Cold....
Empty.....
Where's the light....?
Mother....?
Father....?
I'm scared....
Please....help me. . . .
Subaru floated in the dark.
No, not dark—thick. The space clung to him like oil, crawling into his lungs, sliding down his throat. He couldn't breathe, but his chest didn't ache. He couldn't move, but his muscles didn't scream. Everything was heavy, smothering, oppressive.
And then—six white eyes opened in the black.
They didn't blink. They didn't shift. They just stared. Huge, unblinking, endless things that pinned him where he hung. Subaru tried to think, to put words to what he was seeing, but his mind slipped on it like glass. Wrong. Alien. Terrifying.
The mouth opened next. A cavernous tear in the void, rows of teeth glowing faintly white, stretching far too wide.
Subaru's pulse hammered in his ears. He thought he screamed—but no sound came out.
The thing swallowed him whole.
White light seared across his vision. His chest ignited like fire, every nerve screaming as if his ribs were cracking open to make room for something else. A heartbeat thundered through him—his? Not his? He couldn't tell.
And then—
Thud.
Face-first into dirt. His mask smacked against the ground, jarring him fully awake. Subaru groaned, pushing himself up with stiff arms. His body felt off—like the warmth had been siphoned out and replaced with something hollow.
"Subaru?!"
He blinked up. Rem stood in front of him, basket clutched in her hands, her blue eyes wide with something that wasn't just concern. The Weaverlings had scrambled into a protective circle around him, threads twitching as if ready to spring. Grimmchild hovered close, embers licking off her wings in agitation.
"Are you… alright?" Rem asked, voice low but firm. "Why did you suddenly collapse?"
Subaru said nothing at first. His fingers brushed at the mask's edge, tightening it back over his face like armor. His voice, when it came, was quiet. Measured. Flat.
"…I don't know."
It wasn't a lie. He didn't know. But the words lacked the spark of panic he should've had, the spark of life. Even his own ears caught the difference.
Rem's gaze sharpened, nostrils flaring as if catching a scent. Her grip on the basket tightened imperceptibly. Subaru felt it, too—that shift in the air. That pressure. The miasma hanging thicker on him than before.
Her lips pressed thin. She didn't say it outright—not yet. But suspicion hung in her eyes like a blade's edge.
The Weaverlings clambered up Subaru's legs to perch on his shoulders, chittering softly, their small legs brushing reassurance across his neck. Grimmchild pressed close to his cheek, a warm glow against the creeping cold.
Subaru forced himself to stand, brushing dirt off his cloak. His motions were deliberate, automatic. Like a machine remembering what it was supposed to do.
"I'm fine," he said, though the tone was hollow. "Let's… keep moving."
Rem's eyes lingered on him a moment longer, unreadable. Then she gave a small nod and turned back toward the road, her steps quiet but brisk.
Behind the mask, Subaru's eyes narrowed. His heart still burned with that phantom flame. The image of those six eyes lingered in his mind, refusing to fade.
---
The dirt road stretched out ahead, lined with crooked fences and patches of wild grass that swayed faintly in the breeze. Arlam Village wasn't far now, but Rem lingered a step or two behind. Not enough for Subaru to notice—not enough for him to think she was avoiding him. Just enough to keep her gaze fixed firmly on his back.
His stride was steady. Too steady. No hesitation in his movements, no wasted energy. Every step seemed… measured, deliberate. And that mask. That blank, white mask that turned his face into something inhuman. She didn't need to see his expression to know he was hiding something.
Her fingers flexed at her side, itching for the weight of her morningstar.
That smell.
It had grown stronger since yesterday, clinging to him like smoke after a fire. The stench of the Witch—thick, oppressive, foul. Rem's stomach tightened just breathing it in. Instinct screamed at her to strike him down where he stood, to crush him before his corruption could spread.
Her horn ached faintly beneath her skin. A whisper of power begged to be unleashed.
But she held back.
Because of her sister.
Ram's words echoed in her mind from the night before: "You cannot judge a man only by his smell, Rem. If we can serve Emilia-sama, who looks the spitting image of that Witch, then we can stomach this strange dog as well. Don't shame me with reckless judgment."
Ram was right. Rem knew she was right. And yet… her instincts clawed at her, unrelenting.
It reminded her of that night. The screams, the flames, the smell of blood and iron. The Witch's cult tearing everything apart. The helplessness. The fear. The rage.
She couldn't—wouldn't—allow a repeat.
