This part covers the remainder of the ninth volume of the original “Re:Zero” novels.
In the previous part, a maimed, dickless protagonist attempted to kill himself, but everyone around him wants to force him to live. He tastes Emilia’s snot.
GPT-3 is a cutting-edge language processing algorithm used in the premium version of the online site AI Dungeon.
Your consciousness, everything remaining of you that knows you need to hold on to your goal and keep going, is a little boat bobbing in a red tide of pain. You don’t know for how many minutes you have lied on your back, resting your head on a few pillows, as you concentrated on the noises Emilia made as she turned around on the bed or her breathing patterns changed. Every time you had thought she was going to drift into deep sleep, she snapped out of it, and sometimes she even asked you to confirm if you were still there. She seemingly had signed on to a life of constantly fearing you are going to leave her behind to die. Fortunately for her she won’t have to remain in such a nightmare for much longer.
It feels like the same time of the night you used to wake up at every two days for so long. Or maybe you just want to feel like you can start again. You have been listening to Emilia’s deep breathing for some time, and you won’t have many other opportunities to escape from all the people who intend to keep you alive against your will.
You descend from the bed as slowly as if you were sharing your bed with a sleeping bear. When you let your body rest on your stumps, the nerve endings sizzle with pain, forcing you to clench your teeth and shiver. Sharp, shooting pain like abscessed teeth. You grab your crutches and alleviate your body’s weight a little, although the cold sweat has already come, and your body demands that you turn back and lie on the soft mattress. You venture towards the door fearing any creak of the floorboards. You would have thought that after all the nonsense you have been engaged in, like attacking a whole branch of a terrorist group, handling a psycho cat-girl who could have blown you up at any moment, and defeating an ancient ghost inside your mind, dealing with opening a door wouldn’t make you so dizzy, nor your heart beat so fast.
The light of the full moon illuminates the hallway. You close the bedroom door behind you slowly, and when the door latch enters its hole, you take a moment to control your breathing and return the saliva to your mouth. You hadn’t understood how exhausting it is to fight pain. You thought you had an idea, but not remotely to this extent. It feels as if staying sane while these waves of pain engendered in the mangled lower half of your body besiege your mind is a full-time job with unpaid overtime.
You push forward through the hallway towards the entrance. Along the way you trip and fall forward onto the carpet, and the thud sounds so loud in the silence that you are sure it must have woken up every inhabitant of this mansion. Wilhelm will exit his room, where he likely sleeps standing up and with his eyes open, and will storm through the hallways until he finds you. He will imprison you in you assigned room, or maybe throw you straight in the dungeon.
As you pass in front of the half-open doors to the kitchen, you spot through the glass panes that Ferris is slumped on a chair, bathed by moonlight. She has changed her clothes to a tank top that shows her flax-colored soft fur covering her arms and most of her chest, and she’s also wearing something resembling pyjama pants. She is sipping on fruit juice. What stops you on your tracks are her eyes. She’s got the thousand yard stare of a traumatized veteran.
She suddenly lifts her gaze and it connects with yours. Her eyes glint in recognition. You go cold. After a few seconds, Ferris lowers her face and takes another sip. You keep pushing forward.
After you maneuver to open the front door, as you are pulling it to close it behind you, you fall on the tiles leading to the entrance. You are already out. You hear a soft wind blowing and the grass of the vast yard rustling. Seemingly only Crusch’s carriages remain parked near the exit gate. All the merchants are gone, and the wounded that had been distributed in a large area deeper into the yard are gone, with only a few sheet bundles abandoned behind. Then you spot, faintly illuminated by the moonlight, the black frame of a curled-up ground dragon. The mansion’s staff must have tried to drive this beast away, but you had communicated to her, somehow, that she should stick around just in case you needed her. Such devotion and loyalty, when you truly have done nothing to deserve it, makes your eyes teary.
You’ve managed to close half of the distance with the ground dragon when she lifts her reptilian head, she shoots you a glance and then she jumps to her feet and runs towards you. She nuzzles your face, almost making you lose your balance. You hold one of the crutches sideways under your armpit and attempt to climb to the ground dragon’s saddle. Patrasche immediately throws herself on the ground so you won’t have to make so much effort.
