Chapter 55: Emilia's Determination (Patreon)

"Oh my, should I say... as expected of a half-demon? What a vicious thing to say..."

Elsa let out a dry chuckle, her tone mocking. "So, you want to torture us? Unfortunately, there's not much of a scream left for you to wring out of us. Save your strength."

Hearing this, Emilia—kind-hearted by nature—felt an instinctive pang of reluctance, but she kept up the cruel expression that matched the ominous title of "half-demon." She walked to the edge of the cell, and countless ice spikes gathered around her, dropping the temperature of the entire cell by several degrees in an instant.

"I'm not going to torture you," she said, each word deliberate.

"Since your master is already dead, then you filthy sewer rats need a new one now—and that's me!"

The moment the words left her mouth, both Elsa and Meili were stunned—and Emilia herself, the one who'd said them, was so mortified she could have curled her toes into the floor. The turmoil inside her was nowhere near as calm as her icy expression let on.

Truth be told, having spent her whole life being kind, she had no idea how to play the part of a cold, commanding superior, let alone how to threaten someone into obeying her orders. These were just a few tricks she'd picked up secondhand during her brief time with Natsuki Subaru.

As for whether it would actually work, well, that was up to fate now.

"Ngh..."

Before Elsa and Meili even had time to process what was happening, Emilia's composure cracked first—her face turned redder than a freshly picked apple.

Just a moment ago she'd worn the cold mask of a witch, and now she'd been knocked straight back into her true self. A wave of overwhelming embarrassment made her turn her face away, giving away completely that she was nothing but an amateur at this.

Compared to the two prisoners locked in the cell, Emilia suddenly felt like she was the one on trial. This was a disaster!

Elsa and Meili, clearly just as lost as to what was going on, only grew more confused. Elsa, whose eyes had gone hollow and empty, suddenly seemed to perk up, staring at Emilia with the look one might give a lunatic.

"Do you even know what you're saying, half-elf?"

"I know exactly what I'm saying."

Emilia quickly composed her expression and glared back without a hint of timidity.

"I need power—enough power to catch up to that person's back. And for that, I'm willing to make a reckless gamble, even if it means I might lose everything."

"I can free you, let you leave this place, even shield you from Roswaal's retaliation. In exchange, you'll swear a soul contract with me—vow never to betray me, and fight for me forever."

"This is your only chance. Rot away in this dungeon to the very end, or become my sword—the sword of Emilia, candidate in the Royal Selection—and start a new life?"

"The choice is yours."

With that, Emilia said no more. She simply stood quietly at the cell door, holding her ring of ice spikes steady, and waited for their answer.

Elsa aside, Meili was already stunned speechless by this turn of events.

She'd expected something like the time she'd been turned into a frog—some cruel torment at the hands of this silver-haired half-elf with a witch's face. But from the looks of it now, the woman seemed willing to let them go... and even recruit them?

Meili had no experience handling something like this at all. In her worldview, when you ran into a person or problem you couldn't deal with, you simply killed it—and if you couldn't kill it, you killed yourself. But this situation seemed to offer a third option beyond kill or be killed.

She looked silently at Elsa beside her, eyes full of confusion.

Honestly, given how badly Capella had treated her over the years, Meili couldn't care less about switching sides.

But what about Elsa?

Elsa's body trembled as a suppressed laugh escaped her. She lifted her head to look at Emilia, and a flicker of light rekindled in her hollow, violet eyes.

"Interesting. This is truly interesting... half-elf—no, Lady Emilia. Might I ask why you chose us?"

"Because..."

Emilia thought it over, then gave a bittersweet smile.

"Because I thought... the look in your eyes the night you were captured reminded me so much of myself, once."

"Pain, confusion, not knowing what to do—I could never forget a look like that."

"...I see." Elsa slowly closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, the deadness in her gaze was gone entirely. That old hunger for blood and slaughter seemed to surge back to life, and her lips curved into a seductive, alluring smile.

"Then my condition is simple—do your best to keep me entertained, silver-haired half-elf. And if you can't..."

"...I'll cut your belly open myself, all right?"

