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---
The night of the third day arrived too quietly.
That was the first thing Link hated.
The Roswaal mansion could be many things: elegant, enormous, absurd, suspicious, a museum of doors that probably held more secrets than some nobles, but truly quiet it was not. Still, that night pretended to be. The hallways were bathed in a soft lamp light, the windows reflected long shadows, the air smelled of polished wood, clean fabric and dinner already finished. From outside came crickets, wind through trees and that rural silence that would have seemed beautiful if Link had not learned that the pretty silences of this world usually came with hidden teeth.
He was sitting on the edge of his bed, with his forearms resting on his knees and Luci floating near the ceiling like a domestic star with terrible company judgment. The small bright sphere spun slowly, sometimes descending to his shoulder, sometimes rising again, as if it didn't know what to do with an owner who had been staring at the floor for an hour without saying anything.
Link didn't know what to do with himself either.
They had returned from the village before the sun finished setting. Subaru had entered the mansion with his bandaged hand, his smile in place and his pockets full of precious trash given by children who didn't know they had just given small anchors to a boy who was trying not to collapse. Rem had reported the bite as a minor incident. Ram had insulted Subaru with her usual naturalness. Emilia had asked if everything had gone well, and Subaru had responded with a joke loud enough to seem like a lie even before finishing it.
Then came Beatrice.
There had been no need to explain everything out loud. Subaru had sought the forbidden library with that trembling determination of someone who already knows the answer and still needs to hear it. Link did not enter with him. Not because he didn't want to, but because too many doors with Beatrice inside had started to seem like places where one could lose more than what one carried. He waited outside, leaning against the hallway wall, smelling old paper through impossible wood, feeling the murmur of voices and trying not to think about the puppy's bite.
When Subaru came out, his face had the color of someone who had been confirmed that the ground was still ground just before it opened.
"It's the bite," he said without looking at Link.
Link didn't ask if he was sure.
There was no need.
"Did she remove it?"
Subaru closed the fingers of his bandaged hand, slowly.
"Yes. Or at least the one that was active in me. Beatrice said things about not wasting time on an idiot who lets himself be bitten by suspicious animals, then touched my hand, complained that the smell was disgusting, drained something and told me not to bring her problems in the shape of a dog again."
"Very Beatrice."
"Too much."
Subaru didn't say more at that moment. Not there. Not with the library at his back, not with the mansion listening through every molding.
But both understood the same thing.
If the puppy was the source, or one of them, then the village was not safe. If Subaru had been bitten, the children could be too. If the curse was by contact, if the forest had demonbeasts, if the night of the other loops had led Rem toward death, then the clock was not waiting for the fifth day.
It had already started.
That was why Link couldn't sleep.
He ate at dinner. Quite a bit, even. Rem made sure he ate because she still didn't trust that someone capable of throwing himself into an explosion by his own will knew how to measure his recovery. Subaru made jokes about how Link was officially nutritional property of the mansion. Ram declared that feeding the gardener was cheaper than repairing another crater, although not by much. Emilia smiled. Puck tried to feed Luci with a crumb, and Luci, having no mouth, simply spun around it with useless enthusiasm.
Link smiled when it was his turn.
He chewed when he should.
He responded to Ram's insults.
He returned two and a half jokes to Subaru.
He thanked Rem without exaggerating.
And yet, when he returned to his room, something still felt empty.
Not hunger from missed dinner. Not normal appetite. Not that human hole that was fixed with bread, meat or a bokko fruit. It was a low pang, small, almost shy at first, placed somewhere between the stomach and the chest. It didn't hurt. Not yet. It was just there, like a nail knocking from inside a door that shouldn't be opened.
Link ignored it.
That was his favorite method for dealing with new problems: pretending they didn't exist until they tried to rip off one of his arms.
Luci descended to float in front of his face.
"Don't look at me like that," murmured Link.
The sphere shone.
"You don't even have eyes."
Luci shone again.
"That doesn't improve your argument."
The pang returned.
Link clenched his jaw, got up from the bed and walked toward the window. Outside, the night covered the gardens and the path that led to the village. Beyond, the forest was a dark mass, still, too big. He looked at it for a long time. The wind brought weak smells: leaves, damp earth, small animals, wood, nocturnal flowers. And something more.
He didn't know how to name it.
He didn't want to either.
His stomach gave a brief, almost imperceptible tug.
