Day 7.
Twenty-four hours.
Tomorrow, the dragon carriage leaves for the capital.
And if my body gives out before then, all of this was for nothing.
I sat on the edge of the guest room bed, waiting for the dizziness to settle before I dared stand. I drew in a slow breath.
It felt wrong.
Not merely painful—wrong. Every trickle of mana scraping through my fractured Gate felt like two sheets of coarse sandpaper grinding together inside my chest.
The sensation spread outward with every heartbeat, hot and abrasive, leaving a faint metallic taste at the back of my throat.
My right arm still carried the faded bite mark from the village puppy.
My left calf burned beneath the bandages where the Wolgarm had sunk its fangs into me.
Two curses.
One broken Gate.
One idiot trying to survive a world that clearly wanted him dead.
"…Fantastic."
I reached for the cane. My fingers trembled before they closed around the polished wood.
Standing sent a wave of pain through my body. My injured leg protested immediately, forcing me to lean heavily on the cane, while the friction inside my chest flared hard enough to make my vision swim.
I'm twenty-four hours away from the Royal Selection.
The capital.
The Witch Cult.
The White Whale.
And I'm losing to a flight of stairs.
Roswaal was nowhere to be found.
Probably plotting something.
Emilia would panic if she saw me like this.
Ram would tell me to stop causing trouble.
Rem would probably carry me back to bed.
None of those solved the actual problem.
There was only one person in the mansion who might.
A little girl.
A hidden library.
A spirit who wanted absolutely nothing to do with me.
[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
Attempt one:
The first door opened into a broom closet.
I stared at the shelves for a moment before quietly closing it.
The next door revealed a storage room.
The third opened onto a perfectly ordinary wall.
Not a room.
Not a hallway.
Just a wall.
"…Seriously?"
A blast of cold wind struck me square in the face.
Several heavy books followed.
One clipped my shoulder.
Another bounced painfully off my forehead.
"Stop opening doors, in fact!"
A tiny voice echoed from somewhere impossible.
I rubbed my brow.
"…Found you."
"You absolutely did not, I suppose!"
A blast of cold wind struck me square in the face again.
Attempt four:
Kitchen.
Hallway.
Guest room.
Bathroom.
Another broom closet.
The mansion seemed determined to rearrange itself around me.
I limped onward, the cane tapping against polished floorboards.
Tap.
Drag.
Tap.
Drag.
The rhythm grew slower with every corridor.
My chest burned hotter.
The grinding sensation inside my Gate had become something sharper now, like broken glass shifting beneath my ribs whenever mana moved.
Sweat clung to my forehead despite the cool air.
Another gust of magic slammed into me, nearly knocking me off balance.
"You are persistent for someone so pathetic, I suppose!"
"I'm too tired to quit."
"Then collapse somewhere else, in fact!"
I'd love to.
Unfortunately, you're the doctor.
Attempt nine:
Bedroom.
Hallway.
Storage room.
Bathroom.
Nothing.
Another door.
Nothing.
One more.
Bathroom.
I stopped.
I frowned.
There was nothing remarkable about it.
No strange magical pressure.
No impossible atmosphere.
Just an ordinary bathroom.
…Wait.
I reached for the handle.
Turned it.
Opened the door.
{The Forbidden Library}
Dust floated lazily through shafts of golden light. Endless shelves stretched into impossible distances, packed with ancient books whose leather bindings carried the faint scent of old paper and magic. The air itself felt different—still, insulated from the rest of the mansion, heavy with centuries of accumulated knowledge.
I managed exactly three steps.
The cane slipped.
My injured leg buckled.
I pitched forward and landed face-first on the immaculate carpet.
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
Breathing had become an exercise in agony. The sandpaper sensation inside my chest had turned into jagged shards scraping against one another.
"…"
"…"
Beatrice looked down at me from atop a small stool.
"You stained Betty's floor, in fact."
I weakly raised a thumb.
"Medical emergency."
"Betty does not care, I suppose."
"My chest feels like it's being shredded."
"Then perish somewhere else."
"I will."
She folded her arms.
"…"
"…Right here."
Silence settled over the library.
Her expression shifted ever so slightly.
"You would die in Betty's library?"
I let out a tired breath that immediately hurt.
"I don't think I can make it back out."
Her face twisted.
Not sympathy.
Annoyance.
"…What an unbelievable nuisance."
Slowly, I rolled onto my back.
"My Gate is damaged."
Beatrice remained silent.
"I've got a dormant curse[1]."
A single blink.
"Actually… two."
Her eyes narrowed.
"The puppy."
"The Wolgarm."
