The moment his consciousness traveled back through time and returned to his body, Subaru collapsed spectacularly.
"Whoa! H-Hey, you okay, bro?!"
Seeing Subaru suddenly fall flat on the street, Kadomon behind the counter waved his hands up and down in a panic.
The force of the fall knocked the wind out of him, and Subaru winced in pain as he gained a few pointless scrapes.
"Nah… I just, slipped a little."
"Slipped? It looked more like one of your legs disappeared or something. You okay to stand and walk? If you lost more than just your common sense, I'm not sticking around."
"That's not your concern… And what's that supposed to mean—'more than just common sense'? You're making me sound like some kind of lawless thug."
"Because you are. Especially considering how you're under the care of a noble now, you're even more of a handful."
Clicking his tongue at Kadomon's harsh words, Subaru voiced his displeasure.
Then suddenly, he felt a tug at his sleeve, followed by a warm sensation spreading through his body. Turning toward that warmth, he saw—
"Are you alright, Subaru-Kun?"
—Rem, who placed her hand over his scraped injury.
Mana of water flowing from her fingertips touched Subaru's wounds, accelerating their healing and stopping the bleeding.
As he felt the pain gradually ease, what surged through Subaru's chest was—
"Rem…"
"…Yes, it's me, Rem."
Hearing his weak, trembling voice call her name, Rem tilted her head in confusion.
"What's wrong? You look like you've just seen a ghost. There's no need to worry, I'm right here. I'm your Rem, Subaru-Kun."
She smiled playfully—unusual for her—trying to comfort him.
That's probably how pained and exhausted Subaru looked to her. But her words—like you've seen a ghost—were anything but funny.
They weren't funny. Not in the slightest.
"Rem, I…"
"It's hard, isn't it? But I think Subaru-Kun looks best when he's smiling, not with a gloomy face."
She met his eyes, her gaze brimming with quiet warmth.
"That's why I tried to make you smile."
Their eyes met head-on, and her gaze overflowed with compassion.
"Were you worried? Don't be. I'm right here. You saved me, Subaru-Kun. Risked your life for me. So it's okay."
—No. That's not it.
Subaru had let Rem die. He had killed her. Twice. Both cruelly and mercilessly.
The first time—maybe that wasn't entirely his fault. But the second time was different. The second time, without any excuse, Rem died for Subaru.
To protect him, to save him, to help him—she spent everything she had, even her final breath, to die for him.
And the Rem before him now didn't know.
And Tanaka...
Subaru was pathetic, they both took care of him and he did nothing. He left Tanaka to face everything by himself.
Before he realized it, Subaru was gripping Rem's small hand tightly, his head bowed to hide the flood of emotion about to spill out.
Seeing him like that, Rem worried she'd said something wrong. Her fingers trembled with unease.
But only for a moment.
Not wanting to make things worse, she seemed to gather her courage and said—
"It's okay. It's okay. It really is okay."
Gently, like soothing a child, she patted his back with her free hand.
Softly, tenderly—until Subaru could lift his head again.
With unwavering kindness and endless affection.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"You're kinda killin' my business here, flirting in front of the store."
Kadomon's gruff voice broke the moment like a stone thrown into still water. His arms were crossed, one brow raised as he watched them from behind the stall counter, pretending to be annoyed—though his voice lacked real bite.
Normally, Subaru would shoot back with something like, "Your business wouldn't work even if we weren't here!" and spark a fight. But right now, he didn't have the mental energy for that.
Subaru had no fight left in him.
He didn't even look up.
He simply let Rem guide him away, her hand still gently wrapped around his. There was no resistance in his movements—only silence. Like a puppet with its strings loosened, moving only because someone else willed it.
Kadomon let them go without another word. Despite the sarcasm, he hadn't chased them off or shouted for them to stop loitering.
He'd waited—waited until Subaru could stand again.
Kindness hidden behind a mask of sarcasm. But Subaru… didn't see it.
He couldn't.
Because right now, his heart was drowning in a single, singular emotion:
Kill.
Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill. Kill.
It beat inside his skull louder than his own pulse, a mantra of pure, undiluted hatred.
Even death couldn't smother it.
Even after waking in the familiar safety of the capital's sun-drenched streets—That one name still echoed like a curse:
Betelgeuse Romanée-Conti.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The real world—the one where Subaru screamed, where Rem died, where he failed—that was still burned behind his eyes.
He walked in silence, led by Rem's hand, up the steps of the Karsten estate.
And then he heard the words.
"What are you saying…? He's in a coma?"
Subaru's voice rang out in disbelief, sharp and trembling, as if someone had ripped the breath from his chest.
In the hallway of the estate, Crusch stood poised but solemn, her arms crossed tightly, lips pressed into a firm line.
"Yes," she said, voice low but steady. "He fell into a vegetative state. It happened suddenly. There was no warning. One moment he was speaking clearly… and the next, he collapsed. Felix has been trying to stabilize him ever since."
"I've done everything I can," Felix added softly, stepping up beside Crusch, his tone unusually subdued. "But his condition's wrapped in mystery. The lesser spirits are interfering with my healing magic… they're rejecting invasive treatment."
He brushed a strand of hair behind one ear, feline eyes darkened by frustration.
"And if I'm being honest… maybe it's for the best. His vitals are steady, and his mind hasn't deteriorated. But there's just—no response. Nothing."
Crusch sighed, her gaze distant as she leaned slightly against the wall, her expression conflicted.
Subaru's voice returned, sharper this time.
"When… exactly did he collapse? About two hours ago?"
Crusch's head turned slowly.
"Yes. How did you know that?"
Subaru's expression darkened. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
Rem, standing beside him, tilted her head with concern, then quietly asked—
"Subaru-Kun… is it related to as to that why you collapsed earlier?"
"It's the Witch Cult," Subaru hissed, venom dripping from each syllable. "He was completely fine until they attacked us. They did something to him, I'm certain.."
Crusch's gaze sharpened, "What do you mean they 'did this'? When exactly were you attacked?"
Subaru didn't answer.
He looked away.
The words lodged in his throat—heavy, forbidden, screaming to come out but strangled by something invisible.
"I can't tell you."
The air froze.
Then—Crusch's hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him forward.
"This is not the time for riddles, Natsuki Subaru!" she shouted, her composed mask breaking. "This is your friend's life! If you know something—say it!"
Subaru winced at the force of her grip but didn't move.
He couldn't.
Not because he didn't want to—but because he was bound.
"That's enough," Rem said gently, stepping forward and placing her hand on Crusch's wrist. Her voice was calm, but firm. "Please. Subaru-Kun wouldn't hesitate to save Tanaka-Kun.."
Crusch hesitated, eyes flicking between them, then slowly released him with a frustrated sigh.
Rem turned to Subaru next, her eyes searching.
"Subaru-Kun, this might be a clue to save Tanaka..."
Subaru looked at her.
She always did that—understand even the silence.
"It's an oath curse... I can't say anything more regarding that incident."
Oath curse, a term he was unfamiliar with and yet that was what Tanaka used last time to convince Crusch without speaking the taboo words.
The words felt like lead in his mouth.
"All I know… is that the Witch Cult did this to him. And whatever they did—it started when they attacked us. He wasn't like this before. And they're not done."
Subaru's gaze turned deadly.
"The next place they'll strike is the Mathers Estate."
[???] "Well now… this is new."
The voice drifted like a whisper across an unseen plane. Despite being spoken aloud, no one reacted—not Rem, not Crusch, not even Subaru.
Because no one could hear it.
No one except the boy who hovered just above them, suspended in a still and silent world of blue.
From high above the hallway of the Karsten estate, Tanaka floated, weightless in a space where time seemed frozen. He stared down at the group below—Subaru, Rem, Crusch, Felix and even his own unconscious body—all speaking, all moving. Yet their voices were muted, their forms blurred slightly by the shimmering veil between worlds.
