The dragon carriage rolled steadily along the highway toward the Royal Capital. Inside, the atmosphere was strangely peaceful.
Which felt entirely wrong. I had spent the last several days being stabbed by fate in increasingly creative ways; the universe suddenly deciding to give me a quiet carriage ride felt less like a reward and more like the setup for a particularly vicious punchline.
I sat across from Emilia, leaning heavily on my wooden cane.
The black-veined curse arm rested in my lap.
My left calf still ached despite the healing and treatment I'd already received.
Every movement reminded me that the Wolgarm incident had actually happened.
Yet, despite all of that... I won.
The thought appeared again for perhaps the hundredth time.
I actually won. No deaths. No loops.
No Return by Death.
No horrific suffering speedrun.
Arc 1 cleared.
Arc 2 cleared.
The village was saved, Rem trusted me, Roswaal was thoroughly annoyed, and the Gospel was practically smoking from pure, unadulterated confusion.
This was, without a doubt, the greatest achievement in human history.
A small, smug smile threatened to break across my face.
I suppressed it immediately. Prophets did not grin like idiots.
Emilia noticed anyway. "You seem happy."
I coughed lightly, adjusting my posture.
"A visionary occasionally enjoys seeing his predictions validated."
I am absolutely grinning internally.
Emilia smiled softly.
"I'm glad." Her expression shifted, though only slightly.
"But you've been pushing yourself too hard lately, Subaru."
I looked out the window, watching the green Lugnican plains roll by.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Rem, sitting beside her sister, immediately answered. "You collapsed twice yesterday, Subaru-kun."
"Those were strategic, tactical rests."
"They were not," Rem corrected gently, her eyes wide and earnest.
"They absolutely were."
Ram didn't even look up from her book. "Barusu-level denial."
"Why are you like this, Ram?"
"Ram asks herself the same question every morning she has to look at you."
I considered arguing, then realized there was no winning against Ram.
It was a deeply unpleasant discovery.
Across the carriage, Roswaal remained unusually quiet.
One gloved hand rested against his cheek, while the other loosely held a familiar black book.
Not openly.
Not obviously.
Just enough for him to occasionally glance downward at the pages. Reading. Checking. Waiting.
Still trying to figure out where I came from, huh?
Roswaal's smile widened slightly, his sharp, mismatched eyes sliding up to meet mine.
It was as if he somehow heard the thought—which was exactly the sort of creepy, boundary-violating thing Roswaal would do.
I immediately looked away. Nope. Not engaging with the clown today. The clown is a future problem.
The Royal Capital appeared shortly before noon.
Massive white walls, towering gates, and crowded streets welcomed us. Merchants, knights, nobles—thousands upon thousands of people moved through the city like a living river.
The moment the carriage came to a halt, Emilia stepped outside. I followed carefully, my cane striking the stone road with a quiet, deliberate rhythm.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
At least until my unresponsive right foot slipped slightly on a smooth cobblestone.
I recovered instantly, swinging my cane out to brace myself.
Nobody reacted. Excellent recovery. Olympic level.
Rem let out a soft, worried sigh. "You almost fell, Subaru-kun."
Traitor.
The group proceeded through the busy streets.
People recognized Emilia almost immediately; some offered respectful greetings, while others merely stared and whispered. I ignored them all.
I had bigger concerns. Such as surviving tomorrow, and eventually hijacking the Royal Selection without getting executed—a perfectly reasonable, modest life goal.
Then we passed a familiar fruit stand. A stand I knew all too well from my screen. I stopped.
I gave Kadomon, the muscular appa vendor, a slow, solemn nod. It was a calm, respectful, almost dignified nod. Like two mafia bosses acknowledging one another after surviving a brutal gang war.
Kadomon stared. He blinked, looked at my tracksuit, looked at my cane, and then awkwardly, hesitantly, nodded back.
I continued walking. The appa vendor watched me leave with a look of profound, soul-searching confusion.
"I don't think he knows who you are," Emilia whispered, leaning closer.
"Our relationships transcend mere introductions, Emilia."
"...What does that even mean?"
"Honestly? I have no idea."
"Lady Emilia."
The smooth, elegant voice interrupted us, and my soul immediately recognized the speaker.
Oh. What do I spy with my little eye.
A handsome knight approached us from the thoroughfare.
Perfect posture.
Perfect white uniform.
Perfect purple hair. Perfect everything.
The sort of man who probably woke up looking photogenic.
Julius Juukulius. The Spirit Knight. The future victim of Subaru Natsuki's worst public meltdown in some other, far stupider timeline.
Julius bowed flawlessly, then gently took Emilia's hand. "My apologies. It has been some time since we last met. Have you been well?"
I felt a tiny, weird spark of irritation in my chest.
A brief flash of protagonist-level jealousy trying to claw its way up my throat. The ancient, primitive instinct of: Why is this guy so effortlessly cool?
The feeling died instantly. Wait, not my problem. Don't care. I've clocked out of the romance plot mentally.
