The next morning arrived, Subaru had slept poorly, as she always did in unfamiliar places, but the bed had been soft and the room had been warm and nobody had tried to kill her during the night. That counted as a victory.
She found herself standing in front of a seamstress. The woman was older, with gray streaked hair and sharp eyes that missed nothing. Her hands moved constantly, measuring and pinning and adjusting, even when there was nothing left to measure. Wirt had sent her, with instructions to prepare the best dresses for Übel and Subaru. The celebration was tonight, and the hero of the war could not appear in a torn and bloodstained dress.
Naturally, Subaru found it really uncomfortable. She had been a man in her past life, or at least she had thought of herself as a man, and the idea of being fitted for a dress felt wrong in a way she could not quite explain. The seamstress touched her shoulders and her waist and her hips, muttering about proportions and fabrics and colors, and Subaru stood there stiff as a board, her arms at her sides, her eyes fixed on a point somewhere in the middle distance.
The woman was insistent on removing the turban. She said it would ruin the line of the dress, that the fabric would clash with the colors she had chosen, that a proper lady did not hide her hair behind a cloth. Subaru refused, politely at first, then firmly, then with a desperation that bordered on comical. She clutched the turban with both hands, as if the woman might tear it from her head at any moment.
"It holds a very traumatizing past," Subaru said. Her voice was higher than usual, strained. "I cannot remove it. I will never remove it. Please stop asking."
The seamstress, however, looked unconvinced but finally relented, shaking her head and muttering about strange foreigners and their strange customs.
Übel watched from a chair in the corner, her legs crossed, her chin resting on her hand. She looked like she was enjoying a very good show. Every time Subaru flinched or protested or made an excuse, Übel's smile grew a little wider.
In the end, Subaru picked the most plain dress she could find. It was dark blue, almost black, with long sleeves and a high collar that covered most of her neck. No ruffles. No lace. Nothing that would draw attention or require her to remove her turban. The seamstress looked disappointed but said nothing.
Übel picked something decent. A green dress that matched her hair, cut in a style that was elegant without being flashy. She tried it on, spun once in front of the mirror, and declared it acceptable. The seamstress looked relieved that at least one of her customers had taste.
Subaru, having crossdressing experience from her past life, did not find this largely uncomfortable. The dress was strange, yes, and the fabric felt different from what she was used to, but she had worn costumes before. She had dressed up for festivals and parties and school plays. This was not so different. The weird part was staying in the manor, surrounded by servants and guards and nobles who looked at her like she was a curiosity. But at least it was better than camping outside, sleeping on the ground, waking up with mud in her hair.
The meals were the hardest part. Subaru and Übel had to eat with Lord Orden and his sons, Wirt and Mut. The dining room was large, with a long table that could seat twenty people, though only five of them sat at it. The food was excellent, prepared by cooks who had trained for years in the best kitchens. Subaru tasted nothing. The flavors were absent, the textures were strange, and each bite felt like swallowing wet paper. But she ate anyway, because not eating would raise questions, and questions were dangerous.
Lord Orden was a strict, no nonsense noble who valued discipline above all else. He appeared only during dinner, sitting at the head of the table with his back straight and his expression stern. He asked about the turban once, and Subaru gave the same answer she had given the seamstress. Traumatizing past. He did not ask again.
Mut was a young boy, maybe ten or eleven, with the same hair and his father's serious eyes. He did not talk much during meals. He kept his head down and ate his food and avoided looking at anyone, particularly Übel. Subaru noticed that. Mut seemed to sense something about the green haired mage, something that made him uncomfortable. He could probably feel that the lady was a murder hobo, even if he did not have the words to describe it.
Currently, Subaru was in the garden. The afternoon light was soft, filtered through clouds that drifted slowly across the sky. Flowers bloomed in neat rows, their colors bright against the green of the leaves. A small fountain bubbled in the center of the space, its water catching the light and throwing it back in tiny rainbows.
She was thinking about leaving as soon as possible. She needed to get away from the south, to put distance between herself and the red haired boy and the silver haired elf who had killed her with a beam of light. The north called to her, or at least the northeast, where she might find answers. Solitär. Macht. Schlacht. Names that Rivale had spoken with something like respect. Maybe they knew something about Linie, about the body she now occupied, about the circumstances that had brought her to this world.
A twig snapped behind her.
Subaru turned. Mut was trying to hide behind a tree, his small body pressed against the trunk, his face peeking out from behind the bark. He was not very good at hiding. His feet were visible, and part of his shoulder, and the tips of his hair.
She stood up from the bench where she had been sitting and walked toward him. "Hey there."
Mut came out from behind the tree, his steps hesitant, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked nervous, as if he expected her to scold him for spying. His eyes darted from her face to the ground and back again.
Subaru crouched down to his level. "I used to be very energetic at your age. Very loud. I talked constantly, even when no one was listening."
