human
Beatrice:  In a way, having a spirit’s body is inconducive to having fun.” Beatrice softly nuzzled her cheek against Puck’s, which no longer reeked of alcohol. Then she glared at Roswaal.
gpt
Roswaal:  “Ooh, the evil eye. What has come over you, my dear?”
human
Beatrice:  “I just want to hear your true feelings, I suppose. What was the point in tonight’s debauchery?”
gpt
Roswaal:  “It’s exactly what I said before I made my opening toast. The people of this house need to come together to meet the challenges that we’ll face in the future. Each and every guest tonight was here by my most earnest wishes.”
human
Roswaal:  “You must prepare yourself mentally, my dear. The time of fulfillment for the long, looong covenant is nigh. At the very least, that is the mindset I have right now.” His words colored with solemnity, Roswaal tipped his wine glass toward the balcony. And through the swirling amber liquid, Roswaal’s heterochromatic eyes beheld the sleeping boy and girls.
gpt
Beatrice:  Upon hearing Roswaal’s earnest wish, Beatrice neither affirmed nor denied his resolution. She abdicated making a choice right then, but that was because it was a choice that Beatrice had been pondering for a very long time.
human
Roswaal:  “No matter what else happens…I do hope for the fruition of your existence, Beatrice. I know I’m a hodgepodge of lies, but this is one of my few honest sentiments.”
gpt
Beatrice:  “A trivial sentiment, I suppose. Do you expect me to take that as sympathy?”
human
Roswaal:  “No—as empathy. You and I are the only ones in this entire world who are party to our little conspiracy.” And with that, Roswaal set a new glass onto the table. Pouring amber liquid into it, the clown set the glass in front of the little girl.
gpt
Beatrice:  “What’s this?” she asked.
human
Roswaal:  “Your share. It’s downright cruel, coming to a party and not letting a single drop of liquor pass your lips. Those who would disparage your drinking are deep in dreamland, you see.” With a smile and a wink, Roswaal scooted the drink closer to Beatrice.
gpt
Beatrice:  She reached for the glass—but just before she could touch it, a gust of wind blew. The breeze, thick with the night air from the balcony, tickled an earlier conversation in the back of Beatrice’s mind. After a moment’s pause, she pushed the glass away, rejecting the drink. “I’ll decline, I suppose.”
human
Roswaal:  “Being faithful to Subaru, are we? You are just full of surprises tonight…”
gpt
Beatrice:  “Do not mistake me. I’m not abstaining from drinking because of anything that snot-nosed brat said… It’s because of something my mother told me long ago.” Beatrice’s answer forced Roswaal to silence. Smiling coolly over the instant effect of her words, Beatrice patted Puck’s back. She experienced a night like this one in the past—under the night sky, Beatrice’s mother frowned at the sight of her daughter drinking alcohol. And she got the sense there was another voice urging her to stop, too.