I killed them. There was no other way to put it. Those twenty cultists were slain by my hand, not my Authority, not by any other; it was done by me.
So where did that leave me? Disgusted? Sure. Guilty? Perhaps. Isolated? Most definitely.
I felt… conflicted. Yes, that was a good way to put it. I felt conflicted as I remembered the actions I took. It wasn't like it was a blur. I could remember exactly what I had done and to whom.
I could even generally remember the reasoning behind each action, the taunting, the methods of attack. It was calculated... mostly.
And yet I couldn't pinpoint exactly what made me feel so off about the entire situation. I couldn't match it with simple logic. I wasn't getting anywhere on my own with these stupid emotions.
But who could I talk to about these things? These feelings roiling around inside my skull? I swallowed hard, that bitter taste from hours ago still coating my mouth, a constant reminder.
The answer was, unfortunately, nobody. I had made a mistake, a miscalculation, I likely would have said under the influence of my Authority, in all my supposed schemes and plans, I had left myself isolated.
You lie so many times, you wear so many masks, that when the time comes to rip it all away, the people around you would be completely unfamiliar with what lies beneath.
'And it's not like I've been the most social butterfly while I've been here.'
Subaru was a no. Roswaal was a hell no. Beatrice was a no. Rem and Ram were 'kill you in your sleep' no's. Puck was a… maybe, and Emilia was… Emilia.
I lifted my gaze from the worn floorboards over to the bed where the silver-haired girl currently lay. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, catching the silver strands spread across her pillow, and I could hear the soft, steady rhythm of her breathing in the quiet room.
It had been hours since I'd found myself slumped against her door, the chill from the floor seeping through my clothes. She still slept peacefully, undisturbed by the turmoil of the person sharing her space uninvited.
That was good. I didn't want to bother her.
'I shouldn't even be in here,' I thought, the words heavy with self-reproach.
But at the same time… I couldn't muster the effort to leave. My limbs felt leaden, weighed down by more than just exhaustion.
Maybe I was actually hoping she would wake up. Maybe I hoped that she could be the person I could reach out to, the one person whom I could confide in without things crashing down around me.
'That's right… recently I've just been doing things alone.'
My eyes stayed locked on Emilia's bed.
'What if… I just… talked?'
'Would she judge me? Look at me like I were a monster?' The questions circled like vultures. 'She seems so innocent. So bright and positive.'
And around and around the thoughts went. Endless loops of madness. Pointless discussions of twisting morals and pathetic desperation, while the taste of bile lingered on my tongue and her peaceful breathing marked the passage of time I couldn't bring myself to face.
—
Emilia woke with a sleepy yawn, head drooping as silver hair spilled across her face, arms lazily flopping to the top of her covers.
The cool air kissed her shoulders as she shifted, a sharp contrast to the lingering warmth of her blankets. With slow, heavy blinks, she eventually turned her head to look out the window, an attempt to roughly guess what time it might be.
Yet even in her half-asleep state, she quickly understood that it was still quite far from morning. The sun wasn't even on the horizon yet, and she could still spot stars twinkling like scattered diamonds above.
She let out a tiny grumble, silently wondering what had even led her to waking up so early; she didn't need to use the restroom, and no loud noise had startled her. Something had pulled her from sleep, but she couldn't place what.
But this was all too much thinking for the still sleepy half-elf.
She glanced over to the spot above the door to her bedroom, noticing that the time crystal agreed with her estimation that it was really early.
With a light nod at the confirmation, her head began to droop back down. Emilia had no reason to stay awake, and she did like her sleep.
But as her gaze fell lazily from the time crystal above the door and toward her bed, she noticed something that didn't belong in the space between.
There was a person in her room.
Her breath caught in her throat, heart lurching as she jolted upright. Instinctively, she reached out to any minute spirits in the surroundings, adrenaline flooding her veins as her mind sharpened with sudden, razor-sharp focus. But as her vision adjusted to the dim moonlight, recognition dawned.
This intruder was somebody she knew. Somebody she couldn't imagine being a threat or harming her. Ethan was in her room.
Not moving, just slumped against her bedroom door like a discarded doll, staring at her with an expression that made her nervous.
His face was unusually blank and his gold eyes that usually seemed to glow, now looked hollow and dull under the pale moonlight.
"Ethan?" She called out, confusion and worry threading through her voice as her head tilted to the side. She climbed out of her bed, bare feet landing on the cold floorboards with soft taps that seemed too loud in the pressing silence.
