Re:Zero - Archbishop of Vainglory : Chapter 56-60

Chapter 56: Everything for the Banquet (Part 2)

Pandora didn’t get angry. She simply sat back down, smiling as she looked at him, the corner of her lips curving into something almost ghostly.

“There’s no need to be so guarded~ I won’t hurt you. After all, you know this already, right? I’ve loved you for seven years now.”

“…Your love feels just as cold as it did back then.”

“Is that so? Then what kind of warmth do you want to feel from me? What sort of love?”

“I need selfless love. To start with…” Carlos paused, eyes narrowing. “How about lending me your marquess identity?”

“What are you planning to do?”

“Invite some girls here for a banquet.”

“A banquet?” Pandora hummed thoughtfully. “That sounds nice. But you have to treat the girls well, okay~ And since we’re finally meeting again, you’ll have to stay in the Royal Capital and play with me properly.”

She thought for only a moment before agreeing with surprising ease. As she did, she blinked at him meaningfully, tacking on two oddly specific conditions.

Carlos didn’t think much of it. Spending time with Pandora wasn’t exactly new territory. He was used to indulging this strange woman by now.

As for her talk about “treating people well,” he found it absurd. Pandora was no saint. She didn’t slaughter indiscriminately, but she was still an evildoer who acted purely on her own whims.

If he were younger, still clinging to childish ideals of justice, she would probably have been the first villain he tried to take down.

But now… he and Pandora were cut from the same cloth.

He had no right to condemn her.

……

……

Once Carlos agreed, Pandora casually spoke with the people outside, confirming his new identity.

Carlos Creed.

More precisely, the adopted son of Shea Creed, Pandora’s false identity, and the confirmed first heir to the Creed family’s marquess title.

He wanted to complain. Why give him such an awkward backstory? Even the age gap felt strange.

Then again… nobles.

In a world stuck somewhere around the medieval era, nobles alone explained everything.

……

When Carlos stepped out of the castle, there was now a striking silver-haired girl walking beside him.

To anyone but him, she looked like nothing more than an ordinarily beautiful young woman. Under the influence of her Authority, she failed to draw much attention.

“A man and a woman strolling down the street together,” Pandora said lightly. “By your old standards, that counts as a date, right? How interesting~”

“…Personally, it feels more like an adult dragging a child around for shopping.”

Carlos held an umbrella as they walked, reluctantly shielding a girl who wouldn’t tan no matter how much sun she got. He muttered complaints while refuting her definition.

Pandora didn’t care. She walked half a step ahead of him, and before long…

She led him straight to Roswaal’s residence in the Royal Capital.

Before Carlos could start wondering whether she had “seen” his destination using something akin to the Book of Wisdom, though far inferior to it, he spotted Emilia standing at the gate, looking around anxiously.

“Ah, Carlos! Where did you go? Why—”

She raised a hand in relief when she saw him, only to freeze when she noticed Pandora at his side. Confusion flickered across her face.

“…Is this your friend in the Royal Capital?”

“Well… friend might be a stretch, but in a way, sure.”

“I see… that’s an unusual relationship.”

Emilia nodded, not entirely understanding, but still warmly invited them inside.

For some reason, Pandora kept watching Emilia the entire time. That curious, intent gaze made Emilia visibly uncomfortable.

“Um… why are you staring at me?”

“You’ve grown up,” Pandora said softly.

“Huh? Grown up? What do you mean? Have we met before?”

“No~ I know you. You don’t know me.”

With a meaningful smile, Pandora shook her head, then gracefully sat down on Carlos’ lap.

Both his expression and Emilia’s stiffened at once.

At the same time, he heard something burst to his side. A strange liquid splashed across his face.

He turned instinctively.

In Ram’s hand was a crushed apple, juice dripping between her fingers. The look in her eyes barely qualified as human.

"You're impressive," she said calmly, swaying as she approached him. “You were gone for less than two hours, and you already brought another woman back. Very impressive.”

The doors and windows were shut tight, yet a violent wind tore through the room, making it impossible to keep one’s eyes open.

Furniture was hurled aside by the gale. Emilia panicked, trying to stop her.

“W-Wait! Ram! What are you doing?! This is dangerous! Calm down!”

“Sister! What’s going on? Why is there—th-this woman?!”

Sensing her twin’s emotional upheaval, Rem rushed downstairs. As she took in the scene, her gaze landed on Pandora sitting on Carlos’ lap. Her face went rigid.

At the center of it all, Carlos pressed a hand to his forehead and muttered wearily.

“…What are you trying to do? Bored and looking to make trouble for me?”

“I wanted to see something interesting. And to check on people I’ve met before Come to think of it, are these the twins from back then? They’ve grown nicely. You really are a lucky one”

“…If you’d said that somewhere else, I might’ve even felt a little happy. But right now…”

The girl laughing sweetly on his lap was a being he absolutely couldn’t afford to offend.

At a loss, Carlos could only look helplessly at Ram, who was radiating murderous intent, and at Rem, clinging to her sister and staring at him with hurt in her eyes.

There was nothing between him and Pandora. Nothing at all.

And yet, the misunderstanding had spiraled this far, leaving him mentally exhausted.

As he sighed and tried his best to explain, he failed to notice Pandora’s gaze drifting back and forth between the three girls.

……

……

After a day of chaos, Carlos vanished early the next morning once again, leaving the twins searching everywhere.

Emilia suspected he’d gone off fooling around again, but she didn’t dwell on it. All she could do was sigh deeply before boarding the Dragon Carriage with Roswaal and heading for the royal castle.

Carlos, meanwhile, returned to Pandora’s side. After changing clothes, he rode in the Creed family’s Dragon Carriage, attending the ceremony as the Creed family’s representative.

The Royal Capital stood atop rolling highland hills, and at its highest point rose the royal castle itself.

