Carela's POV
I released her hand and stood properly, the two of us staring at one another for a brief moment before she cleared her throat.
"Ahem! Well Master… it's truly nice to meet you~"
I nodded. She looked pleased with that response. Her gaze drifted around the room again, eventually falling on the man lying on the ground. There was a spark of curiosity in her eyes.
She glanced back at me, silently asking who he was.
Before answering, I looked at him—only for disgust to twist in my chest. I immediately pulled my gaze away.
"Just a worthless person," I said, covering my nose to make my feelings clear.
Her curiosity deepened. Without another word, she walked toward him and crouched down.
I didn't comment. Instead, I brushed some of the dust from my dress—probably from when I'd been knocked back by the summoning ritual.
The reason why I was knocked back by the summoning ritual was maybe that happened because the Servant I summoned was unusually powerful… or maybe it was simply my fault for standing too close to the circle while chanting.
Well, whatever the reason was does not actually matter.
I cast a quick glance at her before quickly withdrawing.
Lady of Avalon… or rather, Merlin (Prototype).
This was strange. How this even possible? I'm mean, by all the other servant that could answer my summon why she?
I couldn't find any answer other than that she found me interesting. After all, in the Babylon Singularity, Merlin had shown up purely because she was curious about Fujimaru Ritsuka. Maybe this was the same.
I think, this was possible because Thrones of heroes is not bound by time and space, so maybe that's why this Merlin version is the one who found me interesting and then decided to answer my summon.
After all, I did not use any specific relic to summon any specific servant.
Well… what's done is done. No amount of complaining or overthinking will change how things turned out.
As my thoughts settled, I kept gently dusting my dress, then stole a glance at her. She was still crouched beside the man, prodding his hair lightly as if trying to wake him.
He would wake up—if he were still alive.
When she realized he wasn't, she looked at me.
"Say, Master. Was this person killed by you?"
I hesitated for a moment.
"…Yes."
She nodded, understanding something I couldn't see. Then she stood, stepped back a bit, and with a casual gesture reduced the body to ash.
I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing. She didn't either. When she finished, she calmly resumed wandering the room, searching for something else that caught her interest.
I returned to brushing dust from my pants and stockings.
Then, without warning, a card materialized in front of me—her card. My Servant card. My one cheat code, or whatever someone might call it.
The card itself was something that allowed me to see through a Servant's information—essentially a status window.
There were two types of these cards, and each required a different method to obtain.
The first type could only be gained by entering a simulation. Completing that simulation would grant me a card that represented me—or rather, another version of myself from within that simulated world. Its function was simple: to allow me to summon that version whenever I needed it.
The second type was the one in front of me now.
A card that acted purely as a status window for a Servant I had summoned.
To get one, all I had to do was participate in a Holy Grail War and summon a Servant.
Although this one had appeared strangely late, I wasn't about to complain. Better late than never.
I inspected the card closely… and realized something was off.
"Huh?"
The sound slipped out before I could stop it. She heard me and drifted behind, her presence settling at my back as she peered over my shoulder.
I didn't flinch. I wasn't worried about her finding anything unusual.
Because the moment she saw the card, she murmured—
"0: The Fool? My, is that a tarot card? How curious… Do you believe in this sort of thing, Master~?"
Her voice hovered near my ear, light and playful, clearly amused by the discovery.
I exhaled slowly.
"It's not about believing," I replied. "This is simply what appeared."
"Oh? How wonderfully pragmatic of you."
She let out a soft chuckle, then moved around to stand in front of me so she could study the card more directly.
"Still… 'The Fool' as a first impression? That's rather cute."
I decided not to answer that.
She tilted her head, lips curling with mischief.
"Could it be that The Fool represents me? Hm~?"
I blinked at her, momentarily unable to respond.
She, however, looked far too amused by my stunned silence.
"The Fool representing me…" She tapped her chin lightly, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, zero is a fitting number for someone who appears out of nowhere, don't you think? A beginning before the beginning."
I narrowed my eyes.
"…Is that supposed to be an explanation?"
"It's supposed to be fun," she replied without missing a beat.