"...Morning Lia. Sorry for the fright." Her partner responded, his tone flat and mechanical as he rose from the floor with movements that seemed to take effort.
"Are you alright, Ethan?" She murmured, stepping closer, but when he didn't respond this time, she lifted her gaze from his seemingly untouched body to meet his eyes.
The intensity she found there made her take an involuntary step back; it was unlike anything she'd faced from him before, searching and desperate and raw.
It almost reminded her of when they first met in the capital, when he'd looked at her like he was trying to solve a puzzle. That thought alone sparked a familiar spiral of doubt in her mind. Had she done something wrong? Was Ethan disappointed in her? He had approved of her work just this evening… so where had she mistepped?
"...Ethan?" She whispered again, her voice barely audible in the thick atmosphere.
She timidly glanced back at his unwavering stare. It looked like he was searching for something in her face, something he wasn't sure she could give.
She averted her eyes from his piercing gaze, and that's when she noticed his boots, caked with what looked like mud, but there were darker stains scattered across the leather that made her stomach twist with unease.
When she risked another glance at her partner, everything had changed.
In the literal blink of an eye, his expression and demeanor shifted. Away went the blank mask and the chilling intensity, replaced by something that looked vulnerable, regret, pain, and a weariness that seemed to weigh down his very bones.
"What's wrong?" she questioned while closing the distance between them. She still felt confused about Ethan's current state, but he looked so broken that she felt compelled to do something, anything, to ease whatever was hurting him.
So she did what she had grown more and more confident doing with him over the past week. She reached out and took one of his hands in both of hers, his skin cold against her palms.
She tried to give him a reassuring squeeze, pouring all her care into the gentle pressure, but his hand remained limp, none of the warm, responsive grip she'd grown used to.
"Emilia," he began, and the formal use of her full name cut through her like a blade. The loss of "Lia," that soft, intimate nickname that had become so precious to her, created a distance between them that made her chest tighten with dread.
"I did something tonight that's got my mind twisting and turning."
'Tonight? But I thought you went to bed after our session?'
Emilia had many thoughts swirling through her mind, questions and confusion battling for attention, but she decided to keep silent. Something in his posture told her he needed space to speak.
"I don't think what I did was unjustifiable. But… it still makes me feel like a bad person. It makes me feel… sick." His voice carried a tremor she'd never heard before; uncertain.
"What did you do?" The words came out softer than she intended, barely more than a whisper.
"What I had to," he replied with an answer that didn't tell her anything, and it seemed he knew that, she watched him almost flinch at his own evasion, frustration flickering across his features. "... fuck."
"Ethan, you know you can trust me, right?" She stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the tension radiating from him. "I can help you. Please, let me help you." Her tone was gentle but insistent as she took both his hands properly in hers, her thumbs stroking over his knuckles as she tried to infuse warmth back into his cold skin.
"What happened?"
He was quiet for a long moment, and she could see him struggling with something internal, his jaw working silently.
"I went for a stroll. Thoughts on my mind. Guess it didn't help in the end, huh?" The self-deprecating joke fell flat, hollow in the space between them.
"Ethan," she chided softly, her voice carrying a note of gentle reproach. She could feel the way her quiet words and the rhythmic rubbing of her thumbs across his hands seemed to ground him, his shoulders dropping slightly as he let out a shaky sigh.
"I came across a group, Emilia. They were… dressed in dark clothing, and… I confronted them. Questioned why they were out in the woods, it was dangerous out there, and they looked suspicious."
That made sense to her. She'd long learned of the wolgarms that roamed outside the barrier Roswaal and the villagers of Arlam had set up, and so many people out in the woods at night did seem odd.
"But… then they started saying some scary things, Emilia. They said that they were going to burn the manor down, that they had a… target." His grip on her hands tightened unconsciously as he spoke.
Ice shot down her spine at those words, her breath catching. The manor. Her home. The people she cared about.
"They weren't good people? They weren't joking?" She searched his face desperately, hoping above all else that this wasn't going where she feared it was.
He stared down at her, and for just a moment, so brief she might have imagined it, that cold, calculating mask she'd glimpsed when they first met flickered across his features like a shadow.
"No… Emilia. They were not joking. They told me all about what they would do, threatened me, and I just… I dunno— I just snapped."
The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.
"I killed them."
