Reinhard slumped onto a stone bench, the cold marble biting through his trousers. In the distance, the muffled thrum of party music and the high-pitched laughter of the guests felt like they were coming from another world. He tilted his head back, taking a long, jagged swallow directly from a bottle he'd snatched from a tray.
For the first time in years, the silence inside his head was deafening. Usually, his Divine Protections acted like a filter, smoothing over his jagged edges and keeping his mind as polished as his blade. But tonight, the filter was off.
The Sword Saint, he thought, a bitter, private sneer twisting his lips. What a pathetic joke.
His eyes drifted toward the mansion lights. Somewhere in there, Subaru was passed out, surrounded by people who would die for him. Not because Subaru was a god, but because he was weak, human, and real. Reinhard felt a surge of hot, ugly jealousy. Subaru had achieved everything through blood and tears, while Reinhard was just born as a "solution" to the world's problems.
Everyone saw him as an asset. A weapon. A deterrent. No one looked at him and saw a man; they saw a insurance policy.
He took another swig, the alcohol burning his throat. His thoughts turned dark, drifting toward the Astrea estate. He could almost hear his grandfather's voice—that old, hateful prick. Wilhelm hated him because the blessing of the Sword Saint had "stolen" the power from his grandmother, Thearesia.
"Like it was my fault," Reinhard muttered to the empty garden, his voice thick and slurred. "I was a child. I didn't ask for it."
He remembered the audacity of that old man calling him a monster. A monster for slaying the corpse of his own grandmother when the Witch Cult used her as a puppet. He had done his duty—the duty they all demanded of him—and his reward was a broken family and a grandfather who looked at him with nothing but loathing.
And then there was his father, Heinkel. A man who tried to manipulate and control him, using Reinhard's power as a shield for his own cowardice, all while hurling insults. The worst part—the part that made Reinhard want to shatter the bottle against the wall—was that his father was right about one thing.
Without the Divine Protections, without the title, what was he?
"Nothing," he whispered.
He knew it. He knew the moment he showed weakness, the moment the "Saint" became just a man, all those smiling faces in the hall would turn. They didn't love Reinhard van Astrea. They loved the sword he carried. If he became weak, they would discard him like a broken tool.
The alcohol was working now, stripping away the hero and leaving behind a hollow, angry, and deeply lonely man who just wanted to be seen. He stared into the darkness of the trees, his grip tightening on the bottle until his knuckles turned white.
"Reinhard?"
The voice was light, airy, and stumbling. Reinhard didn't need his Divine Protections to recognize it. He looked up to see Emilia leaning against the doorframe of the garden, her face flushed a deep, rosy pink. She was swaying, a half-empty glass tilted dangerously in her hand. She was clearly, deeply drunk—happier than he had ever seen her.
"Why are you out here all by yourself?" she giggled, walking toward him with steps that didn't quite land where she intended. She sat down beside him, much too close, and peered into his face. "You look... so sad, Reinhard. It's a party! What's wrong?"
Reinhard stared at her. Her cheerfulness felt like a serrated blade against his nerves. He wanted to scream at her. He wanted to tell her that his entire life was a giant, suffocating lie. That everyone in that mansion either wanted to manipulate him or was terrified of him. That his family blamed him for every tragedy in their bloodline.
Friendships? He wanted to scoff. They weren't real. They were political alliances or shadows cast by fear. Even Felt, the girl he served, only stayed near him because he had essentially forced her into the royal selection. He was a monster in a knight's skin, and he was so, so tired of behaving.
He opened his mouth to tell her off—to let the poison out—but before he could speak, Emilia's glass clattered to the grass as she pulled him into a sudden, clumsy hug.
"I know," she whispered into his shoulder, her voice losing its giggle but keeping its drunken slur. "I know how it feels... to have everyone look at you and see something else."
Reinhard froze. He didn't pull away.
"They called me Satella," she murmured, her grip tightening on his tunic. "They wished I was dead. My family... they're all gone. I was alone in the ice for so long, Reinhard. I hated everything. I couldn't accept what happened to me. I thought the world was just a cold, mean place."
She pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, her silver lashes wet. "It hurted. It hurted so much. But I had to look at it. I had to accept it to move on. Subaru... he helped me see that. And the others too."
"You're lucky," Reinhard whispered, his voice cracking. "You found someone who sees you."