Link rested a hand on the window frame until the wood creaked.
He loosened it before breaking it.
"No," he said in a low voice, not to Luci, not to the forest, not to anyone who could answer. "Not today."
Then he heard footsteps in the hallway.
They weren't Ram's footsteps. Ram walked as if the corridors owed her respect. They weren't Rem's. Rem stepped with such perfect economy that she sometimes seemed to glide. They weren't Emilia's, nor Roswaal's, nor the impossible sound of Beatrice appearing where she shouldn't.
Subaru.
Link blew out the candle with his fingers.
He didn't need to think much. He took his jacket, adjusted his work clothes, reflexively checked that the cuts on his back allowed him to draw kagunes if necessary and opened the door before Subaru passed in front of his room.
Subaru froze in the hallway.
He wore a simple cloak over his uniform, his bandaged hand against his chest and an expression so poorly assembled that Link felt the urge to hit him and hug him in the same movement.
"Are you going to the bathroom?" asked Link.
Subaru opened his mouth.
He closed it.
"Yes."
"With boots, cloak and funeral face."
"It's a distant bathroom."
"Subaru."
"What?"
"Don't insult me before a dangerous mission. It puts me in a bad mood."
Subaru looked both ways down the hallway, then lowered his voice.
"I didn't want to wake you."
"I wasn't asleep."
"You should be."
"You too."
"I have a freshly removed curse, a bitten hand, possibly children in danger and a terrible history of quiet nights. My insomnia has arguments."
"Mine has four kagunes."
"That's not an argument, it's a threat."
Link stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. Luci followed him like an obedient speck of light, although Link made a gesture for her to lower her brightness. Surprisingly, the minor spirit did so. Subaru looked at her with a mixture of envy and offense.
"Does the firefly learn faster than me?"
"Luci doesn't argue every instruction."
"That's a direct wound to my identity."
Link didn't smile.
Subaru noticed.
The joke died.
"I'm going to the village," said Subaru.
"I know."
"I'm not sure what I'm going to find."
"I know."
"If the children are fine, we come back."
"You're not going to find them fine."
Subaru clenched his teeth.
He didn't say it because he had an exact vision. He said it because the loop breathed like that. Because the afternoon had been too beautiful. Because the puppy had bitten. Because Beatrice had confirmed what they didn't want to confirm. Because the forest had been calling for hours from the bottom of the world with a predator's patience.
Subaru lowered his gaze to his bandaged hand.
"I didn't want to involve you more."
Link looked at him with dry calm.
"How tender."
"Don't say it like that."
"How stupid."
"That does sound more like you."
"Subaru, we already talked about this. If you're going to walk toward something that can kill you, you tell me. If you don't tell me and I follow you anyway, the guilt of feeling guilty for not telling me is still yours, but now with less efficiency."
Subaru looked at him.
"That sentence had too many turns."
"I'm tired."
"Me too."
"Then walk."
Subaru remained silent for a second. Then he nodded.
They advanced down the hallway without turning on more light than necessary. Luci floated between them, faint, almost like a trapped spark. Link noticed that Subaru looked at the sphere from time to time, perhaps seeking comfort in something small and absurd. That was fair. At this point, anything that didn't try to kill them deserved a bit of affection.
They reached the side entrance before running into Rem.
Of course Rem was there.
She didn't seem surprised.
She was standing by the door, with a lamp in one hand and the other near a prepared bag with cloths, water, some provisions and basic tools. She didn't carry the Morning Star visible, but Link wasn't naive enough to think that meant she was defenseless. Rem didn't need to seem dangerous to be it. Her blue eye passed from Subaru to Link, then to Luci, and finally back to Subaru.
"Subaru."
Subaru straightened up as if he had been caught stealing bread.
"Rem. What a coincidence to see you at the side door at this exact hour with a lamp and exit equipment."
"Rem could say the same."
"I was... doing emotional patrol."
Ram wasn't there, but Link felt that somewhere the universe was preparing an insult.
Rem looked at Subaru's bandaged hand.
"Beatrice-sama removed the curse, but Subaru hasn't rested enough."
"I can't rest."
"That's not an acceptable explanation."
"It's the only one I have."
Rem held his gaze.
It wasn't the Rem of the chain. It wasn't the Rem of the nonexistent forest. It was the Rem of that night, the one who had seen Subaru acting strange for days, the one who had found his exhaustion in Emilia's lap, the one who had observed the puppy bite him, the one who knew there was something more beneath his jokes, even if she didn't have the right pieces.
