Roleplaying through “Re:Zero” with the GPT-3 story generator (Part 34)

I thought I had already covered the entirety of the ninth volume of the original “Re:Zero” novels, but I was mistaken. Although most of what’s told in this entry doesn’t happen in the original or the anime adaptation, it would fall in that volume.

The previous part concluded maybe the most harrowing of the loops that the protagonist has gone through so far. He discovered that the people that like him, pieces of shit as they are, don’t agree with him killing himself. When the time comes to choose between the Apocalypse on one side and recovering his dick on the other, the man makes his choice. However, the Witch of Envy is a traitorous whore, so the whole thing ends up being a waste of time. You are welcome.

By the way, both in the original and the anime adaptation, all that happens after the protagonist discovers that Rem has fallen into a magical coma is that he suicides himself once, but after he discovers that Satella has updated the save file to a later point of time and he can no longer go further back, he gives up on saving Rem. That’s how much he cares. To be fair, he had “I love Emilia”-ed her in the later half of the first season, so it’s not as if he hasn’t proven already how much of a bastard he is.

GPT-3 is a cutting-edge language processing algorithm used in the premium version of the online site AI Dungeon.

As your ass rests on the bench while Emilia’s head reposes on your shoulder, and the tween takes similar liberties with the opposite side of your body, you use the excuse of needing to sleep to close your eyes and disappear from reality. Usually you could rely on your emotions to guide you. If you needed to pull yourself out of a loop, your rage or your shame could impel you to perform way beyond what you would have believed possible of someone as useless as yourself. However, contradictory emotions keep now pulling you in circles inside of your mind. You feel relieved as if waking up slowly from an operation for which they pumped you full of drugs. Merely sensing your legs, your feet, your genitals, or something as small as slightly sliding your feet forward and backwards while you pretend to sleep, mainly so other people don’t bother you, makes your heart race. But merely moments later you are overwhelmed with despair. Your life is controlled, puppeteered by the ghost of a mass murderer who died hundreds of years ago, someone considered by your new world as the worst creature to ever exist, and she has shown you in no uncertain terms, despite her lack of communication skills, that you are going to keep living on her terms.
Rem is lost. Rem is asleep already, maybe forever. You try swatting away the bobbing feeling of impotence that threatens to make you cry, because you already know it to be worse than useless: it’s like ruining your day because you can’t help remembering a beloved pet who died a long time ago. Those feelings won’t bring the dead back, nor will they return Rem to her previous state. And despite what you confidently told Puck before you ruined that reality, the fact that you can confide in nobody else makes you feel as if you are being kept in solitary confinement.
Also, you can barely look at the current Emilia in the face. In this reality she hasn’t yet dared to clarify that you are accepted back into her camp, and more importantly that she wants you to remain forever by her side, because with your terrorist hunting stunt involving two armies, you have turned into something closer to a symbol in the half-elf’s mind. The first person in this world, possibly the last ever, who would fight impossible odds for this girl’s sake. You can’t exactly blame her for having fallen, or believing herself to be, in love with you. Only a fool in love would have risked his life to that extent for someone who had thrown him away in no uncertain terms.
Rem will remain in a coma likely for the rest of her life. You will take care of her body, of course you will, and seeing her withering away slowly while you fail to help her wake up will be your punishment. If you had never dragged her into saving Emilia, she would be fine. You sacrificed her. For a moment you ask yourself whether it was worth it, but you didn’t only risk losing everyone at the mansion, but Puck destroying the entire world. You had no choice. You should repeat it to yourself until your emotions believe it.

At one point you realize that your carriage isn’t moving anymore, and that people are raising their voices both outside and on the back of your carriage. You snap out of it and open your eyes. The kids sitting in the opposite bench seem worried as well as the couple of male teens, one of which seems to have a savior complex that could rival yours.
“Are we under attack?”, he asks you as if you have a clue about anything right now.
“What’s going on?”, you mutter.
“The driver said that we have come across remains of a few carriages nearby,” Emilia says next to you, “as well as some dead ground dragons, as if another caravan has suffered an attack. He has gotten off his seat to get more information.”
Ah, you have reached that point of the journey. Even though you don’t want to handle any of it, you are itching to get away from such a confined space, and from being surrounded by these people. You also want to walk around on your own two legs. You stand up. They don’t hurt.