"Of course," Emilia nodded, answering with a faint smile. "But until then, you'll answer to me alone—think of me as your dead 'mother' and carry out every order I give without question. Understood?"

"Deal."

Before the word had even finished leaving her mouth, the ice spikes hovering around Emilia shot out in a volley, shattering the chains binding Elsa's wrists. Now free, Elsa reached out her fingers through the cell bars, touching them to Emilia's.

"Then, in the name of the soul, let the contract be sealed."

It was sealed through the Gate, etching the vow into both their souls—one could deceive others, but never one's own heart. A contract carved into the soul like this transcended distance, time, even entire worlds, carrying an authority beyond question.

This was the method Emilia had consulted Roswaal about—the surest way to guarantee loyalty.

She knew this was an incredibly bold decision, even a reckless one. No one could say for certain whether taking these two homicidal maniacs under her wing was truly wise. But Emilia didn't regret it.

All of it, so she could take even one step closer to catching up with him.

The Royal Selection was about to begin. It was time to bid farewell to her naive, carefree past once and for all.

That evening, at the gates of Roswaal Manor.

A dragon-drawn carriage bearing the crest of the Mathers family stood ready. Roswaal, as master of the house, had come to the gate in person to see off Natsuki Subaru and Ciel before their departure.

Of course, Beatrice—who hadn't set foot outside the Forbidden Library in over four hundred years—was there too. Now that she was Natsuki Subaru's contracted spirit, she naturally had to go along with him.

"Ah, Beako—so you've finally found the one destined for you? As your friend, I'm truly, sincerely happy for you!"

Roswaal had, as promised, washed off that ridiculous clown makeup. It had to be said, his features were quite handsome—when he wasn't playing the clown to irritate people, he actually left a decent impression.

That said, it did nothing to change the terrible impression he'd already made.

"Hmph, Betty is not your friend!" Beatrice looked at him with open disdain.

"Still... you actually look somewhat tolerable like this. Don't go back to that weird getup again."

As an artificial spirit who had stood at Echidna's side four hundred years ago, Beatrice was well aware of Roswaal's little infatuation with her.

But what disgusted her most was that after this pervert had been thoroughly beaten by Hector, the Warlock of Melancholy, he'd started imitating the man's style of dress, claiming it was to remember his shame. Knowing him, he'd probably just latched onto the ambiguous relationship between the Warlock of Melancholy and Echidna as an excuse to reminisce about her on the side.

Others might not know it, but Beatrice certainly knew that Echidna was the daughter of Hector, the Warlock of Melancholy, and the Witch of Vainglory. Dressing up like someone's father to flirt with his daughter—and only daring to try it after the man was dead, no less.

All she could say was that us mere mortals could never hope to understand the workings of Lord Roswaal's mind.

As far as Beatrice was concerned, this man either enjoyed being deliberately irritating, or he'd genuinely been kicked in the head by a mule. Compared to his standing as a Margrave, one could hardly call him respected—"loathed by man and dog alike" was more like it.

Ram excluded, of course.

Before Natsuki Subaru showed up, Roswaal had held a firm grip on the top spot for "worst reputation in Beatrice's book"—until Subaru's habit of spouting bizarre nonsense briefly knocked him off his perch and claimed the throne of "person Beatrice hates most" for himself.

These days, of course, Beatrice no longer disliked Subaru, so the illustrious title of "biggest idiot" had naturally been handed back to their dear Mr. Roswaal. Though knowing him, he probably didn't care one way or another.

"Betty's got a point," Subaru said, ruffling Beatrice's head, his expression turning serious. "Since Ros-chi's actually being serious for once, I'll get straight to it too.

"You just keep backing Lady Emilia. As for me, I'm basically an outsider who jumped in halfway through—might as well go take a look at the royal capital first.

"What exactly does this Council of Wise Men that the Sword Saint holds in such high regard actually look like? Where exactly is this country sick? I need to see it with my own eyes before I can figure out the right prescription.

"And if it turns out they've actually got their act together, well, that saves me the trouble of stepping in myself, don't you think?"

"Ha ha, I'm afraid you're in for quite the disappointment then, Lord Subaru." Roswaal narrowed his eyes slightly. "The royal capital of Lugnica right now might be even worse than you imagine."

