The dinner at the Mathers mansion was a quiet affair, very different from the bustle Kaito had left behind in the capital. Frederica had prepared a large table in the main dining room, with dishes that, although simple, showed the care of someone who knew what they were doing.
Kaito sat at the head, with Emilia to his right and the sisters on the other side. Puck, in his cat form, had claimed a spot on the table, right in front of a plate that Frederica had had the precaution of leaving for him.
—I hope it is to your liking —Frederica said, serving the last dish before taking a seat next to Ram.
—It smells delicious —Kaito commented, and he wasn't lying.
The first bite brought a momentary silence. Rem, who had been watching Kaito discreetly since they sat down, seemed to relax upon seeing him eat without making any gesture of distaste.
—Mr. Kaito —she said suddenly, her voice barely a whisper—. Do you like it?
—Very much —Kaito replied with a smile—. Frederica cooks very well.
The golden-haired maid looked down, a slight blush tinting her cheeks.
—I only do what I can with what we have.
—Wouldn't you like to learn more recipes? —Kaito asked, looking at the three of them—. I could teach you some. From other places.
Frederica looked up, surprised.
—From other places? Where are you from, Mr. Kaito?
—From very far away —he replied with a cryptic smile—. From a place where the food is very different from this.
Ram, who had remained silent until then, spoke with her characteristic voice, calmer than before but still with that hint of pride that defined her.
—Is Mr. Kaito a chef as well as a mage?
—No —he admitted—. Just someone who learned to cook; you know, when you become independent, that's a fundamental thing.
Emilia, who had been eating in silence, intervened softly.
—Kaito cooked very well in the forest. He made a soup... —her violet eyes lit up with the memory—. I had never tasted anything like it.
—Really? —Rem cheered up a bit more—. What kind of soup?
—Miso —Kaito replied, and seeing their confused looks, he clarified—. It's an ingredient from my land. Perhaps I can get it here.
—If you need anything, I can ask the merchants who pass by the mansion —Frederica offered—. The Marquis... —her voice broke, and for a moment her green eyes clouded—. Roswaal used to import rare things.
Kaito nodded, without pressing. He knew that for Frederica, as for the sisters, accepting Roswaal's death would take time. But he noticed that Ram and Rem did not react with the same grief. Only with a silence that weighed in a different way.
—Ram —Kaito said, changing the subject—. Your horn was damaged, wasn't it?
The young Oni looked up, her red eyes meeting Kaito's. There was a tension in her shoulders, as if she expected the question to lead to something bad.
—I lost it in the attack on our village —she replied coldly, but her right hand trembled ever so slightly—. Since then, my mana does not flow as it used to.
—And what if I could restore it?
The silence that followed was so deep that even Puck stopped eating.
—What? —Frederica asked, incredulous—. Restore an Oni's horn? That is... Mr. Kaito, that is not something common magic can do. Not even the most advanced healing...
—I didn't say I would use common magic —Kaito replied calmly, looking at Ram directly—. I'm asking you, Ram. Do you want it back?
Ram stared at him. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table tightly, and for an instant, her mask of indifference cracked. Behind her, Rem held her breath.
—Why would you do that for us? —Ram asked, her voice sharper than usual.
—Because I can —Kaito replied simply—. And because you are part of my home now.
The words fell like stones in still water. Rem was the first to break the silence, with a contained sob that she tried to hide by bringing a hand to her mouth. Frederica looked away, but her shoulders trembled slightly.
Ram, the most stoic of the three, maintained her composure. But Kaito saw how her fingers loosened, how her red eyes shone with something that wasn't just surprise.
—If you can do it —she said finally, with a voice that tried to sound firm but failed in the attempt—. Then... yes. I want it back.
Kaito smiled.
—Then tomorrow we will do it. Now, let's eat before it gets cold.
•••
Night had completely fallen when Kaito went out into the garden. The moon, high and silver, bathed the bushes and flowers that Frederica cared for with dedication. He took a deep breath, feeling the cool air in his lungs, and let the tranquility of the place envelop him.
He couldn't always breathe such pure air; it's not as if on Earth the air wasn't totally polluted by all human industry.
He hadn't been alone for even a minute when he heard footsteps behind him.
—Can't you sleep? —he asked without turning.
Emilia stopped beside him, her silver hair shining under the moonlight. She was wearing her white dress, the same one she used in the forest, and had Puck sleeping in her collar.
—I wanted to make sure you were okay —she said, with her soft voice—. After everything today...
—I'm fine —Kaito replied, turning to look at her—. And you, how do you feel? This place is very different from the forest.
Emilia looked down for a moment, her fingers toying with the edge of her dress. When she looked up again, there was a small smile on her lips.
—It's strange —she admitted—. To be in such a large place, with so many rooms... But I don't feel alone. It's... —she searched for the word—. Warm.
—Even though it's full of strangers?
—They aren't strangers —Emilia replied firmly—. Frederica is kind, and Rem and Ram... —her voice softened—. I understand them. I also know what it's like to feel alone, to have everyone look at you with fear. But here, with you, with them... I don't feel that way.
Kaito watched her for a moment. In the shadows, with the moon behind her and her violet eyes shining with that sincerity that characterized her, Emilia seemed more real than ever. She wasn't a character in a story. She was a girl who had found a place to belong.
—I'm glad —he finally said—. That you feel that way.
—Kaito —Emilia took a step forward—. Thank you. For bringing me here. For helping them. For... everything.
—You don't have to thank me.
—I know —she replied, and her smile widened—. But even so, I want to.