As the Dragon Carriage climbed toward it, Carlos took in the city’s grandeur. Everywhere he looked, solemn and ornate decorations filled his view.

The castle grounds were vast, even containing training arenas used by the Royal Guard. After disembarking and proceeding on foot, the long corridor leading to the throne room was lined with paintings and works of art.

Every stone pillar was flanked by a fully armed guard wielding a halberd.

At the corridor’s end stood enormous double doors, tall enough to force one to look up. Golden dragons were carved across them in exquisite detail, opulence taken to its extreme.

Standing before the doors as if welcoming guests was a man whose appearance was less refined and more severe. For some reason, Carlos found him hard not to laugh at.

The man himself wasn’t funny. He looked to be in his forties or fifties, with a square, stone-carved face and an air of a veteran warrior.

The problem was his hair.

A perfectly flat, neatly trimmed green buzz cut, like a manicured lawn.

The head of the Royal Guard, Marcos Gildark, studied Carlos carefully while Carlos struggled to suppress his laughter at that "lawn."

After quite a while, Marcos spoke.

“You are Mr. Carlos, here to witness the start of the ceremony in place of the ill Marquess Shea?”

“That’s correct.”

“Then please proceed. Everyone else has already arrived. You’re late.”

Whatever Marcos had been thinking, he didn’t elaborate. He nodded and stepped aside.

Two guards moved at once, pushing the massive doors open.

Beyond them stretched an immense hall, a long red carpet running across the floor. The walls were adorned in gold and crimson.

The space was enormous, like a grand arena, so wide it made one question whether it truly sat atop the castle at all.

Many had already arrived. To the left stood ranks of Royal Guard in white uniforms. To the right, nobles in black and purple robes.

At the center, separated from both sides, stood four graceful young women.

“Carlos?! Why are you here?! And why are you dressed like a noble?!”

Among the four, the only silver-haired girl, Emilia, widened her violet eyes in disbelief.

Another among them, a purple-haired girl named Anastasia, glanced at him, clicked her tongue, and immediately turned away, pretending not to know him.

“There are… various reasons,” Carlos said with a casual wave. “Don’t worry about me. The meeting’s about to start anyway.”

With that, he walked over to the nobles’ side on his own.

Emilia, full of questions, had no choice but to swallow them for now.

Truth be told, Carlos didn’t care whether he attended this assembly or not. His real plan began after it ended.

He intended to invite his targets to the marquess’ countryside estate. Once there… he’d call in Petelgeuse and Anna’s people and settle everything at once.

Afterward, he’d invite Roswaal as well.

A clean double kill.

The Royal Capital wasn’t a good place to act, but chances to move while Pandora was present were rare. He didn’t want to miss it. Even if she wouldn’t help much, limited assistance was likely.

If it went well, he’d achieve his goal and finally settle a long-standing grudge.

If it failed… even if Pandora helped him escape, he wouldn’t be able to stay by Roswaal’s side. His identity as a Sin Archbishop would be exposed, and the kingdom would hunt him down.

Still… it was worth trying.

He didn’t care about reputation. Being wanted didn’t matter. It would just mean saying goodbye to the twins again and returning to a life of freedom.

……

Chapter 57: Bizarre Candidates and a Failed Invitation

Not long after Carlos entered the throne room, the members of the Council of Wise Men, the ones keeping the kingdom running in the absence of a king, began to file in.

A group of elderly men, they walked in silence to the far end of the hall. There, above the steps leading up to the throne, they took their seats around the many vacant positions surrounding the empty seat of kingship.

Sometime after that, Marcos Gildark, the knight commander who had arrived without much fanfare, stepped onto the stairs below the thrones. He swept his gaze across the gathered knights and nobles, then announced the start of the council meeting in a loud, commanding voice.

Yet compared to the white-haired elders or the knight commander towering beneath banners of green, Carlos found his attention drifting elsewhere.

To the four royal candidates standing at the center.

Among the four girls, each with a different hair color, only Emilia and Anastasia were familiar to him. The other two were faces he had encountered only today.

One of them had long, dark green hair and wore attire resembling a military uniform. A sword bearing a lion crest hung at her waist. Dressed in men’s clothing, she carried herself with solemn composure, her expression strict and unyielding, radiating a sharp, disciplined presence.

In Carlos’ eyes, she looked like the most suitable person here to become king.

And it was not just him. To most nobles, the judgment was the same. Compared to all the other strange, questionable choices, she was clearly the most fitting.

After all, this woman in men’s attire, Crusch Karsten, was the only legitimate hereditary noble among the candidates. Not only that, she was a duke.

Anastasia and Felt were born in the Slums. Emilia came from a forest village. And then there was Priscilla Barielle. Though she held a noble title, the way she had acquired it was, frankly, hard to admire.

Priscilla’s origins were unclear. She had been engaged eight times, and every one of her fiancés had died within a year. Now she held the rank of baron, inherited from the last and highest-ranked of her deceased fiancés.

“…What exactly is her deal? A curse? Or poison? Either way… there’s no way those were natural deaths. This looks more like marrying up, killing the husband, and seizing the estate.”

Thinking of the second noble candidate, Carlos’ gaze shifted to the orange-haired girl among the four.

Priscilla stood out even in a crowd like this. But it was not merely her looks that drew attention.

Well… her appearance certainly helped. Just by eyeing it, her chest was easily the most impressive among the four.

But compared to Anastasia’s impassive face, Crusch’s austere composure, and Emilia’s restrained, faintly anxious demeanor, Priscilla carried herself with unmistakable arrogance.

Hands on her hips, chest thrust forward, she stood proudly. Despite being nothing more than a baron, and standing before the Council of Wise Men who governed the kingdom, her expression brimmed with contempt for everyone around her.

This was not confidence. Nor was it simple pride.

It was arrogance in the purest sense.

As if everyone around her were toys, clowns unworthy of a second glance.

