The room settled.
Slowly.
Like reality itself needed a second to process what had just happened.
The shattered floor.
The cracked walls.
The very obvious signs that two monsters had briefly disagreed about personal boundaries.
And somehow—
Everyone was still alive.
Which felt statistically unlikely.
Rom sat against a wall, grumbling in the universal language of injured old men.
Felt was gone.
Elsa was gone.
The insignia sat quietly on the table like it hadn't just caused twenty-seven different problems.
And Reinhard?
Reinhard stood there looking perfectly normal.
Not tired.
Not scratched.
Not even mildly inconvenienced.
Like stopping a serial organ enthusiast was just cardio.
Honestly offensive.
I stayed on the floor.
Not because I wanted to.
My legs had simply filed a formal resignation.
Emilia crouched beside me.
Her silver hair shifted slightly as she leaned closer, purple eyes full of concern.
"Are you hurt?"
I opened my mouth.
Paused.
Thought about it.
"Physically?" I asked.
She blinked.
"...Yes?"
"Then surprisingly no."
Emotionally?
Mentally?
Spiritually?
My soul had just been folded into origami.
Puck floated down beside us, tiny paws crossed.
"Hm."
He narrowed his eyes at me.
"You look traumatized."
"That is because," I whispered, voice shaky, "I almost got murdered."
He tilted his head.
"Fair."
Emilia looked relieved.
Which somehow made me feel worse.
Because she was looking at me like I had done something brave.
I had not done something brave.
I had done something terrified.
Very different category.
Reinhard turned toward us.
Calm as ever.
Honestly, the man radiated emotional stability in ways that felt unfair to regular people.
"You acted quickly," he said.
I blinked.
"...Me?"
"Yes."
He said it so casually.
Like I hadn't spent the entire encounter one panic attack away from becoming decorative flooring.
"You protected the others," he continued. "That made a difference."
I stared at him.
My brain malfunctioned.
Because this was Reinhard van Astrea.
The human equivalent of New Game Plus.
And he was complimenting me.
Me.
A fraud prophet operating entirely on fear, anime knowledge, and confidence scams.
"Oh."
I looked away awkwardly.
"Well," I muttered, "I mostly just delegated."
Puck snorted.
"To Reinhard."
"EXACTLY," I said, pointing at him. "Because unlike a certain someone, I understand something very important."
Emilia tilted her head.
"What?"
I pointed dramatically toward Reinhard.
"If God sends you an overpowered redhead, you LET HIM HANDLE IT."
Silence.
Reinhard blinked.
Puck looked exhausted.
Rom actually laughed.
A short, rough sound.
"Kid's got survival instincts," he muttered.
"THANK YOU," I said immediately. "Finally. Someone understands."
Emilia covered a small smile.
Then—
Her expression shifted.
Just slightly.
Soft.
Curious.
Dangerously reasonable.
Uh oh.
Because I recognized that face.
That was the:
「I have questions」face.
And unfortunately—
The questions were valid.
She folded her hands together.
"Can I ask something?"
My stomach dropped.
Violently.
Like it saw the future and hated it.
"...Sure."
Her voice stayed gentle.
But focused.
"How did you know?"
There it was.
The problem.
The gigantic, unavoidable, lore-destroying problem.
Because from literally everyone's perspective—
I had appeared out of nowhere.
Knew Emilia's name.
Knew about the insignia.
Predicted Felt.
Predicted Elsa.
Summoned Reinhard like I had premium customer support.
And somehow survived.
That is not normal behavior.
That is suspicious wizard nonsense.
Puck floated closer.
"Oh good," he said. "I've been wondering this too."
Reinhard stayed quiet.
Which was somehow more intimidating.
Because polite silence from Reinhard felt like being observed by a very kind nuclear weapon.
My brain scrambled for options.
Truth?
Bad.
Lie?
Kinda Risky.
Half-truth?
Ah yes.
My favorite coping mechanism.
I rubbed the back of my neck.
"Okay," I said slowly.
"The answer is... complicated."
Puck narrowed his eyes.
"The answer better not be 'prophecy' again."
I pointed at him.
"You say that like it's not currently undefeated."
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Looked annoyed.
Because unfortunately for him—
I had evidence.
Emilia waited patiently.