Three simple words crashed over her like a wave. Her grip on his hands tightened involuntarily, her body swaying slightly as the weight of his confession settled over her.
"You… killed them?" She echoed, the words feeling strange and foreign on her tongue. It was all she was capable of in that moment, struck practically speechless by the confession of what Ethan had endured.
"Yeah… I didn't let a single one get away. I killed them before they could even do anything. Before they could actually prove they were a threat, I went and wiped them out." His laugh was bitter, broken. "I'm… pretty messed up, huh?"
A dozen questions flickered through her mind, 'Twenty people? Were there more coming? Should we wake Roswaal?'—but one look at Ethan's broken expression pushed them all aside. Those concerns could wait until morning. Right now, he needed her.
She could feel it in everything about him. The way his hands trembled in her grip despite his attempts to appear steady. How his whole body seemed to sag as if the weight of what he'd done was physically crushing him. The complete absence of that spark she'd grown to love seeing in his golden eyes.
'He needs me.' The thought blazed through her mind with startling clarity as she took in everything he had told her, and everything he hadn't.
"Ethan… are you alright?" She needed to know. She needed to understand why he was telling her this, why he hadn't woken the entire manor about the potential threat. Why was he here, in her room, seeking comfort from her?
He froze at the question, and she watched something crumble behind his eyes. A broken smile stretched across his face as he gently shook his head, the gesture somehow more devastating than any words could have been.
"No… Lia. I don't think I'm alright." The admission came out so quietly she had to strain to hear it, both sad and honest in a way that made her heart clench.
And there it was.
The truth, stripped of all pretense and deflection. He'd come here, to her, to be seen. To find out if someone could look at what he'd done, what he'd become, and still see him underneath it all.
And Emilia… Emilia felt lost.
She wasn't good at this. She didn't know how to help people who were drowning in their own pain.
But there was one thing she knew.
She knew, intimately, what it was like to feel like a monster, to imagine yourself as something horrible and twisted. To wonder if you were still a person worth saving. The pain... the loneliness.
So she squeezed his hands again, harder this time, as if she could anchor him to her through touch alone.
Then, without fully thinking it through, she pulled him forward into a fierce embrace. Her arms wound around his back, holding him tight against her as her cheek pressed to his chest, right over his heart.
She could feel the rapid, unsteady rhythm beneath her ear, matching the way her own heart pounded so hard she was certain he could feel it too.
"You're still you," she whispered into the fabric of his shirt, her breath warm against him. "Even if you're scared. Even if you're hurting. Even if what you did can't be taken back... you're still Ethan."
He didn't respond. Just stood there, rigid and unmoving in her arms, as if he'd forgotten how to accept comfort.
So she kept going, her voice quiet but unwavering. She was terrified the moment might shatter if she said the wrong thing, if she failed him when he needed her most.
If she couldn't reach him here, something precious between them would break forever… and she couldn't bear the thought of losing him.
"You're not messed up, Ethan. In all the time I've known you, you've been nothing but kind to me. You bled protecting me in the slums, you spend hours helping me study even when I know you're tired, you listen to my worries about the selection. You treat me like a person." Her voice grew stronger, more certain. "You're my partner. My partner."
She felt him take in a shaky breath against her hair.
"And you're not a bad person, Ethan," she finished, the words soft but absolute. "You're not."
A tremor ran through his entire body, starting in his shoulders and rippling down his spine. She felt it against her chest, felt the moment his carefully maintained control began to crack. In response, she only held him tighter, pressing close, giving him all the reassurance her body could offer.
His body felt solid and real against hers, and that unfamiliar heat she'd been experiencing around him lately bloomed in her chest again, but that could wait. Right now, nothing mattered except him.
When she finally pulled back from the embrace, it was only to take his hand and guide him toward her bed. He followed without resistance, though she caught the confusion in his expression as she gently pushed him to sit on the mattress's edge before kneeling at his feet.
His boots were worse up close. What she'd taken for mud and dirt was mixed with something darker, rusty stains splattered across the leather.
Evidence of the horror he'd endured, the violence he'd been forced into. Her fingers worked carefully at the straps, trying not to think too hard about what those stains represented.
'He could be hurt,' she realized with a spike of worry. 'What if he's injured and just hasn't said anything?' It would be just like him to hide his own pain to avoid worrying her.
She would figure this out. She would help him the way he'd helped her countless times this past week. She would finally be the partner he deserved.
