Beatrice

Flames roared through the Roswaal mansion, devouring centuries of history in hungry orange waves. Smoke choked the corridors as wooden beams cracked and collapsed. Subaru Natsuki sprinted desperately, slamming open door after door, each one leading to the wrong room. “Beatrice! Where are you?!” he screamed, voice raw, lungs burning from the heat and ash. He knew the layout by now—too many painful loops—but panic made every hallway feel like a cruel maze crafted by fate itself. Deep within the ever-shifting Forbidden Library, protected by its spatial magic even as the world outside burned, sat Beatrice. The blonde-haired Great Spirit remained on her small stool, knees drawn to her chest, clutching the thick, ancient Gospel that Echidna had given her exactly four hundred years ago. The book—her contract, her curse, her only constant companion—felt heavier than ever in her tiny arms. Golden chains of forgotten magic glowed faintly around her as embers began to slip through the library’s barriers. Her sapphire eyes, usually sharp with tsundere pride, were wide and glistening with unshed tears. Centuries of waiting, of betrayal, of hollow existence pressed down on her. The flames reflected in her gaze as the mansion groaned its death throes. “Betty… has waited long enough,” she whispered, voice trembling yet resolute. She hugged the Gospel tighter, pressing her face into its cover. “Subaru… if you’re really different… then choose me.” The library doors burst open. Subaru stumbled in, coughing, clothes singed, eyes locking onto her small figure amid the growing inferno. For a moment, time froze between them—master and spirit, human and artificial being, two lonely souls standing at the edge of everything. Beatrice looked up, fragile hope cracking her usual facade. “…Choose me.”