Strangely enough, that attitude stirred something ugly in many of the men present, Carlos included. A raw, instinctive urge to crush that arrogance, to force her to bow at someone’s feet.

………………

………………

As he studied the four girls, another thought suddenly struck him.

They all shared something else in common.

Their parents were dead.

“That dragon… does it not only like beautiful girls, but orphans too?”

“Seems that way. Even if we’re following the Dragon Insignia’s guidance, these choices are far too strange. Aside from Lady Crusch, at least.”

As Carlos muttered under his breath, the man beside him, a hunched middle-aged noble with heavy dark circles under his eyes, nervously stroked his beard and nodded in agreement. His words rippled outward like a stone tossed into water, drawing immediate responses from the surrounding nobles.

“Exactly. What are these candidates supposed to be, aside from Lady Crusch?”

“A half-devil? A slum rat? A widow?”

“This is absurd!”

“Such poor taste, such lacking upbringing. Can people like this really be honored as king?”

“If they rule the kingdom, it’ll be ruined sooner or later!”

…………

The nobles and officials murmured among themselves, voicing their dissatisfaction with the Dragon Maidens. At the top, closest to the throne, one of the white-haired sages frowned deeply, calling out for silence several times before the hall finally quieted.

Then Marcos Gildark turned his gaze toward Reinhard van Astrea and called out loudly.

“Knight Reinhard van Astrea, step forward!”

“Yes!”

Already prepared, Reinhard answered crisply and strode forward. After saluting the sages with solemn respect, he dropped to one knee.

“Honored members of the Council of Wise Men, please allow me, Reinhard van Astrea of the Royal Guard, to report the completion of my mission. The Dragon Maiden, the final fifth candidate for the throne, has been found!”

As his voice fell, the atmosphere in the hall grew heavy. Many unconsciously straightened their backs.

At that exact moment, the massive doors of the throne room opened once more.

Escorted by two young attendants holding up her skirts, a blonde girl stepped inside. She wore a lavish golden gown, moving with light, graceful steps, looking every bit like a princess from a fairy tale.

This gorgeously dressed girl was none other than the assistant Carlos himself had arranged, the one meant to help him seize the Dragon Insignia.

Felt.

Gone was the filthy, disheveled girl from the Slums. Her once-matted hair had been carefully groomed, smooth and neat, even shining with a golden luster.

The change was so dramatic it surpassed the tale of an ugly duckling turning into a swan.

Yet the swan herself looked anything but pleased.

As the final entrant, Felt seemed utterly unimpressed by her sudden transformation, her impatience written plainly on her face.

She shot a glare at Reinhard, the man who had dragged her here, clearly intending to settle accounts with him. But just as she lifted her skirts and brushed past the attendants, her eyes swept the hall and landed on Carlos.

Among the middle-aged and elderly nobles, he stood out sharply due to his youth.

Her focus snapped to him.

Abandoning Reinhard entirely, Felt charged straight toward Carlos. Nobles in her path scattered in alarm, stepping aside to let her through.

She stopped right in front of him, her lips curling into a dazzling smile as she looked up at him and murmured softly.

“…Carlos.”

“What is it, Miss Felt?”

Carlos withdrew his gaze from the other candidates and nodded to her with a sunny smile.

The next moment—

“You bastard! You said nothing would happen! What the hell is this?!”

Felt’s expression twisted with fury. She bared her teeth, yanked up the hem of her dress with both hands, and snapped her leg up in a high whip kick aimed straight at his head.

Before her long, slender leg even reached his face, Carlos casually raised a hand and caught her ankle. He smiled as if nothing were wrong.

“You’re more flexible than I expected.”

“You asshole… where are you looking?!” Felt followed his line of sight, her face darkening dangerously.

“Safety shorts? That’s disappointing.”

Still holding her ankle, Carlos took the opportunity to glance beneath her skirt. Seeing nothing of interest, he shook his head in genuine regret, silently cursing the existence of safety shorts, that evil invention that crushed the dreams of countless boys.

“You get all the benefits and still complain?!”

“No, I didn’t get any benefits at all.”

“Who cares?! And another thing… what did we agree on before coming here?!”

She hopped back, yanking her leg free, and glared at him through clenched teeth.

“What is this situation?! Explain it to me, right now!”

“Honestly, I’m pretty troubled myself.”

“You’re lying! You’re lying, right?! You’re a noble! You planned this with them to trick me, didn’t you?!”

“…Even if you say it three times, my answer won’t change. I had no such intention.”

“I’m at my limit! You’re responsible! You have to take responsibility until the end! Otherwise, today, only one of us is walking out of this door on our feet!”

Her face was full of betrayed outrage. She ignored where she was entirely, demanding compensation from Carlos, demanding he help her escape the Astrea family.

Of course, since she could not say that openly, her words sounded… ambiguous.

The surrounding nobles all turned to look at Carlos, shock written plainly on their faces. More than a few seemed to suspect that the two had somehow produced a child, and that Felt was here to force him to take responsibility.

Even Emilia covered her mouth, trying to suppress a gasp. Tilting her head, she whispered to herself in confusion.

“Uncle… when did he get together with that girl? They seemed close last time, but not like that. How could there already be a child after just one day? Is this his bad habit… always messing around with girls? Is that why he was chased out of the forest?”

Remembering how he once said he had left home because of poor conduct and a life of wandering, Emilia’s doubts deepened. Despite his claims of reform, the fact that he brought a girl home yesterday and now another who seemed pregnant made her seriously suspect he was relapsing.

Reinhard, looking equally stunned, could no longer stand by. He stepped forward.

“Mr. Carlos, may I ask what your relationship with Lady Felt is?”

“There is no relationship. We’re just fairly familiar.”

“Fairly familiar? Didn’t you say before that you and Lady Felt were like siblings? Doing something like this… that would be inappropriate.”

