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Re:Zero - Archbishop of Vainglory : Chapter 51-55
🕑 Added 2026-01-06 20:52:37 +0000 UTCChapter 51: Does Saying That Not Hurt Your Conscience?
“You can’t judge things by how they start. Look at the process, the ending, and what do you get? A full-blown pervert. And really, isn’t this all because you love picking on people? Ram just gave you a tiny bit of payback. But you—you almost… ahh, how dangerous, how dangerous. I nearly got attacked by a little hooligan there.”
Ram’s lips said dangerous, yet she showed no intention of moving off his back. If anything, she seemed perfectly at ease, legs swinging back and forth.
Anyone who didn’t know better might have thought she was sitting on a swing.
Staring at the girl’s legs wrapped in white stockings, Carlos seriously considered arguing back. He gave up almost immediately. There was no point trying to reason with a girl he’d known since childhood and who had never once played fair.
Ram's jabs about his old habit of "always bullying people" also made him mourn his younger self, the naïve idiot who had once romanticized the idea of a "childhood friend."
That innocence was long gone.
……
……
Deep within the pitch-black forest.
One boy and two girls were stacked together like a human sandwich, the boy in the middle, the two pretty girls above and below him.
From the outside, it was the sort of scene that would make any onlooker green with envy. In reality, nothing even remotely indecent was happening.
For Carlos, it was pure mental torture.
Being ambushed mid-bathroom break before he could even pull his pants up, getting mistaken for a pervert by Emilia, then having Ram dig up his ancient sins… no matter how he looked at it, this was not a pleasant experience.
Especially the part where he’d run through the forest in nothing but his underwear while Rem chased him. That one was definitely going down in the history books.
He stroked the soft short hair of the girl pressed beneath him, trying to soothe his battered soul, then glanced at the white-stockinged legs still gently swaying beside him. A deep sigh escaped his chest.
“All I wanted was a peaceful life… so how did it end up like this?”
“Peace is for the dead.”
“But ghosts don’t die that easily. And hey, don’t act like this has nothing to do with you. Isn’t it about time you got off? And stop putting your hand on my leg. You’re the real hooligan here! Rem just accused me of groping you, you know?!”
He could clearly feel it. While lazily swinging her legs, one of Ram’s hands rested on his thigh, the other ruffling his hair without a care in the world. His patience was wearing thin.
Ram only smiled, bright and unapologetic.
“You touched Ram’s little sister. So Ram is touching you back on her behalf. That’s perfectly fair, isn’t it?”
“Nothing about this is fair! Stop talking and get down. Now!”
Understanding that she had no intention of cooperating, he finally snapped. Reaching up, he tried to yank her off him.
Ram twisted to dodge.
His hand missed its mark, fingers brushing against the bare skin of her thigh instead. Before he could pull back, they caught on something else.
The garter strap of her white stocking.
It stretched far more than he expected, pulled taut in his grip. The sudden tension made Ram’s whole body stiffen, a faint tremor running through her as embarrassment and anger mixed together.
“…What do you think you’re doing? Are you really going to act like a pervert?”
“Ah, sorry about that.”
Carlos hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then a dangerous grin spread across his face. He pulled harder.
And let go.
Smack!
“That hurts?!”
The sharp crack echoed through the silent forest. Ram cried out, clutching her thigh as a vivid red line bloomed against her pale skin.
She jumped to her feet on the spot, hissing in pain. Carlos seized the chance to scramble upright as well.
Rem, however, was still clinging to him like a koala.
Only when he stood did the movement finally wake her. She blinked, dazed, lifting her head to look up at him with watery blue eyes that blinked several times in confusion.
“…Carlos?”
“Yeah… it’s me.”
“That’s wonderful! You really came to find us!”
Her eyes were still red, her voice thick with emotion. She didn’t loosen her grip at all, instead pressing her forehead against his chest again. Like a lost puppy reunited with its owner, she showed no guard, only pure, overflowing attachment.
The sweetness of it made his heart ache, even as he admired how adorable she was.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t ignore the icy glare stabbing into his side.
He quickly shifted, turning to face Ram, who was clutching her thigh and glaring daggers at him.
“Just so we’re clear, this isn’t my fault. You’re the one who wouldn’t leave me alone.”
“…Using Ram’s sister as a shield. You’ve got some nerve.”
“I didn't do it on purpose. Rem was clinging to me, and when I turned to face you, she turned with me. That's all.”
“Enough excuses! You’re letting Ram snap you back too. If you don’t, Ram won’t let you sleep tonight!”
“…I’m standing in the forest at night, wearing nothing but underwear, holding a girl. Isn’t that perverted enough already? And now you want me in white garters too? Are you trying to disgust yourself, or me? Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?!”
Just imagining the scene was enough to make him feel ill. He rejected the idea outright.
Rem timidly lifted her head, offering her opinion in a small voice.
“R-Rem thinks that if it’s Carlos… even wearing girls’ stockings, it would probably suit him.”
“…You’re serious?”