After setting his boots aside, she rose to find him still sitting hunched on the bed's edge. His shoulders curved inward like he was trying to make himself smaller, head bowed, hands lying open and empty in his lap. He looked utterly defeated.
"Ethan…" His name came out breathless, heavy with all the care she couldn't quite put into words.
When he glanced up at her, his golden eyes held a vulnerability that made her chest ache. She reached forward, threading their fingers together, and gave a gentle tug.
"Come lie down," she murmured.
He blinked in surprise, a flush creeping up his neck. "Lia… I can't, I shouldn't take your bed."
"You're not taking it," she said, with more firmness than she usually managed. "I'm sharing it."
His mouth opened as if to protest again, but she didn't give him the chance to overthink it. She pulled him down with her as she moved, and they tumbled into the soft nest of blankets together with a muffled sound.
They lay facing each other in the dim moonlight, close enough that she could see every detail of his face, feel the gentle brush of his breath meeting hers in the small space between them. The silence was peaceful, intimate in a way that made her pulse quicken.
But it wasn't enough. Not when she could still see the pain lurking behind his eyes, not when his body remained tense despite her efforts.
He hadn't pulled away, hadn't been offended by her boldness, or walked out like she'd feared he might. That had to mean something. That had to mean she was helping, even if just a little.
Emboldened by that thought, she reached for him again, her arms sliding around his back as she drew him closer. His body was pleasantly warm against hers, and she marveled at how perfectly they seemed to fit together.
He went still again at the contact, and for a heart-stopping moment, she wondered if she'd pushed too far. But then he melted into her embrace, his breath ghosting across her neck as he finally allowed himself to accept her comfort.
That wonderful warmth spread through her chest again, more intense than ever, and she found herself pressing closer to him, greedy for more of that intoxicating feeling.
She felt him shift beside her and she once more briefly worried she'd overstepped, but then his arms came around her properly, wrapping her in the comfort of his body, holding her just as tightly as she held him.
"Lia," he whispered into her hair, his voice rough with emotion. "You… really are dangerous, you know that?"
"I'm not sure I understand what you're talking about, Ethan." She nuzzled against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, clean soap and something uniquely him that made her feel safe.
"...Thank you." His words were barely audible, hushed against her silver strands. She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, finding them bright with unshed tears and something deeper, warmer. "Thanks for listening to me… for being here with me… for putting up with whatever this… emotional nonsense is—"
"Shhh," she hushed him, pulling him back into the embrace before he could finish that self-deprecating thought.
To Ethan, emotions might have felt like weakness, like something to be hidden away. But to Emilia, the courage it took to be this vulnerable, to trust her with his pain, that was strength of the highest order.
"I'm really, reeeeally happy that you trusted me, Ethan. Truly." Her words came out slightly muffled against his shoulder. "Sharing your feelings with me isn't nonsense. It was brave. And I think… I think you did what you had to do in an impossible situation."
Another shudder ran through him at her words, and his arms tightened around her. Then she felt it, one of his hands beginning to trace slow, soothing circles against her back while the other tangled gently in her long hair.
The dual sensations were incredible, igniting soft, tingling flutters along her spine. She couldn't suppress the soft sigh of contentment that escaped her.
"I'll be by your side, Ethan. Always." The promise came easily, feeling as natural as breathing. "We're partners, remember?" As she spoke, she let her own hands wander, stroking along his shoulders as she quietly called to the water spirits around them. They answered eagerly, lending their power as she sent gentle healing magic flowing into him, checking for any injuries he might be hiding.
"Lia… what's that feeling?" His voice was drowsy now, the exhaustion of the night finally catching up with him.
"I'm just making sure you're not hurt," she whispered back, relieved when her magic found nothing more serious than fatigue and emotional strain.
He made a soft sound of acknowledgment, and she felt his breathing begin to deepen and slow.
'It seems my partner is falling asleep on me,' she thought with a tender smile, carefully adjusting so she could rest her head in the crook of his arm. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear now, no longer racing with panic or pain.
Sleep came easily, wrapped in Ethan's body heat and the knowledge that she'd finally been able to give back even a fraction of what he'd given her.
—
Emilia woke to a familiar mental nudging. But the warmth she was buried in felt far too good to let go of, so with stubborn determination, she nuzzled further into the heat, breathing in the comforting scent that surrounded her.