He lowered his gaze to his own hands. They were visible… but barely—a soft, translucent blue hue wrapped around his fingers like a mist. When he moved them, they left faint trails of light, and through them he could see the world beneath.
His entire body was glowing, gently but eerily, like the faint shimmer of moonlight on water.
And then, a voice spoke.
[???] "It's nice to finally meet you again."
Tanaka's eyes flicked toward the source.
There, floating a few feet away from him, was something small and unexpected: a white, ash-gray bear, no larger than a cub. Its fur was thick and cloud-like, and its round ears twitched with faint amusement. Despite its size and peculiar form, its presence radiated something ancient.
The form reminded Tanaka of Puck… though this one felt calmer, gentler—yet oddly more real.
Strange as the moment was, Tanaka found his attention drifting elsewhere.
"What is this sensation?" he murmured aloud. "I feel… really comfortable. Too comfortable."
The bear gave a soft chuckle, floating lazily in front of him.
"Makes sense. Your soul isn't tethered to your body right now. All the pressure and pain you usually carry? Gone. Stress, fatigue, fear—it doesn't follow you here. Right now, you're closer to a spirit than a human."
Tanaka blinked slowly, absorbing the information like a still lake taking in rain.
"Does that mean I'm not human anymore? Am I… dead?"
His tone was surprisingly neutral. No panic. No rising dread. Just a question.The eerie tranquility wrapping around his soul dulled even fear.
Odglass tilted her head, eyes narrowing like a knowing older sibling.
"If you were anyone else, then yeah. You'd be dead. But you're not like them. This ability—you being here—is something only you can do. I just nudged it a little. Pulled the string, so to speak. I wanted us to have time to talk. Privately."
Tanaka simply nodded.
"I see…"
No denial. No disbelief. Just calm, calculated acceptance.
Tanaka's expression didn't change—but his voice grew firmer, his thoughts sharpening into focus.
"Then tell me something."
His gaze locked onto hers like a knife.
"Don't you think you should've told me when we were going to meet again? I started wondering if our last encounter was just a hallucination."
There was no venom in his tone—only quiet disappointment, and a deep thirst for truth.
Odglass floated closer, her small paws folding against her chest, her voice suddenly serious.
"I understand. And you're right. I know you've been waiting. And I promise—I'll answer everything. Every question, every doubt."
"But first… I need to explain your current state, and why this moment matters more than anything we've shared before."
*********************************************************************************************************
Odglass drifted a little closer, her small bear-like form outlined in gentle silver light.
"First off—just a small request—can you call me Mother? Or Mom? Or Mama, maybe? Honestly, I'm flexible."
"No."
He shut her down without hesitation.
Odglass blinked, ears twitching.
"Instant rejection! Wow, brutal! I am the great spirit Odglass, y'know. Some call me the Benevolent Mother. I see all living beings—human or spirit—as my children. So that makes you, technically speaking… my son!"
Tanaka didn't flinch.His voice remained calm, resolute.
"I appreciate the sentiment. But the only person I'll ever call mother is Kazuki Luna."
The spirit paused—then chuckled softly, warmth flickering in her glowing eyes.
"Heh… I know."
Her tone lost its teasing edge, mellowing into something gentler.
"Don't worry, I wasn't going to force it. Just thought I'd try."
They floated together in silence for a moment, staring downward.
Below them, Tanaka's body lay motionless on a soft bed within the Karsten estate, limbs still and chest barely rising.
Then, Odglass spoke again, her tone shifting into something clearer.
"Let's move on to the important matter: your condition."
Her eyes shimmered as she looked down at his body.
"You don't have an Od."
The statement dropped like a stone in still water.
"In most cases, that means death. No Od means no way to connect to mana, no way for the body to regulate itself magically. For regular humans, it's a death sentence."
"Normally, people who overuse their Od damage their gate. A broken gate means no more mana intake. Worse, even if you do absorb mana, if your body can't purify and recycle it properly, you end up with mana poisoning—and that leads to a slow, painful death."
Tanaka absorbed every word, his expression unreadable.