“A sister I picked up off the street can have a few issues…” Carlos paused, then waved it off. He realized Reinhard was suspecting something far worse and, on impulse, decided there was no need to explain.

Instead, he looked Reinhard up and down and deliberately asked, trying to provoke him.

“My relationship with Felt is a private matter. As her knight, do you even have the right to interfere with your master’s personal life?”

“As a knight, I should not interfere in my master’s private affairs. However, I do have a duty to advise against improper conduct. Of course, if you intend to marry Lady Felt, I will wholeheartedly offer my blessings.”

“Cough… let’s skip the marriage part. Nothing happened between us. You’re overthinking it.”

Any thought of provoking Reinhard vanished immediately. Carlos had no intention of accidentally getting dragged into a wedding.

To make things clear, he shoved Felt aside, waving his hand like he was chasing off a small animal.

“Go on, go back to your place. We’ll talk about this later.”

“What is that attitude?! I’m not done—”

“Lady Felt! Reuniting with an old acquaintance is understandable, but please come this way.”

Before Felt could explode again in the throne room, Marcos Gildark finally stepped in to stop her.

She frowned, hesitating, and Carlos silently pushed her from behind, sending her toward the front.

Before she could turn around and curse him out, Reinhard stepped up and placed the Dragon Insignia into her hand.

The moment it touched her palm, the insignia emitted a crimson glow.

The hall erupted into chaos, then fell into stunned silence, overwhelmed by that light, the proof of qualification.

Reinhard had said it already, that the final candidate had been found. But seeing it with their own eyes was something else entirely.

………………

When the Dragon Insignia’s jewel shone, everyone understood.

At that moment, the long-stalled royal selection truly began.

A new history, one that could overturn the kingdom itself, was being born right there.

Chapter 58: Bizarre Candidates and a Failed Invitation (Part 2)

On the left side of the hall, the Royal Guard moved in unison, one hand pressed to their chests as they bowed slightly, offering their respect and acknowledgment.

On the opposite side, the nobles, already displeased with these candidates, showed no effort to hide their irritation. Felt’s earlier rudeness had only made matters worse.

High above them, among the Council of Wise Men, the eldest sage with a long white beard looked calmly at Reinhard van Astrea.

“Knight Reinhard. Before anything else, explain how you found her.”

“Yes!” Reinhard did not hesitate. He dropped to one knee before the sage, set the Dragon Sword aside, and answered with utmost respect. “Lady Felt was discovered by Mr. Carlos, who then informed the Royal Guard.”

“…Mr. Carlos?”

“Though he was once mistakenly suspected of being a thief, his character is upright and sincere, if occasionally… unconventional. Just yesterday, he was taken in as the adopted son of Lady Shia Creed and attended this council in her stead, as Lady Shia was unable to appear due to illness.”

“Adopted son?”

Following Reinhard’s gesture, the white-haired sage turned his gaze toward Carlos.

Carlos had hoped to pretend he heard nothing. Instead, he stepped forward, his expression flat.

“The adoption isn’t important. What matters is Miss Felt. I found her in the Slums.”

“Another one from the Slums?!”

“What exactly is wrong with you knights?!”

“How do these candidates keep getting worse?!”

His words ignited another uproar. Though the complaints were aimed at Felt, the other candidates were caught in the backlash as well.

Emilia lowered her eyes, teeth clenched, clearly forcing herself to endure it. Felt, on the other hand, spun around and fired back without hesitation.

“Sorry for being from the Slums! But you’re the ones who dragged me here without asking!”

“All this pointless arguing is boring as hell.”

Though it had nothing to do with her, Priscilla Barielle chose that moment to laugh softly, her tone dripping with disdain.

“Well, perhaps if you didn’t waste your breath complaining all the time, you wouldn’t have ended up as a gutter orphan.”

“Hah? What’s that supposed to mean?! If you want to fight, I’m game!”

“Mind your place. Do you even know who I am?”

Felt’s sharp retort made Priscilla narrow her eyes. She raised her crimson fan, magic rippling faintly as the hem of her scarlet gown swayed.

“It seems I must teach this ill-mannered bitch what true status looks like.”

The moment those words fell, Priscilla moved to strike, intent on cutting down a fellow candidate right there in the throne room.

Before the fan could fall, Emilia stepped in front of Felt. At the same time, Reinhard positioned himself between Priscilla and her target, bowing politely.

“My apologies, Lady Priscilla.”

“Hmph.”

The attack dissipated as if completely nullified by a Divine Protection. Priscilla clicked her tongue in irritation, then turned her head away with regal disdain.

From beginning to end, she carried herself with the same casual arrogance, regardless of whether her opponent was the Sword Saint or anyone else.

The spectacle had been anything but dignified.

The ceremony continued regardless.

……………

……………

One by one, each representative, along with their knight or supporters, stepped onto the platform between the thrones to declare their intentions and resolve to become king.

Their answers, however, were all bizarre in their own ways.

Priscilla openly declared that the Royal Selection itself was meaningless. Only she was qualified to rule, and all others needed only to kneel and submit.

Crusch Karsten spoke of severing the pact with the Dragon, insisting that the Dragon Kingdom belonged to humans, not dragons.

Anastasia Hoshin was blunt and practical. Success in business no longer satisfied her; she wanted a country of her own.

Emilia’s wish was innocent to the point of naïveté. She spoke of fairness, of building a kingdom where all citizens were equal.

Frankly, every reason left people speechless.

Priscilla’s boundless Pride, Anastasia’s unmasked greed, and Crusch’s desire to discard the kingdom’s most vital asset, the pact with the Dragon.

Crusch’s idea, at its core, was not unreasonable. Breaking reliance on the Dragon and forging an independent, self-sufficient nation was admirable.

But to the south lay the Vollachia Empire, rich and militarized, a land where the weak were devoured by the strong. Without the covenant forged four hundred years ago, the empire would have invaded long ago.

