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---
Rest, Link discovered, was a deeply suspicious thing.
Not because it was unpleasant. Quite the opposite. Precisely because it was pleasant. After nights spent dying, battles against assassins, Mabeast bites, horns, curses, explosions, forests, blood, and a soup no sane person should admit smelled delicious, the Roswaal mansion had decided to recover its rhythm with an almost offensive naturalness. The curtains were clean, the hallways gleamed, the lamps were in their proper places, the garden looked as though it had never heard a scream, and the kitchen once again smelled of bread, tea, and normal food.
Normal.
The word was too large for all of that.
Link sat in a chair inside the smaller dining room, an empty bowl before him and Luci floating above his shoulder like a tiny lamp refusing to accept that no one had hired her. His body felt good. Too good. The Wolgarm soup had accomplished what no fruit, rest, or magical treatment seemed capable of doing completely: erase the deep exhaustion, close the echoes of pain, fill the strange hollows that expended mana had left beneath his skin, and restore an almost insulting level of physical stability. His kagunes were calm. His horns did not press beneath his forehead. His eyes did not burn. Even the hunger that had begun like a fingernail scraping from the inside was asleep, satisfied, locked behind a door that finally no longer sounded as though someone were trying to open it with their teeth.
That frightened him more than he wanted to admit.
Subaru, on the other hand, looked like someone who had survived death only to be defeated by a cup of tea.
He sat on the opposite side of the table, wrapped in a blanket Emilia had practically forced upon him, his hand bandaged, his back rigid, and the expression of a man who had just received a scolding so gentle that it hurt more than a kick. Every time Emilia looked at him from the nearby chair, Subaru straightened his back as though divine judgment had descended in the form of a worried half-elf.
—You do not have to sit like a punished soldier —Emilia said, with a dangerous mixture of gentleness and reproach.
—I am not being punished. I am reflecting upon my mistakes with a posture of repentance.
—Subaru.
—Yes, I am being punished.
Puck, floating near Emilia, moved his tail.
—Lia was extremely worried. And when Lia worries, I worry too. And when I worry, the temperature in the room begins to drop.
Link raised one hand.
—That explains why my soup almost froze when Subaru talked about a "necessary heroic mission."
Subaru pointed at him with his cup.
—Do not attack me while I am under medical supervision.
—That has never stopped you.
—I am evolving.
Ram, passing through the dining room with a tray, did not bother stopping.
—Barusu is evolving in the wrong direction.
—You are not even participating in the conversation!
—Barusu's stupidity is ambient noise. Ram responds out of habit.
Rem was absent.
It made the dining room feel incomplete.
Not missing. Not lost. Not like before. Merely absent because Ram, Beatrice, Emilia, and even Puck had joined forces to prevent her from returning to work too soon. Rem was resting in her room, under Ram's indirect supervision and Beatrice's far less indirect supervision. Beatrice had declared that if the blue-haired maid attempted to stand up and sweep a hallway, she would lock her behind a door in the Forbidden Library until she learned that "rest" was not a decorative word.
Link had wanted to go see her.
He did not.
Not because he did not wish to, but because the desire to see her was precisely why he should not suddenly appear in her room like a domesticated Mabeast seeking approval. Rem needed sleep. She needed time. She needed to exist without having all her mistakes, wounds, and decisions immediately turned into conversation. And Link needed to learn not to invade every silence merely because fear told him he might lose her if he did not look at her every five minutes.
So he remained seated.
Then, with his body finally still, he remembered something that had been buried beneath far too many deaths.
His belongings.
Not the small ones. Not the soup bowl, the bandages, or Luci circling him as though she had been born to silently judge him. His real belongings. The things that had arrived with him in that world. The pickup truck. The clothes. The provisions. The boxes. The snacks, sweets, drinks, appetizers, sealed weapons, and the entire absurd piece of the modern world that had crossed over with him as though the universe had decided an isekai needed Latin American logistics.
Link lowered his spoon.
Subaru noticed.
—I do not like that face.
—What face?
—The "I just remembered something that could complicate our lives" face.
Emilia leaned forward slightly.
—Did you remember something bad?
Link hesitated.
He did not know whether "bad" was the right word.
—I remembered my vehicle.
Subaru blinked.
—Your pickup truck.
—Yes.
Emilia looked between the two of them.
—The large metal thing with wheels that was in the capital?
—Yes. That large metal thing with wheels.
Puck tilted his head.
