Fremd Torturchen - Volume 7 - Chapter 1

1

A New Stage

Three years ago, the world very nearly met a tragic end. However, that seemingly immutable fate was altered by a single person. And the one who accomplished that miraculous feat wasn’t a grand hero of any sort.

He was a boy who had reincarnated from another world following a life of abuse and a meaningless death.

He got a chance at life, then had a number of experiences, some horrifying and some irreplaceable. Then after a long series of battles, he obtained a colossal amount of mana and used it to save someone precious to him.

And while he was at it, he saved the world.

By sacrificing himself.

After burdening himself with God and Diablo, the boy fell into a deep slumber at the World’s End. Thanks to his deeds, the people of the world managed to avoid the apocalypse. The greatest good for the greatest number was, surely, the greatest outcome.

One could say they all lived happily ever after.

And that would be all well and good.

But whenever someone’s story ends, there are some things that yet remain.

With its lease on life renewed, the world continued on. But the bells would eventually toll on a new curtain’s rise.

For that is the way bells and curtains are.

The play’s continuation was unveiled in the beastfolk lands.

And the new stage was the audience chamber of Vyade Ula Forstlast.

The chamber was a tranquil space with a pedestal atop a short flight of stairs, complete with a throne in the center of the area.

Curtains decorated with delicate embroidery hung gracefully on both sides. Their large-petaled floral patterns afforded the hall a gorgeous air, and their heavy, thick cloth gave the chamber the sort of solemnity one would associate with a majestic beast.

Normally, each curtain would have a number of skilled soldiers standing guard behind it. Now, though, their presence was nowhere to be felt.

All of them were dead.

The throne room had been transformed into a grisly crime scene, its mystical atmosphere broken by the smell of blood and the grim pall of death. And worst of all was what lay on the throne itself.

The two imperial beastfolk princesses were breathing their last.

The pure-white, wolf-headed second imperial princess sat atop the throne, unmoving. Her hand hung low. The red-haired, fox-headed first imperial princess—perhaps having tried to protect her sister—lay sprawled atop her. Their white and red fur, as well as their dress and military uniform, were soaked in fresh blood.

Neither was likely to open her eyes ever again.

A pair of humans stood before the sisters’ bodies.

“The true value of information lies in its ability to set people’s minds in motion. Moving, how the three races managed to come together for a common goal. But the information that was shared between them and subsequently leaked can be described as nothing but a gross error. The possibility of people appearing from other worlds and the details regarding demon flesh, in particular, should have been concealed.”

The first one to speak was the man garbed in black standing by the throne.

He was tall, well-proportioned, and, aside from his melancholy ambience, relatively attractive. However, part of his face was hidden beneath a white crow mask. It really was peculiar, seeing a man wear only half of a mask. His outfit, which oddly resembled that of a doctor or a researcher, was black from top to bottom.

He continued his lecture in a level tone wholly unfitting for the situation at hand.

“I summoned a pair of weaker demons into a man and a woman, then destroyed both their egos. They had two children. Then I bred the children together. By repeating that process, it was possible to create a pure, powerful demon. Eventually, I created a demon powerful enough to meet my needs. Of course, the whole process was a little more involved than merely breeding mice. As you can see, it took me three whole years to reach this point.”

“It’s okay, Father. Please don’t be sad. Really, we’re just getting started!”

At the end of the man’s speech, his tone took on a hint of chagrin. His partner, an adorable little girl, offered him words of encouragement. Then she turned toward Elisabeth.

Her hair was long, full, and white, and her eyes were red. She was somewhat lacking in pigmentation, but perhaps she had just been born that way.

“I heard your story, Elisabeth. It’s a very sad story. That’s what I think. I’m thinking about you, even if no one in the world is.”

Her blue bondage dress was garnished so heavily with frills and ribbons that it was barely even recognizable as one. It was cute, but it was also so egregiously girly that some would consider it over-the-top.

Even for a world where magic existed, her outfit looked like it had come straight out of a fairy tale. And it wasn’t just her clothing—her expression looked unnatural, too. Her bloody surroundings made the broad smile on her face come across as warped and twisted.

The girl innocently extended her pale hand.

“I’ll help you! I’ll help you, Elisabeth! I’ll help you meet the people you care about!”