“I’ll check it out. Stay here. Whoever attacked the caravan is already gone.”
“We don’t know that for sure…”, Emilia says, concerned.
You get off the carriage. It’s the right hour for breakfast, and the sun burns bright. As you walk towards the crowd that is inspecting the remains of the carriages strewn on the grass, you feel your throat tighten, and you want to smile purely out of relief. This is true magic, being able to propel your heavy, cumbersome torso and all the shit attached to it without experiencing excruciating pain for every step forward, such pain that if you had a gun at hand you would have blown your head off. You want to run around, do somersaults and in general bother all these concerned people by acting like a weirdo, but suddenly your emotions are pulled to the opposite side of the spectrum. You haven’t won anything. This is the relief of a slave that isn’t shackled for a day, although he shouldn’t have been a slave in the first place. And yet, at moments it feels wrong not to feel those shackles, not to suffer those tides of acid-like pain splashing against your mind and corroding your sanity. When pain cares so intently for you, you can’t help but care back.
You shake away those thoughts, and the first thing that strikes your eye is a dead ground dragon lying next to some broken wooden boards that must have belonged to a carriage. You crouch down to the dragon’s side. A gash runs across his midsection, tearing through flesh and organs alike, but the cut seems made as if by a scalpel handled by a giant surgeon.
“Subaru!”, Julius calls from the small crowd of people inspecting the destruction.
You stand up as the knight approaches. I told you we would see each other again, you think, even if the current you has never heard those words. The guy is appropriately worried.
“These carriages belonged to the duchess’ caravan. It’s her coat of arms. I don’t see any corpse of the many wounded that they were transporting, nor or the duchess, but there are splashes of blood without corpses, so they likely were hauled off by the survivors.”
Julius stops himself with his lips separated, and his brow furrows in confusion.
“You aren’t surprised by this?”
You feel a rush as if you’ve been caught masturbating. How tiresome. As if you didn’t have enough dealing with your regret and your guilt because Rem’s comatose body will be waiting for you in Crusch’s mansion’s yard, you have to figure out how to act properly even though you are an open book.
“After that Petelgeuse invaded my brain, I don’t think that many things are going to surprise me. But I’m certainly concerned.”
Julius seems to accept your excuse. He looks around for someone, and his gaze fixes on Ferris, who is standing alone near a broken part of a carriage that features Crusch’s coat of arms. The hairs on Ferris’ cat tail are standing up, and before you know it you are staring at her bubbly ass.
You shake your head and walk towards her. Halfway through you realize that Julius isn’t accompanying you, because he’s checking out the wound in the dead ground dragon. As you approach the cat-girl from her side, you see in her profile that she’s gone pale from worry. You suddenly feel that you shouldn’t speak to this person. You stop. Even though you can’t help but feel regret at how much you hurt Ferris through your failed suicide attempt, the current version of the cat-girl has no reason to despise you. In fact, after that whole business of hauling her ass through the village’s streets, she might have warmed up to you. Your brain isn’t built to separate the different versions of the same people you know, particularly whatever groove or fold of that mushy garbage filling your skull where emotions spark.
When Ferris notices you standing nearby, she shoots you a look that glistens with distress.
“Subaru. Who would have ambushed their caravan? My lady might be…”
You step forward and hug her. You feel her soft, flax-colored fur as you hold her head against you.
“H-Hey!”, Ferris complains, stunned.
“It was a terrible attack and it took the most precious person in the world, but Crusch is alive. Injured, but still kicking. If any of her limbs are missing, you will be able to reattach them.”
Ferris pushes you off without too much effort. Her arms are trembling.
“Your words mean little when we haven’t found any member of her caravan. And don’t hug people without their consent, especially being yourself.”
You sigh.
“Always going on about consent.”
“What do you mean always…!? And of course I should! Ah, I can’t deal with your weirdness right now…”
“You can deal with surprisingly little.”
A likely angry retort dies in her lips. She has clenched her fists. She frowns, turns away and walks off.
You briefly attempt to reach out to her by lifting your arm, but you give up. No matter what you try, you always end up hurting this cat-girl.