“People might not get used to it at first, but just like before, if Carlos leads the trend and stays ahead of the times, everyone will surely admire him! They’ll even build a huge bronze statue just for Carlos!”
“…At least kill me quickly. A statue sounds like you want me to be remembered in infamy.”
Her earnest support and wildly exaggerated vision left him with nothing but a bitter smile. Ram, on the other hand, was starting to look positively delighted.
Before she could say anything, Carlos acted first. He gently peeled Rem off him, hands on her shoulders, setting her on her feet. He bent slightly so their eyes were level and spoke seriously.
“Rem, I know you’re happy right now. But please calm down and stop hugging me for the moment. We’ll talk properly in a bit. And finally… my lower half is freezing. I really want to put on some pants first.”
“Pants…?” Rem lowered her gaze. Then her pale face flushed bright red in an instant. She waved her hands frantically.
“W-We’re not even married yet! W-Why is Carlos only wearing underwear while hugging Rem?”
“…Does saying that not hurt your conscience at all? Who do you think put me in this situation? And who was it that hugged first just now?”
“Ah… s-sorry! This is all Rem's fault!”
His utterly defeated expression reminded her of how she had burst into the bathroom earlier, forcing the door open and witnessing something strange. Her face burned even hotter. She bowed her head deeply, apologizing again and again.
Chapter 52: As Long as the Three of Us Are Together, We Can Start Over?
If it had been Ram, Carlos would’ve absolutely taken the chance to teach her a lesson.
But Rem apologized so sincerely that he couldn’t even work up the heart to get revenge.
All he could do was clamp a hand over himself when she bowed, shuffle back to a safe distance, and let out a gloomy sigh. On the side, Ram was trying to hide a laugh. He shot her a glare and swallowed his frustration down hard.
…
To sort out what was going on, the three of them left the spot for the time being and headed to the nearest village.
On the way, Rem acted like a child who’d gotten lost and finally found her family again. She wouldn’t let go of Carlos’ hand for even a second. Every so often, she’d also shoot an unhappy look at Ram, who’d just had her thigh flicked and still looked like she wanted to pick a fight with him over it.
Rem basically understood the situation now, too. Ram had known who Carlos was back when they were in the Royal Capital.
That realization made Rem sulk at her sister in rare, open resentment.
“Sister is way too sneaky. You didn’t tell Rem anything, and you even went on secret dates with Carlos.”
“...This is all his fault. He forced Ram. He wouldn’t let Ram say anything.”
Before Carlos could enjoy the spectacle, Ram lifted a hand and pointed at him with a blank face.
The grin that had just started to form froze solid.
Rem immediately turned on him, cheeks puffing slightly with displeasure.
“Is what Sister said true, Carlos?”
“...I think I already told you. I had my reasons.”
“But Sister knew, and Rem didn’t! That isn’t fair. That’s horrible!”
Rem’s eyes were still a little swollen and red, and her indignation was ready to spill over.
Her reaction left Carlos at a loss.
They’d known each other for nine years when they were kids. Normally, even if they reunited, there should’ve been some distance at first, some awkwardness to bridge.
Ram, at least, was guarded.
Rem wasn’t. From the very start, she’d put her whole trust in him, without reservation, and it caught him off guard.
Still, after listening to the sisters, he could more or less understand why. For all these years, Rem had been stuck in place.
Like she’d been living in today while clinging to yesterday’s memories with both arms.
Maybe that was what happened when you stayed shut away here for too long, unwilling to move forward.
Even with all the headaches it caused him, he did his best to explain: what he planned to do, what he needed to do, and where he stood now.
And as he pieced things together, the shape of Ram’s scheme became clearer.
From the moment she dragged him into the room to talk, the fact that he’d deliberately stayed by the window... it was probably bait. She’d wanted Rem to come up. She’d wanted the conflict to flare.
When it finally hit its breaking point, Carlos’ identity was exposed to Rem, but it didn’t break their agreement. It was revealed in an “accident,” without anyone openly betraying anything.
And if he thought about their relationship, Ram’s motive wasn’t hard to guess.
She didn’t want to keep lying to her sister. So she’d forced his hand, making it impossible for him not to come clean.
After explaining things to Rem and untangling his own thoughts in the process, Carlos gently patted her head until her face turned red and she quieted down. That finally gave him room to turn, still irritated, to Ram, who’d been watching the whole drama like it was a play.
“...Ram, don’t you think you went too far? You promised me, and then you pulled this on purpose.”
“You have your position. Ram respects that.” Her expression hardened, suddenly serious in a way that didn’t allow argument. “But Ram also has Ram’s position. Ram is Rem’s sister. That will never change.”
“Sister...” Even while soaking up the long-missed affection of his hand on her head, Rem looked genuinely moved.
“Yeah, yeah. Your sisterly bond is so touching,” Carlos muttered.
He rubbed his forehead, trying to figure out how to move forward from here.
But then Rem nodded to herself as if she’d made up her mind, suddenly wrapped both hands around his arm, and looked up at him with a startling seriousness.