Her arms and legs were completely intertwined with the source of all this wonderful warmth. At this point in her half-awake mind, she couldn't even sense where she ended and it began. Whatever she was pressed against rose and fell with steady breathing, and she could hear the slow, rhythmic thump of a heartbeat beneath her ear.
'Lia. If you continue to ignore me, I really might just have to freeze your little body pillow into an icicle, that is, if I don't do so on base principle alone.'
"Five more minutes…" she muttered aloud, unconsciously tightening her grip on the warm, solid form she was clinging to.
'No can do, my errant daughter. You've already slept in so late, to the point I've been up longer than you have.'
There was something in Puck's tone that made her drowsy mind stir with vague awareness, though she couldn't quite place what felt different about it.
Emilia let out a quiet sigh, silver lashes finally fluttering open as she tried to ascertain where exactly she was and why she felt so incredibly comfortable. The first thing she noticed was that she wasn't looking at her usual view of the ceiling. Instead, she found herself staring at black fabric; the soft material of someone's shirt, rising and falling gently with each breath.
Her sleepy mind took a moment to process this information.
'Breathing…? This isn't my pillow.'
Slowly, carefully, she tilted her head up and found herself looking at Ethan's peaceful sleeping face, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. His white hair was mussed from sleep, falling across his forehead.
The events of the night came flooding back: his confession, his pain, the way she'd pulled him into bed and held him until he fell asleep. Her cheeks warmed as she realized just how thoroughly tangled up with him she'd become.
One of her legs was thrown over his hip, her arm draped across his chest, her head pillowed on his shoulder. His arms were wrapped around her in return, one hand still buried in her hair, the other resting on the small of her back.
'Quite the cozy arrangement, my surprisingly bold daughter…' Puck's voice carried a deceptively casual tone that made her nervous. 'I don't suppose you'd care to explain why exactly Ethan is sleeping in your bed again? Or why exactly you're wrapped around him?'
Emilia's face felt like it was on fire as she fully grasped how she probably looked to Puck, completely entwined with Ethan, clinging to him like a child.
But as embarrassment flooded through her, the memory of why Ethan had been brought so low in the first place crashed back with startling clarity.
'He came across bad people last night, Puck!' Her mental voice was urgent, worried. 'I've got to tell Roswaal about that! There were twenty of them hiding in the forest, they said they were going to burn the manor down! They even said they had a specific target. Do you think they were after Roswaal?'
Puck suddenly went very still, his playful demeanor shifting subtly as his gaze flicked between her and Ethan's sleeping form. When he spoke again, there was something almost calculating in his mental voice before it smoothed back into reassuring warmth.
'Yeah... they were probably after Roswaal. The Mathers family name is well-known throughout the kingdom, Lia. Not always for the best reasons.'
He floated closer, giving her a gentle tap on the forehead with his tiny paw. 'Nothing for you to worry your pretty head about, though.'
'Oh.' The explanation made sense, she supposed, though something about Puck's quick dismissal nagged at her. 'I should still tell Roswaal about that, though, right? Twenty people is a lot, and if they were planning to—'
'Hmm. Nah, it's fine, Lia.' Puck's interruption was swift and decisive.
'I'll handle Roswaal and all those boring details. How about you go get washed up instead? When you get back, I'll do your hair up nice and pretty, today is a special day after all!'
His cheerful redirection worked exactly as intended. 'Special?' Emilia questioned, but then excitement bloomed in her chest as she remembered. 'Oh! Today we're going to Costuul!'
A surge of joy flooded through her. She didn't often get the chance to simply explore outside the manor. Sure, she would have work to do in the city, but Ethan would be by her side through all of it. With her partner by her side, she felt like she could take on anything the world might throw at her.
She began to carefully extract herself from Ethan's embrace, moving slowly so as not to wake him. It proved more difficult than expected.
When she finally managed to slip free, he made a small sound of protest in his sleep, his arms reaching out as if searching for her. The sight made her heart do something strange, and she had to resist the overwhelming urge to climb right back into bed with him.
'Right! I'm going to take a bath,' she decided, forcing herself to move toward the door. 'Try to let Ethan sleep a little longer, Puck. He was reeeeally tired last night. He needs the rest.'
'Of course, Lia!' Her father's voice was bright and cheerful as he gently nudged her toward the door with a small gust of wind. 'Don't worry about a thing, I'll take good care of him while you're gone.'