Emilia greeted Julius politely, and the conversation flowed smoothly until Julius's sharp yellow eyes finally drifted toward me.
The knight's gaze drifted downward, taking in the track jacket, the sweatpants, the cane, and the generally suspicious, unemployed-teenager aesthetic.
His expression remained polite, but only technically.
"An unusual companion."
I smiled back. It was my best, most emotionally bulletproof customer-service smile. "I hear that often, Sir Knight."
"And who might you be?"
I offered a shallow, respectful bow, balancing easily on my cane. "Subaru Natsuki. Strategist and Prophet to Lady Emilia."
Julius's brow furrowed slightly as he tried to reconcile my absurd clothes with my perfectly measured, formal tone. 'Strategist?'
"Among other things."
The knight's gaze lingered on the polyester fabric of my collar. "...Interesting attire."
There it was. The noble version of talking bullsh*t.
My smile widened slightly. "Thank you."
"I wasn't complimenting it."
"I know."
Julius paused. A tiny, microscopic crack appeared in his flawless aristocratic composure.
I decided to press the advantage, not out of malice, but simply because it was incredibly funny.
"Though, if I may, I would advise caution today, Sir Julius."
The knight tilted his head, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his knight's sword. "Oh?"
I nodded solemnly, tapping my temple. "I'd strongly advise against eating curry udon while wearing that pristine uniform today."
"...Excuse me?"
"The udon curry stains would be terribly prominent, and it would be a shame to ruin such a nice coat."
Silence.
Complete, absolute silence descended upon the busy Capital street.
Emilia looked confused.
Rem looked confused.
Even Ram looked like she was trying to calculate the linguistics of what I had just said.
Julius looked like someone had abruptly switched his reality's channel without warning.
I maintained perfect, unbothered eye contact, my retail-worker smile never wavering.
For the first time in his life, the Spirit Knight had been completely derailed by corporate-mysticism energy.
"Have a wonderful afternoon, Sir Julius," I said cheerfully, pivoting on my cane. "Emilia, shall we?"
The Karsten Estate was considerably larger than I expected.
Which was impressive, because I had fully expected an "obnoxiously large noble mansion."
Instead, I got a sprawling military fortress politely pretending to be a house.
Knights stood guard throughout the grounds, and servants moved with practiced, terrifying efficiency.
Inside the quiet reception room, introductions proceeded quickly.
Wilhelm van Astrea observed me quietly from the corner, like a retired, battle-scarred wolf evaluating a particularly strange, track-jacket-wearing squirrel.
Then, the final member of our medical appointment arrived. Light brown hair, cat ears, and boundless, skipping energy. Felix Argyle. Ferris. The Blue Mage.
"Oh myyyy~" Felix immediately skipped over and grabbed my face, his cat eyes scanning my features from inches away. "You're the patient Lady Emilia was so worried about?"
I blinked, trying to lean away. "I wasn't prepared for physical contact."
"Nobody ever is!" Felix chirped, though his playful expression vanished the moment his fingers brushed my temples.
His feline eyes narrowed into pure, professional medical analysis. "Oh dear. You've really done a number on yourself, Subaru-kyun."
"That's been a pretty consistent recurring theme since I got here."
Felix didn't laugh. Which was deeply concerning, because doctors not laughing usually meant internal organ failure was on the table.
He guided me to a velvet couch and knelt before my injured leg. "Let's take a look at the damage, nya."
Felix placed his hands over my right calf.
Pure, vibrant blue mana began to gather around his fingers.
It didn't feel like Rem's soothing, cool water magic. This felt like thousands of microscopic electric shocks dancing directly under my skin.
Then—pain. Sharp, blinding, high-voltage pain shot straight up my spine.
"WHAT THE FCK?!" I wheezed, nearly launching myself through the ceiling.
"Oh, keep still! It just means the nervous pathways are waking up, nya!" Felix scolded, his hands glowing brighter. "Your muscles healed, but the nerve bridges were completely out. Ferris is just rebuilding them!"
The blue light spread deep into my calf. It was an incredible, overwhelming sensation—like a dead, frozen system suddenly rebooting and connecting severed wires back to my brain.
Within minutes, the agonizing friction vanished. Felix stepped back, wiping his brow. "There! Done and done."
Slowly, carefully, I rose to my feet. I put my full weight onto my right leg.
My eyes widened.
No weakness.
No structural lag.
No sudden collapse.
My weight rested perfectly on my calf.
For the first time since the Wolgarm attack, my body obeyed me instantly.
HOLY COW.
I can walk.
I can actually walk!
MODERN MEDICINE IS PEAK!
Well.
Fantasy Healing.
Same Thing.
The wooden cane slipped from my hand, clattering harmlessly onto the velvet couch.
I took a step.
Then another.
No limp.
No pain.
Emilia let out a massive sigh of relief, her hands clasped together.
Rem's eyes shone with quiet, emotional gratitude.