“I’m sorry to the people of our homeland, but... we should run away! We should escape from here, and from the Witch Cult. Rem will earn the money! As long as the three of us are together, we can definitely start over!”
“...I don’t care about the homeland part,” Carlos said, face tightening, “but what is this? A declaration that you’re going to keep me?”
Rem’s gentle eyes didn’t waver. She stared straight at him and spoke her heart, one careful sentence at a time.
“Rem will make sure you always have enough to eat! And Rem and Sister will make sure Carlos works hard! If we all work together, we’ll definitely have a good life!”
“I’ve been eating plenty for years now... and I don’t mean that like I’m complaining.” He sighed. “Ram. What do you think of your sister saying this?”
Rem’s proposal sounded like she was offering to support him... but not quite. It still involved him working.
Was this some kind of halfway kept man arrangement?
The vague, in-between nature of it made his stomach hurt. He didn’t even know what to say, so he could only look to Ram.
The moment their eyes met, Ram turned away, avoiding his gaze as if it didn’t matter.
“Whatever. If it’s what Rem wants, Ram will go along with it.”
“...Your feelings for the homeland are so profound I’m about to cry,” Carlos deadpanned. “Not that I care about the homeland either...”
Ram’s matter-of-fact answer left him with nothing but a helpless sigh.
Those two had always been like this. A single unit in two bodies. After all these years, it wasn't exactly surprising.
Still...
“Don’t you think you’ve been shutting yourselves in too much?” he said. “Normally... being bound by feelings from eight years ago, just because you were waiting for me? Staying here for eight years for revenge? That’s strange. Or is it that poor kids grow up early, and you were just way too mature even back then?”
“To Rem and Sister, time really did stop in the past.” Rem hesitated, then frowned like she was struggling with something. “Because... for us, everything good is in the past. Isn’t it the same for Carlos?”
“...Put my thoughts aside for a second. From where I’m standing, you really should leave this place.”
“Yes. Let’s leave together!”
She clearly didn’t catch what he actually meant. Or maybe she heard it and chose the version she wanted.
Her fingers tightened around his hand, and she beamed at him, sweet and bright, like she’d already seen the future she wanted.
Watching that smile, packed full of hope, made his chest ache.
But even if it hurt, he still said it clearly.
“...I was clear, right? You leave.”
“You... we?” Rem faltered. “Why?”
She tilted her head, baffled, blue hair swaying with the motion, as if the sentence didn’t make sense in her world.
“...If you can let go of hatred, then don’t stay here anymore. Find somewhere peaceful, somewhere safe, and start over. When everything’s finished, I’ll come find you. I’ll also try to ask Pandora to completely heal your Horn. It might take a long time, though.”
“W-Wait!” Rem reached a hand out, her eyes wandering in panic. Anxiety rose to her face, rare and raw. “You mean...”
“You two leave. I still have a lot I need to do. You shouldn’t get dragged into it.”
“Why... Is it because of that woman?”
“That woman?” Carlos blinked. “You mean Pandora?”
“...Yes.” Rem nodded heavily, then looked like she was about to burst into tears. She bit her lip, staring at him as her voice dropped to a fragile whisper. “You... you’ve already fallen for her, haven’t you? You forgot your promise with Rem.”
“...If I remember correctly, our promise wasn’t some vow to spend our lives together.”
“So you really did... fall for her?”
Rem pressed her lips together, trying so hard to stay calm, but the sadness between her brows betrayed her anyway.
Carlos could only feel exhausted.
He raised a hand and smacked the top of her head.
“Ow! ...C-Carlos?”
“Don’t treat me like some lovesick little girl,” he said. “Yeah, she saved me. She even helped me save Ram. But I’m not going to fall for someone that easily just because I owe them.”
Rem stared at him, stunned by the sudden hit.
Carlos let out a long breath and glanced at Ram.
Ram, who very obviously had the same suspicion, quickly looked away and put on an innocent face like none of this concerned her.
Their weird doubts made him start doubting something else.
Maybe the feelings they had for him weren’t built up over years at all.
Maybe it was just because he’d stepped in and saved them eight years ago.
...Surely not.
He wasn’t convinced, but the thought lingered anyway.
They both acted calm on the surface, but neither of them was truly calm. If anything, they were emotional to the core.
Maybe it wasn’t that strange for them to have this kind of romantic fantasy.
…
They talked on the hillside for a long time.
Carlos explained his position and his relationship with Pandora, and he told the twin sisters he wanted them to leave this place.
But Ram and Rem wanted the opposite. They wanted him to step away, to cut ties with the mess and with old hatred.
Neither side could persuade the other, so all they could do was keep things as they were for now.
He used magic to treat Rem’s swollen eyes. He promised he wouldn’t get overly intimate.
Then, together with Ram, he followed Rem back to the mansion.
When he opened the front doors...
Emilia stood in the center of the hall, face twisted with grief like she was about to deliver righteous punishment. Around her, countless icicles floated in the air, sharp and ready.