As you hold both of your crutches under one armpit, because you fear abandoning them here only to need them later, you pull yourself onto the saddle. Although you end up resting what remains of your ass on it, the effort had sent an electric, nerve twisting pain running through your bowels. You go cold and hold your breath. For a moment you felt that something had ripped inside of you, but fortunately you only evacuate your bowels. What feels like plenty of mushy shit spreads between your ass cheeks, and presses against your flesh as your weight settles on the saddle. Then you smell it, the acrid, pungent stench of something like diarrhea, which somehow smells worse here than in a bathroom. Patrasche had already stood up, and bends her neck so she can shoot you a look. Her mostly inexpressive face doesn’t clarify if she’s staring at you appalled or concerned. Either way, the shame makes you want to cry.
“Sorry, girl. I couldn’t help it. It feels almost liquid, too. I hope it doesn’t run down the saddle.”
When you ride out of the mansion’s grounds as if you are suddenly travelling on a jet plane, you feel as giddy as you possibly can. You are mostly free. You can go where you need to. You doubt that random guards are going to stop you just because of your stench, so it should be a smooth escape from now on. Still, you try to put as much distance between you and the few couples walking under the lamplight. You failed to see one of those couples turning a corner, and the guy wonders out loud, somewhat amused, what’s with that smell, only to glance at you as you pass by and then they become overwhelmed by second-hand shame. It feels as if you are discovering whole new ways of hurting people, of ruining their days, of creating uncomfortable memories for them that they will regret owning. No matter, you repeat to yourself. In a few minutes you will find yourself floating in Satella’s black bath of love, and then she’ll listen to you as you plead for her ghostly self to send you back further in time. She loves you, she keeps repeating. She can do you that favor.
As you are riding through a poorly illuminated stretch of street, something the size of a small ball zips flies past your head, turns around and hovers in place. You order Patrasche to stop, and the pain delays you from recognizing that Puck is attempting to block your path, arms crossed, glaring at you furiously.
“What in the royal fuck is wrong with you!?”
You inspire through your teeth, suddenly angry. You have neither the time nor the wish to deal with this little punk.
“Wrong with me!?”, your voice cracks with raw emotion, and Puck’s eyes quiver in response. “You are a talking, flying cat! I’m on a schedule here! Don’t get in my way!”
His round, shiny eyes blink slowly, but his expression doesn’t change.
“Even when Emilia was a child, during the worst moments of her life, I didn’t witness her break down like this! All the work I have done since then, undone! You organized such an operation to save her, or claiming to, but you hurt her like this!?”
Patrasche has become agitated. She must sense the hostility of you both. She tries to bypass Puck, but he slides to the side so he keeps hovering menacingly close. You stroke the dragon’s scales to calm her.
“I kind of pity you, Puck, for having taken care of Emilia for so long. She clearly needs help, and not any kind that either me or a talking, flying cunt can provide.”
“You must think I’m joking around. Emi might never recover from this. I don’t know if you even believe in the nonsense you spouted about Satella sending you back to the past if you died or whatever, but it worked enough on her. She needs to believe that you wouldn’t ruin both of your lives for nothing! And what the fuck is that stench!?”
“I’m sitting on a cushion of near diarrhea, because I can barely feel anything in that area of my body ever since that huge dragon stomped me against the ground. Still, I would have thought that Ferris, claiming to be the best healer in the kingdom, would have done a better work than this. I swear that nasty cat-girl barely helped me, out of spite.”
“And you blame her!? Why would she waste her energies and her talents on someone who deliberately threw away his life, and a hard-earned victory, while spitting on the faces of everyone that liked him!? I would have left you back at the side of Flugel Road as carrion.”
You close your eyes tight. A steel-like hate is cooling your chest. This little shithead would fly away from any of your attempts to punch him or grab him, but you mainly fear the consequences of wasting your time here.
You order Patrasche to move past the hovering cat, but he shouts at you with a sharp voice and flies closer to your face. His cat eyes glisten with rage.
“You don’t seem to understand, kid, that I’m a great spirit.”
“So you keep saying. It can’t take much to be considered great in your realm.”
“Why, you… You should think twice about pushing me further, because you can’t imagine what I would do to you. I have protected Emilia from far lesser threats to her well-being than what you represent now, and I didn’t leave those people in pieces large enough for any burial!”
You perk up, and a noise of delight escapes your grinning mouth.
“That’s right! You can just kill me! Let’s go, then! I’ll dismount my ground dragon and send her home. I’ll stand there. You can throw one of those ice avalanche spells at me, freezing me instantly as I fly backwards against a wall, and then I’ll shatter into pieces! That will be so awesome. Thank you, Puck!”
