Chapter Text
There is a clew of thread, raveled of a single strand whose beginning is its end.
Moments become wefts and warps that criss-cross into a weave, and the flow of time spools in a single spot.
From the echoes of your cries to the whisper of your last breath, in the heart of every moment, my eyes catch a glimpse of you.
Dear you, my one most beloved.
Follow the red string of fate, binding the knot that hurts the most.
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“Emilia-sama! Time to wake up now, you’ve been sleeping till the afternoon.” A childish voice rang out at her side. A woman with silver hair lay undeterred despite the calling, forcing the child to shake her as she continued calling.
The woman slowly woke up, basking herself in the warm light of the afternoon. She had slept for much longer than usual, for reasons she didn’t understand.
“...Hi Petra. Good morning.” She greeted the young maid, who replied with a kind smile.
“It’s already afternoon, Emilia-sama. Jeez, you didn’t hear what I said before.” Petra stuck her tongue out teasingly before assisting Emilia out of bed.
The girl brushed her messy hair out of her vision, revealing the most noticeable elven feature, her ears, sharp and pointy at the edge, which had become a source of insecurity for her...
“I th nk y r ar ar b ut f l, Em l a-t n!” A y ng b y xc t dly j mp d, h s f c ag r as a sm l ad rn ng h s c mpl m nt.
“R ally? S b r ? Th y’r lf ar , I th nk th y’r gl y.” Em l a w nc d, h d ng h r ar by a fl ck f h r, h r f ng rs tw st ng n sh m .
S d nly, S b r h ld b th f h r h nds, p ll ng th m d wn as d nd r v al ng th p nty ar th t h s d arly l v d.
“D n’t y ar v n s y th t ag n, Em l a-t n. Th y’r b ut f l, as v ry f at r f y s. I l v th m b c s th y’r y rs.”
“Uhhh!” Emilia winced. She held her head as if a hammer had been thrown at her.
“Emilia-sama? Are you alright?” Petra looked back at her side and asked worriedly.
She wondered what had just happened. What was that memory? It was fragmented, broken, and mutilated. Emilia desperately tried to recall it, but the more she tried, the worse her headache became.
Deciding that she shouldn’t pry into the matter any further, she grabbed the door handle hastily and left the room, with Petra following her, still wondering what had just happened.
Emilia walked down the familiar hall. The nostalgia felt unreal to her, a brief feeling of loss sweeping through her like a storm. It was still the same place, the same decorations, the same patterns on the doors and walls, yet something was missing.
After taking care of herself, she went back to her study room and didn’t even bother to meet anyone else. She was tired. It was all the same, waking up, studying, eating, and repeating, a constant that was slowly driving her insane.
Everything was so repetitive, doing the same thing over and over again. Why was she able to endure this for so long? More than half a year staying here, yet Emilia only felt the same feeling she had when she first arrived at the mansion. For what reason did it resurface now, especially when her life was supposed to be getting so much better?
She had made huge advances in the Royal Selection over the years, not only being responsible for the victory against Sloth and the White Whale, but also overcoming herself at the Sanctuary and freeing the people there. Just a few days before, she had achieved a feat no one else could, not even the Sword Saint.
By overcoming many Sin Archbishops who attacked the Capital, she had become the Hero of Priestella, a person admired by many for refusing to give up against unimaginable threats. Emilia had become an admirable figure despite her origin as a half-elf, the same race as the despicable Witch of Envy who devoured half the world.
So why did her heart split in half every time someone regarded her with such titles? Where did the pain and yearning tormenting her from within come from? Emilia desperately wanted someone’s attention, but not from anyone she knew. Not Ram, not Otto, not Petra, not anyone.
Who was that person?
“I l v y r s p r pr tty s lv r h r, I l v y r m th st y s nd h w wh n th y’r w t th y l k l k j w ls, I s p r l v y r v c nd h w I g t dr my j st fr m h r ng t, nd y r sl nd r l ng l gs nd y r p l sk n, nd r h ght d ff r nc nd ll f th t s s t my d l I c n’t st nd t, j st b ng w th y m k s my h rt r c I c n’t st p t nd h g d I l v y .” S b r bl rt d t wh l l st f wh t h l v d b t h r, s l ng th t h lm st l st h s br th.
“Wh t…?” Em l st nn d, sk ng n s rpr s .
H c nt n d n.