Mut blinked. "I am a noble," he said, his voice small but trying to be firm. "Not a peasant like you. I must be—"
She yanked his ear. Not hard, just enough to make a point. His eyes widened, and his mouth opened in surprise.
"Excuse me," she said, her voice light but firm. "I have more manners than you, and I am a royalty among peasants."
Mut rubbed his ear, his expression a mix of shock and indignation. "You are so mean."
"Am I? Or are you being a brat?" She released his ear and leaned back, studying his face. "Come on. Tell me what is bothering you."
Mut's brow furrowed. "Why would you think that something is bothering me?"
Subaru tilted her head. "I have a feeling. A sense. You have been quiet all day, quieter than usual. You avoid looking at people. You sit at the table like you wish you were somewhere else." She paused. "Something is bothering you."
Mut looked at the ground. He scuffed his shoe against the dirt, making small lines in the soil. "It is enough for business," he said, repeating a phrase he had probably heard from his father.
Subaru shook her head. "I do not like it when people are so dull around me. Come on. Spit it out."
Mut sighed. The sound was heavy, too heavy for a child his age. "I want to be as good as my big brother," he said. "But he has reached a level I cannot obtain. Plus, he stopped the war. He killed Rivale. There is nothing left for me to prove. Nothing for me to do."
Subaru listened. She did not interrupt. She let the words hang in the air between them.
"You know," she said finally, "proving yourself is not about reaching someone else's level. It is about finding your own path. Your brother is good at leading armies and fighting demons. That is his thing. You need to find your thing."
Mut looked up at her, his eyes doubtful.
Subaru continued. "I used to spend a lot of time trying to impress others. People at school. People in my neighborhood. People I did not even like. I thought if I could make them proud of me, then I would be proud of myself." She paused, remembering. "I spent a lot of time doing that. Years. But eventually, I lost the motivation. I realized it was all for nothing. No matter how hard I tried, there was always someone better. Someone faster. Someone more liked."
Mut was listening now, his full attention on her.
"I shut myself down," Subaru said. "I stayed in my room. I stopped going out. I stopped talking to people. I thought if I could not be good enough for them, then I would not be anything at all."
The garden was quiet. The fountain bubbled. A bird sang somewhere in the distance.
"Then one day, my father came to my room. He pulled me out. He told me that I could not be a shut in anymore. That I had to live my life for myself, not for the sake of others." She looked at Mut, her expression soft. "That was when I decided. I would leave my life for myself. Not for my father. Not for my friends. Not for anyone else. For me."
Mut's eyes were wide. "Is that how you became strong?"
Subaru blinked. The question caught her off guard. She had been talking about motivation, about purpose, about finding meaning. But Mut had heard something else entirely.
"Actually," she said, scratching the back of her head, "I got strong because I watched a lot of anime and read comics."
Mut's face scrunched in confusion. "Animal? Mango?"
Subaru waved her hand. "Uh, it is all sorcery education stuff. Very complicated. You would not understand."
Mut nodded slowly, though he clearly did not believe her. "I see."
Subaru leaned forward, putting her hand on his shoulder. "It is not important for you to be a warrior like your father or your big brother. You can be anything you want to be. A scholar. A merchant. An artist. A diplomat. There are many ways to be strong, Mut. Not all of them require a sword."
Mut's eyes welled with tears. His lip trembled. Subaru watched, frozen, unsure of what to do. She had not expected this. She had been trying to help, to offer advice, to be the kind of person she had needed when she was young. But she had not expected tears.
He hugged her.
His small arms wrapped around her waist, his face pressed against her stomach, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Subaru stood there, stiff and awkward, her hands hovering in the air. She did not know what to do with them. She had never been good at hugs, even in her old life, even when she had known the person.
"You remind me of my mother," Mut said, his voice muffled by her dress. "Can I stay here like this for a moment?"
Subaru's hands slowly lowered, resting on his back. "Okay," she said. "I guess."
They stood like that for a while, the boy crying softly, the demon girl holding him, the garden quiet around them.
From the balcony above, Wirt watched. His arms were crossed, his expression unreadable. He had seen Mut retreat to the garden earlier, had seen Subaru approach him, had heard every word of their conversation. The speech about proving oneself. The story about the father. The strange explanation about animals and mangoes.
"Oh my," a voice said beside him. "How interesting."
Wirt looked aside. Übel stood there, her green hair bright against the gray stone of the balcony, her staff resting against her shoulder. A sly smile played at the corners of her lips, the kind of smile that suggested she knew something he did not.
Wirt offered a polite smile in return, though something cold ran down his spine. He had faced demons and soldiers and the stress of command. But Übel scared him in a way that none of those things ever had.
Mut continued to cry. Subaru continued to hold him. And above them, two pairs of eyes watched, each seeing something different in the scene below.