The little cat deflates as if you found out he was going to play a terrible hand, but in addition he lifts his paws to stop you while you are trying to figure out how to dismount Patrasche without invoking more nightmarish pain.
“Why would you jump into certain death so willingly? Are you actually trying to die?”
Your heart is pounding against your chest. Another disappointment. Everybody just has to make your life harder, and can’t even do the one thing they should be able to. What a bunch of useless bastards.
“Actually!?”, you exclaim, your voice raspy out of agitation. “The fuck you mean actually!? Weren’t you snooping on the conversation between Emilia and me!? Are you that deaf, or stupid!?”
Puck laughs nervously, but he looks disturbed.
“C’mon, buddy, you can’t just give up like that. Having ruined your body must hurt a lot, but-…”
You clench your teeth while you feel your pulse in your temples.
“What the fuck would you know, Puck?”, you ask with a low, hollow voice. “Have you ever experienced inhabiting a physical body? I doubt you entertain yourself possessing people like that deranged freak Petelgeuse did, so really, what the hell would you know about the experiences us human beings go through? No wonder you keep fucking around as if we have all the time in the world to waste, with your disgraceful sloth.”
“I like joking from time to time… but this is serious…”, Puck murmurs while looking as if he has no clue how to handle you.
You want to keep berating the little cunt, but Patrasche is shifting her weight nervously. You wonder if she understands that you wish to die as soon as possible. The ground dragon might be the only living being that for you isn’t at fault for something right now. You lean forward to pat her neck, and Patrasche bends it so she can press her head against your shoulder, her snout almost smothering you as she makes comfortable noises with her throat.
“Yes, I know you’re nervous too, girl. Don’t worry, we’ll get out of this shitty situation soon.”
While stroking Patrasche’s neck, you turn your head to the side and spit out a small sigh through your teeth. You turn your attention back to Puck, who’s still looking at you with a worried expression.
“The only thing worse than how you have mangled your body is you dying”, the little cat says seriously, “Emilia can learn to endure your current state, and she might get some psychological benefit out of taking care of your useless self, maybe for the rest of your life, but if you die…”
“So you aren’t going to kill me?”, you interrupt him sharply.
“Obviously I can’t.”
“Fucking poser!”, you explode. “Pussy ass bitch!”
You hear voices coming from somewhere above you. A few of the inhabitants of the closest residential building to where you have ended up arguing with this bastard have opened some windows and are talking to each other with concern. You would have thought they would yell at you two to shut the fuck up and allow them to sleep, but they are staring at Puck as if they have never seen a flying, talking cat before. Your world is filled with half-beasts, some of which that devour other human beings, but they are surprised about Puck?
The little cunt hovers closer to your ear while eyeing the onlookers nervously.
“Hey, we are making too much racket around here. Let’s find somewhere quieter to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you, Puck. Fuck off.”
You order Patrasche to get moving, and shortly after the onlookers have disappeared behind a couple of buildings. You don’t like how in this new street the magical streetlights illuminate a larger stretch of it. You don’t want to see any light. You want to navigate in the darkness until you find the sharp instrument that’ll grant you your suicide.
Puck is keeping up with you, flying like a bird in formation.
“Stop following me, shithead!”, you shout without looking at him. “I have somewhere to get to!”
“I can’t let you die, Subaru.”
You shake your head. Hot tears are growing in the corners of your eyes.
“Everyone in this weird fantasy world, you are all fucking useless.”
A group of young people, somewhat inebriated, comment on your stench as you ride by. You yell back at them to shut the fuck up. They laugh and call you a crazy cripple.
“I can’t believe you are discarding Emilia’s feelings like this”, Puck says as if he’s thought about it for a while. “When I met you, you were dirt broke and with nowhere to fall dead. And you seemed like a good guy, helping Emilia with her huge problem. I don’t understand what would make you turn around when you are so close to living the life next to one of the sweetest, most beautiful girls around. You are better than what you are showing me.”
You order Patrasche to stop, and for a couple of seconds she drifts on the paved stones. You turn your head to Puck, who is hovering in place. Although your furious glare should already communicate that he shouldn’t push you further, you have a good bunch of stuff that you have wanted to tell him for a while.
“You are taking the high road!? You would destroy the entire world because of some fucking contract! You are ready to murder millions, maybe every single living being in this planet, if Emilia dies for whatever reason! You think you have any fucking justification to berate me, to question my actions!? You are a fucking lowlife!”
Puck’s cat face twists in a mix of shock and panic as he floats backwards.