“I l v h w y r j st l ttl d py, t’s d r bl h w y p t y r b st nt v ry th ng, I r v r h w f rv nt y g t f r th r p p l’s s k s, I th nk th w y y d s r g rd y r s lf c n’t b l ft n tt nd d, nd ll f y r xpr ss ns, nd ll f y r m t ns, r th ngs wh r f I c ld w tn ss th m fr m y r s d, n th ng c ld b b tt r… I m lw ys th nk ng th s.”
No, not again. Please stop. No, don’t stop, please continue. Let me see it, let me remember. Who was talking? Was it about me? Who was that person? Someone, please tell me who it was.
“Seems like you overslept. Such a slothful attitude you have, Emilia-sama.” A sudden voice snapped Emilia out of her thoughts. She turned her head back. It was Ram.
The oni maid Ram, a person with a harsh tone and a prideful heart, someone Emilia looked up to like an older sister. She was holding a tray, clearly meant for her late breakfast.
“Well, I’m just a bit tired. That’s all.” Emilia replied. The hesitation in her voice was enough for Ram to raise an eyebrow.
“...Really? Ram doesn’t think it’s that simple. You’ve been like this ever since the team came back from Priestella.” She pointed it out, and Emilia shuddered at how easily the maid noticed such details. Of course, how could Emilia not notice? Everything went wrong after she returned to the mansion from the Watergate City.
“I’ll try to take better care of myself, trust me, Ram. Just give me the breakfast now, I need to study.” She excused herself, took the tray, and promptly shut the door before Ram could say anything.
A disappointed sigh and the click of shoes signaled Ram leaving, and Emilia ended up burying herself in countless books again.
Vollachia’s history. Finished.
The story of Hoshin. She had already read it twice.
Moving to the novels for a breath of fresh air, Emilia sighed disappointedly at the choices.
Wuthering Heights. Good, but she had read it so much she could remember the dialogue by heart.
Crime and Punishment. A good read, but too long for her right now.
Another pile of books stacked on her shelves, some she had read many times before, yet she had finished the entire shelf out of pure boredom.
Lying lazily on her chair, Emilia started thinking about what Ram mentioned earlier, about the strange pain in her chest ever since she left Priestella.
What happened to make her feel this way? Where did the emptiness in her heart stem from? The silence accompanying her steps, the sudden headaches she endured. Emilia needed time to properly reflect.
The one thing that came to her mind was that person. Natsuki Subaru, the supposed Witch Cultist.
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The aftermath of Priestella’s assault was a rather arduous journey for Emilia. After helping the wives unfreeze and sending them to a safe place, she started walking toward the makeshift headquarters that the alliance of all the Royal Candidates had set up.
Accompanying her was Beatrice, her newly contracted spirit—right after Puck’s contract was gone during the events of the Sanctuary, the great Yin spirit had taken Emilia’s hand… but for what reason?
Emilia still wished to bring Puck back and remake the contract that he himself had broken. Why would she make one with Beatrice? Was it out of pity, or something else? She couldn’t make any sense of it.
“Hey, Beako. Do you remember the time we made our contract?” Emilia asked, still holding the little spirit’s hand.
Beako? Since when did Emilia start calling her like that? That’s not the point, however. Let’s move on.
“Hmm? That’s quite a random question coming from Emilia, I suppose.” Beatrice looked up before continuing.
“Well… when Betty was—”
“Emilia! Beako! Thank god both of you are still safe!” A loud voice called from behind, interrupting their conversation.
It was a boy with weird and tattered clothes, raven hair, sharp eyes, and a bandaged body around his arms and legs. He was waving and running toward Emilia, his breath heaving and unsteady, signifying that he must have been running for quite a while.
Stopping and taking a hasty breath, the boy brushed off the dust from his outfit before looking up with a warm and relieved smile.
“I’m so glad… so glad that you guys are safe, I was just—” The boy was about to say something before being promptly stopped by Beatrice.
“Stop right there, in fact. Betty isn’t sure, but don’t come near—just stay there, I suppose.” She stretched out a hand and pointed it at the boy, clearly showing it was a threat. It made him stagger back.
“Wait, wait! Is that because I have miasma, right? I thought you didn’t care about such stuff. Having miasma doesn’t mean anything, right, Beako?” the boy waved his hand dismissively, clearly frightened by the young girl’s words.
“If it were a normal circumstance, then yes, Betty wouldn’t bat an eye if you simply had weird mana. But having miasma during one of the largest attacks from the Witch Cult is something else entirely, in fact. Stay back now—Betty doesn’t want to hurt you.” She begged, holding Emilia’s hand as Beatrice signaled her to step back.