“…Who the hell are you?”

Elisabeth’s reply was concise. The girl gave her a blank stare. However, after pulling herself together, she grasped the hem of her skirt and gave an adorably awkward bow.

“That’s right; I have to introduce myself first. That’s what you did. So I should do the same. My name is Alice Carroll. I am the ideal girl of men and the sinful harlot who deserves to be stoned. However, that’s the name Father gave me and the words I thought up. My real name, the one I lost, is Sara Yuuki.”

“Sara Yuuki? Wait… That strange pronunciation…that self-introduction… No, you can’t be—”

“You’re the Torture Princess, so… Yes, it would be strange to be the same. Being the exact same would be odd. So as someone who was reincarnated, I suppose I should say it like this: I am…”

The girl let out an amused chuckle.

And with purity in her voice, the girl—the one unburdened by that world’s original sin—made her proclamation.

“…the Torture Princess from Another World. The Fremd Torturchen, if you will.”

Thus the curtain rose on a new stage.

The performers, who’d finally found peace, were given no say in the matter.

“The Fremd Torturchen? A new reincarnation?”

Elisabeth verbally reviewed the astonishing information. So someone had reincarnated other than Kaito Sena. And there was a Torture Princess other than herself—Elisabeth Le Fanu—and Jeanne de Rais.

But combining the two defied every shred of logic in the world.

Such a being should not exist.

Elisabeth was struck by a sensation much like vertigo. However, she quickly pulled herself together.

After forming a small vortex of darkness and flower petals, she thrust her hand in and withdrew a long sword. The inscription carved on its crimson blade flashed as she cried out its name.

“Executioner’s Sword of Frankenthal!”

In short, she was completely rejecting Alice’s greeting. However, the girl in question didn’t seem offended in the slightest. She merely broadened her smile. Beside her, the man placed a finger on his jaw and stroked the line where mask met flesh.

“You are free to act as you will. But pray that God shall be your salvation. For the beginning, the middle, and the end all lie in the palm of His hand. Its appearance and inscription match the report to a T. It’s odd, though—I’ve never seen it in person before, yet somehow, it feels like I have.”

“Ah, you know of my sword. But a thousand reports will tell you nothing of the sting of its blade. Come, then, have your fill of it. ’Tis an honor rarely granted to fools such as yourself, but I’m prepared to make an exception.”

Elisabeth spat out a naked threat, to which the man in black nodded with a strange, scholarly composure.

Then he retreated a step and gave Alice’s back a little push. Her cheeks flushed scarlet as she stepped forward.

“Father? I can go? Really and truly?! Yippee, I’m so happy!”

“Pendulum!”

Elisabeth pointed at the ceiling, immediately launching her attack.

Darkness and flower petals swirled up high. Then a massive sickle-and-chain shot out from the black and crimson. Thanks to the momentum from its fall, the blade swung backward. Right before it hit the wall, though, the fiendish Pendulum stopped and swung back the other way.

In other words, straight for Alice.

It accelerated toward her at a far greater rate than gravity should have allowed. A number of chains shot at her back, too. Then Alice Carroll was impaled between the two—or rather, she should have been.

Yet no spray of blood filled the air. Everything was just still and quiet. Elisabeth frowned.

Out of the blue, Alice and the man had vanished from atop the stairs. A large black egg sat in their place. Its sleek shell seemed to have repelled all the attacks. Then a young voice echoed from within.

“Humpty Dumpty—once it breaks, ‘all the king’s horses and all the king’s men can’t put it back together again.’ But it won’t break unless it ‘has a great fall.’”

“Hmph. A rhyme I’ve not heard, and a most peculiar rule. Influence from your original world, I take it?”

“Yeah, that’s right. There’s this story, see, and I used it as a base for all my Fremd Torturchen— H-hey, you startled me! What did you go and do that for?! That was too— Eek!”

Alice let out a little shriek—the egg had just risen into the air atop a stone Pillory.

Elisabeth had completely abandoned the device’s intended purpose and was instead using it to give the egg its prescribed “great fall.”

Alice looked decidedly alarmed. She and the man burst out of the shell. The chains attempted to follow them, but Alice repelled the attack with a spray of flower petals. The man remained calm throughout, but Alice’s eyes soon grew wide.