With a graceful flick of her fingers, a faint shimmer of mana rippled around the card—more like she was testing it, not tampering with it. Her brows lifted slightly.
"Oh? No mana residue at all… curious."
I didn't respond. Instead, I stepped back and dismissed the card, letting it fade into motes of soft light.
I wanted to examine her status window more thoroughly, but doing so, right in front of her felt… uncomfortable. Even if she wouldn't find anything strange, the idea still put me on edge.
She watched quietly as the last traces of the card faded from my hand.
No teasing this time.
No comment.
Instead, she rested her hand against her chin again, expression thoughtful—as if pondering something only she could see.
She remained silent for a while, her gaze fixed on the fading particles where the card had vanished. Her expression stayed thoughtful—far too thoughtful for someone who had been teasing me just moments earlier.
"…You're thinking about something," I said at last.
She blinked once, raising an eyebrow as though surprised I had spoken first.
"Hmm. Actually…" She tapped her lips. "I just realized—I never introduced myself, did I? How improper of me. A Servant should at least announce their identity before their Master drags them somewhere."
She placed a hand on her chest with theatrical flourish.
"Caster-class servant, Lady Avalon, or you're rather prefer me as Merlin. I have come to serve you, Master!"
I pretended to look startled—because although I had already guessed her identity, acting too certain would have been suspicious.
"In the stories, isn't Merlin supposed to be male?" I asked, feigning confusion.
Her smile curled at the edges—playful, knowing, dangerously close to smug.
"Oh, that old detail?" she waved a hand lightly, as though dismissing centuries of legend in one gesture.
"Stories change depending on the storyteller. Gender, appearance, personality… all of it is fluid."
She leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with mischief.
"And besides, wouldn't it be boring if every legend stayed exactly the same?"
I folded my arms.
"That sounds like an excuse."
"Correction," she said, lifting one finger. "It's a beautiful excuse."
I let out a quiet breath—half sigh, half resignation. Yes, this really was Merlin. No matter the worldline, her personality was unmistakable.
She tilted her head. "Still, you seemed rather unsurprised by my name. Did you already know me, Master?"
I kept my expression neutral. "Only from the stories."
"Ara~ then that means you must have expectations." She clasped her hands behind her back and leaned in just enough to study my face. "Do I live up to them so far?"
"…You burned a corpse without asking."
She blinked.
"Was I not supposed to?"
"That's not the point."
"Oh? Then what is the point?" she asked, genuinely curious—though the glint in her eyes suggested she already knew I didn't have a clean answer.
I looked away, refusing to dignify her question with a reply.
Merlin laughed softly, the sound light and airy, like she found amusement in every corner of the world.
"Well, expectations aside," she said, straightening her posture with an almost knightly grace, "as your Servant, I shall assist you to the best of my ability. Whether you find me troublesome, reliable, or both
simultaneously—that is entirely up to you."
"That last part sounds like a warning," I muttered.
"A promise," she corrected with a gentle hum. "We're going to be quite the pair, you and I."
"The way you're phrasing it makes it hard to believe," I said, giving her a flat look.
Merlin placed a hand dramatically over her heart, as though I had wounded her pride.
"Oh my~ such distrust from my Master already? How cruel."
"I'm being realistic," I replied.
"And I," she said, leaning ever so slightly forward, "am being honest."
I raised an eyebrow. "Honest? You?"
She let out a soft, melodic laugh. "You say that as if honesty and I have never crossed paths."
"…Have they?"
"For brief, fleeting moments," she admitted brightly. "Like passing strangers."
I stared at her.
She stared back—smiling as if proud of herself.
"See? This is why it's hard to believe," I deadpanned.
"Well," she said, clasping her hands behind her back with a casual sway, "whether you trust my words or not, my actions will speak for themselves. In time, I'll prove to you that I'm quite dependable."
I opened my mouth to reply—but she quickly added:
"–Though not necessarily predictable."
"…Wonderful," I muttered.
She beamed. "I knew you'd understand!"
"I wasn't praising you."
"Details."
Before I could argue further, she suddenly turned her head—just slightly, but enough to signal a shift.