Chapter 53: Emilia's Righteous Resolve
Inside the vast Gothic mansion, the silver-haired girl stood in the center of the hall.
Magic surged out of control. Moisture in the air froze solid, forming more than a dozen ice pillars that bled white mist. The temperature plunged in an instant.
Confusion, grief, and disappointment churned into a vortex inside Emilia’s chest. Even though she’d already made up her mind while waiting, her voice still trembled when she spoke.
“Why did you come back?!”
“...If I didn’t, I’d be walking around without pants,” Carlos replied. “Why do you think I came back?”
He stood there clutching a bundle of wildflowers in front of his waist, doing his best to preserve his dignity. His face screamed I don’t even know what to say to you.
But Emilia, lost in sorrow, didn’t notice his predicament at all. She poured out her pain instead.
“If you hadn’t come back, maybe I could’ve convinced myself you ran away. I could’ve pretended I never reunited with my family. But you did come back... and now I can’t keep pretending I don’t see your crimes!”
“...So what do you want to do?” Carlos asked. “Did you forget who I am?”
The stronger the person, the more negative emotion they poured onto him, the stronger he became. Somewhere along the way, he’d picked up the habit of provoking people on purpose.
And facing the hostility radiating from Emilia, who clearly hid immense power, left him feeling strangely refreshed.
So instead of letting Rem step in to explain, he deliberately put on a look of wounded indignation and spouted nonsense.
“I’m your uncle. Even if I did something wrong, I’m still your uncle. Your mother’s little brother. Are you really going to kill your own uncle? How are you supposed to face your mother in the next world? Tell her you killed the brother she depended on?!”
“I... I...”
Every word landed like a hammer.
Emilia had always yearned for family. Those classic villain lines shook her to the core.
She lowered her head in silence.
After what felt like an eternity, she finally raised it again. Sorrow burned into resolve in her eyes.
“Uncle... this is the last time I’ll call you that. What you did was unforgivable. I won’t forgive you. Please leave. Otherwise... I’ll have no choice...”
“What, kill me?” Carlos stepped forward without hesitation. “Can you do it? Kill your own family? Carry out righteous justice against your kin?”
He advanced calmly.
Emilia’s body trembled. She instinctively stepped back, lifting her hands as more ice pillars formed in the air.
“Don't move! Don't force me! Next time won't be a warning! If you don't stop, I won't have any other choice!”
“Emilia... how can you be like this?” Carlos said, voice thick with hurt. “Why can’t you trust even your own uncle? I was so looking forward to living together with you. But you won’t even give me the most basic trust...”
"That's your fault!" Emilia screamed. “I don’t want to do this either! Why did you do something like that?! I was even planning to help you and Rem get along better, but no matter what... you can’t just force yourself on someone! Why did you do that?! Why are you that kind of person?!”
Tears glimmered in her eyes as she cried out, almost hoarse.
This raw, desperate emotion was unimaginable from the gentle, naive, kind-hearted Emilia people knew.
Even the twin sisters, impressed by Carlos’ acting, couldn’t help but look at her in surprise.
By now, Carlos felt he’d gotten enough payback for Emilia jumping to conclusions. The returns were decent, too. If he kept pushing, things would probably spiral.
He tossed the wildflowers aside, raised both hands in surrender, and spoke with exaggerated innocence.
“So what kind of person am I, exactly? I just wanted to use the bathroom, got attacked, and my pants were ruined. Is that really my fault?”
“W-What... using the bathroom? Pants?” Emilia froze. “Wasn’t it Rem who got attacked when she went to the bathroom?”
The sudden turn left her stunned. Her gaze darted back and forth between Carlos and Rem.
She didn’t know what to believe anymore.
That was when Rem stepped forward, delivering the lines they’d agreed on along the way, calm and steady.
“No, Emilia. This was all a misunderstanding. Rem attacked the guest while he was using the bathroom. The guest fought back and knocked Rem to the ground.”
“Eh? B-But... weren’t you pinned down and crying?”
“That was a tactical fake cry,” Rem replied seriously. “Rem was trying to awaken the guest’s conscience and lure out an opening.”
…
Emilia hadn’t slept all night. When Carlos returned, she’d forced down her grief, ready to carry out righteous justice and eliminate him, even as the twin sisters behind him shot her strange, meaningful looks.
But Rem’s explanation made her realize that everything...
Might’ve been her misunderstanding.
The scene in the forest had been far too suggestive. Anyone would’ve suspected Carlos of being a criminal driven by lust.
Yet Rem admitted the attack was her own mistake. She’d misunderstood his earlier excessive harassment of Ram.
With Ram’s help, everything had already been explained and resolved. The sisters’ awkward expressions were just embarrassment over the misunderstanding.
…
“Lying? ...All of this was a misunderstanding?”
The shocking reversal left Emilia staring, dumbfounded.
Carlos sighed, deeply annoyed.
“What else would it be?”