On the way to the capital, Emilia is too concerned about the ambush on Crusch’s caravan to bring up how things have changed between you two, but she does interrogate you about how you organized the operation, how many enemies you faced, where were they hiding, and particularly about Petelgeuse. You want to redact the details of how they were going to use her for their ritual, but in the end you come up clean about everything. It’s her life, she has the right to know. By how Emilia lowers her head and wrings her soft hands over her lap, you can tell that it must feel like an echo of all the hate she has received over the years for having been born a silver-haired half-elf. Those birth characteristics made her a suitable vessel for the Witch of Envy.
You again relate to Emilia’s situation. She is trapped in a way of life she never asked for nor wanted. You are both victims of circumstance. However, you still avoid looking at her in the face to an extent that must be confusing her. Your brain expects the half-elf to cry her eyes out half-crazed, until the point that she breaks. After how you abandoned Emilia in that ruined reality, you can hardly imagine her behaving like a normal human being, as if she were forcing herself to act normal while her broken self pushes to emerge. Everything she confessed to you, how she wishes you would remain by her side forever, how she was determined to take care of your every need after you destroyed your lower half, and even Puck’s words about how Emilia would love you to the end, all that must be resting under the surface she exposes to the world. It might be more need than love, though, for someone who seems to have been abandoned by everyone in her past, and whom the world has attempted to exile almost every day of her life.

Your caravan reaches Crusch’s mansion a few minutes after the sun has set. While Otto maneuvers to find some place to park the carriage, a rush of nerves constricts your throat. Even though you know that Rem has already fallen to that magical coma, you feel as if there’s a chance that this time reality played out differently, or that Satella did listen to your pleas and somehow intervened to change Rem’s fate. None of that has happened, of course. You already know that no matter how many times you guillotine yourself from now on, you won’t return to a moment where Rem isn’t already lost.
You stand up along with everyone else on the back of your carriage.
“What should we do? Should we gather in some building?”, Petra asks you.
You don’t want those adoring eyes she insists on attracting your attention to. They make you feel ashamed, as if you have deceived her to gain her trust.
“No idea. You guys should ask the mansion staff. The duchess is a smart one, she will likely have ordered her people to make your stay comfortable.”
When you exit the carriage, Emilia catches up to you and walks by your side close enough that her hand touches yours a couple of times. A crowd of people are unloading the carriages, hauling shit around or just hindering your movement in general, and you manage to lose Emilia in the tumult so you can beeline towards the wounded. You want to feel bad about it, but you don’t.
You reach the area set up for the wounded. As some low level healers tend to the many injuries, a few of the wounded moan, wail, swear and scream. One of the wails comes from Ferris, who is kneeling and hugging the lying body of the duchess. Next to her rests Crusch’s detached left arm from the elbow to the hand. Although Julius told you in the previous reality that the duchess had survived and that the cat-girl had managed to reattach her arm, you hate to see the duchess injured, and it disturbs you to witness someone as tough-minded as Ferris crying her eyes out.
You are stalling here. You should run straight to Rem, but you feel cold sweat on the back of your neck, and your stomach is churning.
“Crusch is alive, isn’t she?”, you ask cautiously, because you don’t want Ferris to snap at you.
The cat-girl contains her sobs for a moment to look over her shoulder. Her eyes are red and teary.
“Something is wrong with her brain.”
A sharp pain pierces your heart. You counted Crusch amongst the saved despite her temporarily losing half of an arm. You don’t want to see someone as wonderful as the duchess spend the rest of her life half-retarded from brain damage, and it would have been your fault to an extent, given that you dragged everybody into your operation.
“What do you mean?”, you ask with a thin voice. “Did she get hit in the head or something?”
Ferris dries her eyes and passes over Crusch’s legs so she can begin reattaching her arm. She must have gotten such a shock initially that she forgot that time is of the essence. Crusch’s face looks a bit paler than usual, but there’s intelligence in her lovely eyes, and she’s looking at you confused as if she doesn’t know what you are doing here.
“Crusch, how are you feeling?”, you ask.
“Is… my name Crusch? This girl also called me that. I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything.”
You go cold. The duchess’ voice had trembled with fear, as if she woke up in someone else’s body and couldn’t understand anything about her current situation. You crouch next to her and grab the metallic hand of the gauntlet that contains the duchess’ remaining hand.
“Crusch, it’s me, your son! Please tell me you haven’t forgotten me!”
Ferris lets out a surprised noise, and Crusch stares at you bewildered.
