Chapter Text
Beatrice pouted over her tea cup. "Battleeeer, that's unfair! You can't just not acknowledge my blue truth…!"
Battler - arrogant bastard that he was - chuckled and sipped his tea. "Sorry, Beato. I'm not gonna respond."
She sighed dramatically, slumping over the table. "I hate you."
She really did. He was always calm and composed, and he shot down almost every theory she could fathom. She was no slouch, experienced in mystery herself, but he was somehow better. It infuriated her. The worst part of all was how he could be so handsome and charming at times, smirking triumphantly as he utterly crushed her reasoning… and at others he was a drooling pervert. Sometimes he had this melancholy look in his eyes, as though he was some wistful widow, but before Beato could ever ask about it, he was back to his usual annoying self.
He chuckled awkwardly, and shrugged. "That's okay. I don't mind if you hate me… Do you want more cookies?"
Beato perked up immediately. "Yes!"
Ronove, Battler's demon servant, appeared with a fresh plate of cookies and set them down before the duo. He had a strange partnership with Battler, as though they were old friends and not master and servant. His presence at least meant that Beato had delicious tea and sweets while she fought Battler.
"Battler-sama, Beatrice-sama, shall I refill your cups?" Ronove offered.
"Ah, sure. We've been at it for a while now, haha." Battler gave the demon a grateful smile.
Beato pouted. "Sure."
For some reason, seeing Battler smiling at the demon and being so friendly with him grated on her nerves. All he needed was to fight her, not play around with Ronove. She was going to absolutely destroy him and make him kiss her shoes soon enough. …Probably. He was far more skilled than she'd expected.
"Do you need a break, Beato?" Battler frowned. "We can take one, if you need…"
She huffed and turned her head. "Not at all!"
He gave Ronove a knowing look, and the butler chuckled indulgently. Beato scowled and took a cookie, biting into it angrily. Munching on snacks made her feel slightly better about the mockery. She just wished that she could crush Battler already. She would have everything in her life be perfect once he was sobbing and begging for mercy at her feet. As much as the man acted like a swaggering, confident hero, she was sure he was pathetic and cowardly on the inside.
"That suits me just fine. I wouldn't want to stop talking to you, after all." Battler spoke softly, his lips curved up into a smile that could be interpreted as adoring.
That was impossible, however - she knew that the man was already in love with someone. The golden ring on his finger, branded with the Ushiromiya family signet, had come into his possession from the person he loved most. She had been informed of that. Though she had few memories of herself, she was sure that she would have remembered something like that. And besides, she didn't like Battler at all. He was stupid, incompetent, adorable, charming -
She grumbled to herself as she chewed on her cookie. Damn Ushiromiya Battler to hell.
"Something wrong, Beato?" he asked with a little frown. As though he knew exactly what she was thinking.
Beato shook her head, golden hair swaying. She brushed it back behind her ears. "Nothing. More importantly, I'm going to make you kneel for me soon enough." She cackled, delighting at the thought.
He leaned back in his seat, cavalier as ever. "Of course~"
Ronove chuckled, and she glared at him. He held up his hands in a defensive posture. "My, my, don't look so cross, Milady. I was merely amused by the possibility of Battler-sama being made to kiss your shoes."
Battler's cheeks turned pink, and he scowled. "Ronove, don't talk like that," he scolded. "She hasn't won yet."
Sometimes she wondered why Battler was so insistent on fighting her. She was a mere human, a girl with scattered memories, and he was a grand sorcerer who commanded demons. He didn't seem like the sort of person who would commit horrific murders to prove a point, and yet he painted the gameboard with blood. She couldn't comprehend him. And, when he was bashful like this, she could almost see him as an ordinary man.
"I will," she insisted. "Especially if you play fair and confirm the victims' deaths."
"Pukukuku. It seems Beatrice-sama is catching on," Ronove remarked. He was amused by every move the two players made.
Battler crossed his arms. "I don't want to be too hasty…"
She tapped the rim of her teacup. "Then my blue truth stands."
He groaned, resting his arms on the table. "You always manage to back me into a corner, Beato."
"I do?" she repeated, surprised, and then smirked. "Right, of course I do~"
He would speak as though he knew her far more intimately than she knew herself. She didn't know why, but it always irritated her. Who was this brash, crude man to pretend that he was close to her? She was a noble lady, not fit for such common stock. So it delighted her that he would admit that she was above him. Because he was so vastly inferior. And for no other reason.
She would fight against him until she won, and then she would make him cry and kiss her shoes and beg for mercy. And then… she frowned suddenly. She didn't know what she would do. Battler was infuriating, but he wasn't a bad person. Her competition with him was personal, not motivated by any sort of moral conflict. She was strangely comfortable with human lives being pieces for their game. It was merely a game, after all, not something more important.
"...Hey, Battler…" she found herself mumbling. "What would you do if you won?"
He blinked. "Ah, I mean… I would, um…" A smug, egoistic smirk dominated his face. "I'd feel up your pretty body, of course, ihihi."
…Nevermind. She was going to torment him for all eternity once she won.