Her playful expression dissolved, replaced by something calmer, sharper, and completely composed.
"Master," she said gently, "shall we leave now?"
"…What's wrong?"
For a moment, she didn't answer. Her eyes scanned the room, not with suspicion, but with a quiet, distant sort of calculation—like she was measuring the air itself.
Then, with a soft exhale, she shrugged.
"Actually… there's nothing here that interests me anymore."
I blinked. "…That's it?"
"Mhm." She nodded, already stepping away from the summoning circle. "This place has served its purpose. You summoned me, I arrived. Everything else is unnecessary clutter."
"That's a very casual way to put it."
"It's an accurate way to put it," she corrected. "Once a ritual completes, the location loses its function. Unless you enjoy gloomy rooms with questionable ventilation?"
"I don't."
"Good! Then we're in agreement."
She clapped her hands lightly, as though concluding a meeting that only she had been attending. "Now, come along, Master."
She walked a few steps toward the exit but paused, glancing over her shoulder at me.
"You seem hesitant. Is there something else you wish to do here?"
I looked around at the empty space—the fading traces of magecraft, the scattered dust, the now-useless summoning circle.
No. There was nothing left here for me either.
"I was just thinking," I said. "Most Servants examine the battlefield, their surroundings… you didn't."
She tilted her head. "Why would I need to? I already know where the important thing is."
"…And that is?"
"You, of course."
I stiffened. "You should phrase that differently."
"Why? It's true," she replied with a smile—calm, matter-of-fact, not teasing for once. "A Servant's role is to guard their Master. Everything else comes after."
"Besides," she added with a small hum, "I'd rather explore somewhere more lively. This room feels like it's been holding its breath for years."
"…You mean it's creepy."
"'Creepy' is such an inelegant word," she chided lightly.
"But yes. Very."
Despite myself, I let out a quiet breath—somewhere between a sigh and a reluctant agreement.
"Fine," I said. "Let's go."
"Wonderful!" Merlin's smile brightened instantly, her mood shifting as effortlessly as a breeze.
"Then lead the way, Master. I'm quite curious to see the world you've brought me into."
I stepped forward, and she fell into place beside me, her eyes already scanning the corridor ahead with interest.
Whatever came next…
I had a feeling peace wouldn't be part of it.
...
After what felt like ages walking up the stairs, we finally reached the surface—
a place that, long ago, used to be a supermarket.
Now… it was nothing but a hollow shell of what it once was.
Dust-coated shelves, shattered glass, faded signs hanging crookedly—everything soaked in a cold, stale quiet.
Thinking about it only made my mood sour.
If that bastard hadn't decided to conduct the summoning ritual underground, I wouldn't have ended up in this miserable place at all.
Seriously…
this entire area feels wrong.
I glanced back over my shoulder.
Merlin had stopped a few steps behind me, her gaze sweeping across the ruined supermarket with clear intrigue.
Where I saw decay and discomfort, she saw something else entirely—mystery, perhaps. Or entertainment.
Her eyes sparkled faintly, as if every piece of rubble was a clue worth examining.
Merlin slowly walked forward, her footsteps soft against the cracked tiles.
She wasn't cautious—just curious, the way a wandering scholar might inspect a relic from a bygone age.
"Hmm…" She crouched down beside a collapsed shelf, brushing her fingers lightly over a rusted metal bar. "Human civilization always finds such creative ways to fall apart. Fascinating."
"…That's not the word I'd use," I muttered.
She glanced up at me with a small smile.
"Oh, I know. You see ruins. I see stories."
"Good for you," I said dryly. "But for me, this place is just depressing."
Merlin stood and walked toward a toppled display rack, tracing the faded outline of a promotional poster with her eyes.
"Even in ruin," she said softly, "there's a lingering trace of what people used to value."
She tapped the old sign with a finger. "Food, comfort, convenience… the small joys."
I crossed my arms. "…You're romanticizing trash."
"Someone must," she replied cheerfully.
She continued forward, weaving gracefully between shattered freezers and stacks of debris, humming lightly under her breath.
It was strange—her presence made the dead silence feel less suffocating.