"Subaru is thinking of going to the village," she said.
It wasn't a question.
Subaru exhaled through his nose.
"Yes."
"For the children."
"Yes."
"And for the bite."
Subaru didn't respond immediately.
Rem accepted that silence as an answer.
"Rem will go too."
Link looked at Subaru.
Subaru looked at Rem.
"No," both said at the same time.
Rem blinked.
Link closed his eyes for a second.
"That sounded worse in duet."
Subaru raised both hands.
"Rem, I don't mean that I can't count on you. It's literally the opposite. The problem is that if there are demonbeasts or whatever in the forest, you're going to try to solve it by carrying everything on your back."
"Rem is a servant of the Roswaal mansion. The protection of nearby villagers also falls within her duties."
"That's exactly what worries me."
Rem turned toward Link.
"Link shouldn't come either. Puck indicated that his mana is still low. Besides, Link was unconscious for most of the day."
"I already ate."
"That doesn't recover everything."
"I can walk."
"Walking is not the same as fighting."
"I don't plan to fight if it's not necessary."
Subaru looked at him.
"That was such a big lie it almost woke Beatrice."
Link didn't look at him.
"I don't plan to start a fight if it's not necessary."
"That's more believable."
Rem didn't seem convinced.
"Link should remain in the mansion."
"No."
The answer was simple.
Too simple.
Rem observed him with more attention.
"Link."
"No."
"Rem hasn't finished explaining."
"And I haven't changed my answer."
Subaru put a hand to his face.
"Oh no. He entered stubborn Latin mode."
Rem held Link's gaze.
"If Link faints in the forest, Subaru and Rem will have to carry him."
"Then I won't faint."
"That doesn't depend only on will."
"Many things don't depend only on will. They are done anyway."
The phrase hung in the air.
Rem didn't look at Subaru, but Subaru felt that she had heard it as if it were for him too.
Link breathed slowly. The hole under his ribs returned, slight, annoying, inopportune. He ignored it with the same silent violence with which one ignores a splinter in the middle of an emergency. He wasn't going to say anything. Not to Rem. Not to Subaru. Not when both already had enough reasons to try to leave him behind.
"I'm going," he said. "Not out of whim. Not out of cheap heroism. I'm going because Subaru shouldn't go in there alone, because Rem shouldn't carry alone what she finds, and because if the children are in danger, every second we spend arguing at this door is a second the forest wins."
Rem lowered her gaze to the lamp.
Subaru said nothing.
Luci spun once around Link, as if sealing the phrase with a tiny light.
Rem was the first to move.
She opened the door.
"Then don't separate."
Subaru looked up.
"Rem..."
"Rem is not asking for permission. If Subaru goes, Rem goes. If Link insists on going, Link goes. But none will act alone. None will run without warning. None will ignore a tactical order in the forest."
Link and Subaru looked at each other.
"Is she scolding us before or after saving children?" asked Subaru.
"Before, because afterward they might be unconscious."
"Reasonable," admitted Link.
Rem stepped outside.
The night air received them cold and damp.
The mansion was left behind like a huge, orderly and safe light. Ahead, the path to the village was a dark ribbon under the moon. They weren't running yet, but they walked fast. Subaru went in the center at first, Rem to one side with the lamp and Link to the other with Luci floating low, not bright enough to betray them from afar, but enough to mark their steps when the lamp light didn't reach. The silence lasted little, because Subaru never knew how much to shut up before his own mind started biting him.
"Technically," he said, "this would be our first unauthorized group night outing."
"Don't call it an outing," said Link.
"Operation rural rescue?"
"That sounds worse."
"Missing children patrol?"
Rem barely turned her head.
"Subaru shouldn't assume they are missing before confirming it."
Subaru clenched his jaw.
"You're right."
The phrase came out too low.
Rem noticed.
Link too.
During the way, the forest seemed to move at the same rhythm as them. There were no demonbeasts in sight. There were no eyes shining between the trees. Nothing jumped onto the path. That didn't calm anyone. The absence of visible threat only made every small noise matter more: a branch, an insect, the crunch of earth under boots, the rustle of Rem's fabric, Subaru's breathing trying not to accelerate too much.
Link started to notice more smells as they approached the village.
