While Emilia was recovering, Nanashi wasn't idle. The doomsday journey was far from over.
Nanashi:
"Reinhard. Suohon. How are things on your end?"
Suohon:
"All secure."
Reinhard:
"The monsters attacking the capital have been eliminated. I didn't expect the three major beasts to show up. This was more chaotic than we imagined. The royal city is safe for now, but we still need to clean up the outskirts."
Nanashi:
"Leave that to me."
Reinhard:
"Thank you, Mr. Nanashi!"
—
"Stella, the witch factors and remains of the monsters—deal with them."
A shadow rippled across the ground. From it, Stella emerged—formed of darkness itself.
"Understood, Master."
With a nod, she melted back into shadow and vanished.
Esdeath narrowed her eyes.
"Who was that? Her power felt immense."
Nanashi:
"The Witch of Jealousy—Stella. She's mine now."
"Oh! That's the one Emilia mentioned before," Nami piped up.
"She said Stella nearly destroyed the world once. A terrifying witch… and a half-elf, like Emilia. That's why so many people hate Emilia here."
"She also told us stories about the other witches. All of them are dangerous in their own ways."
Nami couldn't recall everything, but her memory was sharp.
She huffed and rolled her eyes dramatically.
"Subordinates? Didn't you say one of your slaves was the Witch of Greed? Don't tell me you plan to make all the witches in this world your slaves too?"
Bang bang bang!
Nanashi clapped his hands and praised Nami, "You guessed right."
"Slave…" Bronya paused, struggling to find a suitable word.
She hadn't expected Nanashi to have such... unique interests.
"Nanashi, isn't it dangerous to subdue a witch like that?"
Shinobu didn't mind the word "slave" itself. To her, as long as Nanashi was happy, that was what mattered most. Still, his safety came first.
"I feel like someone that dangerous would be hard to control," Saeko added, thinking back to the terrifying Witch of Jealousy—one with a history of nearly devouring the world.
"Don't worry. Everything is under my control."
Nanashi smiled, clearly pleased by their concern.
"Hmm?"
Suddenly, he sensed a gaze watching him. He turned toward a closed door.
"What's wrong?" Lemuel followed his gaze but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
"I'll check it out."
Nanashi approached the door, lightly bent his fingers, and pushed it open with ease.
"Who gave you permission to enter the library?!"
The moment his foot crossed the threshold, a voice scolded him sharply.
The door shut behind him with a click.
"What the…?" Lemuel tried opening the door again, only to find it led to a dusty storage room.
Nanashi was gone.
"It's probably some kind of magic," she said, furrowing her brow. "Let's wait."
Nanashi, meanwhile, had entered a different space altogether.
A hidden room filled wall-to-wall with books.
Standing before him was a girl with golden, spiraled twin-tails, a haughty expression, and hands on her hips.
She had snow-white, nearly translucent skin, and eyes of pale blue crossed by faint pink Xs. Her long, cream-colored hair was woven into elegant twin braids.
Dressed in a frilly, ornate gown, she looked like a porcelain doll—adorable but sharp.
With a glare, the girl frowned at the intruder.
"It was you who spied on me first," Nanashi said, raising his brows innocently.
"Betty simply sensed a surge of powerful magic and came to investigate. It's her duty to protect the library," the girl replied, puffing out her chest proudly.
Nanashi ignored her and turned his attention to the surrounding bookshelves.
"Hey! This is the Forbidden Library! You can't just read whatever you like! If you don't leave, Betty will make you!"
"Oh? Do as you please."
Nanashi strolled casually toward a lone book placed purposefully on a table.
He reached for it.
"Don't touch that!"
Betty shouted, but he didn't hesitate.
She activated her space magic to expel him—but it had no effect.
He had already picked up the book.
Flipping through the pages, Nanashi found each one blank.
No writing. No prophecy.
"So this is the Gospel?" he mused aloud.
It was his first time seeing one up close—and it contained nothing.
"You know about the Gospels?" Betty's eyes widened slightly.
For someone to break in and know that…
"Roswaal has one too. But yours doesn't have anything written inside."
"…"
Just as expected. No revelation.
A shadow of disappointment fell over Betty's face. Her voice turned quiet.
"Can you go now?"
"I'm Emilia's guest," Nanashi said calmly, not moving. "Is it really okay to throw me out like this?"
"Everything outside has nothing to do with Betty," she replied firmly. "This is her library, and she decides who stays."
Unfazed, Nanashi pressed on, "I'm Nanashi. What's your name?"
She frowned. "Betty," she said flatly.
Of course, he already knew that.
Betty—an artificial spirit created by Echidna.
Raising the book in his hand, he asked, "So… are you following the Gospel's prophecies, like Roswaal?"
Betty clenched her teeth and remained silent.
"Why don't you tell me what revelation you're waiting for? I like stories."
Nanashi made himself comfortable, sitting with legs crossed, resting his cheek against the Gospel in one hand.
With a flick of golden light, a bottle of beer appeared in his free hand.
"I've got the beer—you bring the story."
"…"
This intruder was far too casual.
Betty didn't even know him—why was he prying so much?
