human
Garfiel:  "But in that cold wind, one thought occurred to me.” Garfiel’s breath caught.
gpt
Elsa:  Elsa flashed a vacant, engrossed smile like a maiden in love. “—Why are blood and intestines so warm?” She escaped from the reach of the lashing blade, which practically crawled across the ground, nearly shearing off his ankles as he unleashed a kick. Elsa evaded his attack with a leap away.
human
Garfiel:  Garfiel clicked his tongue as the killer distanced herself. He wasn’t simply irritated by the difficulty of taking her down. “If there is anything that can be called true happiness in this world, it must be found in the warmth that lets you forget the cold. It was that day I, a person born with nothing, finally gained something that truly belonged to me. For the first time, I was happy. I suppose you cannot understand that?”
gpt
Garfiel:  “I don’t wanna, either.”
human
Elsa:  “That’s fine. I wasn’t hoping for you to sympathize with me anyway.”
gpt
Garfiel:  “Then why’d ya have to tell me all that crap? It’s disgustin’.”
human
Elsa:  “I wonder why myself.” Looking at Garfiel, whose eyes contained nothing save hostility, Elsa curiously tilted her head. Then she narrowed her mystified eyes, her cheeks faintly blushing as she gazed at Garfiel. “Most likely because I am quite fond of you.”
gpt
Garfiel:  “…Sorry, but I’ve already fallen for a woman. I ain’t got time for some chick messed up in the head.”
human
Elsa:  “How cold. But that’s fine. I only have business with what’s inside you, after all.”
gpt
Garfiel:  Having listened to Elsa’s personal tale, Garfiel came to one conclusion. Of course, he had no intention of understanding her, nor did he intend to forgive her. The only thing he could do was end her. “—I’m gonna kill ya, Elsa Gramhilde.”
human
Elsa:  “—It is because you will kill me that you are my first love, Garfiel Tinzel.” Calling each other by name was the one and only connection they shared. The rest, they entrusted to violence. The wicked blades became light, raging, carving, slicing the half-destroyed mansion corridor apart. Amid that shower of blades, Garfiel dodged—No, he defended with the minimum amount of movement with his shields, holding his ground. Blood flowed as a blade nicked his shoulder, his belly, his leg, and his head, but Garfiel was unshaken. The distance shrank to six paces. Garfiel swung his left arm, sending the shield atop it flying straight forward. At five paces, the shield struck Elsa’s arm, shattering her fingers, causing her to drop the weapon in her left hand. At four paces, countless slicing attacks came at the now-defenseless left side of his torso, drawing blood. He did not stop. At three paces, he stomped with the sole of his foot. The ground exploded and rose up. The mansion uttered its death cry and broke apart.