“My son…?”, she asks with a vulnerable voice. “But I feel much younger…”
The cat-girl glares at you while she illuminates the cut-off point of Crusch’s left arm with her healing magic.
“What the hell are you doing, Subaru!? Don’t fuck with her mind!”
You excuse yourself and stagger away from Ferris. You feel woozy, and your legs are trembling. As you dry the cold sweat on your forehead, you try to integrate the news even though your thoughts are muddled. All the memories of Rem have been stolen from the world except from your cursed self, and Crusch’s memories have disappeared as well, but only her own? It’s too big of a coincidence. One of the people who ambushed the duchess’ caravan must have that ability, which could mean that there’s a way to reverse it. No, that doesn’t make sense necessarily. Wilhelm can chop someone’s head and his limbs off in a couple of seconds, but that doesn’t mean he can reattach them back. However, you need such a hope to go on.
You progress through the line of wounded, shuffling half the way, until you spot Rem’s beautiful light blue hair. She’s lying on a sheet with her arms at her sides. Her eyes are closed and her mouth slightly open, and there is no expression on her face. It looks as if she’s sleeping peacefully, except that nobody has woken up from such a sleep.
It doesn’t matter that you already knew. You can’t save Rem. While your heartbeat become painful, as if your blood isn’t pumping properly, you let yourself fall to your knees. You hug Rem tight, pressing your cheek against hers, and you cry silently.
Maybe a minute and a half later a male voice you recognize, that of the nerdy doctor that led you to Rem in your previous reality, speaks to you from behind.
“You know this woman?”
You are too busy grieving to answer, and you also wish that everybody else in the world except for your comatose girlfriend would disappear. A moment later you hear the doctor again, and he sounds closer.
“Excuse me, but if you don’t actually know her, I’m afraid I have to ask you to stop touching her.”
You clench your teeth, and turn enough to glare at him over your shoulder.
“She’s my girl. Leave me alone!”
“But nobody knows who she is, and she has-…”
“She’s fallen into a perennial sleep like in the cases you read in your medical reports! And she will never wake up again! Leave me alone! Leave me the fuck alone!”
The doctor stares at you dismayed, with his mouth open, but he must have recognized your grief.
“I… apologize.”
He walks away.
A couple of minutes later your anger dissipates and you feel sorry for the guy, who likely has worked hard to treat the wounded. Nobody else but the Witch of Envy is at fault for people around you not knowing everything you would need to explain to them, and you should be grateful that some people, like Emilia, would want to spend time with you, but for the foreseeable future you just want to lock yourself in the bedroom that Crusch assigned to you, hug Rem through the night and hope that your dreams allow you to forget for a while about your present.
If you had forgotten about Rem as well, what would this world do with a young woman who nobody knows and that has fallen into a coma for the rest of her life? You don’t want to think about it. You push Rem into a seated position, and after you hug her from behind, you manage to lift her up and lock her knees so she stands upright enough for you to maneuver to her front, rest her armpits over your shoulders and squeeze her breasts against your back. Once you lean forward and your legs bear Rem’s dead weight, you feel as if you would have needed several years of weightlifting to handle this task. You hobble along the line of wounded towards the mansion’s entrance.
“Subaru, we finally find you.”
Julius approaches you shortly after you’ve walked past the area reserved for the wounded. Emilia is standing next to him, and when your gaze falls on her face, for a moment you don’t see her as she is now but as the pale ghost that had stared at your detached head while your consciousness faded. A moment later the stream of tears running down her face, the dribble of saliva coming out of her mouth, as well as those dead eyes, disappear, and you stare back at a curious and confused Emilia who has no clue why you are carrying a sleeping girl on your back.
“Sorry”, you say with a raspy voice. “My legs might give out at any minute. We can speak along the way.”
You continue towards the mansion’s entrance. Although Julius does glance at Rem, he doesn’t know her and he must have figured that it’s a personal matter of yours, so he doesn’t bring it up.
“So, what’s up?”, you ask.
“I asked around regarding who ambushed the duchess’ caravan. Surprisingly, it wasn’t an army, but-…”
“Two men with superpowers. One with his hair almost bleached white and who wore a maybe military uniform, and the other a mix between a homeless person and a caveman.”
“… You must have asked the same soldier, because he used that very expression to describe the second man. I shouldn’t be surprised that you found out about important information before anyone of us.”