They stood in silence for a moment, looking at the garden. When Emilia finally said goodbye and returned inside, Kaito followed her with his gaze until her silhouette disappeared into the hallway.
Then, he exhaled and focused on another presence. One he had felt since he arrived, hidden in some corner of the mansion.
—It's time, I'll really get tired doing this —he muttered to himself.
•••
Library.
•••
The Forbidden Library was not in the mansion. Kaito had known this since before arriving. It was a separate space but connected to the mansion, a folded dimension that could only be reached if one knew where to look, or rather, if someone could open a portal to it.
The blue flash of his teleportation dissipated, and Kaito found himself in a place that did not follow the laws of the outside world. It was a circular room, enormous, with bookshelves that rose until they were lost in a shadow that seemed to have no end. The floor was of dark marble, and the air smelled of old parchment and something else. Something like... loneliness.
In the center of the library, a girl with curly blonde hair was sitting in a chair that seemed too big for her. She wore a dark pink dress with ruffles, and her blue eyes, huge and round, stared at him as soon as he appeared.
—Outsider —Beatrice said, her voice sharp as glass—. How have you dared to enter Betty's library without permission?
Kaito didn't flinch. He looked at her calmly, with that calmness his power would have granted him as he integrated with it.
—I needed to speak with you —he replied.
—Betty doesn't need to speak with anyone! —the girl jumped from her chair, her curls waving with the movement—. Get out of here before Betty turns you into a frog!
—Roswaal is dead —Kaito said.
The silence was absolute. Beatrice froze, her blue eyes fixed on him as if trying to process the words. Her hands, which were already rising to cast a spell, slowly fell to her sides.
—What...? —her voice was barely a whisper—. What did you say?
—Roswaal L. Mathers is dead —Kaito repeated—. I killed him. Not on a whim, but because he deserved it. Because he used other people as tools. Because... —he paused—. Because he abandoned you here.
Beatrice's face contorted. For a moment, she looked like a frightened child, not the great spirit who had lived for four hundred years. But quickly, her expression hardened.
—You lie —she said, with a voice that tried to sound firm—. Roswaal cannot die. Roswaal always comes back. Roswaal...
—That Roswaal —Kaito interrupted softly— is not the same one you knew four hundred years ago.
Beatrice opened her mouth, but no words came out.
—The man I killed —Kaito continued, taking a step forward— was just an obsessed madman, possessing the bodies of his descendants, from son to son, all to keep his promise. To try to save your mother.
Beatrice's eyes welled up. Her small fists clenched tightly.
—No... you know nothing...
—I know he left you here —Kaito said, and his voice was relentless but not cruel—. He left you here; he never tried to fix things with you or accompany his teacher's daughter. Four hundred years passed, Beatrice. Four hundred years you were waiting for someone who never arrived. And him? He continued with his obsession. He ignored you. He abandoned you. And he didn't even have the courage to say it to your face.
—Shut up! —Beatrice screamed, and the bookshelves around her trembled. Tears rolled down her cheeks without her appearing to notice them—. You know nothing! Nothing of what Betty feels! Nothing of what was told to me!
Kaito waited. He let the echo of her scream dissipate among the infinite shelves. When silence filled the library again, he spoke once more, with a calmness that contrasted with the girl's emotional storm.
—Your mother didn't want you to wait locked away.
Beatrice looked up sharply.
—What?
—Echidna —Kaito said, and the name floated in the air like a spell—. She didn't leave you that Gospel so you would wait for a person chosen by a book. She left the decision to you, so you would have your own choice. So you would choose whom to consider special. So you would decide when to leave, not the Gospel.
Beatrice shook her head, but her movements were weak, as if Kaito's words had dismantled something she had held onto for centuries.
—No... Mother said... The Gospel...
—The Gospel is a tool your mother gave you, just to see your emotions, to see how you evolve beyond a Spirit.
—You lie! —Beatrice screamed again, but this time her voice broke—. You... you cannot know what Mother wanted! You weren't there!
Kaito took another step. Now he was close enough to see how the tears kept falling, how her small shoulders trembled.
—I wasn't there —he admitted—. But I can take you to someone who was. I can take you to her.
Beatrice froze. Her eyes, red from crying, looked at him with a mixture of hope and terror.
—To... Mother?
—Echidna is not entirely dead. Her spirit remains, in the Sanctuary. If you want, I can take you there. You can ask her yourself. You can hear from her lips what she really wanted for you.
The silence stretched between them. Beatrice seemed to have shrunk, her figure tiny in the middle of that immense library that had been her prison and her refuge.
—Why? —she asked finally, with a voice that could barely be heard—. Why are you doing this? Why do you come to tell Betty these things? What do you gain from it?
Kaito looked at her for a long moment. Then, he smiled. It was a tired but genuine smile.
—Nothing —he replied—. I gain nothing. But you lose everything if you stay here waiting for someone who is never going to come.
Beatrice said nothing more. She stood in the middle of the library, her arms down and tears still fresh on her cheeks, watching as Kaito said goodbye with a gentle gesture.
—When you want to go —he said, while a blue light began to form under his feet—. You only have to ask me.
And in a flash, he vanished.
Beatrice was left alone in her infinite library. For the first time in four hundred years, the silence was not comfort. It was a reminder of all the time she had lost waiting for an answer that perhaps would never arrive.
—Mother —she whispered, hugging herself—. What did you really want?
But this time, she didn't wait for an answer from the Gospel. She waited for one that she could only find outside of there.