“I-I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!” Relief and guilt washed away her despair, flooding her heart. She clasped her hands to her chest, eyes shimmering as she bowed over and over. “I couldn’t even trust my own family... I’m so sorry!”
Carlos played the magnanimous elder, patting her head.
“...Forget it. It was frustrating, sure, but I didn’t really lose anything. Let’s just let it go.”
“But I...”
“If I don’t mind, why should you?” he said gently. “And besides... aren’t we family?”
He smiled warmly, fingers brushing through her silver hair.
No trace remained of the man who’d been grinning wickedly while snapping Ram’s garter earlier.
Before the teary-eyed Emilia could say anything else, Ram suddenly pointed downward.
“Sorry to interrupt the mood,” she said flatly, “but Ram thinks you should probably put your pants on before saying things like that.”
“...Huh?”
Still basking in emotion, Emilia looked down on reflex.
Her face went white, then scarlet.
She stumbled back, one hand covering her face, the other pointing downward as she shrieked.
“W-Why?! Why aren’t you wearing pants?!”
“...You’re only noticing now?”
“I forgot! How would I remember something that weird?! Please put them on already!”
“......”
The carefully built warm atmosphere was completely destroyed by a pair of missing pants.
Carlos turned to Ram with a blank, resentful stare.
Ram ignored him entirely, gazing out the window at the night sky like nothing had happened.
Behind Emilia, Rem puffed out her cheeks, silently displeased by how gentle he’d been.
“Alright, alright. I’m going back to my room. You should get some sleep too,” Carlos sighed. “What a day...”
Rem’s sulking expression was cute, but exhaustion won out. He waved without looking back and headed off alone.
The three girls left behind exchanged glances, each lost in her own thoughts.
The twin sisters nodded slightly to Emilia, then left together, planning to sleep in the same room and talk through the night.
Emilia, cheeks still flushed, crouched down with her face buried in her hands, trying to untangle the chaos in her head.
…
…
Nearly a week passed in the blink of an eye.
Everything returned to calm, as if nothing had happened.
Unlike Ram, who loved sleeping in, Rem opened her blue eyes quietly at dawn, when the first light spilled over the horizon.
“Mm~”
She yawned, stretched, and slipped out of bed, returning to her own room.
Opening her wardrobe, she held her familiar uniform up against herself and frowned slightly.
"Maybe... I should wear something different sometimes," she murmured. "After all, Carlos is here now."
In the mirror stood a petite girl with slender limbs, sky-blue short hair, and eyes just as blue.
She was already seventeen, yet still small. Her figure was soft and curvy, full of feminine charm. More cute than beautiful, her youthful face naturally inspired affection.
But Rem rarely went out or saw much of the world. She had no awareness of her own looks. What bothered her more was how unchanged she felt, and the recent, excessive growth of her chest.
She let out a long sigh.
Once dressed and fully awake, she quietly walked up to Carlos’ door.
…
…
…
Chapter 54: The Beginning of the Royal Selection
“Okay~!”
Giving herself a small burst of encouragement, Rem quietly unlocked the door with the spare key. She murmured softly, almost sing-song, “Good morning Rem’s coming in to clean,” and without waiting for the room’s owner to respond, slipped inside.
There was no hostility in her presence, nothing that would rouse a sleeping person. But…
The bed was empty.
The first time she had come here, she’d been fooled by a human-shaped pile of pillows laid out on the mattress. After enough visits, though, she had learned where Carlos truly slept.
Her gaze swept the guest room once more before she carefully opened the wardrobe. Inside, a small hole had been carved out for air and observation. There, half-reclined against the interior wall, arms wrapped around his weapon, was the boy himself.
“…Carlos…”
Rem drew in a deep breath, swallowing down the ache in her chest. When she spoke again, her voice was gentle, filled with warmth and affection as she softly called his name.
He was clearly asleep, yet there was no sense of rest about him. His brow was knit tight, as if troubled by something even in his dreams, or guarding himself against threats that didn’t exist. Nothing like the daytime Carlos, the one who always wore a smile, who acted as though worries had no place in his world.
She had only meant to steal a glance at his sleeping face.
But now… staring at the lightly sleeping boy, at that expression that seemed forever burdened even in rest, the compassion welling up inside her made her clench her fist without realizing it.
“What have you been through, all these years… and what can I do to help you…?”
Rem gazed at the grown Carlos, whispering under her breath as she lingered there for a long while. Only after savoring this stolen, private moment did she quietly leave.
Back in her sister’s room, she slipped under the covers and buried her face against Ram’s chest, letting the familiar warmth steady her racing heart.
On the other side of things…
The moment Rem’s emotions surged and her fist tightened, the shift in atmosphere had already stirred Carlos awake. Still, he didn’t open his eyes until Ram had fully left the area. Pushing the wardrobe door open, he slipped out and muttered under his breath.
“Maybe I should change where I sleep next time. But… it’s not like I can really rest on the bed either. Sigh… what a pain.”
The fact that Rem worried about him weighed on his conscience, yet he had no idea how to fix it. With a quiet sigh, he set the matter aside for now.