Eventually, she stopped in the center of the ruined aisle and turned to me.
"Well then, Master," she said, her tone lightening once more, "shall we continue exploring? Or would you prefer to leave this charmingly bleak establishment behind?"
I took one last look around the ruined supermarket.
The dust, the cold air, the eerie stillness…
"Let's get out of here," I said.
"As you command," Merlin replied brightly.
And with that, we stepped toward the exit—
leaving the ruins and their lingering shadows behind.
****
– The Night She Found a Place –
The corridor of Chaldea was unusually quiet at this hour—no footsteps, no chatter, only the soft, steady hum of the facility's machinery.
It felt like the kind of silence that listened back.
A girl with short black hair, warm brown skin, and sharp golden eyes moved through that silence with a measured, almost soundless stride. The faint click of her heel against the floor was swallowed by the cold air long before it could echo.
Her name was Kurohiko Yuki, a Caster-class Servant.
She was not known for overwhelming power, nor for any grand legend attached to her summoning.
In fact, she wasn't known for anything at all.
That was the problem.
Or perhaps… the mystery.
Yuki wasn't simply obscure; she was a blank page.
No traces of her existed in recorded history—no myths, no folklore, not even a passing mention buried in forgotten manuscripts. Every attempt to match her Spirit Origin returned the same result:
Nothing.
As if someone had carefully cut her out of history, trimming the edges so cleanly that even the idea of her had been removed.
To some Masters, summoning such a Servant was unsettling. To others, fascinating. To Yuki, it was neither.
Whenever people pressed her—Who are you? Where did you come from? What did you do in life?—she always answered with the same quiet smile:
"Some things are better left unrevealed."
And each time she said it, there was no way to tell whether she was hiding the truth…
or protecting it.
Tonight, as she walked alone down the silent corridor, her thoughts were as unreadable as the past she refused to share.
Wisps of mana curled around her fingers—thin, smoky, almost delicate—before fading into the air.
She stopped at a window overlooking the plains beyond Chaldea.
Snow fell softly, dusting the empty world in white, but her eyes reflected something warmer—something old, patient, and quietly resigned.
"Another day, another peace," she murmured, barely audible. "Unbelievable that I even ended up in this place… Still better than working under them."
The glass fogged beneath her breath.
It hadn't been a long time since she was first summoned here.
Back then, she wasn't used to it—the routine, the calm, the kindness. None of it made sense to someone like her.
She remembered her first moments vividly.
Opening her eyes and expecting chaos.
A warped timeline.
A collapsing Singularity.
Another Holy Grail War waiting to devour her all over again.
Instead… she arrived somewhere deceptively quiet.
Somewhere structured.
Somewhere where a Servant like her—strange, anomalous—was treated as normally as the sunrise.
This place is none other than chaldea.
Even now, it felt surreal.
Yet she was grateful. Truly.
Grateful she wasn't thrown into another battlefield the moment she materialized.
Grateful she wasn't forced to repeat the same cycle of conflict she had grown numb to.
Here, she could finally do things denied to her in the Throne of Heroes.
Here, she could sleep. Eat. Laugh with others.
It was a kind of heaven.
One she still wasn't entirely convinced she deserved.
Yuki placed her palm against the cold glass, watching the snow swirl in the wind like drifting pieces of a forgotten memory.
"Maybe," she whispered, "this time… I can belong somewhere."
The words dissolved into the quiet, and the silence—gentle, listening—held them carefully, as if afraid they might vanish like she once had.
"…It's already midnight. Maybe I should go back to my room."
She pushed herself away from the window, turned, and resumed her slow walk through the corridor.
Her footsteps were soft, barely disturbing the air. Chaldea at midnight was a different world—sterile and cold, yet strangely peaceful.
Most staff were asleep or catching what little rest they could. The Servants who were still awake usually preferred their own corners, private training rooms, or quiet observation decks.
Yuki simply walked.
Minutes passed in silence.
Then—Mur-mur… murmur…
A faint sound pricked at her ears.
She stopped. Tilted her head slightly.
There—voices. Two? Maybe three or even four. Muffled, as if someone was trying to keep their conversation low.