"My mana keeps running through both."
"It hurts to breathe."
"I can't cast."
"I can't sleep."
I stared up at the distant ceiling.
"If you don't fix it…"
My voice came out quieter than I intended.
"…then I die."
Beatrice hopped down from the stool and approached me.
"…Show Betty."
Her small hand rested against my chest.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then mana flowed into me.
Her expression froze.
"…What?"
The mana moved carefully through my body.
Her hand shifted from my chest to my arm.
Then to my injured leg.
Then back to my chest.
"Your Gate…"
Her fingers pressed lightly against my chest.
"It is grinding itself apart."
"I know."
"And these curses…"
Her voice dropped.
"They both have Mabeast anchors."
"They're stacking on top of each other."
"I know."
Her head snapped toward me.
"You know?!"
Mostly guessed.
"I guessed."
"You guessed?!"
For the first time since I'd met her, Beatrice looked genuinely baffled.
Then the mana changed.
A cool current flooded through my body, washing over the jagged friction inside my chest. The pressure vanished almost instantly.
The grinding stopped.
I inhaled.
A full breath.
No pain.
My shoulders sagged.
Oh, thank God.
I almost cried.
Beatrice withdrew her hand.
"Toxic mana accumulation."
"Betty flushed it."
"You truly are an idiot, in fact."
"…Thanks."
"Betty was not finished."
She reached toward my arm.
I caught her wrist.
The movement sent a bolt of pain through my shoulder and chest. My fingers almost slipped from the effort.
"No."
She frowned.
"…No?"
"Leave that one."
Her eyes shifted to the faded bite mark.
"The Mabeast anchor remains active."
"I know."
"The arm stays."
I had to stop for a moment, forcing another careful breath through lungs that still remembered the pain.
"The leg goes."
"You cannot simply choose, in fact."
I swallowed.
My throat felt dry.
"I know."
"But leave it."
"It is a curse."
"It's a vaccine."
Her face went completely blank.
"A… what?"
I let go of her wrist and my arm dropped heavily back onto the carpet.
"I need it."
"You make absolutely no sense, I suppose."
"It should interfere with future curse applications."
"It absolutely will not."
"Maybe."
I met her gaze.
Please let this work.
"If the anchor stays inert…"
I took another slow breath.
"…then maybe it keeps something worse from taking hold."
Beatrice stared at my arm.
Then back at me.
"…And stop calling Betty 'kid.'"
I blinked.
"…Sorry."
"Betty is not a child."
Her voice rose with unmistakable indignation.
"Betty is tens of years older than you, in fact!"
I looked at her.
Then at the tiny body.
"…I know you are."
She frowned.
"…What?"
"I know you're four hundred years old."
Silence.
"…Or older."
The library became very, very quiet.
Beatrice simply stared at me.
Her eyes narrowed.
"…How?"
I shrugged as much as my battered body allowed.
"'Prophecy.'"
"…That is not an answer, I suppose."
"No."
"…"
"…Still pretty short, though."
A book struck me squarely in the face.
Mana flowed once more.
This time it gathered around my injured leg.
The burning sensation faded.
The pressure disappeared.
The Wolgarm's Mabeast anchor unraveled and dissolved.
My arm remained untouched.
Beatrice stepped back and crossed her arms.
"Betty has removed the dangerous one."
"The other is your own foolish decision."
"Fair."
"If it kills you, Betty will not care."
"Fair."
"If you come crawling back, Betty will throw you out."
"…Fair."
I slowly climbed to my feet.
The cane touched the floor.
My leg still hurt.
The nerve damage remained.
My body was still battered.
But I could breathe.
I looked at Beatrice and offered a proper bow—not deep, because my body simply would not allow it, but sincere.
"…Thank you."
She immediately looked away.
"Hmph."
"Betty merely protected Betty's library carpet, I suppose."
I smiled faintly.
"I'll bring you something back from the capital, like a book."
"Betty does not want anything."
"You don't like books?"
"Betty lives in a library!"
"…Good point."
I turned toward the door.
My hand rested on the brass handle.
For just a second, I looked back.
Beatrice had already turned away, pretending to read a book she definitely wasn't reading.
"...See you later, kid."
Her shoulders twitched.
A book lifted itself an inch off the table.
I decided not to push my luck.
The handle clicked.
The still, dusty air of the Forbidden Library vanished.
The bright hallway of the Mathers mansion greeted me.
Clean.
Quiet.
Normal.
The sudden transition almost felt unreal.
One step.
Then another.
The pressure inside my chest was gone.
I could breathe.
Actually breathe.
