Under those circumstances, Beatrice's severely limited Mana reserves meant she was overwhelmed almost immediately.
"Sure you don't need my help?"
"You know, I'm actually pretty confident in myself."
Roswaal's assault hammered her from the front. Gojo's nonsense hammered her from behind.
"Shut up!"
"Is now really the time for that?"
Her Mana was draining at a terrifying rate. She could feel the bottom of the well approaching, the last drops evaporating with every spell she deflected. Anxiety crept across her face, impossible to hide.
Roswaal watched her struggle and let a thin edge of mockery slip into his voice.
"My. You really are trying hard."
"A shame, though. A Spirit without a Contract can't protect anything. Just as you couldn't protect the Forbidden Library."
His fingers danced through the air as he spoke, conducting an invisible orchestra with effortless grace. The spells Beatrice had been blocking shifted course mid-flight, curving around her like water parting around a stone, and streaked toward Gojo.
He yawned.
The reason Beatrice was throwing everything she had into this fight wasn't complicated. Part of it was repayment. He'd freed her, whether she'd asked for it or not, and she owed him something for that.
But there was another part. A quieter thought she hadn't voiced.
If she died here, fighting Roswaal, that would settle the debt of failing to guard the Forbidden Library. A clean ending. One she could accept.
What nagged at Gojo, though, was something else entirely.
Roswaal's attacks were too simple.
He was no expert in magic, true. But combat was combat. Whether the fighter was a mage, a swordsman, or a Jujutsu Sorcerer, the goal was always the same: victory, or killing the opponent.
Neither of those intentions showed in anything Roswaal was doing.
Trying not to damage the mansion? Or something else?
Gojo surveyed the wrecked study with idle curiosity.
From the moment Roswaal had opened fire, the pressure had been immense, like a rubber band stretched to its absolute limit, vibrating on the edge of snapping. But it never snapped. He held it right there, at that exact threshold, and no further.
There was a purpose behind it. Gojo was sure of that much.
While he had the luxury of analyzing all this, Beatrice did not. She was running on fumes.
The last of her Mana guttered out.
Roswaal's attack finally reached Gojo unimpeded.
The instant she saw the spell about to strike him, Beatrice gritted her teeth and threw herself forward.
"If you're going to die, don't you dare do it in front of me!"
Small, pale hands pressed flat against his chest.
A deep violet magic circle blossomed beneath her palms, its sigil burning itself into the fabric over his heart.
And Gojo felt it. Something reaching for him. A thread of power seeking connection, trying to weave itself into the core of his being.
A Contract.
The explosion tore through the study like a second demolition. The shockwave blasted out the far wall in a mirror image of what Gojo had done to the Forbidden Library, sending stone and plaster spraying into the night air.
Inside the mansion, the others had been waiting with mounting unease. When that thunderclap of sound ripped through the halls, unease became alarm.
Everyone ran for the study.
Inside, Roswaal flicked his wrist. The smoke and dust parted obediently, revealing two figures standing in the rubble.
Beatrice and Gojo. Neither one looked particularly worse for wear. They were just staring at each other, wide eyes meeting wide eyes, frozen in mutual bewilderment.
"Idiot!"
"Why didn't you dodge?!"
Beatrice's voice was pure indignation.
"I offered to help earlier. You're the one who said it wasn't the time." Gojo spread his hands, blinking with exaggerated innocence.
Heat rushed to her face.
"I shouldn't have saved you!"
"What if I'd actually died right in front of you?"
"Why would I care?!"
"See, this is what I mean. You say the opposite of what you feel." He wore the expression of a man who'd seen through every layer of the act and found it adorable. "If I'd really died in front of you, you'd carry that guilt for the rest of your life."
"Delusional and narcissistic. Who do you think you are to me? As if I'd feel guilty over you." Her sneer could have cut glass. "Don't make me laugh."
A slow, deliberate clapping cut through their argument.
