The golden rays of morning filtered through the curtains of the room, illuminating the aftermath of the night before.
Emilia stirred first. A dull, throbbing pain pulsed behind her eyes; her body felt bruised, heavy, wrong. As her violet eyes fluttered open, she froze. Reinhard lay beside her — bare-chested, breathing slow and even, one arm still loosely draped near her waist.
Panic slammed into her like ice water.
Memories crashed in fragments: laughter, wine that never stopped flowing, Reinhard's voice low and reverent, his hands warm and insistent, the overwhelming heat that drowned every protest… and then nothing clear, only sensation, only surrender.
"No… no, no, no…" she whispered, voice cracking. She jerked upright — too fast. The blanket slipped from her shoulders, exposing skin marked with faint red imprints. She snatched it back to her chest with trembling hands, curling into herself as far from him as the bed allowed.
Reinhard stirred at the movement. His blue eyes opened — calm at first, then sharpening with dawning realization. He sat up slowly, expression unreadable.
"Lady Emilia—"
"Don't." Her voice was small, shaking. When he reached out — instinctive, trying to steady her — she flinched violently, jerking away so hard she nearly fell off the edge of the mattress. "Don't… touch me. Please."
Reinhard's hand froze mid-air. He lowered it immediately, face tightening with something like regret.
Across the room, Rem woke with a soft, pained groan. Her head pounded; her body ached in places she didn't want to name. Julius's arm lay heavy across her waist — possessive even in sleep. She stared at his peaceful face for one frozen second.
Then memory hit — not all of it, but enough.
Wine. Praise. His voice promising it was for Subaru. The overwhelming heat when her horn flared. The moment he pushed inside her. The way her legs had locked around him against her will.
"What… have I done?" she breathed, voice barely audible. Tears welled instantly. She tried to slide out from under his arm without waking him, but the movement made her wince — sharp soreness between her thighs, faint stickiness, the unmistakable evidence.
Julius stirred.
His golden eyes opened slowly. At first he looked disoriented, brow furrowed. Then he registered Rem beside him — naked, tear-streaked, trying to disappear into the duvet.
His face went white.
He sat up abruptly, blanket pooling at his waist. For several long seconds he simply stared — not at her body, but at the space between them, as though trying to force the night back into focus.
"…Rem?" His voice cracked. "What…?"
He looked down at himself — bare, marked with faint scratches from her nails. Looked at her again — at the way she shrank from even the sound of his voice.
The last thing he clearly remembered was sitting with Reinhard, pouring another glass, laughing about something trivial. After that… darkness. Flashes. Rem's soft moans. His own hands guiding her. The moment he—
His stomach lurched.
"Oh gods…" he whispered, pressing a hand to his mouth. "No. No, I didn't…"
He reached toward her — instinctive, wanting to comfort, to apologize — but Rem flinched hard, curling tighter into the blanket.
"Don't," she choked out. "Please… don't touch me."
Julius recoiled as if burned. His hands dropped to his lap, trembling. His eyes — usually so steady, so proud — filled with raw horror.
"I… I don't remember…" he said hoarsely. "Not all of it. Just… pieces. I would never—" He stopped, throat closing. "Rem, I swear… I would never have—"
He couldn't finish. The words sounded hollow even to him.
Reinhard, still sitting rigid on the other bed, finally spoke — voice low, careful.
"Julius."
Julius's head snapped toward him. For a moment they simply looked at each other — two knights who had always prided themselves on honor, now staring across a room full of wreckage.
Reinhard exhaled slowly. "We drank too much. We… crossed lines we never should have approached."
Julius laughed — a short, bitter sound that held no humor. "Crossed lines?" He dragged a hand through his hair, voice shaking. "I don't even remember deciding to start. I woke up with her in my arms and… gods, Reinhard, what did I do to her?"
Emilia, still clutching the blanket like armor, whispered, "We can't tell Subaru. Any of it. He… he would break."
Rem made a small, wounded sound — half sob, half agreement.
Reinhard nodded once. "Agreed. This stays here. Between us."