Which somehow made this harder.
I sighed.
Then committed to the bit with the confidence of a man sprinting across collapsing bridges.
"I know things."
Puck deadpanned.
"Amazing explanation."
"No, listen."
I gestured vaguely.
"Think of me like... a very anxious guy with extremely cursed information."
Emilia blinked.
"Cursed information?"
"Like spoilers," I said automatically.
Everyone stared.
Right.
Fantasy world.
No internet.
No concept of spoilers.
Cool.
Awesome.
Fantastic.
I coughed.
"Uh. Future knowledge."
Reinhard finally spoke.
"Prophecy?"
I pointed at him instantly.
"THANK YOU."
Puck groaned.
"He's really committing to this."
"It is technically working," Reinhard admitted.
"I KNOW!" I said.
"That's the scary part!"
Emilia looked between all of us.
Still confused.
Still worried.
Still weirdly kind.
"...I don't really understand," she admitted softly.
"But you helped us."
And there it was.
The emotional damage.
Because suspicion?
I could handle.
Distrust?
Easy.
Kindness?
Absolutely devastating.
I looked down.
Suddenly very interested in the floor.
"Yeah," I muttered.
"Well... I didn't want anyone getting hurt."
That came out way more honest than intended.
Nobody said anything for a second.
Even Puck went quiet.
Then Reinhard nodded once.
A small thing.
But somehow reassuring.
"That is admirable."
I almost short-circuited.
Sir.
Please.
Do not say emotionally supportive things to me.
I am operating with the structural integrity of wet cardboard.
Then Puck floated near Emilia and whispered—
Not quietly enough.
"He's suspicious."
"I know," Emilia whispered back.
"Very suspicious."
"I know."
"Possibly lying."
A pause.
Then—
"I know."
Puck blinked.
That was not the response he expected.
Honestly?
Same.
And for some reason—
That scared me more than Elsa did.
Which felt unreasonable.
But in my defense—
Elsa wanted to stab me.
Emilia looked like she might trust me.
And somehow?
That felt infinitely more dangerous.
Because trust came with expectations.
And expectations?
Expectations got people killed.
Usually Subaru, which is kinda me in this world.
Rom groaned from the floor again.
"Kid."
I looked over.
He pointed a thick finger at me.
"You always this weird?"
I considered the question.
Very seriously.
"Unfortunately," I said, "yes."
He grunted.
"Checks out."
Puck floated in lazy circles.
Still suspicious.
Still judging me with the intensity of a tiny magical landlord inspecting property damage.
"So," he said, tail flicking, "you're telling us you conveniently knew everything?"
I raised a finger.
"Counterpoint."
He narrowed his eyes.
"I only knew enough things to almost die."
Reinhard nodded thoughtfully.
Which is—
Concerning.
Because I never knew whether Reinhard was agreeing with me or politely tolerating my nonsense.
"Your information was useful," he said.
"Even if its source remains unclear."
There it was.
The Reinhard version of suspicion.
Not hostile.
Just:
「I am respectfully observing your weirdness」
Honestly?
Could be worse.
Could be knives.
Emilia looked at the insignia resting quietly on the table.
Then at me.
Then back at the insignia.
"...You really saved it," she said softly.
I immediately pointed toward Reinhard.
"Correction."
I pointed toward Puck.
"Correction correction lil bro."
Then vaguely toward Rom.
"Team effort."
Then finally pointed at myself.
"I contributed approximately seventeen percent."
Puck snorted.
"Seventeen?"
"I am accounting for emotional support."
"You panicked."
"I panicked SUPPORTIVELY. Support is what makes you win MOBA games."
Rom laughed again.
Actually laughed.
A rough old-man laugh that sounded deeply unfamiliar to his lungs.
"I wonder what this 'MOBA game' you're talking of is but kid ain't useless," he muttered.
And for some reason—
That hit harder than expected.
Because nobody had called me useful yet.
Not here.
Not in this world.
I looked away before my brain could make it weird.
"Well," I muttered, "I tried."
Emilia smiled.
Small.
Warm.
Dangerously nice.
"You did more than try."
Emotional damage.
Critical hit.
Super effective.
Please stop being kind before I develop feelings of responsibility.
Reinhard stepped toward the table and carefully picked up the insignia.