"You're kidding, right?" Subaru raised an eyebrow, though he wasn't the least bit surprised.

"Guess this country doesn't just need a new king, then—it needs a sharp blade and a hot fire to burn out the pests, too!"

"Subaru!"

Emilia's voice suddenly rang out from a distance. Subaru turned to see her jogging over toward him, and noticed a faint, barely-visible redness at the corners of her eyes.

"Rough night... couldn't sleep?"

Emilia shook her head lightly. The morning light reflected in her violet-blue eyes, though they seemed somehow dimmer than usual.

"I was just... thinking about a lot of things."

She turned, clasping her hands together nervously in front of her.

"Roswaal told me a lot last night. About your battle in the ravine, about how you made the Dragon Insignia shine, and... about how he's decided to give you his full backing for the throne."

Subaru fell silent for a moment, then shot an exasperated glance at the strange man who'd washed off his clown makeup but was somehow still up to his usual antics. Roswaal hastily threw up both hands in a show of innocence.

"Emilia, don't take what that guy Roswaal says too seriously. He's probably just messing with you—just ignore him."

"No, Roswaal's right."

Emilia lifted her head and looked Subaru in the eye.

"Subaru, I've actually known it all along—the reason I'm standing here as a Royal Selection candidate isn't because I have some amazing ability of my own."

"It's all thanks to Roswaal's support. A cursed half-elf like me could only... it's because everyone's been pushing me forward that I've been able to move at all."

Her voice was soft, but carried a self-reproach that ached to hear.

"But you're different. You saved Rem, took down an enemy on the level of a Sin Archbishop without even breaking a sweat, and formed a contract with Beatrice. Everything you've accomplished is something I could never manage no matter how hard I tried.

"Emilia..."

"I'm really useless, aren't I?"

Tears glistened at the edges of Emilia's eyes. She let out a small, self-deprecating laugh.

"Every time danger comes, all I can ever do is stand back and watch. I want to help, I want to fight alongside everyone else, but somehow I always end up being the one who needs protecting."

"Now even Roswaal's decided to back you, and I can't even properly explain why I want to become queen in the first place..."

Subaru looked at her.

He didn't tease her with an exaggerated tone the way he usually would, nor did he offer any of those hollow, feel-good words of comfort.

He simply reached out and gently took hold of Emilia's slightly cold fingers.

"Emilia. Look at me."

Emilia blinked, and tears slid down her cheeks.

"Do you think I'm someone amazing?" Subaru asked.

"Mm. Subaru's super amazing."

"Then you're wrong." Subaru laughed at himself and tapped a finger against his own chest.

"In here, there's nothing but cowardice, selfishness, and more failures than I can count. The only reason I'm standing here at all is because I've been through a little more than you have, that's all.

He tightened his grip on her hand.

"The 'amazing' you see is something I paid for with countless humiliating breakdowns and screams. But you, Emilia—your kindness, your perseverance, your wish to see everyone happy—those are the purest, most precious things there are."

"You don't need to imitate me. You definitely don't need to feel like you're beneath me."

Emilia stared at him, stunned. The warmth from his hand seeped into her palm, and slowly, her heartbeat began to settle.

"But I want to be able to help you, Subaru."

She squeezed his hand back, and the confusion and fragility in her eyes faded bit by bit, replaced by a resolve she'd never felt before.

"I don't want to keep being the one left behind, watching your back as you walk away. If you've decided to take the hardest road, then I'll do everything I can to become stronger too."

She took a deep breath, wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, and broke into a radiant smile.

"I'll work hard at my magic, try to understand this country, and find my own way to catch up to you. So, Subaru—on the stage of the Royal Selection in the capital, I'm not going down without a fight, okay?"

Watching her face light back up with that brilliant smile, Subaru felt something soft stir deep inside him.

"Yeah. I'll be waiting for you, Emilia."

He smiled and let go of her hand.

"Just don't get left too far behind when the time comes.

"As if that'll happen!"

Emilia huffed indignantly, planting her hands on her hips, her eyes blazing with fighting spirit.

The Emilia standing here now was a different person entirely.