She glanced to her right.
"…If I remember correctly… that should be the cafeteria."
Her golden eyes blinked slowly.
"Who would still be awake at this hour…?"
The idea tugged at her curiosity—not strongly, but enough to break her usual rhythm.
After all, she rarely encountered people this late. And something about the quiet voices felt… unusual.
She drifted closer, her steps feather-light. The motion sensors caught her presence, and the cafeteria door slid open with a soft hiss.
Light washed over her—warm and dim, unlike the cold fluorescent glow of the hall.
Yuki paused at the threshold, eyes narrowing just a bit as she peered inside.
The cafeteria, usually bustling, was almost empty.
Almost.
She could see silhouettes near one of the tables—figures leaning forward, whispering over something spread across the surface.
"…Interesting," she murmured under her breath.
Curiosity won over hesitation.
She stepped inside.
As she stepped inside, the warmth of the cafeteria wrapped around her like a thin blanket—soft, quiet, and dimly lit by the night-mode lamps.
It was nothing like the chaotic battlefield it became during breakfast hours. No clattering trays, no shouting, no lines stretching out the door.
Just four Servants gathered around a table.
Archer (Emiya) stood out immediately, arms crossed as he leaned against the counter. His usual stern expression was softened by fatigue, though he hid it well.
Nearby sat Cu Chulainn, slouched comfortably in a chair, looking far too awake for someone at midnight.
Medusa was seated with her usual quiet grace, posture straight, hands folded neatly. She wasn't speaking, merely listening.
And then there was the last one.
A young boy, legs dangling off the chair, wearing the expression of someone trying very hard to look serious.
His appearance didn't match either the weight of history or the elegance of royalty—but his presence did. A faint aura, subtle but unmistakably regal, clung to him like the echo of a crown.
Charles I.
Yuki had seen him in passing, but never spoken to him directly. His youthful form was almost misleading—childlike at a glance, but with a gaze that held centuries behind it.
He was animatedly pointing at a paper spread across the table, speaking to Archer with earnest conviction.
"No, no, no! I'm telling you, this recipe is wrong. If you add the spices before simmering, it ruins the entire profile!"
Emiya sighed through his nose.
"That recipe has been tested dozens of times. It's efficient, it's practical, and more importantly—"
"It's boring!" Charles countered, puffing his cheeks slightly.
Cu snorted. "Our little king here not wrong. Your cooking is good, but sometimes it's a little too… functional."
Emiya's eyebrow twitched. "I don't make food to be 'functional.' I make food to keep certain idiots from burning the kitchen down."
Cu raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I only set it on fire twice."
Medusa let out a soft, quiet exhale. A laugh? Perhaps. "Technically, three times."
It was a strange yet comforting scene—warm, familiar, almost domestic.
Yuki lingered at the entrance for a moment, observing it all.
Servants—heroes, warriors, kings—gathered around a table at midnight, arguing about recipes like a group of friends rather than legendary figures.
A sight she didn't expect to find.
As she stepped closer, they began to notice her presence.
Archer looked up first, always the most perceptive.
"Oh—Caster. Good evening." He straightened slightly.
"If you're looking for food, I'm afraid the kitchen's closed. I can't make anything right now, but if you want snacks…" His eyes shifted toward Charles, narrowing. "This little king over there seems to have an endless supply. Assuming none of them are stolen."
Charles froze, eyes darting away as he began to whistle—badly.
"Huhu… I didn't hear anything. I heard nothing at all."
Cu barked a laugh. "So you're the one who's been hoarding everything! No wonder the snack shelf's been empty."
Medusa folded her hands neatly, giving Charles a polite but expectant look. "Would you mind sharing with the rest of us?"
"Ugh… fiine, fiiine!" he groaned dramatically.
He placed his hand on the table and slid it forward.
With a soft shimmer of mana, an entire pile of snacks materialized—cookies, crackers, wrapped sweets, even a few things Yuki didn't recognize.
"Now this is what you call a midnight snack," Cu said, pulling his chair closer with renewed enthusiasm.
Medusa picked up a piece delicately, tasting it with quiet appreciation.
