human
Butcher:  “I’m overfond of tall tales, it’s true, but never once have I told a lie! Thank you very much! Okay, well, there’s a small chance that I might have exaggerated a bit from time to time, and I might have told a lie here and there, but… Ahem. But the kind, adorable, lovable Butcher you’ve all come to know and love is the real deal! It merely…wasn’t all there was to me.”
gpt
Elisabeth:  “Truth, lies, they make little difference. The point where such things mattered has long since passed.” Elisabeth offered no reaction to the gloomier words the Butcher had ended his speech with. She stepped forward, as though to demonstrate how fed up she was. Executioner’s Sword of Frankenthal glittered in her hand.
human
Elisabeth:  “Now, I’ve but one question for you. Where is the Saint?” With each step she took forward, the Butcher took one back. The heel of his foot struck a hard, frozen snowflake. It slid backward a smidgen, then was soundlessly swallowed up by the darkness. The Butcher had nowhere left to run. Elisabeth thrust Executioner’s Sword of Frankenthal toward him, then continued pressing him for answers.
gpt
Elisabeth:  “Talk. We’ve come to kill her. All the way here to the World’s End.”
human
Butcher:  “And how well you’ve done to make it here. Ah, the efficiency of your questions…how very like you, Madam Elisabeth.”
gpt
Elisabeth:  “You’d do well to understand this, Butcher: The time for buffoonery is over.” Elisabeth’s calm retort shut the Butcher down. His glib remarks came to a complete stop. Tilting his head a smidgen to the side, the Butcher let out a docile murmur.
human
Butcher:  “…It’s over, is it?”
gpt
Elisabeth:  “We are those who know what goes on behind the stage. Never again can we return to the audience. Not even you would keep performing to no end, I suspect. Isn’t it about time to put an end to this farce?” Elisabeth laid out her question dispassionately. But deep in her voice was a faint hint of sympathy, a fact that caused Kaito no small amount of shock. Hearing Elisabeth show sentiment toward an enemy was a rarity among rarities. Maybe…maybe Elisabeth appreciates where he’s coming from. Like a faithful jester, the Butcher had continued playing out his role. But perhaps he wasn’t the only one who’d chosen to become something instead of just being someone. As he stood before the Torture Princess, the Butcher gently scratched his chin.
human
Butcher:  “I see, I see. Time to close up shop, is it? Yes, well, I suppose it is.”
gpt
Elisabeth:  “It is, isn’t it? And in following, enough playing around. Tell us what your duty was.”
human
Butcher:  “In that case, allow me to start by sharing a serious little anecdote with you.”
gpt
Elisabeth:  "Very well. Speak.” Still training her sword on him, Elisabeth jerked her chin. The Butcher nodded, then gave a bow. Then, as though he were laying his heart bare, he began narrating.
human
Butcher:  “Did you know, Madam Elisabeth?"