“How do you… How would you be able…”
You keep glaring at him while breathing through your mouth. Shouting, letting your anger go, distracts your body from the waves of pain. Maybe you should have ran around while yelling like a maniac and punching every solid surface from the moment you woke up with your body ruined.
Puck turns his head to the side as if he’s thinking of what to do. He suddenly flies upwards and vanishes.
Patrasche keeps staring with suspicion at the space where the so called great spirit disappeared, but you stroke her rough scales and urge her to keep going.
“If we are lucky, that’s the last we are going to see of that little bastard in this reality”, you say with a hollow voice.
You finally reach the plaza from which you can see the governmental building, three stories high and with fancy arched windows, that during your long, self-imposed loop in which you did little else than fuck around and literally fuck around, had become your personal church. You stop Patrasche and look up at the building in reverence. Back in those days you had walked through the streets up to this plaza like a pilgrim. You used to have legs. Seeing the building again makes your chest fill with warmth. If you can get to that roof, in a couple of minutes you’ll be dead. You will have left behind this unacceptable world of a Rem that has fallen asleep forever, and this body that can’t walk by itself and that pisses and shits itself at will.
You guide Patrasche to stop next to the stretch of fence where you learned they hide a set of spare keys behind a loose stone in the short wall over which rises that wonderful fence, a top-notch suicide device. Bars of tough metal rise on an angle ending in spikes, and anything caught falling through them would be trapped in between only to get sliced by the unnecessarily sharp anti-trespass measure waiting at the bottom. The motherfucker who designed such a gaudy fence must have known exactly what he was doing.
It takes too much time, particularly when your body screams in pain that you should perish as soon as possible, to communicate to Patrasche that you needed to dismount her, grab the spare set of keys, mount her again, open the gate, close it behind you, and then move up to the side door. Behind that door wait the three flights of stairs that lead you to the roof access door.
When you dismount Patrasche again you realize two things: first, you will need to climb three flights of stairs while coordinating yourself on two stumps and the crutches, and second, that liquidy shit is dribbling down your thighs. You wonder if at the end of this, even if you die and recover your legs and your Rem, you will have regained your dignity.
Patrasche touches your face with her snout as you rest your weight on the crutches. She seems to know that you are about to leave, although you wonder how far she believes you are going. You are about to tell her to wait for you here, but this loyal beast is capable of remaining in front of this door for years after some unfortunate public worker removes your beheaded corpse off the ground. Your throat tightens, and you sniffle for a bit.
“I shouldn’t be so sad, when I’m about to see you in a little while. But maybe it’s true, all that stuff that Emilia said about this reality continuing on after I’m gone, and I’ll make you suffer through it. Find yourself someone else to care about, girl. I’m not worth it.”
You drag yourself up the three flights of stairs while your vision gets blurry from the effort, and get the key into the lock, opening the door that leads to the roof. When you emerge outside, you are blasted by a strong wind. It is colder than you expected, and your bones ache from the windchill. Your body is covered in sweat.
Even though the nerve endings in your stumps seem tired of sending you pain signals and have gone almost numb, what remains of the shit dribbling down your legs keeps dripping on the floor. You approach the point of the roof edge from which you’d just have to let yourself fall forwards. The bent ends of the fence below are like a lover opening her arms to you. Then you see her. Emilia is running right towards where you beheaded body would fall, and her long, silver hair is trailing behind. A shiver makes you tremble. You consider maneuvering to hide from view, but she is already staring up at you. How has she found you?
“Step back from the edge, Subaru”, Puck’s serious voice reaches you from behind.
You look over your shoulder, but the little cat flies in an arc until he hovers a couple of meters in front of you.
“You brought her over to watch me die?”, you ask with a thin voice. “You Machiavellian son of a bitch.”
“I told her to come so you will face the damage you will cause her. You are right, maybe I don’t really understand how it feels to have ruined your body to that extent. I will never know, thankfully, what it takes to keep going. And yet you must, because that sweet, loving girl down there will break if you throw yourself off this roof.”
You feel as if your heart is going to escape through your mouth. Against your best judgement you look down at Emilia. She’s holding her hands against her lips as in prayer, while her tears drip on her knuckles.
“Please!”, she pleads. “You told me you would sleep with me from now on! You agreed that I would always be with you! Please don’t do this!”
“You should know by now that my words don’t have any value, Emilia.” Although you tried to sound as calm as possible, your voice is trembling. “I just say things to free myself from undesirable situations. I’m a terrible human being, and you should have never cared about me to any extent.”