The grinding friction that had haunted every heartbeat since the forest had disappeared.
But the rest of me...
The rest of me felt like it had been thrown down a mountain.
My face still stung where Beatrice's book had connected.
My calf throbbed.
My shoulders ached.
I leaned heavily against the cane.
Tap.
Step.
Tap.
Step.
One life.
One broken body.
One trip to the capital.
I had barely made it three meters.
"Subaru-kun!"
I looked up.
Blue hair.
Blue eyes.
Absolute panic.
Rem nearly ran into me.
She stopped herself at the last second.
Her hands lifted instinctively.
Then froze.
Hovering inches from my shoulders.
My chest.
My face.
She looked utterly terrified of touching me.
"Subaru-kun..."
Her voice came out as little more than a whisper.
"...I have been looking for you."
I managed a weak smile.
"Found me."
The joke landed with all the grace of a brick.
Her eyes drifted across the bruises on my forehead.
The dried blood.
The cane.
The way my knees were visibly shaking.
"...You are hurt."
"Technically less hurt than an hour ago."
Her expression somehow became even more worried.
I tried to take another step.
My leg immediately reminded me why that was a bad idea.
The hallway tilted.
The cane caught me before I hit the floor.
Rem was suddenly right in front of me.
Her hands finally settled against my shoulders.
Gentle.
Careful.
As if I might break apart.
"...Please."
Her voice trembled.
"Please allow me to help."
[ ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ─── ❖ ─── ]
A small stone bench sat beneath one of the mansion windows.
I didn't remember sitting down.
One moment I was standing.
The next, Rem was kneeling beside me.
Her hands folded together.
Soft blue light bloomed between her fingers.
"Please remain still, Subaru-kun."
I nodded.
The magic touched my skin.
Cold.
Not painfully cold.
Like stepping into a clear mountain stream after walking through a desert.
The sensation spread through my body.
Flowing beneath my skin.
Through my muscles.
My bruised face tingled.
The ache faded.
I felt the torn flesh in my calf pull together.
Not painfully.
Just...
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Like thousands of tiny hands stitching damaged threads back into place.
The blue light grew brighter.
The cuts closed.
The bleeding stopped.
The swollen inflammation melted away.
For a brief, impossible moment...
I almost felt whole again.
Then the spell ended.
The blue glow faded.
And something inside me simply...
Dropped.
The exhaustion hit like a falling building.
Every muscle in my body suddenly weighed twice as much.
My eyelids felt heavy.
Even lifting my hand took effort.
I let out a slow breath.
"...Huh."
Rem looked up.
"Does it still hurt?"
I flexed my fingers.
My face no longer stung.
I carefully touched my forehead.
Smooth.
I looked down at my leg.
The bandages covered whole skin.
No open wound.
No torn flesh.
I planted my foot against the floor.
Slowly.
Carefully.
I pushed myself upright.
For one beautiful second...
It worked.
Then my calf gave out.
My leg simply stopped listening.
The world lurched sideways.
I grabbed the cane before I could collapse.
My knuckles turned white around the polished wood.
The flesh had healed.
The pain had dulled.
But the connection was still broken.
My leg felt distant.
Heavy.
Like it belonged to somebody else.
"...Subaru-kun..."
I looked over.
Rem's eyes had already filled with tears.
"My water magic..."
She lowered her head.
"...I can not restore the pathways."
Her voice shook.
"I am sorry."
"I am so weak."
I stared at the cane.
At the way my own body refused to obey.
Then I let out a quiet breath.
A gentle blue glow appeared again.
Rem reached toward my left arm.
Toward the faded bite mark.
Toward the thin black veins resting beneath the skin.
The healing magic washed over it.
Nothing happened.
The blue current flowed across my arm...
And slid away.
The black marks remained exactly where they were.
Rem blinked.
She tried again.
Brighter.
Stronger.
The result didn't change.
The dormant Mabeast anchor didn't even acknowledge the spell.
The blue light faded.
Rem looked down at my arm.
Then at me.
Her lips trembled.
"...I cannot..."
I reached out.
Slowly.
My hand rested on top of her blue hair.
She froze.
"Don't cry, Rem."
She looked up.
I forced a small smile.
The one everyone seemed to expect from their ridiculous "prophet."
"The arm stays."
"It is exactly where it needs to be."
I looked at the black mark.
Then toward the distant windows overlooking the road to the capital.
"...And a shield for what's coming."
She didn't understand.
Of course she didn't.
But she nodded anyway.
"...If Subaru-kun says so."
[1] It is not truly dormant until Beatrice flushes the toxic mana out