Life in the mansion was unusually peaceful. Aside from the night Rem had attacked him, and the early-morning “inspections” that felt almost like routine, nothing out of the ordinary happened.
Roswaal had, in fact, contacted an assassin during this time, but there had been no response. More precisely, at Elsa Granhiert’s request, the Mabeast user Meili had abandoned the mission.
That morning, after changing clothes and stepping out into the corridor, Carlos stretched and rolled his shoulders. That was when he noticed something unfamiliar in the center of the spacious courtyard.
A Dragon Carriage.
Standing beside it was an elderly man with white hair, dressed in a tailcoat, posture straight as a blade.
The man radiated an unusual mix of discipline and authority. Beneath the formal attire was a body still powerfully built despite his age, muscles well maintained, his sharply defined features as resolute as carved stone.
As Carlos studied him, the old man lifted his head with keen awareness. He met Carlos’ gaze and offered a courteous bow.
No matter how one looked at him, this was no ordinary butler.
And Carlos knew exactly who he was.
The man was the famed Sword Demon, husband of the previous Sword Saint, Wilhelm van Astrea.
“Well now. That’s an interesting guest,” Carlos murmured, stroking his chin with an intrigued smile. “Something big must be going on.”
With that, he headed toward the reception hall, fully intending to involve himself in whatever trouble was brewing.
As it turned out… his guess wasn’t far off.
Feigning casual curiosity, he asked what was happening. Emilia, who had been trying hard not to repeat past mistakes and carried no small amount of guilt toward him after the previous incident, answered honestly.
“The Royal Selection has begun.”
There was hesitation on her face as she spoke. Despite being a royal candidate, she still seemed uncomfortable with appearing in public.
“The Royal Selection? That sounds great. I’ll come take a look too.”
“…This assembly isn’t like the others. We have to gather in the throne room. Carlos, you should probably—”
“It’s fine, it’s fine~ Don’t worry about me. I’m just going to the Royal Capital to have some fun. Maybe visit an old friend or two.”
“Is that so? Then… let’s go together.”
Emilia had no intention of dragging Carlos into political strife, and seeing that he didn’t plan to involve himself, she let out a small sigh of relief. Then, as if struck by a thought, she pulled out a coin pouch and smiled.
“You don’t seem to have much money on you. I happen to have some, so take it as pocket money! You can buy things for your friends. Oh, and I can lend you the perception-blocking cloak too. If you wear it, the guards won’t recognize you.”
“…Are you treating me like a kid?” Carlos stared at the pouch. Normally, he lived by the rule that money was always worth taking, but the moment it was labeled “pocket money,” he flatly refused. “I’ll borrow the cloak, but keep the money.”
“Really? What if you get lost and don’t have any money?”
“…Why are you so set on treating me like a child? I’m older than you, you know.”
“Y-You are? I’m… I’m sorry… I was just worried that you’d run into trouble if you didn’t have any money…”
Completely oblivious to social nuance, Emilia bowed her head apologetically, clearly dejected. It was hard not to feel bad watching her like that.
That was when Puck quietly appeared behind her, baring his teeth at Carlos in a wordless threat, as if to say that if he didn’t say something nice, he’d be eaten on the spot.
“Ah—well… that’s on me. I overthought things. Please… give me the money.”
Knowing a bit about Puck’s background, and aware that the spirit was anything but easy to deal with, Carlos decided it was wiser to stay on good terms. After careful consideration, he accepted his first-ever “pocket money,” surrounded by Emilia’s bright smile, Ram’s look of disdain, and Rem’s visible displeasure.
Roswaal, who had remained silent and simply observed him the whole time, nodded in satisfaction along with Puck for reasons known only to them.
And so, two days later, in the early morning.
Leaving Frederica Baumann behind to watch the mansion, the group boarded the Dragon Carriage Roswaal had prepared and set off for the Royal Capital. Once again, Carlos returned to a residence he had lived in long ago.
But the moment the luggage was set down, he vanished without a trace, leaving everyone at a loss.
He, meanwhile, had made his way into a house in the commoner district, descending step by step into a dimly lit basement.
"Vainglory! My beloved believer! You’ve come as well?! Those faithless wretches, apart from Wrath who’s too far away, none of them would come! Only you! Just you! You alone are the truly devout one!!”
The instant Carlos entered, a gaunt, pale man rushed at him. His appearance was unhealthy to the extreme, all skin and bones, and he wept openly as he shouted his praise.
His only reaction was... what a pain.
Chapter 55: Everything for the Banquet
Beneath an utterly unremarkable residential house lay an unexpectedly spacious basement. The air was cold and damp, the gloom thick and heavy, an atmosphere oddly well-suited for a villain’s gathering.
Standing all around were numerous Witch Cultists, rigid and motionless like dolls.
They weren’t wearing their usual robes. In the Royal Capital, they played the roles of ordinary residents instead, dressed in a variety of common clothes.