—Roswaal had it brought here, didn't he?
Link froze.
—What?
Emilia widened her eyes, as though she had suddenly remembered that perhaps that information should have been communicated earlier.
—After what happened with Elsa and after you arrived at the mansion, Roswaal had your belongings recovered. I did not know whether they were important, but they appeared to belong to you. The metal thing was difficult to move. I think they had to cover it and use several ground dragons to bring it to an outdoor storage area.
Subaru placed his cup on the table.
—Wait. The pickup truck is here?
—Not exactly here here —Emilia said—. In an outdoor shed, I think. Roswaal said nothing should be touched until Link woke up and inspected it. Well... afterward, everyone became distracted by the curses, the Wolgarms, and the soup.
Link stood.
Subaru attempted to do the same.
Emilia looked at him.
Subaru sat back down.
—Moral support from the chair. Understood.
Link could not stop himself from smiling slightly.
—I'm going to inspect it.
Emilia stood as well.
—I'll come with you. It belongs to you, but you might need someone to show you where it is.
—Thank you.
Puck floated above her shoulder.
—I'm coming too. I'm curious about the metal box.
Subaru raised his hand.
—I want to go.
—No —Emilia and Link said simultaneously.
Subaru placed one hand over his chest.
—Synchronized betrayal.
Ram passed through the doorway again.
—Barusu will remain seated, or Ram will inform Emilia-sama that he attempted to stand.
—She's already here!
—Then Ram will save time and tell her now.
Subaru sank into the chair.
—This world does not respect my autonomy.
—Your autonomy took us into the forest —Link said.
—Low blow.
—Yesterday's low blow came from the kagune.
Subaru stared at his cup.
—I cannot believe you made that joke before I did.
—I had to disarm you.
Emilia did not completely understand the joke, but she understood the exhaustion underneath it. She did not press them. She simply led Link out of the dining room.
They walked through the mansion hallways in a silence less oppressive than the others. Puck floated in front of both of them, asking questions about the vehicle that Link answered with uneven patience. No, it was not a carriage without a dragon. Yes, it could move by itself. No, it did not eat hay. Yes, it required fuel. No, he did not know whether the remaining fuel would be enough for anything useful in that world. No, it was not normal for someone to arrive in a medieval universe with a pickup truck filled with supplies. Puck said that, in his experience, "normal" was an overrated word. Link could not disagree.
Emilia glanced at him several times.
—Does it worry you?
—Yes.
—Why?
Link took a while to answer.
—Because it is the last thing I have from my homeland.
Emilia lowered her gaze.
The hallway seemed to grow longer.
—I'm sorry. I did not think of it that way.
—It isn't your fault. I didn't think about it either until now. There were... too many things happening.
—Too many terrible things.
—Yes.
The outdoor shed stood farther from the main mansion, near a storage area where tools, smaller carriages, and materials that should not occupy space inside the building were kept. Two servants watched from a certain distance. When they saw Emilia, they bowed. When they saw Link, they automatically looked toward his back as though expecting something red and troublesome to emerge from it. Link decided not to blame them.
The pickup truck was covered beneath thick tarps.
Even so, he recognized it immediately.
It was strange.
Until that moment, Lugunica had been stone streets, impossible mansions, humble villages, murderous forests, and magic. Seeing that familiar shape beneath the fabric, the wheels, the size, and the absurd weight of something industrial in the middle of that world produced such a powerful feeling that he had to stop. It was not pure joy. Nor was it sorrow. It was a direct blow to his memory. Asphalt. Music. Highways. City lights. A gas station. A family argument about packing too many things "just in case." His older sister saying he carried more provisions than a family fleeing an apocalypse. His younger brother stealing sweets from the back seat. The year 2026, stored beneath a tarp on a fantasy estate.
Link lifted the cover.
The pickup truck appeared.
Dirty from the journey, marked by impacts, dust, dried mud, and several scratches that definitely had not been there before it arrived in that world. But intact. Or nearly. One side mirror was bent. Part of the paint bore cuts. One wheel appeared to have suffered during transportation. But it was there.
Link rested one hand on the hood.
He said nothing.
Emilia remained beside him in silence.
Puck did not speak either.
Coming from Puck, that almost counted as a ceremony.
Link opened the driver's door.
The smell struck him immediately.
Plastic, modern fabric, metal, dust, packaged sugar, sealed drinks, snacks, cheap deodorant, stored clothes, synthetic leather, rubber, some gasoline, and the perfume of a world he had not known could fit inside one cabin. He swallowed. He sat on the edge of the seat without climbing all the way inside.
