of Alice as "someone who'd been oppressed" had been affirmed once more. She casually thought back on Vlad's words. "But if they're avengers, then it's a whole different story entirely. The more righteous a man's motives, the deeper his obsession and the crueler his methods." Avengers, eh. Alice offered no response to Elisabeth's assessment. She twirled back toward the door and grabbed its handle once more. This time, though, she used magic to strengthen her body. The door slowly began opening. "Who cares?! Why, who cares, indeed! Elisabeth, your story is boring! So cut it out! I won't listen anymore, so stop talking about it!" Alice shouted childishly. The door opened even farther. As it did, a strange odor came wafting from within. It was the sweet smell of incense mixed with the rusty smell of blood. And when Elisabeth looked down, she quickly found its source. The blood leaking out from inside the villa shone darkly. "If you don't...I'll kill you, too." Alice swiveled her head around and looked up at her at a peculiar angle. Elisabeth ignored Alice's red eyes. Instead, she squinted into the darkness beyond the gate. We heard no reports of the demi-humans suffering monumental losses, and true enough, no massacre took place here. Yet still... ...that certainly didn't mean there were no victims. Within the villa, some demi-humans had been killed. What had transpired wasn't readily apparent, but what was clear was that the victims had been thoroughly disposed of. Had they been soldiers? Concubines? What little remained of them wasn't enough to determine even that. Even their genders were unclear. In fact, the only evidence they'd even been demi-humans at all were the few scales mixed in with the shredded flesh. Not only had the bodies been dissected, but they'd also been scattered all over the place. There were hearts resting on windowsills, eyeballs lining the hallway and stuffed into doors' peepholes, intestines wound around decorative pillars, lungs hammered into walls, and fangs, still attached to gums, strewn across the ground like pebbles. Elisabeth recalled the ravaged lilies and crushed butterfly. With the grisly spectacle at her back, Alice spoke. "But hey, hey, Elisabeth, can you tell me something?" "What is it? Ask away." Elisabeth replied to the question with indifference and feigned geniality. Alice smiled, as though accepting some sort of challenge. She intertwined her fingers behind her back and swayed from side to side. "Why's it wrong to do unto others as I had done unto me?" A cunning sort of malice lurked within the depths of her childish voice. Elisabeth knew it all too well. That was the kind of malice that flowed from festering woundsâ€”the kind of hatred that was borne from pain. It's time for a story. A little story about a simple equation. Let's say we have "someone who was cruelly oppressed" and "someone who gleefully oppressed them." The former will never forgive the latter, no matter what they say or do. There's a pretty clear answer to this equation. You multiply hate by resentment, then subtract those pesky ethics. Then once the first party gets their revenge on the second party, the story comes to an end. And they all live happily ever after. But here, though, we add another parameter. One that throws the whole situation into chaos. The new parameter is as follows. Let's say we have "people who did nothing" and "people who knew nothing." Let's say we have a generous, open-hearted world that allows the ignorance to persist, saying, These things just happen. Now, how do we solve that one? It looks tricky, doesn't it? But there's no need to think that hard. All you have to do is cut through all the tangled-up strings. In other wordsâ€” â€”that is what it means to hate the world itself. However... "I answer you thus." "Ah, you're here." Elisabeth had begun answering Alice's question, but before she could finish, a male voice cut her off. Elisabeth looked through the doorway. All the lights up to where the hallway turned a corner were out. Little piles of viscera were scattered about the darkness like landmarks. Suddenly, a foot appeared and stomped one of the piles flat. Rotting flesh and blood sprayed up into the air. The man in black strode forward, practically appearing to coalesce out of the darkness. He slowly looked up. His mask, so crisp and white that it looked like an exposed cheekbone, cut through the black. "Father!" Alice let out a cheerful cry and dashed forward. As she ran toward the man, she trampled the floor and demi-human guts alike underfoot. Dark blood on the verge of coagulation sprayed about in her wake. Alice's shoes got soiled, but she didn't seem to mind in the slightest. She embraced the man and dangled from his neck. Her hat's ribbons flapped around joyfully. "Father, Father, listen! Elisabeth was being horrid! She was talking about all sorts of confusing, incomprehensible things that I didn't understand in the slightest! Why, I was so annoyed that I almost squashed her flat!" "Settle down, Alice. Given your current strength, trying to 'squash Elisabeth flat,' as you put it, would be altogether too reckless. Also, it appears you left your body magically strengthened when you started hanging from my neck. Is that so?" "Oh, is it? Why, it is! Oh no...did...I?" "You snapped my neck a little, yes. If I hadn't anticipated it ahead of time and used magic to reinforce it, I'd be dead right now." "That would be bad! Very, very bad! I'm ever so sorry, Father. Does it hurt?" "As I said, it's nothing serious. Just make sure to be more careful from now on." Once again, the two of them were having a very serious, very stupid exchange. Elisabeth was dumbstruck. Yet at the same time, she felt a strange sense of eeriness that she couldn't quite put into words. 