Earth. Wood. Extinguished smoke. Animals. The trace of the children from the afternoon, already diluted but present like small threads between houses and path. The puppy. The dried blood from the bite on Subaru's bandage. And beneath that, something more.
He didn't name it.
He didn't want to.
The hole inside him moved slightly, as if it had lifted its head.
Link clenched his teeth.
"Are you okay?" Subaru asked in a low voice.
"Yes."
"Liar."
"Walking."
"That doesn't answer."
"It's enough."
Subaru looked at him with concern, but didn't insist. Maybe because he understood that pushing there, in front of Rem, would only make Link close more. Maybe because he himself had too many useful lies accumulated in his mouth to point out others with true authority.
Rem did observe him.
"Link walks differently."
"The explosion left my pride hurt. It affects the posture."
"Rem didn't ask about pride."
"It's the only thing I can diagnose without medical assistance."
Rem didn't seem convinced.
But she kept walking.
They arrived at Earlham Village when the night had already covered the low roofs and dirt paths. The village slept halfway, like all humble places: some dark houses, others with minimal lamps, distant dogs, restless cattle, murmurs behind walls. Subaru was the first to move toward the house of one of the villagers he remembered from the day's conversations. He knocked on the door carefully, then with more urgency when no one responded quickly.
An older man opened, annoyed at first, worried afterward upon seeing them.
"The children?" Subaru asked before he could greet properly. "The children who were playing this afternoon. Petra, the others. Did they all return?"
The man blinked, confused by the urgency.
"What...? They should have returned a while ago."
Rem took a step forward.
"Please, confirm with the families."
Rem's voice did more than Subaru's desperation. Not because it was stronger, but because it sounded like a clean order, like someone accustomed to the world responding when duty was set in motion. In a few minutes, several houses lit lights. Fathers, mothers, elders and older brothers started coming out with cloaks over their shoulders, sleepy faces that transformed into fear when a name received no response.
Petra wasn't there.
Several children weren't there.
The puppy wasn't there either.
Subaru remained still in the middle of the path.
Link saw how the confirmation pierced his body.
It wasn't surprise. It was the horror of being right.
"No," murmured Subaru. "No, no, no..."
Rem received the information from a trembling woman, asked quick, precise questions. Where they were last seen. Which direction. If any said something about the puppy. If someone followed them. How much time had passed. No one had a complete answer. The pieces, however, pointed toward the edge of the forest.
Of course.
Always the forest.
Link looked toward the trees.
The hole inside him moved again.
This time clearer.
Not pain. Not simple desire. Not hunger for bread, nor cooked meat, nor fruit. Something similar to expectation, and that scared him more than the pang itself. He closed his hand until his nails dug into his palm. His regeneration closed the marks almost instantly.
He said nothing.
Rem turned toward Subaru and Link.
"The forest."
Subaru nodded.
"Yes."
"It's demonbeast territory. The villagers shouldn't enter."
"Then we go."
Rem held his gaze.
"Subaru, no."
"Rem."
"Subaru has no training. He's injured. If there are demonbeasts, he'll be a burden."
Subaru swallowed.
The word burden hurt him. Link saw it. Rem too, although perhaps she didn't understand why.
"I may be a burden," said Subaru, "but I know they are there."
Rem tensed.
"How?"
The question came too fast.
Subaru felt the blow. The black hand didn't appear, because he hadn't said what he shouldn't, but the memory of the punishment was enough to close his throat. Link took a step forward before the silence became suspicious.
"Because the puppy isn't there," he said.
Rem turned toward him.
Link pointed toward the edge of the forest.
"In the afternoon it was with the children. Subaru was bitten by that animal. Now the children disappear and the puppy too. It's not proof, but it is a pattern. If the puppy led them or the children followed it, the forest is the most logical direction."
Subaru looked at him with silent gratitude.
Rem held Link's gaze for a few seconds.
"That's reasonable."
"Not as much as I'd like."
Rem closed her eyes for an instant, then turned toward the villagers.
"No one will enter the forest. Gather blankets, water and a place prepared to receive the wounded. If we don't return soon, send notice to the mansion. Do not cross the barrier."
The villagers' fear became more real upon hearing the word barrier.
Subaru then remembered what Rem had explained in other loops, what the village knew as an invisible safety edge. The forest was not just forest. There was a line. A limit designed to keep the creatures of the night away. If the children had crossed it, then they were not simply lost.
