human
Butcher:  "Fairy tales are always born from the smallest of things."
gpt
Butcher:  "More of your tall tales, even now?"
human
Butcher:  "Destiny is much the same way, you see… The very shortest of memories can come to define a man’s whole life." Although his story seemed to have little to do with their current situation, the Butcher persisted in telling it. Serious to the last, he spoke his truth. His voice sounded strangely old and hoarse, and his tone was firm and inflexible.
gpt
Kaito:  Although he should have already known it, Kaito realized something all over again. The Butcher is the Saint’s Apostle. In other words, he’d been alive since before the world had even finished forming. In a sense, he was literally the oldest person in existence. He’d lived for far too long for the word lifetime to even begin to cover it. In spite of that, though, the age of the memory he was laying out hadn’t worn it away in the slightest.
human
Butcher:  “Madam Elisabeth, do you have memories of your mother?”
gpt
Elisabeth:  Elisabeth replied with silence.
human
Kaito:  Kaito suddenly thought back on the facts he knew. Elisabeth’s parents had died in an “unfortunate accident.” Right before it, though, there had been sightings of a massive black dog.
gpt
Butcher:  The Butcher peeked around behind Elisabeth. His gaze landed on Kaito and Hina. “Mr. Dim-Witted Servant and Ms. Lovely Maid, what about…? No, I suppose not. My apologies. Whether or not one has such memories varies from person to person. It’s neither a good thing nor a bad one. But I…I have them. Not that she could truly be called my mother, that is.”
human
Butcher:  "You mean…?"
gpt
Butcher:  “The moment I attained consciousness in her arms, the very first things I saw… Over the course of my long, long life, not once have I ever forgotten that memory. Not once could I forget that memory.” The Butcher’s voice was calm and quiet.
human
Kaito:  Kaito sucked in his breath. The person who created him was the Saint. When he spoke about her, his tone remained light, but his voice grew weighty. Contained within it were hatred; grief; a vast, untarnished amount of love; and a frightening amount of passion and emotion. The scant few decades of a human’s life could never even come close to attaining such sentiment, nor were they sufficient in understanding such a feeling. The only thing capable of swallowing up the Butcher’s emotions was the crystal-clear air. At long last, Kaito realized something—why the snow had stopped and why the wind wasn’t blowing. The world is waiting for the Apostle to tell his story.
gpt
Butcher:  “In the end, I was but a single seed of evil. A pawn without even a name to his name. And I’ve understood that fact for a long, long time.” The Butcher took a deep breath, then exhaled. He clutched at his tattered clothes. Then he went on, forcing the words out of his throat.