A woman in her thirties wearing a servant uniform more modest than Rem’s, you guess part of Crusch’s staff even though you don’t recall seeing her during your self-imposed loop, opens the mansion’s main door as she notices you three coming. You thank her and keep going.
“I just found out something real bad, though”, you say with a low voice. “One of those men must have some ability to steal or manipulate memories related to people, because Crusch doesn’t remember who she is, nor did she know Ferris, her best friend from childhood.”
Julius stops in his tracks. When you briefly stop as well, even though your legs are wobbling and feeling Rem’s breasts pressed against your back is stealing blood away from the limbs that should carry her, you see in the knight’s face that he probably shouldn’t have learned this information. He belongs to a camp opposite to Crusch’s, and the duchess having lost her memories probably means she won’t ever reach the throne. Whatever. Unless Priscilla wins the race, which would likely end up in disaster for the kingdom, Anastasia Hoshin would likely do a decent enough job leading this nation, even if it involves turning it into a subsidiary of her company. And it’s not like you care about the politics of this weird world anyway.
“That is terrible”, Julius says with concern. “The ambush turned then into a successful assassination of a royal candidate, which might have been the original purpose.”
“Because without her memories she’s basically disqualified”, you add for him.
Julius looks troubled.
“The duchess is a wonderful woman. My lady doesn’t want to win by losing a person who would become one of her most competent vassals. I hope that this is merely temporary, but I…”
“You need to return to your household and inform Hoshin. I know. Right in time, too, because I’m not strong enough to carry such weight for long. Not that I’m calling her fat.”
Julius glances at Rem, but otherwise he pretends he hasn’t noticed her. He nods at you as he rests his hand on the pommel of his sheathed sword.
“I’m glad to have taken part in your operation, Subaru. We did a great service to the world, despite our regretful losses. And I apologize, again, for my behavior at the royal summons.”
“You can’t win me at regrets. Thank you for everything, man. All the spirits and the support and in general for having my back when nobody else would. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
Julius smiles agreeably, and then he leaves.
When you turn towards your assigned bedroom, which is located near the end of this long hallway, Emilia is standing in your way. She isn’t blocking your path purposefully, and when she realizes you intend to pass she steps aside, but she looks as if she wants to ask you a million questions while she alternates between attempting to read your expression and studying Rem’s face.
“This girl is wearing one of Roswaal’s servant uniforms, and it’s stained as if she has fought in the operation, but I don’t recall seeing her, and she certainly wasn’t working at lord Roswaal’s mansion…”
You want to wipe the sweat beading on your face.
“I’ll explain as much as I can bear to about the situation, but please let me reach the bedroom first. It’s been a horribly long day.”
“Sorry, of course…”
Once you reach your bedroom, Emilia opens the door for you, and then you carefully place Rem on the bed as if she fell asleep over the bedspread. You repose her head on a fluffy pillow. You doubt she will notice, but you want to make her as comfortable as possible. After Rem looks as if you can do nothing else for her at the moment, you sit heavily on the edge of the bed, rest your forearms on your thighs and you breathe a deep sigh.
You had forgotten about Emilia. She’s waiting for you to address her existence, and she looks worried and uneasy.
“Subaru, who is she? This is the bedroom where we had our fight. Did the duchess house this girl here after they cured you?”
“No, this is still my bedroom, because Crusch hasn’t officially told me to leave her place.”
Emilia attempts to smile, but the corners of her mouth are trembling.
“She looks similar to Ram, very much so. Subaru… Why is she wearing one of our servant uniforms, where do you know her from? I mean…”
“You know her, Emilia, even though her memories have been erased from your mind. As you heard, one of the men who ambushed the caravan had some ability to manipulate people’s memories, either making someone lose theirs or erasing the memories of a certain person in everyone else. That last ability sounds godlike and I would have never expected it of anything else than that damn whale, but…”
“The memories of this servant have been stolen from other people? Is that what you mean? But how come you remember her?”
“How come I was able to defeat Petelgeuse, an ancient great spirit, inside my mind? Maybe I’m just that great.”
Your self-aggrandizing remark steals a smile out of Emilia despite her concern, as if she believes it.
“Even though I’ve never had to live through it, the White Whale is known to erase people as if they had never existed, so it’s certainly possible… This woman worked at our mansion, then.”