Felix stretched lazily, his cat ears twitching. "And that's another successful treatment by Ferris~"
"You're a wizard," I breathed, looking down at my leg.
"Ferris is literally a water mage, Subaru-kyun."
"You're a wizard mage."
"That's just... being a mage twice."
I pointed at him dramatically. "Exactly."
Felix stared at me, his ears flattening slightly. "...You are very strange."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"I know."
For several glorious moments, life was perfect.
I could walk.
My nerves worked.
My mind was already racing, plotting exactly how I was going to use this newfound mobility to absolutely hijack the Royal Selection tomorrow and secure my comfortable, suffering-free life.
I got completely lost in my own genius, mentally reviewing the script, blissfully unaware of my surroundings.
But while I was busy celebrating my future meta-gaming victory, Felix's sharp cat eyes drifted downward.
Specifically, toward my left sleeve. Toward the wrist I had carefully kept covered.
His playful expression vanished. His ears twitched flat against his head.
Before I could even register the shift in the room's atmosphere, Felix's hand darted out and grabbed my left wrist with the firm, unyielding grip of a seasoned professional.
I blinked, snapped out of my internal monologue. "Wait, what—"
Felix ignored me, his fingers pulling my track jacket sleeve back.
The room fell dead silent.
The black, jagged, lightning-bolt veins of the dormant puppy curse were stark and ugly against my pale skin.
Felix's voice dropped its cutesy tone entirely, "...Why are you carrying an active Mabeast curse?"
Because it's an exploit! because it's dormant malware that will create a software conflict with future curses!
Unfortunately, those were not socially acceptable answers. I tried to deploy emergency diplomacy. "Ah, it's a funny story, really—"
"Subaru," Emilia whispered, her voice trembling.
"How long has that been there?"
"Uh. Three days. But I was monitoring the vitals! It's a load-bearing curse, you see, it's currently sealing my—"
Felix wasn't listening to my medical gibberish.
As a professional, his healer instincts simply took over.
He didn't ask for permission.
He didn't wait for a consultation.
A patient had a lethal parasite, and he was the doctor.
Pure, blinding blue light erupted from Felix's hand.
"Wait! Hold on! Perhaps we should discuss the narrative utility of—"
"Oh, don't worry," Felix said, offering a tight, professional smile that brooked absolutely no arguments. "This'll only take a moment."
"FELIX, NO! STOP—!"
I violently yanked my arm back, but Felix's grip was like iron.
Before I could shout another word, the blue light exploded into a blinding flood of azure mana.
Heat surged through my arm—not painful, but overwhelming, like absolute sunlight burning away frost.
The black veins writhed violently beneath my skin. They hissed, shrank, broke apart, and disintegrated under the sheer force of Felix's top-tier water magic.
My eyes widened in pure, unadulterated horror.
MY MALWARE! MY BEAUTIFUL, DEFENSIVE MALWARE! MY ENTIRE CURSE-BASED INVESTMENT PORTFOLIO!
The dormant curse fought back for approximately three seconds.
Then Felix Argyle reminded the universe why he was considered the greatest healer in the kingdom.
The battle ended instantly. The blue mana consumed the last of the corruption, leaving my skin perfectly clear.
The light faded. Silence filled the room. Felix released my wrist with a satisfied nod. "There. Fully purged, nya!"
I stared blankly at my arm. It was clean. Normal. Healthy. Completely devoid of the black veins.
My "vaccine" was gone forever. My soul briefly left my body, took a screenshot, and posted it on the afterlife forums.[1]
Emilia immediately grabbed my shoulders, her eyes full of tears. "Subaru! Are you okay? Oh, thank goodness..."
I stared into the middle distance, a part of my gamer heart dying.
No, I am not okay. Years of logic just watched my best defensive exploit get deleted by a well-meaning femboy-catboy.
Outwardly, however, I knew I had an audience. I couldn't break character now. I had to maintain the "Prophet" persona at all costs.
I forced a serene, wise, incredibly peaceful smile—the smile of a man who was absolutely not screaming bloody murder internally.
"Ah..." I said, slowly and dignifiedly rolling my sleeve back down. "I suppose the threads of fate determined I no longer needed to carry that burden. It could not be helped."
IT COULD ABSOLUTELY HAVE BEEN HELPED!
YOU CAT-EARED MENACE! YOU DELETED MY SAVED DATA!
I offered a polite, graceful bow. "Thank you, Ferris."
Felix blinked, staring at me with profound, deep confusion.
He had expected gratitude, relief, maybe even tears of joy. He had not expected whatever weird, cryptic philosophical damage I was currently radiating.
"...You're welcome?" Felix muttered, his cat ears twitching in bewilderment.
Emilia let out a long, relieved sigh, and Rem visibly relaxed beside her. Everyone in the room looked happier.
Everyone except me.
Goodbye, exploit, I thought, my heart weeping in the dark.
You died as you lived: questionably legal, and utterly unappreciated.
[1] Yes, I repeated the line from a past chapter.