Elisabeth had prepared a mountain of pins at their landing site, too.

“Just let the skewers run you through and be done with it.”

“Huh? What? Pins, too? Eeeeenough already!”

But the moment before Elisabeth’s lethal trap came to fruition, Alice drew a circle. Hers wasn’t made of darkness and flower petals; it was just a black disc, like a rabbit hole. She drew a checkered tablecloth like one might use for a tea party from within it, then draped it gently over the needles. The ground beneath returned to its original flat state.

Alice and the man landed with a thump. As she caught her breath, she wiped away beads of cold sweat.

“Pant, pant… Now, listen here, Elisabeth. You’re waaaaaay bigger than me, so I think surprise attacks like that are quite unbecoming of a lady like you. Didn’t your father ever scold you and tell you it was uncivilized? Wha—? Hey! I’m trying to talk to you!”

“Scold me? To the contrary. My foster father, for one, is a brute who’s rather fond of surprise attacks himself… My, my… You blocked my strike with your bare hands? Your words may be dull, but your reactions are quite another story.”

“Oh, are you mocking me? Or are you complimenting me?”

“Both, much as the latter pains me. Fool.”

Elisabeth clicked her tongue as she attempted to put more strength behind her sword swing.

The moment Alice landed, Elisabeth had dashed up the stairs and tried to lop her head off. But Alice had caught the deadly blow with one hand. And after the Pendulum made its way back after bouncing off the egg, she blocked it in the same manner as well.

At the moment, Alice was perched on her tiptoes and grabbing a blade in each hand. Amusingly, her entire body was trembling. Less amusing, however, was the complete lack of openings in her defense.

Her technique defied all reason.

“Hmph.”

Elisabeth let go of Executioner’s Sword of Frankenthal, then kicked off the edge of its handle and somersaulted backward through the air. After landing halfway down the stairs, she leaped back once more and returned to her original position.

Alice continued smiling. She made no efforts to pursue. Elisabeth thought back to the girl’s introduction.

Fremd Torturchen, eh.

Apparently, that had been more than just a sick joke.

That was what made it all so nightmarish.

Now then… What to do…?

Elisabeth shot a glance behind her. Lute and the rest of his men were frozen in shock.

They were doubtless still trying to process the combination of the grisly spectacle, the imperial princesses’ deaths, and the man’s speech. After making sure Alice wasn’t readying a follow-up attack, Elisabeth snapped her fingers. Her sword, which Alice was still clutching in her hand, burst back into flower petals.

Suddenly, Alice stuffed them into her mouth. She licked her lips, spreading blood all over them.

It was like looking at a cat who’d just eaten a mouse.

“Mmm, it’s sweet! It tastes like dessert. Yeah, like cookies and candy! Sugar is so expensive in this world, though… Say, what kind of dessert do you like best, Elisabeth?”

“What are you people aiming to achieve?”

Alice seemed to be babbling, so Elisabeth ignored her and directed her question at the man.

She’d noticed something out of place during their exchange of blows. Compared with the demon contractors she’d fought in the past, there was something decidedly unnatural about the man. It wasn’t that he looked like a good person, per se.

It was that he looked downright absurd.

He seems oddly calm, yet that alone is nary the half of it. The look in his eyes is one I’ve not often seen.

The man’s eyes were cold and hollow. It was like someone had drained all the emotion from them. He wasn’t relishing his current situation, and none of the death and pain he’d caused seemed to delight or excite him in the slightest.

Given the grisly spectacle he’d created, that fact was peculiar in the extreme.

The man offered no answer. Elisabeth pressed on.

“You realized that ‘by summoning from another world a soul that’s accustomed to pain, placing it in an immortal body, making it form a contract with a demon, and giving it the heart of an individual who’s ingested demon flesh and accumulated a massive amount of pain, it’s possible to artificially create an entity capable of revolutionizing the world.’ So, what, your aim is revolution, then?”

“What an odd question. In fact, I don’t understand why you would ask something like that. Why would I go to such pains to create a revolutionary, if not to start a revolution?”

The man raised an eyebrow. Nearly landing on a bed of pins hadn’t so much as fazed him, but the stupid question seemed to have rubbed him the wrong way.