Both of them turned. Roswaal stood behind his desk, applauding with a warm smile, as if he'd just watched a particularly moving stage performance.
"That was quite the show."
Beatrice wrinkled her nose. "Do you want to keep going? You know as well as I do: if I decide to protect him, you won't be able to kill him."
"Of course not. I would never doubt your abilities, Beatrice." His voice was silk again, that theatrical lilt fully restored. "After all, you're not the same as you were a moment ago. Now you're a Spirit with a Contractor."
"But my, what a surprise. I never imagined you'd find 'that person' under circumstances like these..."
"Has your brain broken too?!" Beatrice's eyes went wide with fury. "When did I ever say this fool was 'that person'?! It was an emergency, and I just... I..."
She glared at him, words tangling in her throat.
"Oh dear. My mistake, then. What a pity." Roswaal rested his cheek against one hand, the picture of theatrical disappointment.
"Still, the fact remains that he's formed a Contract with you. It would be rather difficult to keep treating him as an enemy."
"Beatrice, you've been part of the Mathers family for a very long time. Your Contractor is, by extension, one of us."
Behind his sunglasses, Gojo's eyes narrowed. But the face he showed the room was all exaggerated alarm. "Wait, is that really okay? Because a minute ago you were genuinely terrifying."
"You're not just waiting for us to let our guard down so you can take another shot, are you?"
"Mr. Gojo, saying such things wounds me deeply."
Roswaal pressed a hand to his chest in mock hurt. The contrast with the man who'd been hurling spells moments ago was so stark it was impossible to tell which version was the mask.
"Beatrice and the Mathers household have lived together for centuries. Every Family Head has cherished her."
"Isn't that right, Beatrice?"
Right now, looking at either Roswaal or Gojo made her want to scream. She wanted to argue, but the words wouldn't come.
Because it was true. Over all those centuries, she hadn't interacted much with the successive heads of the Mathers family. But in what contact there had been, they'd treated her well. Whatever she'd asked for, they'd provided. She was the one who'd rarely left the Forbidden Library.
The study door, which had somehow survived the chaos mostly intact, burst open as Ram shoved through it. Rem, Subaru, and the others crowded in behind her.
What greeted them was the devastated study, the gaping hole in the wall, and the unmistakable aftermath of a serious fight. Everything spoke for itself.
Felt took one look and nearly tripped over her own feet.
If the situation had been even slightly less tense, she would have sprinted over, grabbed Gojo by the leg, and begged him to stop. The previous hole hadn't even been repaired yet, and now the study looked like a warzone.
This had gone far beyond what her savings could handle. This was a question of whether they'd survive the night.
She thought of Old Man Rom, back in the Royal Capital, blissfully unaware, waiting for them to return. The weight on her chest doubled.
Ram and Rem moved in unison, rushing to Roswaal's side.
"Lord Roswaal!"
The words left them in perfect sync. They planted themselves in front of him and turned eyes full of open hostility on Gojo.
Rem in particular. Where she'd produced it from was anyone's guess, but the maid who'd been empty-handed seconds ago now gripped her Morningstar, the spiked head swaying at the end of its chain. The weapon was comically oversized next to her small frame.
"Betty." Gojo leaned toward the Spirit, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "There's no magic in this world that lets you hide a Morningstar somewhere and just... pull it out whenever you want. Right?"
"Don't ask me stupid questions."
She turned away with a huff, refusing to dignify him with eye contact.
"Gojo, what happened in here?"
Subaru and Felt had reached his side.
"It's over. We're finished. We're never getting home." Felt's voice was a funeral march. "All that money I saved up, and I'll never even get to spend it."
She muttered on and on, shoulders slumped, radiating despair so thick Gojo had to fight back a laugh.
"Relax. Nothing to worry about."
"As for your money, I'll help you blow through all of it once we get back."
He grinned at both of them, utterly unconcerned.
