human
Subaru:  Now then, the day after Subaru’s day of playing with Beatrice.
gpt
Roswaal:  “Well, well, weeell, aren’t we up early this morning, Subaru.”
human
Subaru:  “H-hi, Rozchi…Y-yeah, it is kinda early…” A servant never had a day off that felt like a day off. Subaru was once again up early in the hallway, greeting the master of the house, Marquis Roswaal L Mathers. Today, just like any other, the eccentric aristocrat wore his clownish makeup proudly on his face. Under the gaze of his heterochromatic eyes—blue and gold—Subaru shivered as he managed to get out a “Good morning,” then he cracked his neck and slapped his cheeks as he gazed out the window.
gpt
Roswaal:  Roswaal gave him a curious look and said, “You don’t look very well today, my boooy. What’s wrong?”
human
Subaru:  “What’s wrong? It’s freaking cold, that’s what’s wrong!” Subaru cried in a flash of white breath, the last straw finally broken. It was cold—too cold. The snot dribbled out of his nose, and it promptly froze. Subaru stomped on the floor. "There’s something wrong with this climate! Until yesterday, I thought maybe I was just imagining things, but that’s not gonna fly today! The windows are iced over, and my breath is solid white!” Subaru pointed at the frozen windowsill. His body was wrapped in layers of blankets. He had put his servant’s uniform over his sleeping sweats—his ensemble was a desecration of society’s conventional fashion. But even with all these precautions, the cold threatened to seep through the cracks in his blankets and steal his life. “What gives? Is the change of seasons around these parts really that extreme? We’re talking a difference of like twenty degrees on the daily here! With a sudden temperature plunge, even bears would freeze to death before they made it to their dens for hibernation!”
gpt
Roswaal:  “Oh dear, oh dear, you poor frail little lad. You mustn’t be that way, my boy. Always keep a positive mind and body.