—This definitely does not fit in with Lugunica —he finally said.
Emilia smiled carefully.
—No.
—It looks like blasphemy on wheels.
—It is... impressive.
—And ridiculous.
—That too.
Link opened the glove compartment. Useless papers. Receipts. A charger. A bag of candy that had probably survived through divine intervention. Puck floated toward it.
—Can you eat that?
Link closed the glove compartment.
—Not without supervision. The last time a spirit gained access to my sweets, an entire reserve disappeared.
—That sounds like Puckie from another world.
—You are not helping your case.
Then he opened the rear section.
That was where the real disaster waited.
Bags of snacks. Cookies. Sweets. Chocolate. Drinks. Appetizers. Clothes folded in every possible wrong way. Sealed boxes. Bottles of water. Packaged food. Some items had shifted during transportation, and others had been crushed, but most remained in good condition. Link ran one hand over everything like someone inspecting survivors after an absurd battle.
Emilia stared at a colorful bag in amazement.
—Is all of this food?
—Most of it.
—There is a lot.
—My family would say it wasn't enough.
—Why did you need so much?
Link released a faint laugh.
—For a long trip. For visits. For emergencies. For cravings. To bribe siblings. To avoid buying expensive food on the road. For everything. Latin blood, Emilia. You don't leave home with an empty vehicle. It's disrespectful.
Puck tried to touch a bottle.
Link gently tapped his paw.
—No.
—You're cruel.
—I'm a survivor.
Farther back were the boxes Link did not want to open in front of Emilia without warning.
Weapons.
Not all of them visible. Sealed. Stored with that mixture of paranoia and preparation that would have required explanations in his world and probably in Lugunica as well. He looked at them for a second, then covered that area again.
Emilia noticed the gesture.
She did not ask.
He appreciated that.
—Can I inspect my clothes? —he asked.
—Of course. They're yours.
Link lowered several bags. The first contained T-shirts, trousers, underwear, jackets, socks, an extra pair of sneakers, and one shirt his sister had forced him to bring because "you never know when you'll need to look decent." The second bag was in worse condition. Some garments had been torn during transport, some stained, and others soaked by a bottle that had opened. Even so, there was enough to provide a foolish feeling of relief.
Then he remembered the clothes he had been wearing when he arrived.
His original clothes.
The ones that had survived Elsa, the mansion, kagunes, horns, deaths, and finally the forest, reduced to fragments.
—I think my personal things were in the room —he said.
Emilia nodded.
—Rem and Ram stored whatever remained. The damaged clothing too. I think Rem said nothing should be thrown away without asking you.
Link felt a strange knot form inside his chest.
—Of course she said that.
They returned to the mansion carrying several bags. Puck carried a small package of sweets with excessive solemnity until Emilia reminded him he was not allowed to open it. Link placed part of the provisions inside a separate pantry under the strict warning that no one was to touch the sealed boxes without him. When Roswaal learned that Link had finally remembered the pickup truck, he appeared wearing the smile of a man who had been waiting for precisely that moment.
—I'm glad your vehicle survived the transportation —he said.
—Thank you for bringing it.
—A mobile metal structure of unknown origin does not appear in the capital every day. It would have been a waste to leave it behind.
—That sounds like academic interest, not kindness.
—Can it not be both?
—With you, I suspect not.
Roswaal laughed softly.
—You're beginning to know me.
—That does not reassure me.
With Roswaal's permission, and under supervision Link had not requested but understood, his belongings were taken to an empty room near his own. The pieces of his original clothing were already there, folded into a sad pile on a table. Link stared at them for a long time. Almost nothing remained: torn fabric, dark stains, burst seams, deformed pockets, and cuts where his kagunes had emerged without asking anyone's permission.
Subaru had managed to escape the dining room under the excuse of providing "emotional support for interdimensional heritage" and arrived leaning against the wall.
Ram followed five steps behind.
—Barusu believes walking slowly counts as obedience.
—Walking slowly is a form of dynamic rest.
—Ram will invent a form of dynamic violence.
Link looked at Subaru.
—They're going to kill you before the curses do.
—Not if I use Emilia as a moral shield.
—Do not use Emilia as anything.
—Correct. Bad phrasing. Blame the pain.