As the door clicked shut behind her, Emilia missed the way Puck's expression shifted, his aqua eyes growing sharp and calculating as he turned his attention to the sleeping figure in her bed.
—
I woke to a harsh voice cutting through the peaceful silence.
"Get up."
A frigid chill followed the command, and my eyes shot open as my breath came out in frigid plumes. I bolted upright, mind still sluggish from sleep, and found myself face-to-face with the perpetrator of my rude awakening.
"Puck." I ground out, trying to shake off the disorientation.
"Ethan Caldwell." The spirit practically spat my name like it left a foul taste in his mouth.
Gone was any trace of the cheerful cat. This was the Great Spirit of Fire. Cold, ancient, and radiating barely concealed hostility.
"What's with the sudden hate? I thought we were on—"
"I don't recall giving you permission to sleep with my daughter, Ethan."
The words punched a hole through my gut, and ice shot through my veins that had nothing to do with the rapidly decreasing temperature in the room.
'Oh shit.'
Click
Reason and Judgment
My Authority responded without hesitation, time snapping to a frozen halt under my command. The disorienting fog of sleep vanished instantly, replaced by the clear precision of enhanced cognition. My emotions dulled to manageable background noise, allowing pure analytical thought to take control.
'Finally, we make use of the ability intrinsically tied to our soul. The one that gives us control, the one that could have prevented this from happening in the first place.'
'But alas, it would seem we cannot always make the right choices. We digress, now then, what the hell is going on here?'
I studied Puck's frozen form with detached calculation, cataloging every micro-expression visible on his feline features. The fury was real; this wasn't some test or manipulation. The Great Spirit of Fire was genuinely mad.
'Predictable outcome. We crossed a boundary that was never explicitly discussed but clearly implied. The spirit expected us to be Emilia's protector and companion, not… this.'
My gaze fell to the rumpled bed beneath me.
'We allowed emotional vulnerability to compromise our position. Now we must navigate the consequences.'
The irony wasn't lost on me. Last night I'd desperately needed human connection, had craved the comfort Emilia provided.
…I still did. But my Authority certainly made it hard not to see my actions taken as weak.
I observed the absence of the girl in the room. It meant Puck had chosen this moment deliberately. Without her here, he could reveal his true nature.
'He wants an explanation. Our response must satisfy his paternal instincts while avoiding any admission of impropriety.'
I calmly noted the frost that had been forming on the windows, but it didn't frighten me.
Regardless of how angry the spirit was, he knew that my life had value. Even if he killed me, which I highly doubted he'd do, he would still be taking a loss.
'The situation isn't as bad as it looks. Be honest for once. Tell him what he wants to hear, which is the truth, it's not like he wouldn't be able to tell if we were lying anyway.'
I let time resume its flow, my Authority's confidence straightening my spine and smoothing my expression into calm composure.
"Puck," I began, my voice steady and measured, "I understand your concern. But before you freeze me solid, perhaps you'd like to hear what actually happened?"
The spirit didn't respond verbally. Instead, he floated closer and roughly pressed a freezing cold paw against my forehead. The contact sent an icy shock through my skull, but the message was clear.
Speak, and I'll read the truth myself.
"I won't lie, it wouldn't work with you anyway," I said, meeting his glacial stare. "I didn't do anything to Emilia beyond holding her and falling asleep. Nothing inappropriate happened."
The spirit remained motionless, that frigid paw still drilling cold into my skull as he sifted through my words and read whatever it was he could actually read from my mind. After what felt like an eternity, he finally pulled back.
"Haah." The cat let out a long, weary sigh, running a paw down his face in a gesture so human it was almost comical. The exhaustion and exasperation in that single breath spoke volumes.
The oppressive cold lifted as quickly as it had descended, the temperature rising to something habitable as Puck's hostility seemed to deflate.
"Ethan," he began, his tone completely serious, stripped of any playful pretense. "You're not going to take my Lia from me, are you?"
The question caught me off guard. 'Wait… is that what this is all about?'
"Puck, come here." I extended an open palm toward the floating spirit, who hesitated for a moment before drifting over and settling onto my hand with surprising gentleness.
"I'm not going to take Emilia from you. First, I don't think that's even possible; you're her family. Second, I have no reason to." I studied his small form, genuinely confused. "What do you even mean by 'take her from you,' anyway?"
The transformation was instant. The fearsome Great Spirit of Fire collapsed dramatically in my palm, a complete shift from the threatening presence he'd been moments before.