Emilia, meanwhile, was caught in the middle. On one side stood Roswaal, her political backer. On the other stood the man who'd saved her life. Taking either side felt wrong.
"Roswaal, what happened here?"
She hesitated, then asked directly. If there was any way to keep this from ending badly, she wanted to find it.
"Nothing at all. We were simply celebrating Beatrice's newfound freedom. Got a bit carried away, I'm afraid."
"Right, Gojo? Beatrice?"
Roswaal beamed at the room as though the last fifteen minutes hadn't happened.
Everyone except Gojo and Beatrice needed a moment to process that.
What?
They'd heard the sounds of a pitched battle from the hallway. That was why they'd come running. And now they were being told it was a celebration?
Nobody was buying it.
Every face in the room wore the same skeptical expression. Even Ram and Rem couldn't keep their composure.
"That's right, absolutely right. No conflict here at all." Gojo nodded along cheerfully.
"Right, Betty?"
He ruffled her hair as he spoke.
"I don't care what you think. I'm going back to my room."
Beatrice snorted and turned on her heel without another word.
"The Forbidden Library's gone. Where exactly are you going back to?"
"Don't you dare bring that up!"
Watching the two of them bicker, nobody knew quite what to say. The day's events had outpaced everyone's ability to process them. Nothing had gone the way anyone expected.
Felt least of all. From the moment Gojo and Beatrice had started fighting, her heart had been on a rollercoaster. Up, down, up, down. Soaring highs and plummeting lows, one after another, until she thought her chest might give out.
She'd been fully convinced they were doomed. And now, somehow, everything seemed fine.
"Miss Ram, Miss Rem, I'm afraid the mansion's going to need your attention again."
Gojo glanced at the ruined wall and gave the sisters an apologetic wave.
"Don't worry about it. I'll have proper craftsmen brought in within the next two days."
Roswaal waved the concern aside as though they were discussing a chipped teacup.
"More importantly, I think we should all enjoy dinner."
"Today is, after all, a day worth celebrating."
He smiled at the gathered group, and despite everything that had happened, the warmth in it seemed almost genuine.
Between them, Ram and Rem managed to pull together a lavish dinner in remarkably short order. The chaos of the day faded, at least temporarily, under the civilizing influence of good food.
After dinner, Ram led Beatrice to the wing where Gojo and the others were staying and set about arranging a room for her. With the Forbidden Library gone, she had no choice but to sleep like everyone else.
While Beatrice was getting settled, Felt grabbed Gojo by the sleeve and hauled him into her room.
"What is wrong with you today?"
"Do you have any idea what you've been doing?!"
She had his collar bunched in both fists, practically shaking him.
"He's a Count. A nobleman. The Kingdom's Head Magician. I don't care how strong you are, you could still lose your life picking a fight like that!"
"Whoa, whoa. Slow down."
He knew what she was worried about. He'd always known.
"Don't panic."
"Do I really look like that much of an idiot to you?"
"You're not far off." The words came without hesitation, without mercy.
"Tch. You and Betty would get along great."
Gojo shook his head.
"Look, you don't need to be this wound up. I don't go around doing things for no reason."
"This wasn't for no reason?!"
"You came to someone's house as a guest, punched holes in their walls, destroyed their Forbidden Library..."
"First of all, I did not punch holes in anything. Neither wall was my fault."
He held up his hands in protest. He wasn't taking the blame for damage he hadn't caused.
"That's not the point! The point is..."
"Right, it's not the point. So stop worrying."
"Not only do you not need to worry..."
He paused, letting the silence land.
"You don't need to worry about any danger. And you don't need to worry about Roswaal doing anything to you. Not making you pay for damages. Not threatening your life. None of it."
"In fact, I guarantee that from here on out, Roswaal is going to be calling you Lady Felt."
"How about that? Gets the heart racing a little, doesn't it?"
"Having a Margrave address you as 'Lady.'"
...
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