Emilia arrived as well, perhaps because she knew Subaru had escaped his chair and preferred to watch him personally rather than chase him with reproaches. The room filled with a strange intimacy: Subaru, Emilia, Ram, Puck, Link, Luci, modern bags, and remnants of clothing from another world upon a noble table.
Link picked up his torn trousers.
—What a disaster.
Subaru leaned over.
—That looks like it fought three wars and lost all of them.
—It did.
Link searched the pockets by reflex.
He did not expect to find anything.
In the first pocket, dust, a small local coin he did not remember storing, and a crushed wrapper. In the second, nothing. In the third, a piece of burned cloth. Inside the fourth, his fingers touched something rectangular.
He froze.
Subaru noticed immediately.
—What?
Link pulled the object out.
A smartphone.
The screen was scratched in one corner, and the case was covered in marks and dust, but it was intact. Miraculously intact. Link held it in his palm as though he had just discovered a piece of himself more fragile than an organ. He pressed the side button. The screen did not turn on. Dead battery, probably. Or something worse. Even so, it was his. His phone. Not a magical relic. Not a communication stone. A smartphone from his world, his year, his life.
Subaru slowly approached.
His eyes widened.
—That is...
—My phone.
—No. That's a smartphone.
Link looked up.
—Yes.
Subaru stared at him as though he had just received a temporal slap.
—Mine was basic.
—I know.
—Small screen. Buttons. None of that.
—I know.
Subaru swallowed.
The ten-year difference between them was not new. They had already discussed it and felt it in their references, memories, and the way Link understood things Subaru had never lived to see. But holding the proof in one hand was different. Subaru had arrived with a simple phone from his time. Link possessed a far more advanced smartphone, a black rectangle containing years of technology, photographs, applications, music, messages, maps, memories, and a life Subaru had never lived to see in his Japan.
—Ten years —Subaru murmured.
Link passed his thumb across the dark screen.
—Ten years.
Emilia looked at the object curiously.
—Is that another tool from your homeland?
Subaru released a humorless laugh.
—A tool, a library, a camera, a lantern, a music box, a way to speak to people far away, a source of addiction, stress, and memes.
Puck tilted his head.
—Memes?
Link and Subaru looked at one another.
—Someday —they said simultaneously.
Ram observed the smartphone with a dry expression.
—It looks like a useless black plate.
—Without a battery, it is —Link said.
—Then Barusu became excited over a useless plate.
—It has historical and cultural value!
—Like Barusu, but quieter.
Subaru placed one hand over his chest.
—I'm being compared unfavorably to a dead phone.
Link carefully placed the phone on the table.
Then he continued inspecting the remains.
The pouch fell from the inner pocket of a torn jacket.
It did not fall like a light object.
It fell with weight.
Clink.
The fabric struck the table and opened slightly, revealing golden coins.
Silence.
Emilia blinked.
Subaru leaned closer.
Ram raised an eyebrow.
Puck floated nearer.
Link looked at the pouch.
Then he looked at his jacket.
Then he looked toward his kagunes, which were not currently visible but somehow remained guilty.
—Ah.
Subaru opened his mouth.
—Link.
—I did not know that was there.
Ram crossed her arms.
—That sentence usually precedes a confession.
Link picked up the pouch and opened it.
Sacred gold coins. Several. Far too many to have gone unnoticed if they had been there from the beginning. Then he remembered the battle against Elsa. The chaos. The Loot House. Felt. Rom. Subaru. Emilia. Elsa moving like a nightmare. His kagunes emerging without complete control. One of them extending toward something shining, toward a pouch, toward money. Not because of strategy. Not because of necessity. Through an absurd, opportunistic, almost cultural reflex.
Subaru looked at him.
—Don't tell me.
Link closed the pouch.
—Latin blood was flowing even through the kagune.
Subaru bent over the table, laughing and groaning simultaneously because his ribs still hurt.
—I cannot believe it! Your tentacle stole money during a deadly fight against Elsa!
—It did not steal. It recovered resources.
Ram spoke with surgical calm.
—The gardener has just redefined theft as resource recovery.
—Survival strategy.
Emilia attempted to remain serious.
She failed slightly.
—Link, that probably belonged to Felt or Mr. Rom.
Link raised the pouch.
—Then it will be returned.
Subaru stopped laughing a little.
—Really?
—Yes. I am not that much of a rat.
Ram looked at him.
—The fact that he needed to say so is concerning.
—I understand.
Puck floated above the coins.
—But first, we should confirm where they came from.