You look back at Rem. For a moment you expect to see her awake and smiling softly as she listens to your conversation, but she’s gone. It’s as if she isn’t present, as if you care for a shell. You feel the warmth behind your eyes signalling incoming tears. You don’t want Emilia to see you cry for Rem; you feel it would soil the relationship with the demon servant somehow. And you want to be left alone with your beloved.
“Her name is Rem, and she’s Ram’s little sister.”
Emilia lets out a surprised noise. She walks to Rem’s side and leans to look closer.
“I mean, I can’t deny the resemblance. That’s horrible. We need to bring her home. I don’t know how Ram will take this… I can’t even imagine her having a relationship with a sibling, alone as she always is.”
“Yeah, Rem has been removed from all the memories you hold of Ram, but the sisters are really close. Rem is the sweet one, and Ram the one who would make you want to throw yourself off a window after having to stand her insults for an hour.”
You are exhausted, you are hurting, and you wish to get under the sheets and hold your comatose girlfriend through the night. However, Emilia seems to be winding herself up to speak.
“Is she…”, she begins cautiously, with a nervous smile, “going to sleep in your bed…?”
You want to sigh, but don’t.
“I suppose you have noticed she isn’t merely asleep. The doctor told me she’s fallen into a sort of perennial sleep. It seems there have been other cases through the years. She might never wake up.”
Not only your words cause Emilia’s pupils to tremble, but you realize that she’s caught something else in your tone that she hasn’t liked. She stares at you worried, with her lips separated.
“That’s… I think I have heard of such cases”, she says with a low voice. “I mean, did you…”
You wipe whatever remains of the sweat from your face. Your legs are tingling from exhaustion.
“I’m not going to have sex with Rem while she’s in a coma, if that’s what you are implying.”
Emilia blushes and looks away.
“You speak so freely about such a thing…”
“Well, it wouldn’t be my first rodeo, if you know what I mean. But given the amount of half-beasts running around in this fantasy world, that phrase might have unintended connotations.”
“Still, I’m not sure if it would be appropriate. I mean, she’s a girl and you are… You are taking it too casually is what I mean.”
You stare up at Emilia, who is forcing herself to hold your gaze even though she seems embarrassed and concerned about whatever relationship you might have with this other girl. Emilia, with her otherworldly beauty, her silky silver hair and those big purple eyes, is one of the most gorgeous sights you have come across, and merely looking at her brightens your day. However, while initially, the first time you met her, she seemed remote and unapproachable, now she seems like a silly teenager. Why wouldn’t she look like that to you, though? Merely hours ago you won after fighting everyone in your life who wanted to stop you from guillotining yourself. You had possibly, likely, condemned another world to die, and now this Emilia is having trouble articulating her jealousy. You aren’t such a suitable vessel for Satella then, you think.
“Emilia, I want to sleep next to Rem, and she would have wanted to as well. It wouldn’t have been the first time. I’ll take care of her.”
Emilia snaps her head back in surprise, and although she tries to contain it, her face shows a dismay as if she had asked you out on a date after working herself up for days, only for you to tell her that you already have a girlfriend. You don’t want her to suffer in any way, but you are also way too tired about everything, and beyond this kind of shit.
“It’s okay, Emilia. We’ll speak in the morning. I’m going straight to sleep, I need a serious break from all the nonsense we’ve been dealing with.”
The half-elf lowers her head and shows you her back. After a couple of steps she turns towards you again and holds her hands in front of her waist.
“Subaru, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry that we ever fought.”
You sigh.
“Yeah, me too.”
“I feel like you truly… are there for me. I don’t like how you broke into the royal palace and interrupted the summons, but I understand your intentions. Still… I should have realized how hard you will push yourself for my sake. I would have never believed… I can hardly believe that you organized such an operation to save me. I would have never thought that someone would care about me that much.”
“I do, Emilia. I want you to be happy and free.”
She lifts her hand to her heart, and tears come to her eyes. She dries them quickly. Her emotions surface on her expression, but after she glances at the sleeping girl lying close to you, Emilia lowers her head.
“You will return to the mansion with us, right?”
“If you let me. I will fight for your sake, regardless of whether or not you reach the throne.”
Although Emilia smiles gratefully, she’s also confused as if you are sending her conflicting messages. Maybe only a fool in love would have pulled off what you did. But then again, this world would have ended if you hadn’t fought your way to Emilia.