Emilia let out a soft, airy laugh and patted his cheek with a warm hand. "You're silly. You're my friend, too, Reinhard. A real one. Don't be sad. You aren't a weapon tonight, remember? You're just... Reinhard."
She stood up, her balance failing for a second before she grabbed his hand to steady herself. "Come on. Let's go back. The music is better inside."
As she led him back toward the glowing lights of the mansion, Reinhard didn't let go of her hand. His heart was thumping painfully in his chest—a strange, frantic rhythm he couldn't explain. He looked at the back of her head, at the way she moved so freely, and for the first time, the alcohol didn't just make him feel numb. It made him feel a dark, desperate pull toward the only person who had ever dared to tell the Sword Saint he was just a man.
Emilia and Rem had taken charge of the situation, their faces soft with a mix of amusement and genuine worry. Emilia's gentle hands brushed Subaru's hair back as she whispered something to him, while Rem adjusted his position on the couch to make sure he could breathe easily. Their devotion was a quiet, beautiful thing to witness—a bubble of warmth that seemed to exclude the rest of the world.
From across the room, Reinhard watched them through a red-tinted, alcoholic haze. He sat slumped in his chair, his usual regal posture replaced by a heavy, defeated lean. Beside him, Julius was equally far gone, staring into his goblet as if the wine held the secrets of the universe.
"Julius," Reinhard slurred, his voice low and cracking. He didn't look at his friend; his eyes were glued to Emilia's smile. "Look at her. She's... she's so kind. She's everything people say she shouldn't be. She's the sun, Julius. And I'm just... I'm just a cold shadow."
Julius blinked slowly, trying to focus his vision. "She's a candidate, Rein. You're... you're staring. It's not very knightly."
"I don't want to be knightly tonight," Reinhard growled, taking a messy gulp from his glass. "I'm tired of being the 'Saint.' I want what he has. Why does Subaru get to be the one she looks at like that? Why does he get the warmth? I save everyone, I protect everything, and yet... I go home to silence. I want her, Julius. I need... I need to feel that she's real. I want to sleep with her. Tonight."
Julius nearly choked, his eyes widening as he finally looked at his friend. "Reinhard... you're drunk. You're talking about... you're talking about taking things you can't take back."
"I'm talking about life," Reinhard insisted, his hand trembling as he gripped the table. "I need an heir. You know what the Sages say. If I die, the lineage of the Saint dies with me. It's my duty, right? To secure the future? Who better than someone with her mana, her blood? It's for the kingdom... it has to be."
Julius felt his stomach churn, the alcohol turning his moral compass into a spinning needle. He looked at Rem—the "loyal doll" who lived only for Subaru's sake. "And the maid? She's cute, in her own way. Loyal. Too loyal. Subaru's lucky... he's got two of them. He's got... he's got it all, doesn't he?" Julius let out a bitter, drunken laugh. "My Anastasia is cuter, though. Always will be."
Reinhard leaned in, his breath hot and smelling of wine. "We take Subaru to his room. We'll be 'helpful.' And while we're there... we talk to them. We convince them. We're heroes, Julius! They should want to help us secure the kingdom's future. There are laws... ancient ones... the authority of the First Rank. If we have to use the law to make them understand, then we do it. For the kingdom. For us."
Julius sighed, a long, shaky sound. He thought of Subaru—his friend, the man he respected. But then he looked at Reinhard, the strongest man in the world, looking so small and broken in his jealousy.
"The law..." Julius whispered, a dark smirk playing on his lips as he found the excuse he needed to drown his guilt. "Using the 'Knight's Authority' to get what we want? That's a hell of a joke, Rein. A real tragedy."
He looked at Rem again, then back at Reinhard. The alcohol had finally won. The logic of the "greater good" was the perfect mask for their own selfish desires.
"Fine," Julius muttered, raising his glass with a shaky hand. "Let's get our friend to bed. And then... then we see if the 'Saint' and the 'Greatest Knight' can finally find some of that warmth for themselves."
Reinhard didn't smile; he just stood up, swaying as he prepared to step into a darkness he could never return from. "Let's go."
The pair approached Emilia and Rem, who were still fussing over Subaru as he lay slumped on the couch. Reinhard took the lead, his voice as composed as he could muster despite his intoxication.
"Let us help," Reinhard offered, his tone soft but commanding. "We'll carry Subaru to his room."