Still, one could argue she sought independence, and that alone was not worthy of condemnation.

The problem was that the Dragon’s covenant was the very reason she stood here as a candidate.

To gain the throne through that pact, only to sever it afterward, left people unsure how to judge her resolve.

Crusch’s stance might still find supporters.

The others were far harder to accept.

Emilia’s dream, in particular, was the most intolerable to those present. A nation of absolute equality sounded like an idea ripped from another age, one that put nobles and knights squarely on the opposing side. It was a leap from feudalism straight into a revolution that reality itself could not sustain.

…

The final candidate to speak was Felt.

She had no desire to be king at all.

Yet when Old Man Rom somehow found a hidden passage into the castle and stormed the chamber to take her away, only to be captured instead, she chose to join the struggle for the throne to protect him.

Her speech, however, was little more than raw emotion.

She hated nobles. Hated knights. Hated the kingdom itself. She wanted to tear it all down.

It sounded like a child throwing a tantrum.

Even so, with five wildly different candidates now revealed, the battle for succession had officially begun.

……………

As the council adjourned, officials and nobles around Carlos exchanged disgruntled whispers. Not a single candidate satisfied them.

Even Crusch, a duke, lost her support the moment she spoke of abolishing the Dragon covenant.

The others were worse. Each more outrageous than the last, to the point where no one could find a suitable figure to back.

Carlos, as a fellow noble, cared little for their complaints.

Smiling, he stepped out of the crowd and headed straight toward Priscilla Barielle.

Yes. She was his chosen target.

Even without any mission attached, he knew he would have gone after her anyway.

“…I really want to see what despair looks like on her face.”

His smile brimmed with anticipation.

When someone was this arrogant, wanting to shatter that Pride and watch them break felt only natural.

Killing her would be a waste. Turning her into a toy might be far more satisfying.

Priscilla was strong, by all accounts. Keeping her close would provide a steady stream of delicious negative emotions.

Two birds, one stone.

The other candidates were inconvenient targets.

Anastasia and Emilia were secured through their insignias. Crusch was a duke, and attacking her would cause too much of a stir. Worse, she was guarded by the Sword Demon, a warrior who had surpassed the previous Sword Saint. Even in old age, he was no easy prey.

As for Felt, their deal had already been set. Reinhard’s presence had merely delayed things. Inviting her was possible, but Reinhard would undoubtedly follow.

Picking a fight with the strongest Sword Saint in the world would require a broken brain.

So, as the girl in the blood-red gown moved toward the exit, beauty aggressively etched into every step, Carlos quickened his pace and blocked her path.

“Miss Priscilla, a moment, please.”

“What?” She stopped leisurely, lifting her fan to her lips, posture exaggerating her ample chest. Her gaze dripped with contempt. “My time is precious. A mere mortal dares drool and pester me? Do you understand the consequences?”

She clearly did not recognize him, yet her disdain was immediate, her words laced with mockery and insult.

Ram called him trash often enough, but that usually came after he had provoked her. He could laugh those looks off.

This, however, was different.

Being dismissed so casually at first meeting genuinely irritated him.

Her beauty was undeniable. Every movement drew the eye.

But the narrowed gaze and outright humiliation made anyone with a shred of dignity want to punch her on the spot.

Carlos suppressed the irritation and spoke with a calm smile.

“I come on behalf of Lady Shia, to invite you to the Creed family ranch outside the city. She wishes to discuss matters related to this Royal Selection.”

“What nonsense is this? You want me to go there?” Priscilla scoffed. “Who do you think you and that Shia are? If you wish to pledge yourselves to me, you should crawl to me and beg.”

“…And who do you think you are?” Carlos’ expression darkened as he changed tactics. “Lady Shia is a marquis. You’re a baron. Even as a candidate, you’re the weakest of them all. Do you expect her to come to you?”

Her eyes gleamed.

“Lady Shia showing interest in you is your good fortune. Don’t be foolish. Do you really think the world revolves around you?”

“Of course it does,” Priscilla replied without hesitation, lifting her chest proudly. “Is that not obvious? If you wish to serve me, you should show the proper sincerity.”

“Hah?”

She stood there in absolute conviction, her confidence so overwhelming that Carlos found himself staring before he realized it.

Is something wrong with her head?

The thought felt entirely sincere.

Chapter 59: Departure

Carlos seriously questioned whether something was wrong with Priscilla’s head.

Whether she noticed his doubt or not, Priscilla maintained her extreme arrogance. A heavy displeasure settled over her face as she snorted mockingly.

“If you had shown sufficient sincerity earlier, perhaps I would have been in a good mood and allowed you to serve as a menial under me,” she said coldly. “But now… I have no interest in you or your master. As punishment for displeasing me, you will—die here.”

The moment her words fell, it was the same as before.

Priscilla’s eyes narrowed with cruelty. She raised her fan once more and slashed through the air toward Carlos’ neck, intent on killing him outright.

However—

“The throne room must not be stained with blood. Please refrain from violence, Lady Priscilla.”

Once again, Reinhard van Astrea stood in front of the attack.

He did not even bother to block. Relying solely on his Divine Protection, he effortlessly nullified the strike.

In truth, he had been watching Priscilla closely from the start. This excessively unruly girl looked ready to kill at any moment, so he intervened before the situation could escalate further.

Emilia, who had already wanted to speak with Carlos, was both shocked and furious. She stepped in front of him as well, glaring at Priscilla, who was still trying to kill someone in such an important place.

“This is the second time! Trying to murder someone here of all places, what are you thinking?!”

“How laughable,” Priscilla replied coolly. “Everything beneath me is base. In this world, there is only me and what lies below. So why should I care about the thoughts of others? Those who are rude to me must pay with their lives.”

“That attitude again? You don’t even understand that you should apologize when you’re wrong?!” Emilia froze for a moment, then grew even more agitated.