'Tis hardly the type of conversation suitable to be carried out before massacred corpses. In other words, it wasn't just Alice. The man in black was fundamentally broken, too. The word avenger ran through Elisabeth's head again. As it did, the exchange continued. After Alice obediently hopped down, the man in black laid his hands atop her shoulders and asked her a highly amusing question in a highly serious tone. "And besides, think back. Haven't you yourself been forcing Elisabeth to listen to confusing, incomprehensible things this whole time?" "Ah..." "Aye, it's as you say. She started by repeating 'I'm late' over and over, which, while comprehensible, was certainly confusing...but then she started going on about bread-and-butterflies, and Queens of Hearts, and not chasing White Rabbits, and Wonderland, at which point she completely lost me." Elisabeth nodded. Alice began looking visibly embarrassed. It would appear that she'd been cognizant of how little sense she'd been making. Eventually, the man in black shook his head to reprimand her. "Alice, I've told you time and again. People from this world aren't familiar with your Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass stories. If you want to talk about them, you need to at least start by outlining the plot. You're the one who wanted to become a lady, weren't you? If so, thoughtlessly confusing people is no way to go about it." "I-I'm sorry, Father... I guess I wasn't thinking." "Am I the one you should be giving that apology to?" "Oh, no, you're absolutely right! ...I'm sorry, Elisabeth. It turns out that I was the one talking about confusing, incomprehensible things. I hope you'll forgive me." "I don't even know where to begin with you two." Elisabeth's bewilderment had evolved into a full-fledged headache. She squeezed the bridge of her nose. The man stroked Alice's cheek to praise her for apologizing properly. She cooed like a happy little puppy. A moment later, though, the man tore his eyes from her innocent smile. Just like last time, the gaze he cast Elisabeth's way was full of sympathy. She shot him a frigid stare in return. He then placed his hand atop his chest and gave her a gentlemanly bow. "I apologize for calling you such a long way, Elisabeth Le Fanu. However, it's as I said before. 'In order to discuss particulars, we should first change locale.' Now we can finally talk things over at a comfortable pace." "'Talk things over,' eh...? Before that, I have a question. Is La Christoph unharmed?" "Of course. He, too, is someone important for us to talk to." The man in black answered matter-of-factly. Elisabeth frowned. She hadn't expected for them to care about La Christoph as anything other than a hostage. He was the saints' representative, and Elisabeth was the Torture Princess. It was unclear what criteria the man in black had used to select them. If he deemed them important, though, then it was probably safe to assume he found some value in speaking to them. For now, 'tis essential I gather more information. "Then talk we shall. So? What is it you wish to speak of?" "It should be obvious." The man then turned without actually answering her question. His black longcoat fluttered behind him as he strode off. Alice rushed after, then leaped toward him. She grabbed his arm and dangled from it. A nasty popping sound resounded from his shoulder, but he marched on undeterred. Clearly, he wanted everyone to follow him farther inside the villa. I'll likely be left with no way to flee... On the other hand... There wasn't any point in staying. Elisabeth nodded and followed after them. Partway through, however, she unconsciously narrowed her eyes. Alice and the man in black were making no efforts to sidestep the body parts scattered across the floor. Broken fangs shattered. Intestines ejected their spoiled contents. Lips were crushed flat. The sight was peaceful yet cruel, cheery yet grim. The two of them were striding through hell, as happy as could be. Still facing forward, the man finished his truncated answer. It's time for a story. What kind of story, you ask? "A story of repentance, dreamsâ€” "â€”and hatred. "We're here. Please, after you." The man stopped in front of a simple door. Unlike the others, it didn't have a peephole. After he spoke, Alice courteously opened the door up. Elisabeth's shoes clicked loudly as she walked in. Inside, the entire room was pure-white. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all covered in a white, plaster-like coating. The only furniture in the room was the single, cabriole-legged chair at its center. The demi-humans tended to prefer their furniture a little sturdier than that, so it had presumably been brought in after the fact. Originally, the room must not have had any furniture at all. That struck Elisabeth as peculiar. Aside from festivals, the concubines spent their entire lives in the villa. As such, all the rooms were outfitted with lavish, elaborate interiors befitting the fact that it was their final abode. Yet that room alone was different. Elisabeth glanced around to try and suss out its purpose. Then she suddenly noticed the strange shading on the walls. They were adorned with a carving of the Sand Queen, which covered the entire room. If you knelt in the middle of the floor, it was positioned such that she was cradling you like an egg. I see... 'Tis a room for prayer and meditation. Satisfied with that explanation, Elisabeth then turned her gaze to the chair. It had a strange individual sitting atop it. The man had broad shoulders and a well-built physique, and his white outfit was long enough that it trailed on the ground. Its hem and his thick, straight black hair formed a pair of circles on the floor. However, his true peculiarity lay elsewhere. For one, he had a set of crude chains binding his arms such that he was embracing himself. Elisabeth knew he hadn't been forced into those restraints. If his chest wasn't sealed off, he wouldn't have even been able