But Emilia relented. Instead, she left Beatrice’s grasp and came closer to Subaru, gazing at his features almost as if he reminded her of something.
“Can I… ask for your name?” she called. The difference between Emilia’s and Beatrice’s reactions stunned the boy, yet he answered anyway.
“Subaru. Natsuki Subaru.”
That was his name? Quite unique, as far as Emilia knew, yet it rolled off the tongue well. She remembered it after thinking about it for quite some time in her head.
“S-Subaru, right? Can you explain why you… know us?” she asked, while Beatrice was still suspiciously preparing for any movement Subaru might make.
“I-I’m innocent! I’m not sure what the miasma coming from me means, but please, I’m not here with any malice.” Subaru blurted out in panic, raising both his hands to show that he had no intention of harming anyone.
“How can you say such a thing with such a thick scent of miasma, in fact?” Beatrice staggered back. The slim chance of him being a Witch Cultist was there, but that wasn’t what she dreaded. What she was scared of was the sheer amount of corrupted mana he had—not just the aura that he possessed, but the traces… and the presence of something much, much more sinister.
It reminded her of her mother, to a certain extent. Those traces were the footsteps of a witch.
“Beako! I think we should at least give him a chance to talk first…” Emilia tried to stop her, but it only made Beatrice even more aggravated.
“Betty’s trying, in fact! Betty is just… afraid of him. That boy is simply a slow, exploding bomb of some sort. If he isn’t a Witch Cultist, then he would either be a weapon directed at the city or a walking miasma absorber, I suppose.” She hid behind Emilia, still observing every detail.
“Sorry. Is anything wrong here?” A knight adorned in heavy armor and carrying a bastard sword stepped into the scene, and the tension quickly rose as many knights armored the same began to surround Subaru.
“Welp… it’s just that—” Subaru tried to explain, but the gaze Beatrice gave frightened him. She interrupted him as he desperately tried to find an excuse.
“Don’t get near him, in fact. That boy has miasma, I suppose.” Hearing this, the entire knight squadron jumped, sheathing their weapons in the process.
“Stop, in fact! Hear Betty out before you do anything, I suppose!” A sudden wall of crystals conjured around Subaru, serving as a barrier for him.
Beatrice stepped closer to the knights, with Emilia by her side, still looking at Subaru worriedly.
“Wh-what? You just said that he has miasma—he needs to be detained immediately! Don’t tell me that the candidate Emilia-sama is supporting a Witch Cultist… seems like the rumors were true.” The knight said, adding a grumble at the end, to which Emilia flinched at the implication.
Ignoring the knight, Beatrice pointed toward Subaru. “I don’t care whatever you say. Having miasma doesn’t guarantee the fact that he’s a Witch Cultist. He’s more of a victim than Betty has ever seen, in fact. So bring him to the station and take care of him immediately. Don’t even think about hurting him, I suppose.”
Seeing this, Emilia hastily added, “Well, I will come to check on him once it’s all over to make sure you guys don’t do anything wrong, so please… treat him well. He’s not a Witch Cultist, I hope.”
Subaru’s eyes widened. He almost thought he would get betrayed by his own friend and lover so effortlessly because of certain circumstances… how foolish of him to think such a thing.
The knights glanced at each other, reminding themselves of Emilia’s position and their own, before nodding their heads. One particular knight called out, “Very well. If that is your wish, we will bring him to the knight station for a proper investigation. His case might be similar to the White Dragon Scales in nature, but with some unique aspects.”
“If that’s how it is, then… alright. Hey, kid! Follow us, we need to check on you for a bit.” Subaru turned his head toward the voice, yet he still hesitated somewhat.
“Hmm? What are you waiting for? I’m not gonna bite ya!” the knight called, almost annoyed by Subaru’s delay.
Meanwhile, Subaru was doubtful. Explaining how he got the miasma was already a headache enough, but he simply didn’t want to separate from Emilia and Beatrice. To them, he was just a stranger now—and that deeply hurt, in a way so nostalgic he thought that feeling had already been lost to memory.
Biting his lip, Subaru solemnly followed, his eyes still lingering on Emilia, as if she would ever call him back.
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That was all Emilia could recall. Despite saying that she would pay a visit to the knight station, the chance never appeared, as Anastasia had suggested she go on a journey toward the Pleiades Watchtower.