Then came the twist.
"But your case is… different. You have no Od, and yet your gate is perfectly intact. Not just intact—healthy. And even more baffling: it already has mana stored inside."
"So… what happened to me—is it mana poisoning?"
"No. Quite the opposite."
She floated ahead of him, eyes glowing brighter now with intensity.
"Mana, as you probably know, is never absorbed in a perfectly pure state. It's tainted—laced with impurities, emotional residue, ambient energies. A normal gate filters out what it can, the rest gets expelled or consumed through magic."
"But your gate doesn't just filter mana…"
She turned back to him slowly, her tone shifting into reverence.
"It purifies it."
"That's why your gate is always closed so tightly—it's maintaining an inner reserve of pristine mana. Mana so clean, it glows. And when someone tries to force it open—like that demi-human girl or Betty—your body reacts violently."
Tanaka tilted his head slightly.
Felix is a boy, though…
But he didn't bother correcting her. That detail felt insignificant compared to the bigger picture.Besides, he remembered. Rem had said it too—how the mana pouring out of him was abnormally clean, unlike anything she'd sensed before.
The words hadn't meant much to him back then. Now they did.
"But… I don't even have an Od. How did I manage to store mana in the first place?"
Even more confusing was the fact that he'd used magic before. More than once. He was spending mana—his own—in battle.
Odglass floated gently in front of him, her expression patient but thoughtful.
"Spirits."
She let the word settle, the gravity of it pressing lightly on the space around them.
"You've always been surrounded by spirits. Not by coincidence. Yes, they like you… but their true purpose—their instinct—was to share mana with you. They were sustaining you."
"You see, spirits have gates of their own. They absorb mana from the world around them like any other being. But while staying close to you, they transferred some of that mana into your gate. They've been nurturing you all this time."
Tanaka was silent.
A strange mixture of warmth and guilt began to pool in his chest.
"That's also why, when using magic, you should favor spirit arts whenever possible. It won't be as potent—since the mana from spirits isn't as refined as the one your gate purifies—but you'll avoid overwhelming your body. You'll avoid collapsing."
He lowered his gaze.
"I… I didn't know."
He had always felt thankful toward them—the little wisps of light, the faint voices that came to his side when he needed them most. But now he understood something deeper:
They hadn't just helped him.
They had kept him alive.
They were his hidden lifeline—his silent crutch when his body could no longer bear the weight. He had never truly realized just how much he owed them.
"The reason you're unconscious now," she continued softly, "is because I asked them to stop providing you with mana."
Her tone was quieter, almost hesitant now.
"They didn't want to comply. It took considerable effort to convince them this was necessary—and a one-time thing. I needed to speak with you privately. I needed time."
She turned to face him more directly.
"And there's something else. We can't interfere in this particular loop."
Tanaka's gaze sharpened.
"What do you mean?"
Despite the swirl of new revelations, that statement cut through the haze. His instincts flared.
Odglass paused—then looked downward toward the world below.
"This… was the ideal moment for us to talk. A place where you aren't meant to act. You will awaken again—but only after this loop ends."
Tanaka's brows furrowed.
"Wait… are you saying Subaru is going to die?"
She nodded slowly.
Her voice, while gentle, carried no trace of doubt.
"It's guaranteed. That child doesn't yet have the knowledge… or the allies… necessary to survive the situation he's about to face."
Tanaka clenched his fists, his form flickering faintly in response.
"Then it's a more reason as to why I shouldn't be here. I can't stay like chatting knowing that he and everyone else are going to di..."
"It's a turning point."
Her words halted him. Not by force, but by weight.
"What do you mean… a turning point?"
She looked at him, eyes shimmering with a quiet sorrow.
"The Oni girl's death… Rem. That was the moment—the pivotal fracture in that reality. From that point on, everything spiraled downward. And it was you who disrupted that fate. You chose to erase the possibility of that turning point."
Tanaka's eyes widened in realization.
"After he fails once again, that child... Natsuki Subaru will make a decision."