Elisabeth nodded. There was a logic to that. Yet due to the peculiarity of the man’s demeanor, she had to ask. As far as she could tell, he had nothing in the way of passion or avarice. Whatever drove him, it almost certainly wasn’t ambition or lust for power.

Frankly, ’tis ludicrous for a man such as him to speak of revolution.

Scorn filled her thoughts as she began laying out her endless list of questions.

The man’s goal was to “revolutionize the world.” However, it was unclear what specifically that entailed. Furthermore, he seemed utterly devoid of passion, making it unclear what had driven him to assassinate the imperial princesses. And also, it was a mystery why he hadn’t long since fled the scene.

Hoping to get some light shed on those points, Elisabeth opened her mouth to speak.

The moment she did, though, a low voice sounded from behind her.

“…And that’s why you cut those two down?”

“Lute, it gladdens me that you’ve finally joined us. But for now, calm yourself. The situation calls for discretion.”

“You killed our noble princesses for the sake of some flimsy, fleeting whim?!”

Lute bellowed, his rage flaring up like an inferno. Elisabeth, still facing forward, extended an arm to the side to prevent him from charging. He let out a low growl after just barely stopping in his tracks.

The man in black cocked his head to the side a little. In what appeared to be a habit of his, he stroked his jawline.

“There seems to be a misunderstanding. Allow me to amend it. It wasn’t just ‘those two.’ Alice…how many was it again?”

“A hundred and eighty-seven, Father! Including the fox’s twenty attendants!”

Alice replied in a lively tone. The man praised her by stroking her cheek.

A hundred and eighty-seven, including the fox’s twenty attendants.

What do those figures mean?

Elisabeth frowned. The words had an ominous ring to them, but she couldn’t figure out what they meant. Behind her, though, Lute and the rest of her men gasped. This time, it would appear they’d landed on the answer first.

“A hundred and eighty-seven…including twenty… But that’s…”

“What is it, Lute? What are you all…? What’s got you all so shaken?”

“A hundred and eighty-seven—not counting us, that’s the number of staff who was working here at Lady Vyade Ula Forstlast’s primary residence.”

One of her subordinates, a dog-headed beastman who was quite proud of his short, black-and-white-spotted fur, filled her in. He was often lauded for his composed temperament, but now even he was speaking in a trembling voice. Elisabeth swiftly turned to the man in black.

He gave her a leisurely nod, then elaborated in an unsettlingly calm tone.

“Your men are impressively quick on the uptake. It’s a rare blessing, being able to think so clearly under such adverse circumstances. They’re absolutely right—the only ones on the premises still living… No, let me amend that. The only ones we let live were you, Peace Brigade Captain Elisabeth Le Fanu, and the men accompanying you.”

In other words, everyone but them…had been massacred.

It was only then that Elisabeth Le Fanu finally understood.

The situation they’d been placed in was far, far grimmer than she’d imagined.

They slew everyone in the residence, many of them skilled military veterans, without my even noticing it? A sick joke if ever there was one! And yet…

Elisabeth pressed down on her temple. The man certainly didn’t seem to be lying. Try as she might, she couldn’t sense anyone besides them in the building. And at any rate, he had little to gain from deceiving her and her men.

Given the situation, there was no logical reason to doubt the man’s grisly proclamation. Elisabeth dispassionately acknowledged that fact.

The moment she did, a series of faces flickered through her mind.

The cook who prepared her basket each morning. The lady-in-waiting who tidied her room so diligently. The soldier who came to her when he needed training advice. Now, Elisabeth hadn’t been particularly close to any of them. The Torture Princess was a peerless sinner—she never knew when the world would turn against her once more, and because of that, she avoided ever getting too close to anyone.

But even so, between Vyade the Wise Wolf’s influence and the debt they all felt toward Kaito Sena, the beastfolk were all exceedingly polite and friendly to her. They had worn smiles in every memory she had of them.

Every day, she’d been surrounded by friendly faces.

Yet now…most of them are dead.

They hadn’t even gotten a chance to say good-bye.

And now they would never speak again.

Elisabeth felt a faint pang in her chest. However, she quickly made sure to crush that frail sentimentality.

