In a dim room weighed down by the stillness of twilight, a single candle burned on, trembling as if burdened by the breath of a ghost. The silence was thick, filled not with calm but with the weight of something unnatural—something waiting.
Subaru lay motionless on the unfamiliar bed, eyes wide open, yet adrift in a sea of blank thoughts. His limbs obeyed, but barely. His breath was steady, but shallow. The body lived. The soul… hesitated.
He didn't know where he was, nor how he had arrived. The last memory he could grasp was a blurred image—of lights, a road, a sudden jolt—and then nothing. Only this silence, heavy and alien.
The scent in the room was faint but strange: lavender mixed with dust, and something older… colder. The kind of scent that seeped through walls and history. That clung to places not meant for the living.
A knock came.
It was not loud, but precise. A knock that did not seek permission. The door opened.
Subaru's gaze snapped toward it, though his body did not move.
A tall figure stepped in, clothed in deep, elegant robes, with mismatched eyes that gleamed like secrets in the dark. One blue. One gold. His smile was composed, yet strange, as though painted upon a face too accustomed to lying.
"Ah… you're awake," said the man, his voice slow and theatrical, as if savoring every syllable.
Subaru's throat was dry. "Who… are you?"
The man did not answer immediately. Instead, he walked slowly toward the candle and tilted his head.
"Does it matter, if I say I am the one who called you here?" he said at last.
"You… called me?"
"Yes," he replied, turning with a slight bow. "I am Roswaal L. Mathers. And you, my guest from another world."
Subaru stared at him, confusion swirling with the first tendrils of fear.
"I was… summoned? Like some kind of… tool?"
"Not a tool," Roswaal said, smiling wider. "A vessel. A possibility. A soul not bound by this world's fate, unshaped by its threads. That is why I chose you."
The word "chose" felt wrong in Subaru's ears. Like something stolen.
"Why me?" he asked again, softer.
"Because you can die," Roswaal said, his voice shifting, almost tender. "And still return. Again. And again."
Subaru froze. The words felt unreal, but they carved into his skin.
Roswaal stepped closer, shadows dancing behind him.
"There is a spirit who must be revived. One whose intellect and magic tower above all. She is gone… for now. But her legacy, her will, her soul—they still linger."
"You're talking about the Witch of Greed…" Subaru whispered.
Roswaal's eyes lit up.
"Ah! You know her already. How delightful. Yes, Echidna. But knowledge is not enough. To return, she needs a vessel. One pure. One noble. One… like Emilia."
The name struck Subaru like a sudden wind. Emilia… that silver-haired girl whose face he barely remembered but could not forget.
"You want to bring her back—inside Emilia?"
"I want to complete what fate began," Roswaal said.
"That's… insane."
"Perhaps," Roswaal admitted, tilting his head. "But is it any more insane than a boy waking up in a world not his own? With powers he did not ask for? With death… trailing his every breath?"
Subaru's fists clenched.
"What do you want from me?"
Roswaal's grin widened.
"Obedience? No. Devotion? Not quite. What I want, dear Subaru, is for you to live. To die. And to live again. Until the future I desire… is real."
Subaru shuddered. The room felt colder now, as if something unseen had slipped in with Roswaal.
The candle flickered.
In the wall's shadow, a second figure seemed to emerge—no body, no face, only a silhouette with watching eyes. Subaru's reflection, or something else?
Then the whisper came—not from Roswaal, nor from Subaru's thoughts, but from the walls themselves.
"Return… to me…"
His heart stopped.
Roswaal, unmoved, turned toward the window.
"It has begun," he murmured.
And in Subaru's chest, the strange weight grew heavier.
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