“Well, ah… See you tomorrow, Subaru!”, she says, and leaves.

After she’s gone, your heart sinks. You hide your face with your hands. A few people are having an animated conversation somewhere on the other side of the hallway. You listen to Rem’s soft breathing, as remote as if it came from another planet.
When a few minutes later you pull one side of the sheets off to move Rem under them, you realize that her clothes are way too dirty and bloodstained. She should look comfortable even if she likely won’t feel it. You leave the bedroom to locate some servant, and you come across a blonde guy with short, curly hair and a thin moustache. You had seen this guy almost every day during your self-imposed loop of two days, but you never bothered to learn his name, if he even has one.
“I need a change of clothes for my girl.”
“What size?”
You don’t know, so you lead him to your bedroom. When he peeks inside as if he doesn’t want to enter it, he sees the unconscious woman wearing a bloodstained servant uniform. To his credit, his expression doesn’t change.
“Is the miss dead? Has there been… an accident?”
“C’mon, man. She’s just in a coma.”
He arches an eyebrow while looking at you.
“I need to change her clothes”, you add. “All that damn blood, it’s unsanitary. Bring me something fresh. One of Crusch’s nightgowns would be fine.”
“One of the lady’s…!?”
“You can grab one from her laundry basket.”
“I will certainly not do that. I can bring you something reserved for the servants.”
“From the female servants, please.”
Before he closes the door, for a brief moment he looks as if he’s suffering. He does bring you a beautiful, silky white nightgown a couple of minutes later. You undress Rem, although it’s more difficult than the other times because she’s not contributing. After you have undressed her to her panties, the sight of her pale breasts and her pink nipples makes you want to bury your face in them like you’ve done often. You want to lick every centimeter of her soft skin. Once you pull down her panties, the sight of her pussy, as well as the slightly sweaty smell after all that fighting, makes you salivate. You realize how hungry you are, although right now you wouldn’t take anything less than that delicious meal in front of you.
After you have dressed Rem with her beautiful new nightgown and she looks so inviting that you want to jump in the bed with her and cuddle all night long, you shiver and realize that you’ve gotten harder than the crotch of your pants allows. You perk up, and from your mouth escapes a sound of delight. You grab your genitals through the pants, feeling up the bulge. That’s right, you have a dick! Until a few hours ago a part of your brain had ran a process in the background to prevent you from thinking about your mangled genitals, but you are complete again!
You pull down your pants to your ankles and grab your dick. The smooth flesh thickens against your palm and your fingers. What a miracle of nature! Truly, no wonder some people believe in a creator of the universe. Such a magnificent organic device to procure you pleasure must have been created by God himself!
The door opens, and after Ferris takes a single step inside, she freezes with her mouth open. She stares wide-eyed at your genitals.
“I have a dick, Ferris!”, you proclaim, elated. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
The cat-girl lifts her gaze to your eyes and slightly raises one side of her mouth as if she’s tasted something sour.
“It’s okay, I guess. I came to ask if you wanted to eat dinner, but I see you are busy.”
“Ah… Ferris, I want to apologize.”
She narrows her eyes while doing her best not to look down.
“I’m the one who burst into your room without knocking. I truly should have known better, as in I must have hit my head really hard not to imagine I might bump into a situation like this.”
“I mean that I’ve been a piece of shit to you. I always manage to make you mad, even though you’ve been cool with me.”
“You haven’t been that bad, beyond your weird utterances and your pathetic attempts at pretending you aren’t checking out my ass. And I can’t blame you for the image that just got burned into my eyes. You are still holding your erect penis, Subaru.”
“Yeah, well. I had to celebrate.”
“I better leave.”
As she closes the door, she mutters something about how they need to install some door bolts in this mansion.

A few minutes later you shut the light off and you lie under the sheets next to Rem, whom you have turned so she rests on her left shoulder and her weight leans on you. You feel her warm breath on your face. By now you have gone soft; the sexual arousal had shielded you from this gloom and loneliness. While tears run down your right temple and moisten the pillow, you hug Rem’s limp body and let her personal smell overwhelm you. You are home, even though Rem is somewhere far away.
“It’s just the two of us from now on, Rem”, you whisper, and then sniffle. “Plenty of it will involve me holding you in bed, just like you wanted.”

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