Going to the tower meant that she would be allowed to save the victims of the Witch Cult attack on Priestella, something she had always wished to do ever since the incident. But by doing so, Emilia had to discard the chance of meeting such a curious individual like Subaru, and also…
Those eyes of his, the eyes so deeply terrified on the inside. Emilia chose to ignore it by thinking about the others that she had to save, and the pressure from others that expected her to do such.
The benevolent Emilia, poised and untouchable, undefeatable, was everything the camp could ask for. Many had doubted her abilities, but quickly realized how incredible Emilia was and stuck their own expectations onto her. Someone who would sacrifice a part of herself for the greater good. Someone so selfless to the point of being selfish. Emilia would play that role if that was what was needed to become a Royal Candidate.
So that was why she prioritized saving others before meeting Subaru. Also, she believed those knights were good people. She had always been fond of knights for some unexplainable reason. Just the title alone was enough to bring her a feeling of security and warmth. Subaru would have been safe out there.
At least, that was what she hoped, before being interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Come in,” she called, and the door slowly opened, revealing Otto Suwen, who was holding a stack of paper so large Emilia could not even imagine he could carry that much.
“S-sorry, Emilia-sama. The trip to the Pleiades Watchtower… I tried my best not to let it be postponed, but… we still have to deal with this.” He let out a heavy breath before placing all the paperwork on the table and slumping back defeatedly onto a chair he had just pulled out.
“Roswaal has been… eccentric. Not the usual kind, but he has stopped going outside after we came back for some reason.” Otto stated, making Emilia remember the strange reaction the Margrave had when she came back from Priestella.
An almost relief, then disappointment, and finally anger passed through his expression in just a brief moment, before Roswaal resigned himself to his room ever since, unable and unwilling to do anything, leaving the camp with a whole stack of paperwork and public meetings they needed to do for him.
“That’s… alright. Let me help you, Otto. This will take some arduous effort.” Emilia gazed almost amazed at the piles before helping the Head of Internal Affairs with his work.
“Wh v n s y th t th s d y nd g ?” S b r t s d l ghtly.
“C’ n. Y r s ch d nd rh d! I c n t lk wh t v r w y I w nt d.” Em l p t d b ck, y t th r w s n b t n t s s sm l b tr y d h r w rds.
“ l r ght, k p s ng th t nc nt w y f t lk ng gr mp s.” S b r w v d, b f r rn ng b ck s m l ght h ts by Em l .
“…!” Emilia jolted, placing a hand on her head. The way she said the sentence with an almost eager expression, as if waiting for someone’s answer, was… weird. Why would she do that?
“Is there a problem, Emilia-sama?” Otto asked, stacking up the folders while spinning his pen as he read.
“N-no, there’s nothing.” She replied hastily, going through the folders, trying to take her mind off that thought.
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“Welcome, dear Blue. I hope you would be able to pry a word from this… filthy Cultist.” A guard dressed in armor spoke with a putrid smile. His posture was stern and indifferent, while his smile was almost animalistic to a certain extent, making the person called “Blue” grossed out as he gave his hand to the man.
“Name’s Henrich Kromer, Felix-sama. You can just call me Kromer for short.” Blue did not take his hand, but followed Kromer instead and arrived at the prison hallway.
The mossy and eerie cells brought Felix no comfort, yet that knight was too calm for such a sight. Felix swore that he was smiling as well.
“Cultist! Get up, I brought you a special guest.” Kromer kicked the cell door open when he finished unlocking it. The impact landed on the prisoner’s cranium, making it bleed as he squirmed.
“New friend for ya. Better get ready for another round of beatin’!” He shouted, letting Felix get a full view.
It was a raven-haired boy dressed in a weird, tattered outfit, with a sharp pair of eyes and, most importantly, his right hand, one that was lacerated with a special type of venom. The cursed blood.
“That kid got hit with the same shit your pretty princess did, huh? And he’s got miasma too. Just cut his arm and heal it back so you can get some information. Cultists are bound to know some shit, eh?” He mocked, gazing at the pathetic boy in the cell with a sadistic demeanor.
Felix stood up and turned his head toward Kromer, making him confused for a second, before earning a tooth-rattling slap to the face.
“Are you insane?! Is this how you treat a prisoner, nyah?!”
“…”
“What did you just do, you fucking fleabags?” Kromer shouted, before sheating out his blade, almost ready to attack.