In the past, she herself had piled corpses as high as the eye could see. It would be the height of absurdity for her to be shaken by them now. And neither grief nor remorse was going to help them out of their current predicament.

’Twas a stroke of good fortune that Vyade dispatched her healers across the land as part of her charity initiative… ’Tis a useful group of people we avoided losing, Lute’s wife among them.

Elisabeth silently thought of the survivors.

All the while, the beastfolk in attendance trembled. They’d been quick to grasp the situation, but doing so had given them such a shock that it had frozen them in place all over again. However, their rage was sure to surpass their shock and boil over before long.

The man in black, on the other hand, casually went on, not showing the slightest hint of remorse.

“I see you gentlemen understand the situation correctly. However, I do ask that you amend your ‘flimsy, fleeting whim’ comment—although, I will concede that the trials you’ve overcome were most noteworthy.”

“That’s right! Like a hero from a story, and the native people who fight alongside him!”

“Alice, if you really want to become a proper lady, you’re going to have to learn to control yourself. I’m talking right now, and it’s rude to interrupt. Do you understand?”

Upon being scolded by the man in black, Alice puffed out her cheeks, then began spinning in circles instead. Her blue dress flared out around her like a blooming flower. The man, leaving her to her strange devices, went on.

“The first trial was when the fourteen demons, led by Vlad Le Fanu, rose up against you. The second was the advent of the Torture Princess. The third—ironically brought about by her actions leading to Vlad’s successful capture—was having to subjugate the thirteen demons after they scattered and fled. And the fourth was avoiding the world’s orchestrated demise. Your efforts in each of those grand battles were noble enough that even I find myself forced to acknowledge them. My actions today, disgraceful and violent though they may be, served a crucial purpose. You see, while you all were fighting for salvation in the light, a tragedy bleak enough to warrant revolution was playing out in the background.”

“I see. ’Twas most illuminating. I now know that, much like Vlad, you’re a tad too fond of the sound of your own voice. Just get to the point and say what you’re trying to say, damn you!”

If Vlad were present to hear that, he would doubtless go on a long, pointless diatribe about how the comparison was unjust, thereby immediately proving it. However, Elisabeth swiftly banished the image of her foster father that had welled up in her mind on its own accord as she gave voice to her candid anger.

The man stroked the border between his mask and his jaw, then nodded with the same unshakable composure as always.

“I acknowledge that I’m not being very specific. Do understand, though, that that’s somewhat intentional. In order to discuss particulars, we should first change locale. That’s related to why I left you alive, Elisabeth Le Fanu. We see you as someone important for us to talk to.”

“…‘Someone important for you to talk to’?”

Elisabeth scowled. Those were hardly the words she’d expected to hear from the man who’d massacred her beastfolk comrades. Alice, not noticing Elisabeth’s contemptuous gaze, hopped up and down like a white rabbit.

“That’s right, that’s right! We wanted to talk to you! Because I think we can understand each other, see? I told you, didn’t I? I’ll help you meet them! You can count on us, you know. ’Cause, ’cause Father and I are amazing! I promise, you’ll be able to meet with the people you care about!”

“That’s twice now, Alice. Control yourself already. I’m talking right now, and besides…”

The man scolded Alice once more. Elisabeth bolted toward them.

“Umm,” Lute tried to interject, but the man went on matter-of-factly.

“…hearing you say that will do nothing but send Elisabeth into a rage.”

Elisabeth drew Executioner’s Sword of Frankenthal as she dashed forward.

Then she brought it down on the man’s neck.

“—What do you aim to do?”

As her question rang out, so too did a high-pitched metallic noise. The darkness had exploded out once more to block Elisabeth’s blade.

If this guard had been thrown up a second slower, the man’s head would have gone flying through the air. It was a splendid display of defensive talent, to be sure. Yet the one who’d summoned the darkness, Alice, seemed completely dumbfounded. She must have acted on reflex alone.

“What do you aim to do to Kaito?”

Elisabeth continued pressing down with her sword. The darkness creaked. Thinking it an opening, the Peace Brigade’s coyote-headed rookie cried, “Captain!” and rushed forward. Wanting to back her up, he took his first step up the stairs—then abruptly recoiled with his tail balled up. Elisabeth’s murderous aura was simply that intense.