“No! You fought so hard to save me, and even when we didn’t know each other at all, you offered me your help! That’s who you are! Even if you are hurting, I will make it all better. I’ll find a way so you don’t feel that pain anymore, and you can rely on me for everything that your broken body won’t allow you to do anymore! I will always be there for you, so please!”
You swallow. There’s no point to these emotions. They don’t understand, they don’t know, and when you wake up back at Crusch’s mansion, none of this will have happened. Knowing that doesn’t stop your tears from falling.
“If you end up staring at a corpse, Emilia, find someone else to fill that gap in your heart.”
Emilia gasps. She lunges towards the side door for a moment, but she must have considered that as soon as she disappears from view she will hear the thud of your body hitting the ground. She jumps back to where she was standing before, and she puts her hands on her head as she stares at you with a horrible look of impotent despair.
“Subaru”, Puck says with a stern voice. He’s glaring at you as if he wants to stab you for every second of pain you are inflicting on Emilia. “I have no clue how you know what will happen if Emilia dies, and I know you won’t bother telling me now. But you understand what you would do to this world if you jump to your death.”
“No, Puck. What you would do. Not me.”
“It would happen nonetheless.”
“That’s how you justify your actions, your mass murder of millions? You are worse than Satella. You are certainly incapable of loving anybody.”
“It’s…” Puck bites his lips. “It’s for the best.”
“Best? That’s the best you have? At least Satella’s reasons are pure, even though the fucking idiot doesn’t understand the consequences!”
A gust of wind blows through your hair, and you hear nothing but the sound of a carriage passing by on a nearby street. Puck slides closer to your face. Judging from his expression, he seems to be at his wit’s end.
“I’m not bluffing here, kid. I can’t stop Emilia from killing herself if she wants to, and I have no doubt that she will if you die. She wasn’t exaggerating about all she said. She will love you, you know, to the end. You have to choose between freeing yourself from your pain, the extent of which I can’t properly understand, or condemning this world, including that innocent, wonderful girl down there, to death.”
“You don’t understand shit, but that’s alright.”
“Subaru, look at me. You live, and Emilia will care for you every day, she will tend to your every need, you will have her all for yourself. If you die, your spirit is most likely going to disappear into oblivion.”
“You people have no clue, and wouldn’t even if I could manage to explain myself entirely through this pain. You are such a bunch of fucking idiots who can’t understand nor make an effort to.”
Puck looks panicked. You guess that the so called great spirit doesn’t have the physical strength to restrain you in any way, nor the power to avoid killing you. What a pitiful bastard. You burst out laughing.
“What would you want?”, Puck asks with a shaky voice. “What would it take for you to step back from that edge?”
You speak as you continue laughing.
“A united world under one religion, a single strong man to head it who will rule with a fist of iron and pave the way for a new order. An end to the repression of the masses by the greedy nobles. A complete change in the culture and values of society. Castor oil replaced with pancakes and tea made from honey. That is my final wish.”
The little cat shivers, and his expression twitches under your gaze. You didn’t even impress me when you resurrected as a dozens of meters tall mountain of fur, right before the end.
“Puck, you useless cunt,” you say with rage, “you don’t know me at all. I will always do what is necessary, no matter the pain. It doesn’t matter if nobody else understands.”
You hunch over to look at Emilia. She’s sitting on the floor as if her legs just gave up, and her arms hang limp at her sides. Even though her watery eyes keep pleading, she knows.
“I do love you, Emilia. Not remotely as much as I love my Rem, but enough that I will face Satella over and over so one day you will live happy and free.”
You push yourself off the edge and drop the crutches. The way this wind rushes in your ears, along with the weightlessness of your body, feels like a return home. For a moment you wonder if you have misjudged the jump due to your mangled lower half, but as those spikes grow further apart in your field of vision, you know you have succeeded. You feel the thick metal clamping your neck, and then an orgasm of pain severs your head. The view, bathed in moonlight, twirls wildly. Something hits you on your left temple like a boxer’s punch, but before you know it you are resting on the gravel. You are free from having to command any part of your body under your neck, you are free from the onslaught of pain your useless body kept assaulting you with. You have won.
You know your consciousness will last a few seconds. Emilia is sitting a few meters from you, and her face is frozen except for her tears and the dribble of saliva coming out of a corner of her mouth. Her eyes stare at yours with no hint of life.
