in its simplicity.

Then, just as Subaru reached for the last dish, Miyu’s voice slipped through the calm—soft, lilting, and teasing.

“Don’t forget what I said, dear~~” she murmured, leaning close enough for her breath to brush his ear. “I still want my reward.”

Subaru froze mid-motion, nearly dropping the plate.

“M-Miyu—! Can’t that wait until—”

Subaru barely had time to react before Miyu looped an arm around his waist, tugging him gently but firmly toward the bedroom.

“C’mon, chef,” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Reward time doesn’t wait for dishes to dry.”

He stumbled slightly, trying to keep his balance while laughing nervously. “M-Miyu! Wait, the—”

“Shhh~” she cooed, pressing a finger gently to his lips, her grip firm and insistent. “No arguments. You’ve earned this, and I’m claiming what’s mine.”

The quasi-spirits floated nearby, little orbs spinning in playful loops, as if cheering—or teasing—him along.

Far away, a certain oni and half-elf felt something was very, very wrong… their “cuck senses” tingling sharply.