—Of course —Link said—. If they belong to Felt, they return to Felt. If they came from the Loot House's stash, then the same. If no one claims them, then... emergency fund.
Subaru raised one finger.
—Emergency fund against curses, soups, and Roswaal.
Roswaal, who had naturally appeared in the doorway without making enough noise to be considered polite, smiled.
—What a specific name.
Subaru nearly fell from the chair he was not using.
—Do not appear like that!
—I am inside my own mansion.
—That does not make it less terrifying.
Link looked at Roswaal.
—I wanted to speak with you.
—About the coins, the vehicle, the black plate, or the Wolgarm jerky?
—About time off.
Roswaal tilted his head.
Emilia looked curiously at Link.
Ram frowned slightly.
Subaru straightened.
—Time off?
Link rested one hand on the table beside the dead smartphone and the pouch of coins.
—I want to request three days off for Ram, Rem, and Subaru.
The silence that followed was heavier than the pouch.
Ram reacted first.
—No.
Subaru raised both eyebrows.
—Wait, they're offering me rest, and you said no for all three of us?
—Barusu needs no assistance in desiring uselessness. Ram speaks for Rem and Ram.
—That sounds extremely authoritarian.
—Correct.
Emilia looked at Link.
—Why?
Link took a deep breath.
—Because Rem nearly killed herself. Ram was also left exhausted. Subaru has the terrible habit of nearly dying every two days and continuing to speak as though it were part of his charm. They need to stop.
Subaru opened his mouth to protest.
Emilia looked at him.
He closed it.
Link continued:
—Three days. No work for Rem. No taking extra responsibilities for Ram. No Subaru trying to prove he can sweep a hallway as though it were a test of manhood. Three days to sleep, eat, recover, and let no one be forced to smile while they fall apart inside.
Ram held his gaze.
—And who will perform the mansion's work?
—Me.
Subaru froze.
—Brother, you just requested permission to become the only functional employee in an enormous noble mansion.
—Yes.
—That is domestic suicide.
—I am durable.
Ram closed her eye.
—The gardener does not know how to perform even half of the necessary tasks.
—I learn quickly.
—The gardener broke brooms.
—I have more control now.
—The gardener turned a magic test into a crater.
—I will not use magic indoors.
Puck raised one paw.
—I want to see that signed.
Roswaal watched with a smile that seemed far too entertained.
—You're offering to manage the entire mansion for three days?
—With minimal assistance if absolutely necessary. But yes. Cleaning, gardening, carrying things, basic cooking, moving supplies, whatever is needed. I have four kagunes, strength, a recovered body, and enough Wolgarm food to prevent me from collapsing. I can do it.
Ram looked at him as though evaluating whether accepting or rejecting would be more insulting.
—Rem will not accept.
—That is why I'm asking Roswaal, not Rem.
—That is administrative manipulation.
—Yes.
Subaru whistled quietly.
—Latino versus mansion bureaucracy. This is getting serious.
Link did not look away from Roswaal.
—Only three days. They can return afterward if they are well. But if Rem attempts to work tomorrow, she will do so even while breaking apart. If Ram sees her, she will work twice as hard to cover for her. If Subaru feels useless, he will do something stupid to compensate. And Emilia will worry herself into exhaustion over all of them.
Emilia lowered her gaze.
Puck looked at her worriedly.
—Lia should rest too.
—Emilia does not work as a maid —Link said—. But yes. She should sleep more as well.
Emilia blinked.
—Am I being included in the scolding too?
—Respectfully.
Subaru raised one hand.
—Welcome to the club. We have blankets and shared trauma.
Ram spoke more quietly.
—The gardener believes he can solve everyone's self-destructive tendencies with three days of rest.
—No. I believe three days will not fix anything. But they may prevent the body from surrendering before the mind.
That landed differently.
Ram did not immediately answer.
Roswaal brought his hands together in front of him.
—An interesting request. And a very generous one.
—It isn't generosity. It's logistics.
—Ah, of course. Emotional logistics.
Subaru pointed at Roswaal.
—Do not phrase it that way. You make it sound like one of your plans.
—Everything can sound like one of my plans if pronounced with the correct intonation.
—Terrifying.
Roswaal looked at Ram.
—Ram.
—It is not necessary, Roswaal-sama.
—That was not what I asked.
Ram closed her mouth.
—Could you perform your usual duties tomorrow without suffering from last night's mana expenditure?
Ram took far too long to respond.
—Yes.
—Ram.