Emilia smiled warmly, the glow of the evening still on her face. "Thank you, Reinhard. That would be a big help."
Julius grabbed a bottle of wine from the table as they made their way toward Subaru's room. Emilia glanced at him curiously. "Still drinking, Julius?"
He smiled disarmingly. "It's a beautiful night, Lady Emilia. A celebration like this doesn't come often. We might as well enjoy it to the fullest."
Once they reached Subaru's room, Reinhard and Julius laid him carefully onto the bed. Emilia and Rem both stood nearby, their earlier tension easing as they realized Subaru was in good hands. But as Rem moved to pull a chair next to the bed, Reinhard gently stepped in her path.
"We shouldn't stay here," Reinhard whispered, his voice laced with considerate concern. "He needs deep rest. If we stay, laughing and toasting, we risk waking him with a headache. That wouldn't be very knightly of us, would it?"
Rem hesitated, looking back at Subaru. "But... I should watch over him."
"He is safe," Julius added smoothly, stepping close enough that Rem could smell the rich vintage on his breath. "But the night is not over for us. Reinhard and I are sharing the guest suite down the hall. It has a private balcony and... a far superior vintage than this." He lifted the bottle with a conspiratorial wink. "Join us. Let us toast to the hero properly, without disturbing his sleep."
Emilia looked at Reinhard, and he offered her a smile that was dazzling in its intensity. "Please, Lady Emilia. The evening feels incomplete. I would be honored to share just one more glass with the woman who made this all possible."
Flustered and charmed by the Sword Saint's direct attention, Emilia nodded. "Well... if it's so we don't wake Subaru, I suppose it's okay."
They relocated to the knights' opulent guest suite. The heavy oak door clicked shut, sealing out the rest of the mansion. The fire was roaring, casting a golden, flickering light over the velvet furniture. Julius poured the wine—heavy, dark, and aromatic—while Reinhard guided Emilia to the sofa, sitting close enough that their knees brushed.
"You have a gift, Emilia," Reinhard said softly, his blue eyes locking onto hers, ignoring the glass in his hand.
Emilia blinked, her cheeks flushing darker. "A gift?"
"Warmth," Reinhard murmured. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that seemed to vibrate in the quiet room. "The world sees a candidate, or a half-elf. But tonight... I see the only person who makes this cold world feel alive. You have a kindness that melts the ice, Emilia. It draws a man in. It makes him want to be... closer."
Emilia's breath hitched. The compliment was so raw, so different from Subaru's loud declarations. This was heavy, focused, and intoxicating. "Reinhard... you're making me blush."
"Good," he whispered, his gaze dropping to her lips.
Across the room, Julius handed Rem her glass, his demeanor shifting from playful to intensely focused. He didn't sit across from her; he sat on the arm of her chair, looming slightly, boxing her in.
"You are a rare creature, Rem," Julius said, his voice like silk. "So fierce, yet so fragile. You give everything to a man who is currently unconscious, asking for nothing in return."
"Subaru-kun deserves it," Rem stammered, the wine making her head spin pleasantly.
"Does he?" Julius countered gently, reaching out to tuck a strand of blue hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her neck, his touch hot. "Perhaps. But beauty like yours... loyalty like yours... it shouldn't be hidden in the shadow of a hero. It deserves to be worshipped. It deserves a knight who is awake to see it."
Rem looked up at him, her defenses melting under the praise. "Julius-san... you're saying strange things."
"I'm speaking the truth," Julius said, his voice hardening slightly with desire. "Subaru has had his turn. He is asleep."
The air in the room grew heavy, charged with a sudden, undeniable tension. The compliments had done their work; the girls were flushed, flattered, and disarmed.
Reinhard placed his glass on the table with a sharp clink. The sound was like a signal. His charming smile didn't fade, but it changed—becoming hungrier, more possessive.
"Emilia," Reinhard said, his voice no longer asking, but stating. "Julius," he nodded to his friend.
Julius smirked, his hand sliding down to rest firmly on Rem's waist.
"We have a problem, ladies," Reinhard said, his tone smooth but carrying the weight of the Sword Saint's authority. "The kingdom demands heirs from its strongest knights. It is an ancient law... a duty we cannot ignore. And tonight... looking at you both... I think we have found the only ones worthy of helping us fulfill it."
Emilia and Rem blinked, the trap snapping shut around them before they even realized they had walked into it.