"I dunno!" he wailed, rolling around my palm like a distressed kitten. "It's just that... it took you so little time to get so close to her. She's never... no one's ever..."
My Authority's artificial confidence finally evaporated completely, leaving me feeling awkward and entirely too human again.
"I... guess we did get close quickly," I admitted, watching him continue his melodramatic display. "But it's not like I've been excluding you from anything. All three of us practice magic together, all three of us take part in sparring, and you even take naps floating above us while Emilia and I study."
I paused, choosing my words carefully. "She's your daughter, Puck. I don't intend to get in the way of that relationship. I wouldn't want to."
"So then, what are you doing, Ethan?" Puck shot back, suddenly sitting upright in my palm with renewed intensity. "I was willing to let the question slide a couple nights ago, but you keep staying near her. I know you don't want to hurt her; regardless of everything else, I do believe you'd protect her. I can trust that much. But what are you actually doing here?"
And it came back to this again.
I considered lying, deflecting, giving him the same non-answers I'd been making do with. But the memory of last night, of Emilia's arms around me, of finally letting someone see me, made me hesitate.
'What if I just... told the truth, or at least some measure of it? What if I actually reached out instead of trying to shoulder everything alone?'
The thought gleamed like a beacon in my mind. Opening up to Emilia had been terrifying, but it had also been... beneficial. My mind felt clearer, lighter somehow, though I hadn't had much time to process that feeling before being ambushed by an overprotective cat.
'Maybe I can keep doing that. Not with everyone, but…'
Emilia and Puck were the closest thing I had to real connections aside from Reinhard in this world. Maybe, just maybe, I could afford to let them in a little further.
"Why am I still here? In this manor?" I met the cat's questioning gaze directly. "I'm here because I'm trying to regain control of my life. I can't explain the full details, I'm contractually bound in ways I can't discuss, but ultimately, I want the Witch of Envy dead."
Puck's eyes widened, then immediately narrowed to dangerous slits. "You want the Witch of Envy... dead?"
"Not Emilia!" I said quickly, raising my free hand in a defensive gesture. "I fully understand that she and the Witch are completely separate individuals, despite Emilia's unfortunate resemblance. I got over that prejudice back in the capital, you know that."
"Hmm." The cat's expression remained skeptical. "Just making sure…"
"Come on! Hell, I haven't had a single thought like that around her in ages, and you probably know that too."
"Mhm. Yeah, I do know." A hint of smugness crept into Puck's voice. "I roughly read your surface-level thoughts when you're around her. Speaking of which, are you ever going to tell her that you like the color of her hair?"
I jolted like I'd been struck by lightning. "Hey! I— some things shouldn't be said aloud, man."
"It would make her happy if you did," Puck said with annoying nonchalance. "Though I don't think either of us needs to worry about her being unhappy at the moment."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
The cat stared at me for a long moment, his expression shifting to something between disbelief and pity.
"... You're not messing with me, are you?"
"I can't mess with you if I don't even know what you're talking about."
"Oh my Od." Puck muttered, giving me a look of such profound disappointment that I genuinely wanted to toss him out the nearest window.
"Whatever," he finally said, apparently deciding I was a hopeless case. "So what does your wanting the Witch dead have to do with you staying in the manor? Are you just trying to get stronger? You do always train with magic, plus Roswaal, ignoring all his flaws, is a highly skilled mage."
"That's certainly a major factor in my continued stay," I agreed, though I found myself questioning just how far I was willing or able to go with this newfound honesty.
"Hmph! It's fine if you don't want to say any more." Puck suddenly cut in, waving a dismissive paw. "I won't rip it out of you. I can tell it doesn't mean anything bad for Lia, and she's really all that matters to me."
"Just Lia, huh?" I observed, noting the singular focus.
"Yup!" The cat's voice took on that dangerously cheerful tone that made my survival instincts prickle. "I'd let the entire world freeze over if it meant I could keep her safe, you know?"
I stared at the small feline form rolling lazily in my palm, weighing his words against his casual delivery. "I've got a strange feeling that tells me you aren't lying about that."
"Can you blame me, though?" Puck suddenly stopped his rolling and fixed me with an unnervingly direct stare.
"I mean..." I considered this seriously. "You're a Great Spirit, so human logic doesn't quite apply to you, does it? And... I think I'd be majorly pissed off if something so cruel happened to Lia."