"…It's quite good."
Even Archer—who pretended he didn't care—took a cookie and inspected it like it was a suspicious artifact before begrudgingly taking a bite.
Then he glanced at Yuki again.
"How about sitting with us?" he suggested, gesturing to an empty spot at the table.
"Me?" Yuki tilted her head lightly.
"Yes, you," Cu added, already halfway through a cracker. "Unless you've got secret midnight duties or something."
"I do not," she replied softly.
She stepped forward. Archer wordlessly pulled a spare chair away from the wall and offered it to her. Yuki blinked, surprised by the small gesture of consideration, then accepted it with a quiet nod.
"Thank you."
As she sat, the warmth of the cafeteria's dim lights made her shoulders ease, just a little. The group shifted to make space for her—effortless, natural, as though she had always belonged there.
Charles leaned forward, peering at her with curious eyes. "So, Caster," he started, already reaching for another cookie, "what brings you out at midnight?"
Cu grinned. "Yeah, you don't strike me as the type that roams halls for fun."
Archer took another bite of his cookie, arms crossing again. "You seemed deep in thought when you walked in."
Medusa's gaze was steady, gentle.
"You're welcome to share, if you want."
Yuki looked at the four Servants—so different, yet sharing the same table—and felt something warm growing in her chest.
She wasn't sure what she would say yet.
"…I couldn't sleep," she said finally, her voice soft but clear. "The halls were quiet, so I was simply walking."
"That's surprising," Cu said between bites. "Figured you'd be the type who sleeps like a rock."
Yuki blinked. "…A rock?"
"Yeah. Y'know. Out cold. Not even a thunderclap can wake you."
"That is… not entirely accurate," she replied, unsure whether to be offended or amused.
Archer smirked. "He means you seem calm. Unshakable. The kind who isn't bothered by much."
Charles nodded enthusiastically, crumbs on his cheeks. "Yeah! You always look like a super secret spy who knows everything but refuses to talk about anything!"
"…That is also not entirely accurate."
Medusa's lips curved slightly—barely a smile, but it was there. "You do give off an air of mystery, though."
Yuki lowered her gaze, brushing a stray lock of black hair behind her ear.
"A mystery is only a question no one asked yet," she murmured. "And I… do not mind remaining one."
Cu tilted his head. "You sure? Most Servants I know love bragging about their glory days."
"That's because you only know loud people," Archer said flatly.
"HEY!"
The cafeteria echoed with Cu's protest, and Charles burst into laughter so hard he almost dropped his snack. Even Medusa's shoulders shook faintly.
Yuki watched the exchange, her golden eyes softening just a fraction.
Archer turned back to her, crossing his arms again.
"So you were just walking to clear your head?"
"Yes," she answered. "It helped. Until I heard voices coming from here."
Cu raised a brow. "You thought we were fighting or something?"
"No," she said honestly. "Just… unexpected. And I was curious."
Charles leaned over the table, staring at her intently. "Well, curiosity is great! That means you should join our extremely unofficial and totally important midnight snack meeting."
"That is not a thing," Archer deadpanned.
"It is now!" Charles declared, slamming his hands dramatically onto the table—only for one of the snacks to bounce off and roll toward Medusa.
"…Please be careful," she said, picking the snack up before it hit the floor.
Charles wilted. "Ah. Sorry."
Yuki let out a tiny exhale—again, not quite a laugh… but close.
She reached for a small sweet that Charles had conjured earlier. Holding it gently, she examined it before taking a quiet bite.
Her eyes widened slightly.
"This is… good."
Charles puffed up proudly. "Of course! A king knows the finest snacks!"
Cu leaned toward her. "Careful with him. Compliment him once and he won't stop."
"I heard that!" Charles protested.
Archer shook his head. "And yet it doesn't make it any less true."
The bickering resumed without missing a beat, voices rising and falling like waves—familiar, harmless, warm.
Yuki sat in the middle of it all, silent but present.
The light chatter continued around her—Cu teasing Charles, Charles insisting he was a dignified king, Medusa quietly mediating, and Archer trying (and failing) to maintain order.