Even Petelgeuse was a rare sight today. He’d discarded the black clerical garb of a Sin Archbishop and instead wore civilian clothing smeared with pudding stains. In an odd way, it suited his gaunt frame.
……
Carlos ignored Petelgeuse’s rant with practiced ease. Sitting atop a pile of firewood, he glanced around the basement once before asking casually,
“I heard the Royal Selection starts tomorrow. You planning to get involved too?”
"Indeed, indeed! Precisely so! But that’s not the point!” Petelgeuse shrieked. “What matters is not the throne, but that existence participating in the Selection! A half-demon! A silver-haired half-demon!! That half-demon, her attire, her origins, all of it is nothing short of blasphemy against the Witch! An existence we cannot ignore! She must be given a trial!”
“Yeah, yeah…” Carlos waved him off. “By the way, you’ve got plenty of money, right? Then why are we meeting in a damp basement? Why not do what I do and buy a church or something? Churches are great. Big, spacious. You can even swindle some donations on the side. Sounds perfect, doesn’t it?”
Faced with Petelgeuse’s shrill, chaotic tirade, overflowing with a warped sense of duty, Carlos could only find it troublesome. He flicked his hand dismissively, even going so far as to complain about the poor environment.
“This is for concealment!” Petelgeuse shouted back. “We, the faithful, follow the guidance of the Gospel! Indulging in luxury is forbidden!”
As he rejected the suggestion outright, he pointed sharply to the side, where a portrait of Emilia had been painted on the stone wall.
“This is the focus! The half-demon! Do not interrupt me! I’m not finished yet!”
“…The way you shout like that really does make the basement feel like your natural habitat.”
“The risks of acting within the city are too great! We must avoid exposing our existence! Therefore, the only opportunity lies in her return journey! That half-demon is ours! If she truly possesses the capacity befitting the Witch, she shall be taken under our banner! We must! Carry out this trial!!”
Ignoring Carlos’ jab, Petelgeuse flailed his arms wildly. As he shouted, he began slamming his fists into the mural on the stone wall, blow after blow, as if he felt no pain. The portrait shattered along with the stone itself, his fists reduced to a bloody mess.
Splattered blood even reached Carlos’ face.
With a grimace, he wiped it away. Watching the man continue his impassioned speech to both the cultists and himself, Carlos said nothing, simply listening in silence.
According to Petelgeuse’s plan, Emilia would be subjected to a trial. If she survived, she would become the Witch of Envy’s vessel in the human world.
To be honest, Carlos had no idea whether Emilia truly was a suitable vessel for a Witch. Still, within the Witch Cult, only Petelgeuse seemed to care about such things.
Carlos hadn’t come here to cooperate in earnest. He merely intended to use Petelgeuse as a disposable frontliner.
So he waited. Only when the shrill, grating screams finally subsided did he stop nodding absentmindedly and speak in a calm, measured tone.
“Personally, I support your actions. However, my Gospel has given me another task that needs to be completed. I really do want to help you, so if you can assist me first, I’ll be able to free up the time to deal with the silver-haired half-demon.”
“Why now?! Why would the Gospel issue such instructions at a time like this?! To assign such a task to a believer as devout as you?!”
“Ask the Gospel. Don’t ask me.”
“What is the Witch thinking?! Am I so base, so insignificant, that I cannot even begin to comprehend her will?! Ahh, ahh! Sloth! Sloth! Sloth, sloth, sloth!!”
Carlos’ unexpected response made Petelgeuse’s eyes bulge as if they were about to pop out. Unable to understand, he blamed it on Sloth, roaring as he slammed his head against the wall over and over, punishing himself until he was covered in wounds.
Carlos merely watched.
Compared to the grotesque self-mutilation, what bothered him more was the noise. The shouting. The relentless pounding.
He barely restrained a sigh. When the self-harming madman finally stopped and turned his blood-soaked head toward him, eyes wide and fixed on Carlos, he continued.
“So? Will you help me?”
“…Fine. Tell me what it is.”
Petelgeuse suddenly went quiet. He snapped his feet together and stood straight, his gaze oddly composed, almost normal, if one ignored the blood smeared across his head and hands.
Seeing that he was willing to listen, Carlos adjusted his plan slightly. He reframed the task of stealing the Dragon Insignia as a mission personally assigned to him by the Gospel.
Petelgeuse trusted his own kind deeply. He didn’t suspect this veteran Sin Archbishop of lying. Still, the idea of seizing the Insignia in the Royal Capital made him hesitate.
“…Security in the Royal Capital is tight. Acting there risks being surrounded. The other great sins haven’t gathered yet. Facing the Royal Guard and the Sword Saint alone would make escape difficult.”
“It’s fine. I have a plan. We won’t be surrounded.”
“A plan? What is it?”
Petelgeuse leaned in close in an instant.
Carlos planted a palm on his face and shoved the overly eager man back.
“I’ll explain later. For now, let’s split up. I’ll contact you again soon.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and left the basement, now thick with both stagnant air and the stench of blood.