He looked at Emilia — careful not to reach for her again. "Lady Emilia… before you leave this room, I suggest a bath. For both of you." His gaze dropped briefly, meaningfully. "Unless… you wish to risk children from last night."
Emilia's breath hitched. Her hands tightened on the blanket until her knuckles turned white.
Julius flinched at the words — visibly. His face crumpled for a second before he forced it back into composure.
"I'll… I'll arrange hot water," he said quietly. "And privacy. Whatever you need."
He stood slowly — movements stiff, as though every joint protested — and pulled on discarded trousers without looking at anyone. When he passed near Rem, he paused.
"Rem… I am so sorry," he whispered. "I don't expect forgiveness. I don't deserve it. But if there is ever anything I can do to make this less… unbearable… tell me."
Rem didn't answer. She only pulled the duvet higher, hiding her face.
Julius turned away, shoulders bowed under invisible weight.
Emilia rose shakily, blanket wrapped tight around her like a shield. When Reinhard stood — offering a hand to steady her — she stepped back so fast she stumbled.
"Please," she said again, voice tiny. "No touching. Not… not right now."
Reinhard lowered his hand. "Of course."
The four of them stood in silence — two knights hollowed out by guilt, two women shattered by what the night had taken.
The golden light kept pouring in, indifferent.
The bath would come next. The secrets would be washed away — or buried deeper.
But nothing could erase what had already been done.
The room fell into a stunned silence.
Emilia froze where she stood, violet eyes wide, face draining of color before flushing a deep, burning crimson. The word "children" echoed in her skull like a bell struck too hard. Her hands clutched the blanket so tightly her knuckles blanched.
Rem shrank further into the duvet, pulling it up until only her eyes were visible — wide, glassy, terrified.
Julius — already pale from the moment he woke — went even whiter. His mouth opened, closed, opened again. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
"Rem… if—if it comes to that…" He swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the floor between them. "I would take responsibility. I would never abandon a child. I would provide, protect… marry if that's what you needed. But Subaru…" His voice cracked. "He's my friend. He couldn't… he shouldn't have to raise—"
He stopped. The words tasted like ash. He dragged a shaking hand down his face.
"I don't even remember deciding to—" He cut himself off, shoulders hunching. "Gods, what have I done?"
Reinhard remained seated on the edge of the bed, posture straight, expression unreadable. After a long moment he spoke — voice low, even, almost clinical.
"Lady Emilia. Rem." He met their eyes one at a time. "What happened last night should not have happened. I am… sorry." The apology was quiet, sincere, but there was no tremor in it, no self-flagellation. Just fact. "I will not pretend otherwise. But if consequences come from it — if either of you carries a child — I will bear full responsibility. The child would be cared for. Protected. You would owe me nothing. That is all I can offer."
Emilia flinched at the word "child" again. Her breathing hitched; she wrapped her arms tighter around herself, as though trying to disappear into the blanket.
Reinhard did not reach for her. He knew better now.
Julius looked like he might be sick. "I can't even remember how we got here," he whispered. "I remember drinking with you, Reinhard. Then… nothing. Until I woke up and she was—" He gestured helplessly toward Rem, then dropped his hand. "I betrayed her. Subaru. Anastasia. Myself. Everything I swore to uphold."
Reinhard exhaled slowly through his nose. "We both did."
Silence stretched again — thicker this time.
Emilia's voice — small, trembling — finally broke it. "We… we can't tell Subaru. Please. He would—" She swallowed. "He would never look at me the same."
Rem made a choked sound — agreement, despair, both.
Reinhard nodded once. "It stays in this room."
Julius's laugh was bitter, broken. "A secret built on lies. Fitting."
Reinhard ignored the barb. He looked toward the adjoining door. "A bath first. For both of you. Hot water. Privacy. The rest… can wait."
He rose — slow, deliberate — and moved toward the door without looking back at Emilia. When he passed close, she stepped sideways so sharply her hip bumped the bedpost. He paused only long enough to murmur, "I won't touch you again unless you ask. I swear it."
Emilia didn't answer. She only watched him go, body rigid.
Julius stood as well, movements jerky. He looked at Rem — really looked — and his face crumpled for a second before he forced it blank.