Yuki listened more than she spoke, letting the rhythm of their voices settle around her like a blanket. She had always been more comfortable observing than participating.
But tonight… something felt different.
After a while, Archer glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
"You look a little more relaxed now," he said casually. "Feeling better?"
Yuki hesitated, fingers lightly tapping the edge of the wrapper in her hand.
"…A little," she admitted.
Cu leaned back with a grin. "See? Midnight snacks fix everything."
"For you, perhaps," Medusa replied gently.
Charles nodded sagely, crumbs dusting his sleeves. "Food is the first step to friendship!"
"That's not how that saying goes," Archer replied.
Charles puffed his cheeks. "It is now!"
Yuki looked down at the snack she held—half-eaten, warm in her palm. Her voice, when it came, was very soft.
"I do not usually… sit with others like this."
The table quieted just slightly—not completely, but enough that they shifted their attention.
"I did not have many chances," she continued. Her fingers curled slightly. "In most places I ended up, time was… unstable. Dangerous. There was no room to rest. No room for moments like this."
Cu's grin faded into something gentler. "Sounds rough."
"It was simply normal," Yuki corrected softly. "For me, at least."
Medusa tilted her head. "And Chaldea is… different?"
Yuki nodded once.
"I thought peace would feel unfamiliar," she said. "Heavy. Uncomfortable. But…" She glanced at the warm light above, then at the four of them gathered around the table. "…it feels strangely easy to breathe here."
Archer's expression softened ever so slightly—so small that most would miss it.
"That's good," he murmured. "Chaldea exists for that too. A place to rest. Even for us."
Charles leaned forward on his elbows, eyes bright. "So you like it here?"
Yuki thought about it.
"…Yes," she answered. "I like it here."
A small silence followed—soft, warm, not awkward.
Then Cu broke it with a smack of his hand on the table.
"Well, then that settles it!" he declared. "If you like it here, you gotta join us more often. Midnight snacks, lunch breaks, random chaos—whatever we've got."
Charles nodded vigorously. "Yes! Participation is mandatory!"
"Don't say it like that," Archer sighed. "You'll scare her."
Medusa gave Yuki a welcoming look.
"You can join whenever you feel like it. No pressure."
Yuki blinked at the sudden flood of invitations.
Her chest felt—strangely—lighter.
Warmer. Like someone had quietly set a lamp inside her and forgotten to turn it off.
"I… will consider it," she said softly.
Cu smirked. "That means yes."
Charles grinned. "It totally means yes!"
Archer took a sip of tea that wasn't even his but had somehow appeared in front of him. "It means 'she'll show up when she wants to,' which is fine."
Medusa inclined her head toward Yuki.
"You're welcome anytime."
Yuki lowered her gaze, letting her bangs hide the small, faint smile forming on her lips.
"…Thank you."
The words were quiet.
But they were honest.
And for Yuki—someone who had slipped through history without a trace—this small warmth, this simple table, this shared midnight moment…
…felt like the start of something real.
****
[Servant Profiles]
Name: Kurohiko Yuki
Title: unknown
Gender: Female
Age: unknown
Class: Caster
Alignment: Neutral-Good
Parameters:
Str: ???
Agi: ???
End: ???
Mana: ???
Luck: ???
NP: ???
Class Skills:
????
Personal Skills:
????
Noble Phantasm:
????
Type: ???
Rank: ???
Description:
This Noble Phantasm allows the user to imitate the attributes, abilities, and even the Noble Phantasm of other Servants that have been thoroughly observed by the user. However, the power of these imitations is not equal to the original.
Backstory:
Unknown.
****
Author's Note:
Just to clarify the timeline of this side story:
The Night She Found a Place → An Unexpected Morning → A Memory That Cannot Be Forgotten → Unexpected Breakfast → Stage, Puppet, Actor.
I want to make sure the order is clear for everyone. Oh—one more thing: each side story has its own time gap between chapters. The time skip can be a year, a month, or even just a single day.
As always, if you find anything odd, confusing, or incorrect, feel free to point it out.
Thank you so much for continuing to read—and sorry again for the delay in updating.