So she kept her eyes locked on Subaru's back, her steps shadowing his. If he veered, she would follow. If he stumbled, she would strike down whatever caused it. If he even so much as twitched wrong, she would be ready to kill him.
Not for his sake. Never for his sake.
But for her sister's.
Rem tightened her grip on the basket in her hands, the wood creaking under her fingers. Her lips pressed into a thin line.
Until the truth revealed itself, she would not leave his side.
---
The trek ended with silence heavy between them. Subaru adjusted the strap of his cloak, Grimmchild nestled on his shoulder, its ember-like eyes flicking lazily at Rem every so often. The Weaverlings scuttled along at his heels, their silken threads trailing faintly, leaving thin lines of white in the dirt road.
The village of Arlam spread out before them in quiet bustle. Children ran in circles, laughing and chasing each other around weathered fences. Merchants called out from their stalls, advertising fresh vegetables and hand-woven goods. The scent of baked bread drifted from somewhere nearby, warm and homey.
For anyone else, it might've felt safe. Comforting. A scene untouched by the darkness Subaru had already seen lurking behind this world's mask. But to him? It was just fragile. Fragile, and temporary.
"Barusu," Rem's voice cut into the hum of the village, as sharp as her eyes on him. She adjusted the basket on her arm, her posture as rigid as ever. "You will accompany me to the market. I wouldn't want you getting lost."
Subaru tilted his head at her tone but didn't argue. "Fine. Lead the way."
Grimmchild let out a soft trill and floated from his shoulder, circling him once before settling back down. The Weaverlings, however, didn't follow. Their attention had already been caught. The tiny spider-like spirits darted away in excited chatter, their glowing eyes fixating on a familiar face in the crowd.
A girl with short orange hair stood near the well, holding a basket in her small arms. Petra. Her eyes lit up when she noticed the trio of Weaverlings bounding toward her. She crouched down with a laugh, letting them crawl into her lap as though they'd been friends for years.
Subaru paused, watching the scene for a moment. Petra's delighted giggle rang in the air, one of the Weaverlings curling around her arm as if to hug her. A faint smirk tugged at his lips beneath the mask, though it vanished as quickly as it came.
Rem stopped too, following his gaze briefly. Her expression didn't change. "Focus," she said curtly, tugging him toward the row of shops.
"Yeah, yeah," Subaru muttered, forcing his eyes off the girl and the spirits. He had no doubt they'd find their way back to him. They always did.
Still, he couldn't shake the strange warmth of the sight as they moved deeper into the market.
The market was alive with color and noise, the kind of place that should've been distracting—but Subaru walked through it in silence, Grimmchild curled up asleep atop his head. The little spirit's ember-lit wings twitched with each snore, almost mocking the chatter around them.
Rem moved with brisk efficiency, stopping at stall after stall, her words curt and precise as she bought vegetables, dried meats, herbs, and other necessities. Subaru trailed her like a shadow, hands folded behind his back, saying nothing. He didn't need to. He could hear enough without opening his mouth.
Whispers followed him.
"That man…""Creepy mask…""Feels like the air's heavier when he's around."
They thought they were quiet, but Subaru's ears caught every word. Suspicion. Fear. Paranoia. He didn't so much as flinch. Their voices were nothing compared to the memory of screams—real screams, choked off by blood and torn throats. This was easy to ignore.
Once the last coin had been exchanged, Rem turned sharply on her heel, her basket heavy in her arms. "We're done," she said, voice flat as stone. Subaru gave a small nod, following her as they walked back toward the fountain square.
The sound of laughter reached them first.
Weaverlings darted in circles near the fountain, weaving tiny trails of silk as they played with a gaggle of village children. Their small black bodies gleamed faintly in the sunlight, their white eyes blinking like scattered stars. Subaru's gaze softened just a fraction beneath the mask.
Two familiar faces stood out among the group. Petra, her cardigan swaying as she giggled, held one of the Weaverlings close like a prized treasure. And Meili, her sailor-collared dress crisp against her pale skin, cradled her small horned puppy in her arms.
The Weaverlings froze when they spotted Subaru. Then, in unison, they squealed, rushing toward him in a flurry of chittering legs and silk threads. They climbed up his cloak and nestled against his chest, purring vibrations rippling through their tiny bodies.
Petra ran after them, cheeks flushed with excitement. "There you are!" she said, beaming. She looked up at Subaru, completely unbothered by the mask that unsettled the adults. "You'll come back, right? You have to! We're best friends now—me, your little spiders, and now you!."