"Rem… whatever you decide, I'll stand by it. Even if it means staying away forever." His voice broke on the last word. "I'm sorry. More than I can ever say."
Rem didn't respond. She only pulled the duvet higher.
Emilia gathered her discarded dress with shaking hands, clutching it to her chest like armor. She moved toward the bathroom door — steps small, careful, as though the floor might crack beneath her.
Reinhard held the door open without stepping too close. Julius lingered behind, staring at the rumpled bed where Rem still sat, frozen.
The sound of running water began — faint at first, then louder.
The two knights stood in the empty bedroom.
Neither spoke for a long time.
Finally Julius whispered, "We destroyed something last night. Didn't we?"
Reinhard looked toward the bathroom door. His voice, when it came, was flat.
"Yes."
He turned away.
The golden light kept pouring in.
But nothing felt golden anymore.
The grand bath was already filled when they arrived. Steam rose in thick, lazy curls from the pool-sized tub, the water scented faintly with rose and lavender. Emilia and Rem had slipped in first, choosing the far end, shoulders hunched, knees drawn up to their chests. They sat in silence, water lapping gently at their collarbones, faces still flushed from shame and the lingering heat of the night.
Neither looked at the other for long. Every glance brought back flashes neither wanted to name.
The heavy door opened. Two sets of footsteps.
Emilia's entire body went rigid. She clutched the edge of the tub so hard her knuckles turned white. When Reinhard and Julius stepped into the water at the opposite side, she flinched anyway — even though they were ten feet away and fully clothed in towels until the last moment.
Reinhard lowered himself into the water without a word. He sat with perfect posture, back straight, eyes on the far wall. His expression was calm, almost blank.
Julius moved like a man carrying stones. He sank down slowly, water rising to his chest, and immediately looked away from Rem. His hands stayed above the surface, fingers laced tightly together so they wouldn't tremble. The last clear memory he had was laughing with Reinhard over wine. Everything after that arrived in sickening fragments he couldn't stop seeing.
For a long minute, the only sound was water dripping from the ceiling and the soft hiss of steam.
Reinhard finally spoke, voice low and even.
"I am sorry."
He didn't look at Emilia when he said it. He didn't reach for her. He simply stated the fact, the same way he might report a battlefield casualty.
Emilia's breath hitched. She curled smaller, shoulders shaking. "Don't… don't say anything. Please."
Julius swallowed hard. His voice came out rough, almost cracked.
"I don't remember most of it," he admitted to the water. "Just… pieces. Enough to know I have no excuse. Rem, I—" He stopped, jaw clenching. "I betrayed everything I swore to be. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Rem stared at the ripples in front of her. Tears slipped down her cheeks and disappeared into the bath. She said nothing.
Reinhard glanced at Julius once, then back at the wall.
"It happened," he said quietly. "We cannot undo it. The only thing left is to contain the damage."
Julius gave a hollow laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Contain the damage. That's what we're calling it now?"
Reinhard didn't answer. He simply sat there, water steaming around his shoulders, face unreadable. Cold. Controlled. The same Sword Saint who had once slain a Witch Cult puppet wearing his grandmother's corpse without shedding a tear.
Emilia's voice was barely audible. "If I… if there's a child…"
She couldn't finish. Her hands pressed protectively over her stomach beneath the water.
Reinhard's reply was calm, almost clinical.
"Then I will take full responsibility. The child would want for nothing. You would owe me nothing. That is all I can give you now."
He paused, then added — softer, but still without warmth:
"I will not touch you again, Lady Emilia. Not unless you ask. You have my word."
Emilia nodded once, jerkily. She still wouldn't look at him.
Julius stared at Rem across the water, eyes haunted.
"I meant what I said earlier," he whispered. "If you're pregnant… I'll stand by you. Marry you. Raise the child. Or disappear if that's what you need. I won't force anything on you ever again."
Rem's shoulders shook. She whispered, so quietly only Julius could hear:
"I just want Subaru to still love me."
No one answered.
The steam continued to rise.
Four people sat in the same bath, yet the distance between them felt wider than the ocean.
No one suggested scrubbing backs.
No one joked.
No one smiled.