Its glow flickered softly against his hand.
He turned to Emilia.
"This belongs to you."
She hesitated before taking it.
Like the thing had personally ruined her afternoon.
Which was—
Fair.
The moment her fingers touched it—
The insignia glowed.
Bright.
Silver light spilling softly into the room.
Everyone paused.
Even Puck.
Then—
Nothing exploded.
Obviously.
Emilia sighed quietly.
"...I'm glad it's back."
Puck floated beside her shoulder.
"And nobody got disemboweled."
A beat.
He glanced at me.
"Mostly."
I instinctively held my chest.
"Please don't say things like that."
My organs had already been through enough emotionally.
Reinhard turned back toward me.
And suddenly—
I got nervous.
Because that expression?
That calm, polite, impossibly composed expression?
That was the:
「Important Conversation Incoming」face.
"You don't seem to have anywhere to go," he said gently.
My stomach dropped.
Because unfortunately—
He was correct.
I had exactly:
Zero money.
Zero house.
Zero plans.
And approximately one functioning survival strategy:
Find stronger people and emotionally attach yourself to them.
Which—
In hindsight—
Sounded dangerously close to becoming Subaru-adjacent.
Terrifying.
"I..." I stalled.
Great answer.
Fantastic.
Very informative.
Emilia tilted her head.
"You really are alone, aren't you?"
And there it was.
The sentence.
The one sentence guaranteed to do psychic damage.
Because technically—
Yeah.
I was alone.
Wrong world.
No family.
No home.
No internet.
No toilets I trusted.
And absolutely no Return by Death.
The funny disappeared for a second.
Just a second.
"...Yeah," I admitted quietly.
The room went still.
Ah.
Cool.
Accidental vulnerability.
Love that.
Hate that.
Puck's expression shifted slightly.
Less suspicious.
More thoughtful.
Which somehow scared me more.
Emilia looked genuinely upset.
"Oh."
Just one word.
But somehow packed with enough sympathy to cause emotional instability.
Reinhard folded his arms.
Thinking.
Very dangerous.
Because when powerful nice people started thinking—
Things happened.
Usually life-changing things.
"I cannot leave someone vulnerable after tonight," he said.
Alarm bells.
Immediate alarm bells.
Danger.
Threat level: kindness.
Because I recognized this trope.
This was how protagonists accidentally got adopted.
"I'll arrange somewhere safe for you to stay."
Silence.
My brain blue-screened.
Excuse me?
WHAT?
Puck blinked.
Emilia brightened immediately.
"Oh! That's a good idea!"
No.
No no no.
This was moving too fast.
I had known these people for—
What?
Three hours?
Four?
One attempted murder?
That's not friendship.
That's trauma networking.
"I—"
My voice cracked.
"I don't want to be a burden."
I muttered in an attempt to NOT GO WITH THEM.
Reinhard looked genuinely confused.
"You helped save lives."
Emilia nodded immediately.
"Of course we wouldn't leave you alone."
Puck floated lower.
"...Also, if you die somewhere stupid after all this, it'll be annoying."
I pointed at him.
"That is the meanest form of concern I have ever experienced."
"It's still concern."
He wasn't wrong.
Which somehow made it worse.
And then—
Like a delayed meteor strike—
A thought hit me.
Hard.
Wait.
Safe place?
Stay somewhere?
Somewhere connected to Emilia?
My blood ran cold.
Because my brain finally caught up.
Arc 1 was over.
Which meant—
Arc 2 existed.
The mansion.
The maids.
The curse.
The dog.
The dying.
The paranoia.
The horrifying realization that Subaru spent multiple loops getting violently murdered just to understand what was happening.
And me?
I had exactly—
ZERO LOOPS.
I stared into the middle distance.
My soul quietly exiting the building.
Emilia noticed immediately.
"...Are you okay?"
No.
Absolutely not.
Because if Arc 1 was the tutorial—
Arc 2 was Murder Mansion Simulator.
And Reinhard wasn't a permanent party member.
I swallowed.
Hard.
Then whispered to myself—
"Oh no."
Puck's ears twitched.
"...Why do I suddenly feel like he remembered something terrible?"
Because I had.
And unfortunately—
The terrible thing had pink hair.
And blue hair.
And access to kitchen knives.