to sit down the way he was. Elisabeth strode over to the man. He looked up. Before he could say anything, Elisabeth beat him to the punch. "It's been a while, La Christophâ€”what, some two years since we last met in person?" "Torture Princess Elisabeth Le Fanuâ€”you said as much in your reports, but I'm glad to see you're in good health." La Christoph gave a calm reply. He didn't sound like he was in pain, and the room's air was clear. It didn't smell of blood. Elisabeth nodded in satisfaction. It appeared that La Christoph hadn't been subjected to torture or harsh questioning. Saints were resilient against pain, but even they had their limits. Plus, controlling their divine beasts took a heavy toll on their stamina. Him being uninjured was a stroke of good fortune. Elisabeth gave him a light shrug. "If anything, I should be saying the same to you. 'Tis gladdening to see you've not been injured. Fortunate, I suppose, that this lot has enough sense to realize that a hostage is only useful unharmed." "Hmm... Are you...so certain about that?" "What's wrong? 'Tis unlike you to be so inarticulate. Did they do something to you?" "They may be our enemies, but even so, it goes against God's will to unnecessarily sully the name of another. Thus, I hereby give my testimony. They have committed no slights against meâ€”but I will note they did ask me to be their friend." "I beg your pardon?" "It caught me somewhat by surprise. There's a possibility that it was the preliminary step toward some form of mental attack, or perhaps brainwashing." La Christoph was the very image of earnestness as he gave his report. Elisabeth frowned. Even before he was made a saint, La Christoph had voluntarily lived a life of pious devotion. There were likely few people he could call a friend, if any at all. And especially now that he was a saint, he could hardly be blamed for getting confused when an enemy asked for his friendship. However, the odds that his prediction was right and it was a prelude to some sort of attack were low. At any rate, Elisabeth had never heard of a spell that required such a byzantine method. Right as she was about to sink into thought, though, a cheery voice called out from behind her. "All right, it's finished! There's no table or sweets, but I made cute chairs for our Mad Tea Party! Elisabeth, you can sit on this one, okay? Here, I'll bring it over for you." With a "heave-ho, heave-ho," Alice brought a cabriole-legged chair over and placed it beside La Christoph's. However, the fact that they were in an empty room with nothing but a pair of chairs made it seem less like a tea party and more like a prison cell. Perhaps realizing what it looked like, Alice puffed up her cheeks. To even out the ambience, she scattered black miasma and flower petals facing them and made another set of chairs for herself and the man. The three of them took their seats. Both pairs faced each other as though drawn to some sort of invisible boundary line between them. The Torture Princess and the saints' representative having a sit-down with two world-class revolutionaries in a demi-human prayer room, eh. It was almost absurd how fraught the scene was with inauspicious symbolism. Elisabeth was taken by an ominous premonition. Across from her, the man in black spoke in the same level tone as always. "As I'm the one who sought this discussion, I suppose I ought to start by introducing myself. My name is Lewis. No surname." "...Lewis, is it?" "If you want more in the way of a self-introduction...then you might try searching your memories for a group of magic-item thieves who were apprehended in the Capital some ten-odd years ago. Although, I doubt there are much in the way of records. And if there were, I can't imagine anyone bothered keeping them around." "I beg your pardon?" Elisabeth let out yet another inane cry. After all, the manâ€”Lewisâ€”stood nothing to gain by willfully giving up information on himself. Yet again, his actions were utterly inscrutable. "Now then, we're finally in a suitable location to hold a conversation. Once more, I have something I'd like to ask of you two." Beside him, Alice gave a big nod. She noisily kicked her blood-soaked shoes about. Lewis stopped her with a sidelong glance, then made his request as though he were calling on a pair of students. "I want you to betray the world and butcher all who live in it." Elisabeth came to an intuitive understanding. 'Tis another "simple equation," so to speak. Vlad had said it himself, back when he was still alive. Those who had been taken from had a right to take from others in turn. They were, if nothing else, prepared to accept that they had that right. In order to carry out great acts with no regard for good or evil thereof, a certain capability was required. The capability to wear the tyrant's mantle as if it were a role one were meant to play. Lewis's proposal was that of a man who'd been taken from. Regardless of his reasons or circumstances, though, Elisabeth's answer was the same. "Hard pass!" "I have feelings, too, you know. I'm going to have to insist you at least hear me out before making your decision." Elisabeth gave her answer just as immediately as she had in a similar situation long ago. However, Lewis merely brushed her rejection off. It seemed he could be unexpectedly flexible. Elisabeth clicked her tongue, then crossed her legs up high. Alice, eyes sparkling in awe, tried imitating her. After quickly admonishing her, Lewis went on. "Besides, snap judgments are a rash thing to make. Go on, listen to your heart. After all, you, too, possess them." "Possess what?" "Repentance, dreamsâ€” "â€”and