The water slowly grew still around them, and the silence pressed down like a weight none of them could lift.
The bathhouse was quiet except for the faint sound of water rippling and the occasional drip from the ceiling.
Emilia sat with her back against the far wall, knees drawn up, arms wrapped tightly around them. She kept her gaze fixed on the water's surface, refusing to look at either knight. Every small movement sent tiny waves across the pool — reminders that she was not alone.
Rem sat a few feet away, curled in on herself the same way. Her blue hair clung wetly to her shoulders. She hadn't spoken since they entered the water.
Julius sat opposite them, elbows on his knees, staring at his own hands beneath the surface. The steam did nothing to warm the chill that had settled in his chest. He looked older than he had the night before.
Reinhard sat apart from everyone — back straight, eyes on the tiled wall, expression blank.
After a long stretch of silence, Emilia's voice came — small, trembling.
"I think… we're all just trying to understand what happened."
She didn't look up. Her fingers dug into her arms hard enough to leave marks.
Julius exhaled shakily. "There's nothing to understand," he said quietly. "We did it. I did it." He swallowed. "I still can't remember most of it clearly. Just… enough to hate myself."
Rem made a tiny, wounded sound — almost inaudible.
Emilia's shoulders hunched higher. "Last night was… it wasn't me. But it happened. And now we're here. And Subaru…"
She couldn't finish.
Reinhard spoke without turning his head.
"Last night does not have to become the rest of your life."
His voice was calm. Flat. No comfort in it — only statement of fact.
Julius gave a bitter huff that might have been a laugh if it weren't so broken. "Easy for you to say, Sword Saint. You remember everything. I woke up with her in my arms and no memory of how we got there." He looked at Rem then — really looked — and his face crumpled for a second before he forced it blank again. "I'm sorry, Rem. I keep saying it and it doesn't change anything."
Rem stared at the water. "I know," she whispered. "But Subaru…"
The name hung between them like a wound.
Emilia's voice cracked. "What if… what if something comes from it? A child?"
The question landed like a stone in the pool. Ripples spread outward.
Reinhard answered without hesitation.
"Then I will take full responsibility. The child would be raised properly. Protected. You would not be forced to see me again if that is your wish."
No warmth. No reassurance. Just cold certainty.
Julius's hands clenched beneath the water. "Same for me," he said hoarsely. "If it's mine… I'll do whatever you need. Raise it. Marry. Disappear. Whatever hurts you least." He looked at Rem again, eyes raw. "But Subaru… he shouldn't have to carry this. He doesn't deserve it."
Rem's lower lip trembled. "He loves me," she said softly. "Or… he did."
Silence swallowed the words.
Emilia whispered, almost to herself, "I can't even look at him. How am I supposed to stand in front of him and pretend…?"
Reinhard finally turned his head — just enough to glance at her profile.
"You will," he said quietly. "Because you have to. Because Subaru needs you to be the person he believes you are."
There was no gentleness in it. Only pragmatism.
Julius shook his head slowly. "And if he ever finds out?"
Reinhard's gaze returned to the wall.
"Then we accept the consequences."
No one spoke after that.
The steam kept rising.
The water kept rippling.
Four people sat in the same bath — yet the distance between them felt infinite.
Eventually Emilia stood — slow, careful, keeping her back to the knights. She wrapped a towel around herself without turning.
"I'm going to check on Subaru," she said, voice barely carrying.
Rem rose a moment later, doing the same. Neither looked at the men as they left.
Julius remained seated, staring at the empty space where Rem had been.
Reinhard stayed exactly where he was — motionless, expression unreadable.
The water slowly grew still.
And the silence pressed down harder than ever.
Emilia slipped out of the bathhouse without another word. The heavy door closed behind her with a soft, final click.
Inside, the steam continued to swirl, but the air felt colder now.
Julius remained seated in the water, elbows on his knees, staring at the rippling surface where Rem had been only moments before. His hands were clenched so tightly the knuckles stood white against the flushed skin.
Reinhard stayed exactly where he was — motionless, eyes fixed on the tiled wall. The silence between the two knights was thicker than the steam.
After several long minutes, Julius spoke — voice low, almost broken.