She lowered her gaze.
—Not at full efficiency.
Roswaal looked toward the doorway, perhaps toward the place where Rem slept.
—And Rem?
Ram did not answer.
There was no need.
Roswaal looked back at Link.
—Three days.
Link held his breath.
—With conditions. You will not touch documents or administrative matters. You will not enter private rooms without permission. You will not handle modern weapons inside the mansion. You will not use magic except in authorized cases. The Wolgarms will remain outside and will not participate in domestic tasks.
Subaru opened his mouth.
—Oh, thank you for clarifying the last part. I was already imagining demon dogs carrying tea.
Ram looked at him.
—Barusu needs less imagination.
—Everyone says that.
Roswaal continued:
—Ram will supervise while resting. Rem will be forbidden from working for three days. Subaru-kun will be forbidden from working, training, saving children, or entering forests during the same period.
Subaru raised one hand.
—Can I walk through the garden?
Emilia looked at him.
—Under supervision.
—I accept supervision if it is yours.
Puck sighed.
—Unbearable, exactly as predicted.
Roswaal smiled.
—Then it is approved.
Ram opened her eye.
—Roswaal-sama.
—It is an order to rest, Ram. Not an abandonment of duty.
She lowered her head.
—Understood.
Link exhaled.
—Thank you.
—Do not thank me yet —Roswaal said—. If the mansion ends up destroyed, I will consider deducting it from your future salary.
—Do I have a salary?
—You might have a debt.
—That does sound like you.
Subaru laughed quietly.
Emilia looked at Link with a softer smile.
—That was very kind.
—It was logistics.
—Of course.
—Do not look at me like that.
—Like what?
—As though you know I'm lying.
Emilia smiled slightly more.
Link silently lost that battle.
Later, once everyone began dispersing, Link remained inside the room containing his belongings.
The dead smartphone remained on the table.
The pouch of coins sat beside it, already tied shut so its origin could be investigated and the money returned if appropriate. The bags of modern clothing were arranged in stacks. The snacks and sweets had been cataloged, though not without Puck attempting to argue that "spiritual research" required samples. The weapon boxes were locked and covered with a blanket. The vehicle remained outside, waiting like a sleeping metal animal.
Subaru stayed with him for several minutes.
Without Emilia, Ram, or Roswaal.
Only the two of them from another world.
Subaru carefully picked up the dead smartphone.
—It's strange.
—Yes.
—For you, this was normal.
—Far too normal.
—To me, it looks like the future.
Link rested his back against the wall.
—To me, you come from the past.
Subaru released a quiet laugh.
—How horrible. You make me feel vintage.
—You are.
—Hey.
—Ten years, Subaru.
The silence softened.
Subaru placed the phone on the table.
—Did you have photographs?
Link looked at the dark screen.
—Yes.
—Family?
—Yes.
—Do you think it will turn on again?
—I don't know. Without electricity, not for long. I have chargers, perhaps a portable battery if it survived, but once that runs out, it is over.
Subaru nodded.
—Mine was the same. A countdown shaped like technology.
Link swallowed.
—I don't want to turn it on yet.
—I understand.
—If I see the photographs now...
—I know.
Subaru did not make a joke.
That was his most serious way of offering company.
Link picked up the pouch of coins and moved it slightly. It sounded heavy.
—At least my kagune was thinking about my financial future.
Subaru smiled.
—Brother, your kagune has the mentality of a Latino uncle at the market: "This could be useful later."
—Wise blood.
—Thieving blood.
—Recovered resources.
Subaru laughed, and this time he did not bend over as much from the pain.
That was progress.
At the end of the day, the mansion received a strange order: three days of rest for those who never knew how to rest, three days of work for the man who least should have volunteered to take care of everything, and a room filled with impossible objects that smelled of another world.
Rem slept.
Ram pretended to accept.
Subaru mentally planned his date with Emilia while being watched to prevent him from standing too quickly.
For the first time in days, Emilia seemed able to breathe slightly more easily.
Roswaal smiled too much.
Beatrice insulted someone from behind a door that should not have led where it did.
Puck attempted to negotiate for sweets.
Luci floated above the dead smartphone as though guarding a relic.
And Link, sitting before the bags of clothing, the remains of his former life, the recovered pickup truck, and a phone containing ten years of distance, understood that the problem with survival was not merely continuing to breathe.
It was that after the battle, once the noise faded, a person had to look at everything they had managed to preserve.
And decide what to do with it.