They were inside the mouth.
Rem walked toward the path.
Subaru followed her.
Link too.
"Link," said Rem without turning, "this is the last chance to return."
"How kind."
"It's not kindness. It's evaluation."
"Then my evaluated answer is the same."
"Link is still low on mana."
"I know."
"His minor spirit cannot compensate for recklessness."
Luci, as if she felt mentioned, shone a little.
"She knows," said Link. "She just looks with a pretty face."
"Luci doesn't have a face."
"Don't destroy her self-esteem before the mission."
Subaru let out a weak laugh.
Rem didn't smile, but she didn't insist either.
They advanced toward the forest.
The edge of the village was left behind. The lights of the houses became small, trembling, as if someone had placed them in another world. Rem's lamp illuminated roots, stones and tall grass. Luci floated near Link's shoulder, lowering her brightness every time he raised a finger to indicate it. Subaru walked with his bandaged hand against his chest, looking everywhere, remembering loops, deaths, screams, sleeping girls in a forest, the sound of creatures that shouldn't be so close to a town.
Upon reaching the barrier, Rem stopped.
It wasn't visible like a wall. Not for Subaru's eyes, at least. But Link felt it as a subtle tension in the air, a difference in smell and pressure, as if the forest had changed owners from that point. The hole inside him gave a tug.
Link didn't move.
He didn't speak.
Subaru looked at him sideways.
"Link?"
"I'm fine."
"Your 'I'm fine' is dropping in quality."
"Yours never had a warranty."
Rem spoke before Subaru could respond.
"Upon crossing, stay close to Rem. Demonbeasts attack quickly. Do not follow noises without warning. Do not separate for any reason. If you find a child, warn before moving. If you are attacked, Subaru will retreat. Link will not use magic."
"That last one was very specific," said Link.
"It's necessary."
"Painfully fair."
Subaru took a deep breath.
"Let's go."
Rem crossed first.
Subaru after.
Link was last.
Upon passing the limit, the forest changed.
Not visibly. The trees were still trees. The earth was still earth. The night was still night. But something in the air became heavier. The smell of damp leaves mixed with animal hair, stirred mud and a dark note that Link felt in his teeth before his nose. His kagunes tensed under his back. The kakugan didn't activate, but his eyes burned for a second.
The inner pang became hunger.
Light.
Enough to scare him.
He said nothing.
He clenched his jaw, lowered his gaze and kept walking.
Subaru was ahead of him, too focused on the path to notice the change. Rem did turn her head slightly, perhaps because of the sound of his breathing, perhaps because of something she couldn't identify.
"Link."
"Don't stop."
"Are you sure?"
"Rem, if we stop every time one of us looks bad, we won't even reach the first tree."
Subaru looked back with a very poor smile.
"He's right. I've looked bad since the first day."
"Since before," said Link.
"Quality fraternal support."
The joke helped them continue.
Not to feel good.
Just to continue.
The forest started to swallow them.
With every step, the lights of the village were left farther behind. Shadows gathered between trunks. From time to time, a small sound made them stop: a branch giving way, leaves moving, an animal running between bushes. Rem advanced with precision, checking traces that Subaru barely saw. Link used his sense of smell, but carefully. There were too many things in that forest. Too many signals. Too much of that something that scraped him from inside.
Then Subaru found the first ribbon.
A small strip of fabric hooked on a low branch.
Petra.
There was no need for him to say it. The way Subaru froze explained it before any word.
Rem took the fabric, checked it and her face hardened.
"They passed through here."
Subaru closed his eyes.
"They are still alive."
"We can't know that," said Rem.
"They are still alive," Subaru repeated.
It wasn't logical certainty.
It was will.
Link looked toward the darkness between the trees.
The forest returned a low sound.
Distant.
A growl.
Luci turned off almost completely by instinct or fear.
Rem raised the lamp.
Subaru swallowed.
Link felt that something in his back wanted to come out.
"There," said Rem, in a low voice.
Beyond, between the trunks, something moved.
Not close enough to attack yet.
Close enough to know they were no longer alone.
The night of the third day stopped being a search.
It became a hunt.
And Link, walking beside Subaru and Rem toward the interior of the forest, with a strange pang growing under his ribs and his mouth closed like a tomb, understood that the nice moment of the afternoon had already been saved.
Now it was time to pay the bill.