"I can't even look at myself in the water right now."
Reinhard did not turn his head. "Then don't."
Julius gave a hollow laugh that contained no humor. "That's your advice? Don't look?"
"It changes nothing." Reinhard's tone remained flat, emotionless. "What's done is done. Regret won't undo it. Guilt won't erase it. Only time — and choices — can limit the damage."
Julius dragged both hands through his wet hair, tugging hard enough to hurt. "I don't remember deciding to touch her. I don't remember any of it clearly. But I woke up and she was crying in my arms, and I—" His voice cracked. "I saw the marks I left. I saw the way she flinched when I moved. And I still can't remember how we got there."
Reinhard finally looked at him — not with sympathy, not with judgment. Just acknowledgment.
"I remember," he said quietly. "Every moment. Every word. Every time she said no and I didn't stop."
Julius stared at him. "And you're… fine with that?"
Reinhard's expression did not change. "I am not fine. But I am not going to break apart over it. That helps no one."
Julius shook his head slowly. "You really are the Sword Saint. Untouchable, even now."
Reinhard looked away again. "I am not untouchable. I simply choose not to fall apart in public."
Another long silence.
Julius whispered, "What do we do if she's pregnant? Either of them?"
Reinhard answered without hesitation.
"We do exactly what we said. We take responsibility. We protect the child. We stay out of their lives if that's what they need. We live with the consequences."
Julius closed his eyes. "And Subaru?"
Reinhard's voice was very quiet.
"Subaru must never know."
Julius opened his eyes again. They were wet — not with tears, not yet, but close.
"I don't know if I can live with that."
Reinhard stood then — slow, deliberate. Water cascaded off his shoulders as he stepped out of the bath and wrapped a towel around his waist.
"Then you'll have to learn," he said.
He walked toward the door without looking back.
Julius stayed in the water a long time after Reinhard left.
The steam slowly thinned.
The water grew still.
And Julius sat alone with the weight of a night he could barely remember — and consequences he would never forget.
Outside, Emilia and Rem walked the corridor in silence, towels clutched tight, steps small and uncertain.
Neither spoke.
Neither needed to.
They both knew where they were going.
They both knew who was waiting.
And neither knew how they would face him.
Rem remained in the bath a moment longer than Emilia.
She sat rigid at the edge of the tub, knees drawn up, arms wrapped tightly around herself. The water lapped gently at her collarbones, but she felt none of its warmth. Her cheeks were still flushed — not from embarrassment anymore, but from shame that burned deeper than the heat.
Julius sat a short distance away, elbows on his knees, staring at the water between them. He hadn't spoken since the door closed behind Emilia. His hands were clenched so tightly the knuckles stood white.
Reinhard remained exactly where he was — back straight, gaze fixed on the far wall, expression blank and cold.
The silence stretched.
Finally Julius spoke, voice low and rough, barely above a whisper.
"Rem… I'm sorry."
He didn't look at her. Couldn't.
"I don't remember most of it. Just… flashes. Enough to know I crossed a line I had no right to cross." His throat worked. "I swore to protect people like you. Instead I—"
He stopped. The words wouldn't come.
Rem stared at the ripples in front of her. Her voice, when it came, was small and cracked.
"I tried to say no."
Julius flinched as if she had struck him.
"I know," he whispered. "I know you did."
Reinhard finally turned his head — just enough to glance at Rem. His voice was calm, almost detached.
"You were drunk. We were drunk. That does not excuse what we did."
Rem's shoulders trembled. She pulled her knees closer to her chest.
"I kept thinking about Subaru," she said quietly. "Even when… even when my body…" She swallowed hard. "I kept thinking he would hate me if he knew."
Julius closed his eyes. "He would hate me. Not you."
Reinhard's reply was flat, pragmatic.
"Subaru must never know."
The words hung in the steam like a sentence.
Rem's breath hitched. "How am I supposed to look at him? How am I supposed to smile when I feel like… like this?"
No one answered.
Julius opened his eyes again. They were wet.
"I can't fix this," he said hoarsely. "I can only tell you the truth. If you're pregnant… I will take responsibility. I will raise the child. I will marry you if that's what you want. Or I will disappear and never speak to you again. Whatever you need. Whatever hurts you least."