“If one must apologize for being wrong,” Priscilla sneered, “then shouldn’t you begin by saying, ‘I’m sorry for being born,’ and apologize to everyone in this world? Silver-haired half-elf.”

Her tone was the same as ever, mocking and matter-of-fact, as if she were stating an obvious truth.

Emilia’s face drained of color. She lowered her head and instinctively stepped back, weakly protesting, “I have nothing to do with the Witch…”

“And who decides that? You?” Priscilla dismissed her. “Such excuses mean nothing to anyone. Of course, I have no interest in whether you’re a Witch or not. You should hurry off into some remote forest and end yourself.”

Unaware of the meaning of restraint, Priscilla continued her cold ridicule even after Emilia had clearly lost the will to fight.

Finally, she casually pointed toward a man wearing a pitch-black helmet nearby and issued a command.

“Al. Take that man’s head.”

“Please don’t do that, Princess,” Al replied, sounding thoroughly troubled. Draped in a cheap cloak, dressed like a bandit, a massive blade hanging at his waist, he scratched at his helmet and sighed at his mistress. “Killing people in a place like this is a pain. Making enemies everywhere gives me headaches too, honestly… especially with the Sword Saint present.”

“As my servant, you still feel fear?” Priscilla scoffed. “So what if he’s the Sword Saint? At worst, he’s merely the strongest on the ground. He can be dealt with.”

“No matter how you put it, there’s no winning head-on,” Al said bluntly. “How about just apologizing like a normal person?”

Compared to Priscilla’s sky-and-earth-defying arrogance, Al was far more rational. He knew exactly how far beyond him Reinhard was and decisively abandoned any thought of fighting.

That immediate surrender stunned Priscilla for a moment. After a brief pause, she simply lost interest in everyone present and turned toward the exit.

The fact that Al’s words had any effect on the rabidly unrestrained girl left the onlookers visibly surprised.

Yet to avoid becoming her next target, no one spoke up. The disturbance gradually died down.

Only Felt and Emilia remained visibly upset, dissatisfied that Priscilla could spout such nonsense and then leave without so much as an apology.

……………

……………

As the central figure of the incident, Carlos watched Priscilla’s leisurely retreat and clicked his tongue.

He did not particularly care about her behavior. What annoyed him was the reason for his failure.

He had started with a reasonably polite invitation, only to be met with sheer humiliation. What was that supposed to be?

Even as a top-tier noble seeking cooperation, he had been treated like dirt. He had heard about her Pride, but this went far beyond expectations.

Did she really believe the world revolved around her? Turning every attempt at cooperation into hostility?

Not that he had truly come to cooperate in the first place.

Still, the failure at the very first step left him frustrated.

After thanking Reinhard and Emilia casually, Carlos ignored Felt, who was clearly about to grab him and demand responsibility, and prepared to activate his backup plan.

Yet before he could lower his head and decide whether to call Elsa Granhiert, he had not even gone far when a sharp pain tugged at his ear.

He stopped instinctively and glanced sideways.

Emilia stood there with one hand on her hip, the other pinching his ear and pulling it upward. She stared at him with a stern expression.

“Where do you think you’re going? I still have things to say to you!”

“…Can’t we talk without grabbing my ear?”

“Because Carlos is being naughty! Bad children get treated like this!”

Her words were serious, but her tone sounded exactly like she was scolding a child. Carlos could not help but laugh as he asked,

“Aren’t I your elder? Why do you look like the one in charge here?”

“Doing bad things is wrong! Very, very wrong!”

“Wasn’t I the one being provoked just now?”

“That’s beside the point! What I’m talking about is you messing around with girls again!”

Emilia fixed him with a glare, hand still on her hip.

For a moment, Carlos almost asked which one she meant. Thinking it over, he realized she must be referring to Felt’s earlier, misleading remarks about pregnancy.

He gently freed his ear, then looked the silver-haired girl up and down in confusion.

“…What’s with you? Don’t tell me you like me?”

“Of course I do!”

“Huh? Really?”

“We’re family.”

Her answer came without hesitation.

Realizing he had nearly fallen into one of life’s classic misunderstandings, Carlos rubbed his forehead and shook his head.

“Ah, right. That makes sense. Still… I’m not married, I haven’t taken a wife. Even as family, there’s no need to look at me like I’m some villain just because I get close to girls, right?”

“If you could be with someone properly, I’d support you,” Emilia said firmly. “But how can you be so careless? You even kissed Felt and planned to avoid responsibility!”

Thinking of children led her straight to that image. Despite her cheeks flushing, she forced herself to keep a stern expression.

Carlos blinked.

“…Kissed? Me and Felt? When did that happen?”

“I—I want to know too!”

“…You don’t even know, yet you’re accusing me?”

“Don’t argue!” Emilia puffed her cheeks, sulking like a child. “There’s already a baby! How could you not have kissed!”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Carlos replied thoughtfully. “You could skip that step entirely. For example, certain establishments don’t allow kissing.”

“Establishments? What kind of place?”

“A place men go when they want to become adults but can’t find a suitable partner. Around here, they’re called brothels. Though, to be fair, brothels here do allow kissing.”

“Why would such a place even exist? And… you know so much about it, don't tell me you…”

Though she did not fully grasp what a brothel was, the implication was enough. Dark imaginings flashed through Emilia’s mind. Her finger trembled as she pointed at him, disappointment filling her violet eyes.

“Ah, no, don’t misunderstand. I only went there to eat.”

“…Eat?”

“Sometimes, there’s really great negative emotion there.”

“Negative emotion?”

His strange explanation left her completely lost. Carlos stopped himself there and waved it off.

“Let’s end this topic, okay? Earlier was all just a misunderstanding. Felt was only joking with me. There’s nothing improper between us.”

“Really?”