hatred. They were the same words he'd said before. Irritated, Elisabeth made to flatly deny his statement. Suddenly, though, she clamped her mouth shut. A vivid image had bubbled to the forefront of her mind. The people she cared most about in the world, slumbering at the World's End. It was a beautiful sightâ€”but nothing more. She could speak to them, but they wouldn't respond. She could extend her hand to them, but her fingers would never reach. A single, agonizing question was with her always. Why am I the one out here, and you two the ones in there? Kaito Sena wasn't the Torture Princess. He wasn't a saint. He wasn't even the Mad King. He was just a boy. Yet now he was slumbering with his bride, bearing the burden of a world that by all rights he should have had nothing to do with. Why did you two have to be sacrificed? If I wait, shall I ever see them againâ€”and is there something more I could have done? But no matter how many days and nights she spent agonizing about it, no answer came. And the more she thought, the more resentment began eating away at her. Then Lewis put that anger into words for her. "Too often does this world force a small few to bear the great burden of sacrifice." That was the true tale of repentance, dreams, and hatred. Elisabeth stared at Lewis in silence. She realized somethingâ€”he was trying to redo his failed recruitment attempt from before. Once again, he was presenting her with the same taboo question. Once all was said and done in the battle for salvationâ€” â€”what had Elisabeth Le Fanu been left with? And that question had another side to it, too. Once all was said and done in the battle for salvationâ€” â€”what did Kaito Sena even obtain? Had the choice the young man had madeâ€” â€”with that infantile look in his eyes, really been the right one? Or rather, was it truly acceptable for those who remained to unilaterally say, Yes, it was the right choice? "Like Kaito Sena, Alice Carroll is from another world. And like him, she was subjected to senseless pain and cruelty. It's as I told you before: Them being from another world is crucial. I died, but I got a second chance at life. This time, I'm going to accomplish everything I set out to do. That conception serves as an almighty justification. It gives them that magical quality that allows them to obtain limitless power. And how could it not?" As Lewis spoke, Alice tapped her toes together in boredom and let out a yawn. It being La Christoph's first time hearing the speech, he knit his brows ever so slightly. Lewis faced Elisabeth and continued: "Not even being allowed to live one's own life is a cruel, pitiful fate, and one well deserving of such obsession. After all, a tragedy is a tragedy. But it doesn't have to end as one." Nobody wants to just leave things like that. The declaration was firm and earnest. Even though he was using the Fremd Torturchen as a weapon, his voice was strangely absent of any falsehoods or scorn. Elisabeth discourteously rested her chin on her palm. "Go on then, say it." "What would you have me say?" "What cause have you to elicit our sympathies? What is this grand tragedy of yours?" Elisabeth's tone was biting. She had known a great many tragedies in her time. Kaito Sena's pain. Hina's devotion. Elisabeth's loss. She wasn't prepared to treat just any old misfortune as on par with those. Alice flinched at her sudden intensity. She looked at Lewis nervously. Lewis, not shaken in the slightest, spoke in a dry voice. "Very well. Then allow me to show you." Allow me to show you my tragedy. Suddenly, Lewis raised his black-clothed right arm. He moved his fingers. A small shuffling noise sounded out. Lewis had removed his half mask, as one might take off a hat as a show of respect. The crow visage was gone, and the hidden section of his face was laid bare. Elisabeth's eyes went wide. In an instant, all her doubts had been cleared away. There was no need for him to explain any further. Elisabeth immediately understood everythingâ€”what Lewis sought, what his motive was, and what he was talking about when he spoke of tragedy. "You're..." Lewis smiled. There was no animosity in it. However, his face was so hideous that it seemed to be from another plane of existence. The left half of Lewis's face was human. But the right half was different. His eye was gold, its pupil was narrow, and his skin was covered in bluish-black scales. The section the mask had been covering had the features of a demi-human. The two races' characteristic traits were laid out side by side, making for a mixture that was both highly peculiar and deeply unfortunate. Elisabeth Le Fanu quietly murmured the name of the tragedy she knew he was undoubtedly connected to. "...The Mixed-Race Massacre." It had happened in the background while the noble battle for salvation raged on. And it was a tragedy grim enough to warrant revolutionizing the world. 6 The Rebellion's Cause To tell you the truth, we began formulating the plan for our rebellion decades ago. We'll probably earn some criticism for that. After all, the massacre hadn't happened yet. And at that point, I hadn't even been born. But that only goes to show how long we mixed-race folk have been persecuted for. Each time the various races go to war, we inevitably get caught in the cross fire. And even in peacetime, too many of us get bled dry regardless. Allow me to cite a personal example. My father was a demi-human, and my mother was a mixed-race beastfolk-human. Now, unlike me, my sister manifested the kind of beastfolk ears and tail that made her a target for deviants. When she was ten, a group of men