There was only one person the Torture Princess cared enough about to be worthy of being described as such.

Well, technically two. But at the moment, the two in question were inseparable.

Aye, like a single, tender being.

Elisabeth had no intention of allowing anyone who planned on bringing them harm to continue living. And when dealing with a would-be agitator, she had no intention of living up to the moniker of Torture Princess. The punishment for that particular crime would be swift, capital, and absolute.

It didn’t matter if she fully understood the situation or not. Beyond the darkness, the man spoke freely.

“Your anger is legitimate—I fully endorse it. The way that information was laid out didn’t take your feelings into account in the slightest. I do beg your pardon for that. Alice, you were in the wrong there. Apologize.”

“Wh-whaaaat? B-but, Father, she just tried to kill you! Yet I’m the one who has to apologize? That can’t be right. Why, it’s wrong as wrong can be!”

“That was one thing, and this is another. When you do something wrong, you have to apologize. So apologize.”

The man’s voice left no room for argument. Alice clutched the hem of her skirt. Her lips trembled, but she did bob her head downward. The white ribbons on her blue hat, which resembled rabbit ears, flopped forward.

“I’m sorry, Elisabeth. It was all my fault. Please forgive me.”

“A fine jest, coming from you.”

Elisabeth spat out the words, but in truth, her homicidal inclinations were dampened a good deal. Insipid as it was, the other two were both serious. It may have looked like a comedy routine, but they were being quite earnest.

In particular, the man’s admonition that “when you do something wrong, you have to apologize” had come from the heart.

Ergo, he considers his massacre here and his murder of the imperial princesses to be in the right.

The man’s thought processes and morals were fundamentally broken. That was all too clear to her now. Meanwhile, the man in question was putting his earnestness on display and covering for his indelicate ward. His voice sounded out from lower down.

It would seem that he, too, was bowing.

“And there you have it. Could you find it in your heart to forgive her? I do hope we can see eye to eye here. All Alice said was that she wants to help you meet them. Please don’t misunderstand her. I promise you, it’s nothing like what you fear. All we want is to reunite you with them, and by all accounts, that’s something you seem to want quite a bit.”

“I’ll ask that you kindly refrain from assuming you know what I want. ’Tis aggravating.”

“A tragedy is a tragedy, Elisabeth Le Fanu—but it doesn’t have to end as one.”

…What?

The man’s appeal was sincere, but Elisabeth furrowed her brow. Something about it seemed off.

Emotion had begun creeping into his voice at some point. There was something unsettling about that sudden shred of humanity, but it was gentle and honest, too. And what’s more, his heartfelt tone stirred something in Elisabeth’s memory.

It reminded her of someone else, whether she wanted it to or not. And the moment she realized who, she froze.

Of all people, ’tis…!

Kaito Sena.

That was who the man’s tone reminded her of. That sincerity, backed with compassion and empathy for the powerless, was just like his. It was a voice that only someone with deep, deep wounds could possess. But that didn’t explain why he was using it now…

“You would speak to me in that tone of voice?”

“Of course.”

The man made to continue but paused at the last moment. For the first time, he seemed to waver. The silence persisted.

“You will get mad, though,” he eventually murmured. However, he made up his mind and spoke.

“After all, Elisabeth, you’re weak, and you’ve had everything taken from you.”

“Hedgehog.”

The Torture Princess immediately snapped her fingers, and the hundreds of needles she launched at the man served as her reply.

An endless stream of metallic noises rang out. The darkness had repelled each and every one of Elisabeth’s needles. However, she’d expected as much.

The attack’s sole purpose had been to vent her rage. Unless she launched either a surprise attack or a repeated barrage of powerful blows, she suspected the darkness would hold. However, the latter was easier said than done. Letting the imperial princesses’ bodies get caught up in her torture devices wasn’t an option. The beastfolk held corpses in high regard, and with things as tense as they were, trampling on their culture would only make matters worse. Yet her rage refused to subside.

’Tis unacceptable… Utterly unacceptable!

Once all was said and done in the battle for salvation—

—what had Elisabeth Le Fanu been left with?

Posing that question to her was a taboo that must not be broken.