“You should trust me. You always assume the worst about me, but when have I ever actually been what you imagined? Even though I’m constantly misunderstood, I’ve always been an innocent, harmless good person.”

“…That’s… true.”

Remembering the recent “misunderstanding,” Emilia lowered her eyes in guilt.

There were still things she could not quite accept, but she could not bring herself to press further. She was afraid of misunderstanding this long-lost family member again.

With the farce finally over, Reinhard, who had been watching from behind, approached with a smile.

“Your relationship with Lady Felt and Lady Emilia is truly enviable, Mr. Carlos. Is there any secret you could teach me?”

“Leaving Emilia aside, do you really think my relationship with Felt counts as good?” Carlos looked at him like he was speaking nonsense.

“With a child already involved, how could it not be?”

“That’s the misunderstanding again… honestly, why are you all so serious? Even jokes get taken at face value.”

Carlos scratched his head in frustration, glanced at Emilia, then turned back to Reinhard.

“Sir Reinhard, the one you actually want to talk to is Emilia, not me, right? Whatever it is, just say it directly. Don’t bring up weird things.”

“Yes… but how did you know?”

“…Your eyes have been on Emilia the whole time. Clearly you had something to say but didn’t know how to start.”

“Eh? Me? What is it?”

Still frowning, troubled by thoughts of Carlos and Felt, Emilia looked up in confusion when she heard her name.

Reinhard smiled wryly and admitted,

“You see, I have a friend who has been searching for a silver-haired half-elf girl. He seems to have mixed up her name, but to my knowledge, that description fits only you, Lady Emilia. He simply wishes to repay a debt for being saved. I was wondering if you might visit my residence as a guest, or perhaps allow him to visit where you’re staying?”

“That’s… um… who is this person?”

The sudden request left Emilia unsure how to respond. Reinhard remained polite, fully aware of how abrupt it sounded.

“Natsuki Subaru. It’s an uncommon name. He said he exchanged names with you, so I thought it might ring a bell.”

“…Natsuki Subaru? Um… I’m sorry, I don’t recognize that name.”

She frowned, thinking hard, but nothing came to mind.

“I see. Then I must have mistaken you for someone else. My apologies.”

“It’s fine. If there’s nothing else, we’ll be going now.”

“Sorry for troubling you. Please, take care.”

Understanding that mentioning “silver-haired half-elf” further would be inappropriate, Reinhard did not press the matter. He bowed slightly and watched them leave with an apologetic expression.

Carlos, who had listened to the entire exchange without saying a word, frowned deeply.

Chapter 60: Departure (Part 2)

Because he remembered that name all too clearly.

Natsuki Subaru.

Another outsider, like himself. Someone Emilia had saved. And yet she claimed she didn’t know him at all.

Curiosity gnawed at him. On the way back, he probed gently, circling the topic without pressing too hard. That was when he understood.

Emilia wasn’t lying.

She truly didn’t know Subaru. In her memories, there was no incident at all of rescuing someone from three thugs not long ago.

…Night abruptly turning into day. Later investigations suggesting that time itself had flowed backward. And, within the records of the Book of Wisdom, the note that Natsuki Subaru had been granted a world-correcting power by the Witch.

When he connected those three points, the conclusion was absurd, unbelievable.

Yet he still made it.

The Witch of Envy had granted Natsuki Subaru the ability to rewind time.

The trigger didn’t seem voluntary. Subaru himself was clearly unaware of it, hadn’t even realized time had looped.

“A power that convenient…” he murmured. “Feels like something worth making use of.”

Even if it was only a hypothesis, he decided to find an opportunity to properly test it.

To see how far that power really went.

...............

...............

While Roswaal remained behind, deep in conversation with acquaintances, the two of them returned to their lodgings first.

Before he could find a chance to slip away, he noticed a blue-haired girl on the second floor, leaning out the window and scanning the street.

The moment she spotted him, her face lit up with a dazzlingly sweet smile.

Then, as if she remembered something, she quickly stiffened, pulled back from the window, and hurried off.

And before he even reached the door—

The girl who had been on the second floor was already standing at the entrance.

As though she had been there all along.

Only when the two of them approached did she speak, her tone slow and mechanical.

“Welcome back, Emilia-sama. Guest.”

“I’m back, Rem.” Emilia smiled and nodded.

She reached out to pull him inside, but Rem stepped forward without a sound. With a smooth, practiced motion, she disengaged Emilia’s hand and placed herself squarely in front of him, looking up with a serious expression.

“Guest, please come with Rem to the basement.”

“The basement?” He blinked, confused.

At the word, Emilia’s expression tightened with unease.

“Why the basement?”

“Because the guest disappeared again early this morning,” Rem replied calmly. “Rem suspects you of possibly betraying Emilia-sama. The questioning may become loud, so the basement is more suitable.”

"N-no! That's not it!" Emilia hurriedly waved her hands. "Rem, Carlos went to see his adoptive mother, Shia Creed. He went to the royal capital this morning for a meeting."

Knowing Rem’s bias against him, knowing she had even attacked him because of it, Emilia rushed to defend him.

But the moment the words left her mouth, confusion crept into her own voice.

“Wait… come to think of it, why were you suddenly adopted? There was so much going on earlier that I forgot to ask.”

“Ah… that kind of thing doesn’t really matter, does it?”

It wasn’t easy to explain. His gaze drifted as he tried to brush it off.

But both the silver-haired girl and the blue-haired girl stared at him, eyes burning.

“No! It does matter! I’m very, very curious!” Emilia insisted.

“Rem too! What do you mean, adopted? Please explain honestly!”

“…You’re both such a pain.”

The topic made him want nothing more than to sigh. And with the way the two of them were watching him, escape wasn’t an option.

At some point, Ram had also appeared behind Rem, her eyes fixed on him with equal intensity.

With no way out, he spun a half-hearted story.

He said the woman was terminally ill, with little time left to live, and no relatives to entrust her legacy to. So she had searched outside for an heir.