Subaru tilted his head at her words. Slowly, deliberately, he gave a single nod. It was enough to make her grin widen as if he'd promised her the moon.
He and Rem turned toward the trail leading back to the mansion, Grimmchild now awake and fluttering lazily in the air beside them. But before Subaru took the first step, he felt it—a sharp gaze drilling into his back.
He turned.
Meili stood there, her puppy tucked under her chin. Her expression was different. Her eyes weren't wide or childish. They were sharp, cold, calculating—like Elsa's, but quieter, more dangerous in their restraint.
The moment Subaru's mask tilted toward her, she shifted. Her gaze softened, her lips curling into a smile too sweet for the blood that had been behind her eyes. She lifted one hand and waved cheerfully, the very picture of innocence.
Subaru didn't wave back. He simply stared for a breath longer before turning away.
"Barusu." Rem's voice snapped the moment like a blade cutting silk. She stood ahead on the trail, her gaze cold, her tone sharp. "Come. Unless you want us to be late."
Subaru fell into step beside her, the Weaverlings curling into his cloak, Grimmchild's ember eyes casting faint sparks in the fading daylight.
Behind them, the fountain square went back to laughter and chatter. But Subaru could feel that gaze on his back long after they left the village.
The forest path stretched ahead, a tunnel of muted greens and shifting light. Subaru's boots sank softly into the dirt with each step, the silence between him and Rem as heavy as the air before a storm. Grimmchild rested quietly atop his head again, wings flickering with the occasional ember glow, while the Weaverlings kept close to his heels, chittering faintly as if sensing the unease clinging to the air.
Subaru's mind drifted, the monotony of the walk drawing his thoughts inward. The crunch of gravel beneath his feet blurred, replaced by a strange pressure in his chest. Deja vu. A prickling sensation crawled up his spine, whispering that he had done this before. This exact road. These exact steps. The thought unsettled him, yet he couldn't grasp why.
"Why does it feel like the second time…?" he thought, flexing his gloved fingers around the hilt of his nail. His chest burned faintly, like a phantom heartbeat.
—
Her grip on the handle of her morning star tightened with every step. The silence grated, her thoughts louder than the rustling of leaves. The smell clung to him—thick, suffocating, unmistakable. Stronger than yesterday, as if it were bleeding from his very soul.
The Witch's scent.
Her instincts screamed at her: Kill him. Now. Before he strikes first. Before he takes everything again.
Her sister's words whispered at the back of her mind, warning her not to act rashly. That smell alone was not enough. That smell clung to Roswaal, to Emilia, to the ones she had sworn to serve. But standing here, with this masked man walking ahead of her, Rem could not silence the pounding of her oni blood.
If she hesitated now, if she waited for "proof"… it would be Ram's corpse she would mourn.
Her decision hardened.
Without hesitation, she swung.
The chains screamed as the massive morning star tore through the air and crashed into Subaru's side.
—
He didn't get the chance. The voices that weren't his own screamed at him to dodge, to move—but the weight hit before his body could react.
Pain exploded across his ribs as he was hurled through trees, splintered bark biting into his back. He finally skidded to a stop against a broken trunk, dust and splinters clinging to his cloak. His ears rang. His mask sat crooked.
He forced himself upright, dragging in a ragged breath. His arm—no, what was left of it—hung by shreds of muscle and tissue, the limb practically useless. He could barely clench his fingers. The agony should've broken him in half, should've drawn screams out of his throat. Instead, only a single word slipped out, deadpan:
"…Ow."
His vision steadied just as the forest trembled under slow, deliberate steps.
Rem approached, morning star dragging across the dirt, gouging deep scars into the earth with every pull. Her face was a mask of fury restrained by duty, her blue eyes sharp and merciless.
"Confess," she said coldly, the word more sentence than request. "Admit your plans. Surrender now… or I will tear it out of you piece by piece."
Subaru didn't answer. He only glanced down at the ruined limb. His free hand reached to the hilt at his side. With one smooth, detached motion, he raised the nail and severed the arm entirely, the mangled flesh dropping to the dirt with a sickening thud.
Rem's expression didn't soften. If anything, there was relief in her eyes. At least now he was resisting. At least now she could kill him without hesitation.
The chain rattled. Her stance shifted.
Subaru gripped his nail, the weight familiar, his mask tilting toward her with eerie calm.
No words. No excuses.
She charged.
He prepared.
Kill Her....