At the battle’s end, her fleeting, peaceful days had been taken from her. She wouldn’t admit it, but she had lost everyone she loved. But she herself had been rescued. The world had been saved. Everything had ended for the best.

And they all lived happily ever after.

The greatest good for the greatest number was, surely, the greatest outcome.

So what matter is it?

Elisabeth Le Fanu had been left with nothing. But to say she had had everything taken from her was a bridge too far. He had saved her. And because of that, she hadn’t had everything taken from her. She’d had everything given to her. That was what she’d forced herself to believe. For what other choice did she have?

If she didn’t, she’d be betraying his smile.

She’d be betraying that final expression Kaito Sena bore.

She replied to the man in a tone as cold as ice.

“You and I have naught to talk about—now, kindly perish.”

The man was on the other side of the darkness. He shouldn’t have been able to see what she was doing. Sensing an opportunity, Elisabeth pulled her sword close to her chest. Then she silently aimed its tip. After infusing it with her mana, she thrust it forward. The darkness shattered. However, she didn’t feel the soft give of flesh on the other side.

A metallic sound rang out, but it wasn’t that of sword on sword.

“Oh?”

“Please, Elisabeth, control yourself. You’re a proper lady, not a bad girl, right?”

Shards of darkness tumbled through the air like mirror fragments, and the other side came into view.

Alice, who appeared to have moved instantly, was standing before the man in black.

And she was holding, of all things, a teaspoon.

“I see, I see… Inane, aye, but deft nonetheless.”

Elisabeth gave a small nod. Alice had diverted her blade with the teaspoon’s curve. No normal piece of silverware should have been able to survive that blow. Alice’s white ribbons rustled as she looked up.

Her red eyes burned with a strange sort of irritation. She shouted loudly.

“If you keep being bad, I can’t invite you to my tea party! What are we to do? Oh, I have an idea! We can pluck off your arms and legs and leave just your mouth to talk with. I’ll even feed you cookies and tea myself. What do you say, Elisabeth? If you don’t want that, where’s your I’m sorry?”

“Ha, hearing an ill-mannered brat prattle on about ladies is fine humor indeed. I shall have you know, I’m no lady—and for all I care, you can take your cookies and tea and feed them to the pigs. Who would go to a party with the likes of you lot?”

“Why, you’re not even sorry! You’re not even sorry, Elisabeth! And after I apologized so nicely! That’s not fair! You’re supposed to be older than me! You’re supposed to be older, but you’re just being mean!”

Alice stamped her feet childishly. For whatever reason, the ribbons on her hat bristled up menacingly.

Elisabeth snorted once more. Tears welled up in Alice’s eyes, and she swung her teaspoon about.

“You’re a bad girl and a meanie! You know, Elisabeth, bad girls get shoved down in the tub, and beaten hundreds of times, and tied up with packing tape, and stuffed in garbage bags, and—and…all sorts of even worse things! And when that happens, no one will listen to you, no matter how many times you apologize!”

“Packing…tape? I’ve not heard of… Wait, no, don’t tell me…?”

Elisabeth furrowed her brow. The fear in Alice’s voice was real. Elisabeth opened her mouth, wanting to follow up on her train of thought, but before she could, Alice shouted once more.

“If you keep being like that, you’re going to die along with everyone else in the world!”

“I’m sorry to interrupt you when you’re having such a nice time with your prospective friend, Alice.”

The man in black suddenly admonished her. Alice puffed up her cheeks and looked over at him. It looked like tears of dissatisfaction might spill forth from her eyes at any moment, but the man pacified her with a glance. Then he gestured at something with his chin.

“But it’s time.”

Alice followed his eyes, then let out a small gasp. Elisabeth and the beastfolk were at a loss for words, too. For the person who’d grabbed the man’s wrist was someone none of them had expected.

“…Y-you’re kidding, right?”

“Oh, not in the slightest… As you can see…this…is no joke.”

Alice’s murmur elicited a quavering response. Each time the woman spoke, blood trickled through the thin cloth covering her chest, further staining her once-white fur. Her life was quite literally draining away before their eyes.

Yet she smiled at Elisabeth and her men all the same.

“For I…do yet…live.”

It was Vyade Ula Forstlast.

The second imperial princess whom they’d all written off as dead.