"So you understand," Puck grinned, "good. Maybe you aren't completely hopeless."
"Anyway," Puck continued, "who were the people in the forest you dealt with? Lia said 'bad people,' but I'm assuming you didn't tell her everything."
"Nope," I replied, letting the 'p' pop as I finally stood and stretched, grateful for the change of subject. "They were indeed bad people, but I didn't tell her who they were, witch cultists, if I had to guess. I got rid of them."
"'If you had to guess,' huh?" Puck's tone shifted, becoming sharper, more focused. "The Witch Cult." He said it like a statement rather than a question, his voice dropping to something colder. "How did you even run across those fanatics in the middle of the forest, Ethan? They aren't exactly known for being easy to find."
The question hung in the air. I met his gaze directly, and after a moment of tense silence, he gave me a knowing look.
"Ethan," Puck's voice carried a warning that made the temperature drop a few degrees, "don't get Lia involved in whatever it is you're really trying to do."
"I won't," I said, and meant it.
"Good." He studied me for another long moment, then seemed to accept my promise. "You said you dealt with them all, meaning no survivors. In that case, telling Roswaal wouldn't do anything beneficial for Lia. The Cult has always been elusive, and he'd only worry her with questions she can't answer."
"Who were they after?" He continued, voice flat.
"I think you already know the answer to that."
"I see." The cat's voice carried a note of grim satisfaction. "Good that you killed them, then. Saved me the trouble."
Puck floated in slow circles as he continued his reasoning. "I'm not fond of the clown, Ethan. And I know you aren't either." His voice took on a conspiratorial tone. "So this'll be our little secret, eh?"
"Sure," I muttered, stepping away from the bed and moving to take a seat in the chair positioned next to Emilia's bedroom window.
A thought suddenly struck me as I settled in. "Wait. Are you sure that won't cause problems?"
"What? Not telling Roswaal?" Puck asked, continuing to float in lazy circles around my head.
"Exactly. What if Lia mentions it to him? Even in passing? If she finds out we never brought the topic up ever, it looks strange."
"Ehhh? Fine." Puck's tone carried the resignation of someone being forced to be responsible. "You and I will go talk to him before we leave the manor. How's that sound?"
He drifted down to perch on my shoulder, and we both turned our attention to the view outside the window. "We'll just say it was a bunch of anti-demi-human activists who got word that Lia was staying with Roswaal. It's not exactly the most well-guarded secret, after all." He proposed.
"And the part about me killing them?" I asked, though I suspected I already knew the answer.
"He won't care a bit, I'm sure. Just don't make it seem bigger than it needs to be, right?" Puck's casual dismissal of twenty deaths felt completely expected.
"Hah, sounds like a plan... partner." The word slipped out, almost mockingly, as I stretched back in the seat, a light yawn escaping as the exhaustion from the night continued to weigh on me.
Puck immediately looked at me with exaggerated horror, his tiny paws waving in surrender above his head.
"Maybe... don't call me that. I think Lia might get jealous and come after me if you start using her special word."
"Lia? Jealous?" The idea seemed almost absurd to me. She was always so bright, so generous with her affection. "I can't really picture that."
"Mhm, careful with yourself, Ethan." Puck's warning came wrapped in that deceptively carefree tone that somehow made it more ominous than a direct threat.
I hummed noncommittally, refocusing my attention on the scene outside the window. Gray clouds continued to gather on the horizon, heavy with moisture.
"Looks like rain," Puck murmured, echoing my thoughts.
"Yeah. Kind of unfortunate timing considering we're supposed to be leaving for Costuul today."
Puck merely hummed in response, and I found myself settling deeper into the chair. My eyelids grew heavy as the combination of emotional exhaustion and silence once more caught up with me.
—
Author's Yap Session:
Been a while. Kept you waiting, huh?
Exam week kicked off and I kinda had to lock in. But now that that's over, and we're moving into Costuul, away from all this mushy character development and heart to heart conversation stuff (blehhh) I should be able to pick up steam. (Here's hoping.)
I kinda felt a little hesitant with this chapter. Too much slice of life is what I'm somewhat fearing I've done. But uh, hopefully it ain't too bad. Re:Zero is such a character centric story, that if I don't put in so much effort into connecting these characters it makes me feel like I'm writing something... surface-level? Dunno.
Thoughts, thoughts, endless thoughts.