……
……
The upper noble district of the Royal Capital, an area reserved exclusively for aristocrats.
Grand mansions with sprawling courtyards lined the streets. After leaving the basement, Carlos headed straight for the outer perimeter of a castle in this district.
The outer wall stood over six meters tall and more than three meters thick. The main gate was reinforced with double doors, flanked by two smaller double iron gates.
This was the residence of the Creed family, a lineage of marquesses for generations.
Even as a mere secondary residence used during their stays in the Royal Capital, its scale, its gardens, and the Gothic castle at its center surpassed Roswaal’s main estate from every angle.
The Mathers family, after all, had only risen to prominence two generations ago, when a female Roswaal earned merit during the Demi-Human War and was granted the rank of count. Compared to old noble houses, they were still several tiers behind.
Roswaal’s estate didn’t even have walls or gate guards. Here, four fully armed soldiers stood watch at the entrance.
When the guards noticed Carlos peering inside without any intention of leaving, two of them approached, hands gripping their sword hilts as they barked,
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“Ah~ I’m a friend of Lady Shea Creed. Please announce me.”
“Lady Shea’s friend? Name, please. I’ll report it.”
The guard paused but didn’t give him trouble. After asking Carlos’ name, he contacted the castle’s maids through a communication mirror to verify his identity.
Before long, a maid emerged to escort him inside.
They crossed the vast courtyard and climbed a long spiral staircase. At the top floor, in front of a line of armed maid-guards, the maid stopped and gestured inward.
“Lady Shea is inside. Please proceed.”
“Shea… heh.”
Murmuring the name under his breath, Carlos shook his head with a faint smile. He walked through the corridor formed by the guards and entered the room as the doors opened before him.
The castle’s master sat at a desk in the center of the bedroom, as if she had been waiting for him.
Silver hair. Blue eyes. A flawless figure, radiant like the full moon, her beauty so overwhelming it made one’s breath catch.
Yet her true identity was not that of a marquess.
She was someone Carlos knew all too well, someone he would never want to meet under normal circumstances.
The Witch of Vainglory, Pandora.
Pandora seemed pleased to see him. She took a calm sip of tea before gently tracing the rim of the cup, her azure eyes lifting toward him as she smiled warmly.
“It’s been a while. I was starting to feel lonely.”
“…Your very existence is taboo. How are you openly playing the role of a marquess here?”
“Because the real marquess died~”
“You killed her?”
“No~ You know me better than that. I don’t like meaningless killing. When she was devoured by the White Whale and lost her existence, I simply made some use of what was left.”
Pandora brushed off his suspicion with a smile, as though she had merely borrowed someone else’s place in the world.
She had no reason to lie to Carlos. As far as he knew, this last remaining Witch, though a great sin hidden in history, didn’t actually live in seclusion. One could even say she acted brazenly.
Thanks to her Authority, no one could recognize her true identity. Everyone perceived her as the person she had replaced. Even if she stood before them, they could never see through it.
Her Authority was overwhelmingly powerful. Cheating, really.
Carlos could only envy it.
After enough envy, though, it stopped being worth thinking about. He sat down across from Pandora, drained the tea prepared for him in one go, and placed both hands on the desk.
“I don’t care about the marquess business. Why are you here?”
“Tea is meant to be savored. That was terribly rude, you know?”
“…Why should I bother with manners around you?”
“I raised you with so much care, and this is how you speak to me. That really hurts.”
Pandora wore a sorrowful expression, drawing a snort from Carlos.
“Drop the act. I haven’t known you for just one day.”
“Ahh~ When children grow up, they stop being fun. That really is true. You used to love sitting on my lap and playing. Now this is… a rebellious phase?”
She tilted her head thoughtfully, tapping her lips with a finger, her fair face filled with mild confusion.
…Is she serious?
Remembering how he’d been unable to refuse her back then, all the humiliating things he’d been forced into, Carlos could only feel a headache coming on. He waved his hand sharply.
“Don’t bring up ancient history! I’m not a kid anymore, and I’m long past any rebellious phase! Answer me. Why show up here at a time like this? Planning to manipulate the Royal Selection from the shadows or something?”
“What an impatient child.”
“…If you won’t answer, I’m leaving.”
He made to stand. Only then did Pandora smile and speak.
“I have no interest in the throne itself. But with the Royal Selection about to begin, I’m very curious about how you all plan to act. What you intend to do, and how you’ll do it. I’m truly looking forward to it. And…”
She leaned across the desk, her smile turning playful as she whispered by his ear,
“The one I admire most, the one I’m most excited about, is you~ Please don’t disappoint me.”
Her voice was as clear and pleasant as ever, yet a chill ran down Carlos’ spine. It wasn’t simple fear, but a primal sense of danger.
The allure in her tone, the vivid beauty of her lips, carried a charm that made people fall willingly into traps.
Accustomed to her temptation, Carlos leaned back immediately, putting distance between them, and shot her a sharp glare.
She was clearly teasing him.