Rem shook her head slowly, tears slipping down her cheeks and disappearing into the water.
"I just want Subaru to still love me."
The silence that followed was heavier than before.
Reinhard stood first — slow, deliberate. Water streamed off his shoulders as he stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist.
"This conversation changes nothing," he said quietly. "The damage is done. All we can do now is contain it."
He walked toward the door without looking back.
Julius stayed seated a moment longer, staring at the empty space where Rem sat.
"Rem," he whispered, voice breaking. "I'm so sorry."
Rem didn't answer.
She only pulled her knees tighter to her chest and let the tears fall silently into the bath.
Eventually she stood too — small, trembling — and wrapped a towel around herself without looking at Julius.
She left the bathhouse without a word.
Julius remained alone in the water.
The steam slowly thinned.
The water grew still.
And the guilt settled over him like a second skin he would never be able to wash off.
Emilia had only made it halfway down the corridor before she stopped.
Her bare feet were cold on the stone. The towel clutched to her chest felt like the only thing holding her together. She had meant to go straight to Subaru — to see his face, to hear his voice, to prove to herself that the world hadn't completely shattered.
But the image of Rem — small, silent, still sitting in that bath with the two knights — wouldn't leave her.
She turned back.
When she pushed the heavy door open again, steam billowed out to meet her. The scene hadn't changed much.
Rem still sat rigid at the edge of the tub, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around herself, staring blankly at the water. Tears tracked silently down her cheeks, mixing with bathwater.
Julius remained seated a short distance away, elbows on his knees, head bowed, staring at his own hands beneath the surface. He looked like a man carved from guilt.
Reinhard had not moved — back straight, gaze fixed on the far wall, expression as unreadable as ever.
Emilia's voice cracked the silence — small, trembling.
"Rem…"
Rem flinched at the sound. Her head lifted slowly, blue eyes red-rimmed and glassy.
Emilia stepped forward — only one step — keeping the distance between herself and the knights wide.
"You've been in here too long," she said, voice shaking. "You'll catch a cold. Come… come out. Please."
Rem blinked slowly, as though the words had to travel a long way to reach her.
"I…" Her voice was barely audible. "I don't know how to move yet."
Emilia's throat tightened. She wanted to reach for her — to pull her out, wrap her in a towel, shield her — but the memory of Reinhard's hand on her own shoulder made her freeze. She couldn't. Not now. Not with them watching.
Julius lifted his head. His golden eyes were dull, haunted.
"I'll… I'll leave," he said hoarsely. "If that makes it easier."
He stood — slow, careful — water cascading off him. He didn't look at Rem. Didn't dare. He grabbed a towel from the side, wrapped it around his waist, and moved toward the door without a word.
Reinhard rose a moment later — equally silent, equally detached. He secured his own towel and followed Julius out. The door closed behind them with a soft, final thud.
The bathhouse suddenly felt too large, too quiet.
Emilia stepped closer — still cautious, still keeping space — and crouched at the edge of the tub.
"Rem," she whispered. "It's just us now."
Rem's shoulders shook once, hard. Fresh tears slipped down her face.
"I tried to stop it," she said, voice breaking. "I tried. But the wine… and the horn… and my body just—"
Emilia's own eyes filled. She reached out — hesitated — then let her hand hover near Rem's shoulder without touching.
"I know," she whispered. "I know."
Rem looked up at her then — really looked — and the raw pain in her eyes mirrored Emilia's own.
"I don't know how to face Subaru," Rem said. "How am I supposed to smile when I feel… dirty?"
Emilia swallowed hard.
"I don't know either," she admitted. "But we have to. Somehow."
Rem stared at her for a long moment.
Then — slowly — she stood.
Water streamed off her trembling body. She wrapped the waiting towel around herself with shaking hands, clutching it like armor.
Emilia stood too. She didn't offer a hand — didn't dare — but she stayed close enough that Rem could feel her presence.
They walked out together — side by side, but not touching.
Neither spoke.
The corridor was empty.
The knights were gone.
But the weight they carried followed them anyway.