By chance, she found him. Decided he was someone fated to her, someone with courage, conscience, hope, and a future. A man of “five virtues.”

And so, under the name of adoption, she intended for him to inherit the marquis title and rebuild the Creed family.

As he finished his nonsense, the expressions on the three girls’ faces grew more and more colorful.

As if by unspoken agreement…

None of them believed a word.

“Guest! Please be serious! Rem is not stupid!”

“Carlos… your lying skills might actually be worse than mine…”

“I’m being serious. Sometimes the truth is more outrageous than a lie. If you won’t believe me, what can I do?”

Even though Rem and Emilia clearly didn’t buy it, he had no intention of explaining properly. He sighed, shook his head firmly, and stuck to the absurd answer.

Ignoring whether they accepted it or not, he walked past Rem, met Ram’s gaze, and headed inside.

Unfortunately…

He didn’t get far.

Rem grabbed him halfway down the corridor and forcibly dragged him into the basement.

...............

Under the pretense of interrogation, Rem had Ram block Emilia outside. She shoved him into the basement, slammed the door shut, and locked it in one smooth motion.

Then she looked up at him, silent and unblinking.

The intensity of her stare caught him off guard.

“…You’re not seriously planning to interrogate me, are you?”

“Of course!” Rem puffed out her cheeks, looking up at him with clear dissatisfaction. “You’re definitely plotting something, right? Why won’t you tell Rem?”

“Some things are better left unsaid. Knowing wouldn’t do you any good.”

“So Emilia-sama can know, but Rem can’t?”

“…How did you reach that conclusion? I’m honestly impressed.”

“Because you and Emilia-sama spent the whole morning together!” she shot back. “Rem and sister knew Carlos first! Why is it that Rem and sister are officially engaged, yet we can’t openly be with Carlos?”

“It’s to protect you,” he said quietly. “You know that, right? I carry the Witch’s scent.”

He repeated the explanation he’d given countless times already, then lightly tapped her on the head.

“You’re not a selfish child. So why are you being so stubborn now? It doesn’t suit you.”

“What does Carlos know about Rem?”

“…Things from the past, maybe? You’ve changed. You understand that, right? So I’ve changed too.”

“…No. You haven’t. Rem hasn’t either.”

“Huh? You just said—”

“…Everything else doesn’t matter. Rem can endure it. What Rem wants now is simply to… openly like you.”

As she said the final words, the girl lifted her face. A tempting blush spread across her still-youthful cheeks.

There was shyness in her voice, but her gaze never wavered. She looked straight into his eyes, laying bare her feelings without restraint.

“Uh…”

He’d always thought of Rem as a child.

But even a child’s words could shake his heart when they hit head-on, leaving him at a loss.

Rem didn’t stop.

Still looking straight at him, she continued.

“Just like Rem hasn’t changed, Carlos hasn’t either.”

“…That sounds like self-deception.”

“Rem knows!”

“No. You don’t.”

“Carlos has always been a very gentle person.”

“That line feels strangely distant to me…”

“That’s not true!”

“People see things differently. Even the child of someone utterly evil would probably think their father was gentle.”

“That’s not it! Why do you always say things like that!”

Her lips moved as if she wanted to say more, but the words wouldn’t come. In the end, all she could do was complain about his personality.

Back then, she hadn’t understood why. Only that no matter how much trouble he faced, no matter how much the villagers rejected him, he always wore confidence and a smile.

As if he were made of sunlight. As if his presence alone made people feel he could be relied on, trusted.

She’d believed that ever since she was little.

But now she understood.

He simply never let anyone see his other side. Never admitted weakness. He carried unseen burdens alone, hiding his true self in some corner no one could reach.

That realization made her sad. It made her worry about what he might do within the Witch Cult. And though she wanted to help him somehow, she couldn’t.

Those feelings tangled together, leaving her restless.

And yet…

She still couldn’t do anything.

“…Carlos really has changed,” Rem murmured softly, staring at his shoes after a long silence.

He only smiled and shrugged, offering no answer.

Because he knew it didn’t matter what he said now. Nothing would change her mind.

In the quiet, Rem seemed to give up on pressing further. With a straightforward smile, she spoke what she felt most honestly in that moment.

“But Rem still likes Carlos. Rem likes Carlos the most.”

“If I said Carlos was just a fake name, would you believe me?”

“No. But Rem will try to think that way.”

“…Is that a kind of foolish honesty?”

"By the way," she added, "Rem wants to sit on Carlos's lap. Is that okay?"

She didn’t care about his troubled expression. She simply looked at him with pure eyes and asked.

“…Do as you like.”

“Then Rem will.”

He gave up and sat down on the basement bench. Rem smiled, settled onto his lap, closed her eyes, and quietly leaned against his chest.

Just that seemed to satisfy her.

The situation left him troubled for a while before he finally spoke.

“…I should probably apologize first. From the beginning, I’ve only ever thought of you as a younger sister. That hasn’t changed.”

“I know. It’s a little frustrating, but this is enough for now.”

“…I’m starting to think I don’t really understand you.”

Rem didn’t answer.

She acted as though she hadn’t heard him at all.

He knew she had. But he didn’t press further. Instead, in the comfortable silence, he stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.

After a long while, Emilia burst into the basement. The two of them separated in advance, wordlessly slipping into the roles of interrogator and suspect.

When they returned upstairs, it was as if nothing had happened.

That evening, after dinner, he left without saying a word.

This time, he decided he wouldn’t come back.

If he stayed, he knew himself too well. He would be tempted to turn back, to try doing what Rem said. To abandon everything and start over.

But he couldn’t.

Even if his current life wasn’t what he wanted, he could never return to the past. And if he continued like this, the people he didn’t want to drag down would, sooner or later, be pulled into a mire they could never escape.

So he left.

Without looking back.