Once the blackness envelops you and Satella’s liquid-like love seeps through your pores, you do feel safe for a moment. Then it tastes differently, as if a stalkerish madwoman had bottled her vaginal juices after years of touching herself while thinking of you, and had forced you to bathe in it. The Witch of Envy, biggest whore in the universe, dispensing her love to any undeserving scum.
“Come already!”, you yell, or think, at the darkness in front of you. “I know you are there! Quit your fucking theatrics!”
Her claw-like hands, with the fingers outstretched, emerge out of the blackness, and the elongated arms follow them.
“If you love someone, you should fuck them,” you say, “not fuck them over. Why would you have sent me back to the carriage instead of to a moment when I could save the person I love? Or is that your…”
You don’t have a body, and therefore no pain that your nerves would insist on informing you about, but you figure that if you had, a chill would run from your head to your toes. Is that it, Satella? It must be. It’s your envy. You want me alive no matter how much this world insists on ruining me, but you can’t allow me to have someone that would love me like you do. No, who would love me like a living person is supposed to love another. You haven’t loved for real in four hundred years. No, knowing you as well as I do, you never had even when you breathed and your body hadn’t rotted.
Her glowing, purple eyes stare at you through a black mist.
“I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I lo-“
“Send me back to Crusch’s mansion like you used to do, Satella”, you order her. “You fucked me over willingly, didn’t you? Change it back.”
“I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I-“
“I know you understand me. The first time we met you said my name. Just that one time, but you showed your hand. If I’m truly your champion, your one beloved, you owe it to me.”
The Witch of Envy has tired of embracing you, and she lets you float in place while she begins to slide back into the darkness. She never reacted, she never answered. She loves because she needs to love.
“If I had arms,” you say, “I would reach you and strangle you. I would squeeze your ghostly life out of this place until we both disappeared.”
The sensations return to your brain like a big wave striking you against a wall. You feel the vibrations of the bench on your ass. The light of the rising sun oozing through your closed eyelids. The smell of grass and dirt gets stuck in your nose. Your head is resting on someone else’s, while a small, warm body hugs your right arm and rests its head on your flesh.
You open your eyes. In front of you there’s a line of kids and two male teenagers sleeping. You look down at your legs. They are there, they don’t hurt. You move your toes inside your shoes. You close your legs to squeeze your balls, which lift your penis. You feel hollow, as if you had woken up in a morgue after someone pulled out all your organs except for your brain.
You stand up slowly but forcefully, yanking your right arm out of the tween’s embrace. Emilia was saying your name only to break into a yawn. A nausea is rising to your throat as if all the acid in your stomach is fighting to escape your body.
You lunge towards the opening of the tarp in the back of the carriage. When Emilia raises her voice to question your action, you fall to the floorboards and grab the jutting board that separates the back of the carriage from the outside. Vomit gushes from your mouth and your nostrils.
Some kids say ‘eww’. You feel someone’s hand rubbing your back, and then sliding upward to caress your neck.
“No, don’t vomit like that, general!”, Otto’s concerned voice comes from the driver’s seat. “The ground dragons hate it when it splashes their legs. If they get too annoyed it could cause a collision! Please, give him this bag.”
Emilia lifts her hand from your neck and you hear her footsteps rushing to the front of the carriage, and then back. She holds a paper bag under your mouth. You vomit into it. Your vision has blurred, you have gone cold, you want to die.
“Just let it all out, Subaru”, Emilia says sweetly. “You will feel much better.”
The protagonist has gone through horrible nightmares, but this loop felt like the worst. He utterly failed; by the end he only gained further regret, shame, disappointment and mental scars of all kinds.
In the original, Ferris not only is a guy, but he’s not a half-cat so much as a “I just have cat ears and fur-like hair, and otherwise I’m human”. My version of Ferris not only has a pussy and larger breasts, but she’s also covered in flax-colored fur except for a few places like her face, her palms, part of her breasts, part of her pussy presumably, and hopefully her ass or else cleaning that would be a nightmare. The combined impression must be fucking horrifying, but clearly someone is fucking these abominations in that fantasy world.
Fortunately I managed to write it although I’ve gone back to work. Yesterday I returned to the office on an hour and a half of sleep, because I always suffer from insomnia whenever my routine changes. Today, a Saturday, I worked the maintenance shift. Initially I panicked because the proxy blocked the AI Dungeon site, and writing the entry by my lonesome would defeat a significant part of the purpose of getting through this retelling in the first place. Fortunately I managed to connect remotely to my home PC and finish the rest of this part. I feel sick!
The Domains of the Emperor Owl 