Even if he learned of the prophecy, what good would it do?
That prophecy…
Her head drooped slightly.
After a long pause, she finally whispered,
"Betty must wait for the one spoken of in the Gospel. She must sign a contract with them—only then can she leave this place."
Nanashi leaned forward. "How long have you been waiting?"
"…Four hundred years."
Betty's mind drifted back to the beginning.
Her mother left her behind with a massive library and a mission—to wait for that person.
Since then, the Gospel had remained silent.
And in this narrow, unchanging room…
Betty had waited too long.
Even after reading every book in this endless sea of pages—
The one she waited for still hadn't come.
The Gospel, which should have revealed her future, remained utterly blank.
How many times had loneliness shattered this girl's heart?
Every day, she checked it—again and again—hoping for even a single new line of prophecy.
She believed, or tried to believe, that one day she would fulfill her mission.
But as the years passed, one by one, everyone left her.
The door opened again and again—each time, another betrayal.
A fragile heart cannot endure an eternal wait.
Four hundred years… long enough to outlast entire civilizations.
The age of witches, the end of collapse, the beginning of a new era, the kingdom's rise, and its disdain for half-elves—
Betty had seen it all.
She endured it all.
It was a feeling no one could understand unless they had experienced it firsthand.
No end to the promise.
No voice in the book of prophecy.
Only blank pages.
As if it were all some cruel joke played by Echidna.
But the thoughts of witches were beyond comprehension.
Echidna—the Witch of Greed—was obsessed with knowledge, willing to sacrifice anything in her pursuit of it.
And for four hundred years, Betty had prayed for "that person" to appear.
She had dreamed, again and again, of the Gospel revealing the next step…
But it was only a dream.
Centuries passed.
Hope turned to sorrow, sorrow to despair.
Even death was out of reach—her nature as an artificial spirit prevented her from breaking the contract by ending her own life.
"You've committed so many sins, Echidna…"
(Well, I was just curious.)
Haha. You truly live up to the name Greedy Witch.
Betty is your daughter, right?
(Well… you could say that.)
Then she's my daughter too.
(Oh? Is the master proposing to me?)
Unfortunately, no. You're just a slave bearing my surname. You should understand your place.
(Tch. Can't a slave dream of climbing higher?)
Nanashi ignored the voice.
He was merely engaging in idle spiritual banter.
To him, calling these beings "witches" felt appropriate.
Each one bore some twisted, extreme affliction of the mind.
He looked at Betty—still trapped in her memories, drowning in sorrow, on the verge of tears.
Nanashi sighed.
It was truly a sin to call such a broken girl a slave witch.
Ssssshhhh—
A sharp sound broke the silence.
Betty looked up.
"!!!"
She gasped.
The Gospel—her Gospel—was being torn apart by that man!
"What are you doing?!"
Her heart trembled.
Her book was gone.
The last flicker of hope… extinguished.
"I'm paying off my slave's debt," Nanashi said with a shrug. "I'm saving you."
"…Saving me?"
Betty stared into his eyes.
In those translucent orbs were pleading, hope… and a fragile struggle.
"You must place me first in your heart," she whispered, trembling. "Think of me first. Choose me first. Overwrite the contract. Rewrite it. Break the old one. Take me. Hold me. Hold me tight."
"Can you do that?"
Her hands clenched behind her back.
This was the condition.
The only way the contract could be rewritten.
The only way she could be saved.
But his response stunned her.
"…I can't."
Nanashi's voice was calm, honest.
"I have many girlfriends. Each holds a special place in my heart."
He spoke without hesitation or shame.
He didn't lie.
He couldn't promise what wasn't true.
He couldn't put one above all.
All his lovers—every single one—came first in his heart.
You could spit on him and call him a shameless womanizer.
Mock him as a pervert.
Despise him as a scumbag.
Laugh and say he's just a hopeless romantic.
Or praise him as a man of deep affection.
He didn't care.
Whether you called him a lust-driven degenerate
or a man hopelessly entangled in emotions—
He accepted it.
Because that was who he was.
No matter how large the debt of love, he bore every promise with responsibility.
When it came to love, perhaps no one treated it with more care… or with more disregard.
He didn't offer empty promises.
He didn't twist truth for desire.
Sincerity doesn't always win love.
But the love it earns—when it comes—is dazzling.
Like pearls forged under crushing pressure.
Just like the love he once shared with Yukino.
He had never lied to her.
He never hid his desires, nor his fears.
That was the true heart of Nanashi.
But right now… his honesty could not bring love.
Only pain.
"…"
Betty collapsed to her knees.
That sincerity—so pure—had become her despair.
So-called salvation was nothing but illusion.
She should have known. Four hundred years had already passed.
It had always been a lie.
No one was ever coming.
Even if someone had, even if redemption arrived late—it could never fill the chasm carved by centuries of loneliness.
Tears slid from the corners of her eyes—liquid despair.
She raised her trembling hands, her gaze pleading, crystalline and broken.
"If you can't save me…"
Her voice was a whisper.
"…then kill me."
"End this endless contract."
"Free me from my loneliness…"