The Assassin and the Actor

(A/N: , I wrote so much that I can't feel my fingers. 

Dude, it takes a lot of time to write a chapter and translate it into English.)

The door clicked shut behind Ram. Silence draped over the room like a shroud. Subaru's eyelids grew heavy, exhaustion seeping from his pores.

His breathing slowed. Consciousness dissolved, thoughts unraveling into the dark.

And the dream... waited. familiar loneliness. familiar void.

No sky. No ground. Only endless, timeless... weightless silence. Less a place than a state of being.

Then—the voice Cold. Familiar. Laced with wisdom older than stardust:

"Night has dragged you back to truth's shadow... Subaru."

A figure materialized. Flugel.

Posture unbounded by time, eyes weary yet sharp. Hands clasped behind his back, head slightly tilted.

Subaru squinted. "This place again?" he muttered. "What's the lecture this time?"

Flugel took a step—the void bending to form ground beneath him. "Not my concerns... but yours. You need intel on Elsa."

Subaru sank to his knees, sitting cross-legged. His body language was alert; dreams or not, Flugel's words carried weight.

"I'll be blunt," said Flugel. "Your rendezvous with Meili approaches. Use what I tell you to negotiate with Elsa."

Subaru's gaze sharpened. His mind, though asleep—was awake.

Flugel continued:

"Elsa's assassin guild answers to an Archbishop. The Sin Archbishop of Lust—Capella Emerada Lugunica.

Within the guild, she's called... 'Mother'.

She collects children, molds them into killing machines. Uses them... and when they break, she disposes of them."

Subaru's expression didn't flicker. As if this rot no longer surprised him.

"All Archbishops are lunatics," he deadpanned. Flugel ignored the jab.

"Elsa was chosen for a reason.

Her body bears a curse called 'Curse Doll'. It resurrects her—no matter how many times she dies.

But each revival... chips away at her soul. The curse sustains her... while erasing her piece by piece."

Subaru stiffened. His throat tightened. The description... was horrifyingly familiar.

"did you notice, huh??"

Subaru exhaled. "Like a twisted version of Return by Death."

Flugel nodded.

"Holosseo Featherrun—a dark mage who branded Elsa as a child.

The result? A fractured psyche. Sometimes she's lucid—Meili stabilizes her.

But other times... the other Elsa takes over. The one who lives only to carve... to feast."

Pieces clicked in Subaru's mind. "That explains the Jekyll and Hyde act."

Flugel's eyes darkened. "Wake up, Natsuki Subaru. And try not to die."

As Subaru stood, their gazes locked— The void shattered.

The Hollow Pact Subaru's eyes snapped open. "Round two... Tonight changes everything."

He strode to his closet, pulling out the black cloak from his first day in this world.

Frayed fabric. Faded memories. As he fastened it, his reflection flashed—determined eyes.

Then— He leapt from the window.

"Tonight, I confront Elsa... and rewrite fate."

Mana surged through his legs, propelling him forward. Faster. Sharper. But his body trembled—stamina draining with each step.

"Burning too much... No time to spare."

He reached the rendezvous point—breath ragged, brow slick with sweat.

"Gotta master this mana control... It's killing me," he muttered, grinning through gritted teeth. A grin masking desperation.

The forest held its breath. Something—

No. Someone— Moved.

"Elsa."

He turned slowly, voice steady: "If you want a fight, we'll fight. But I came to talk."

Movement froze. Silence sharpened. Then—from the shadows— She emerged.

Elsa Granhiert. The Bowel Hunter. Scars from their last battle still etched across her skin.

"No desire to fight? Then why threaten Meili?" Her voice was the sound of a blade parting flesh.

Subaru leaned against a tree, feigning ease. Inside, pressure crushed his ribs.

"I just... needed to make her afraid," Subaru said, holding Elsa's gaze without flinching. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath, the moonlight casting long shadows that twisted like living things between the trees. "I didn't want to do it, but... I had no choice. And it worked. You're here now."

Elsa's fingers twitched toward her daggers, her predatory instincts screaming at her to strike. Yet Subaru's unsettling calm gave her pause. The boy who should be trembling before her stood as steady as the ancient oaks surrounding them.

"What do you want, Natsuki Subaru?" Her voice was a velvet-wrapped blade.

Subaru's heart hammered against his ribs, but his mask remained flawless. One crack in his composure, and Elsa would pounce. He needed to control this dance.

"You and Meili," he said, the words deliberate, "I want you both... to work for me."

A flicker of genuine surprise crossed Elsa's face—an expression so foreign it looked almost painful. Her grip on her daggers tightened. Why would the boy I tried to gut now offer me employment? The absurdity nearly made her laugh.

Subaru pressed his advantage, stepping forward until the tip of Elsa's blade brushed his throat. "'Mother'—the Sin Archbishop of Lust—uses children as disposable tools." His voice dropped to a whisper. "But I can offer you something Capella never would: freedom. A place where Meili never has to fear being discarded."

The forest seemed to darken around them as Elsa's dagger bit into Subaru's skin, a thin line of blood welling up. "You know things no living soul should," she hissed. The blade trembled against his pulse. "Tell me how, or I'll carve the answer from your—"

"Curse Doll."

The words struck Elsa like a physical blow. Subaru continued, relentless: "Holosseo Featherrun's masterpiece. A curse that mends your flesh while fracturing your mind. That's why sometimes you're the Elsa who loves Meili... and sometimes you're just the Bowel Hunter."

The dagger clattered to the forest floor. Elsa staggered back as if struck, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Around them, the shadows deepened unnaturally—the very air thickening with unseen malice.

"Impossible..." Elsa whispered. Her hands rose to clutch at her head, nails digging into her scalp. "That knowledge died with—"

And then — he felt it. A cold, sharp touch beneath his throat. A dagger.

Subaru had taken advantage of a momentary lapse, drawing Etherfang and pressing it against Elsa's neck. His movements had been silent, fluid — almost predatory in their precision. In the darkness, Subaru's eyes glowed like embers, steady and unblinking.

"You want to kill me, don't you, Elsa?" His voice was still calm. But that calm carried a tension, sharp as steel and tightly wound like a bowstring about to snap. "Why? Just because of what I know? Because I've seen too much? The truth is... I know much more than that."

Flugel's words echoed in his mind, their weight sinking deeper with each passing breath. The curse's nature. The second persona Elsa tried to suppress. A twisted echo of herself. A shadow clinging to Meili to remain human — or at least, something close to it.

Subaru slowly sheathed the dagger at his waist, the sound of metal on leather oddly loud in the quiet. He didn't break eye contact with Elsa, standing firm in the dark, his silhouette sharp against the faint glow of the stars.

"I can't defeat you, I know that," he said in a quiet but resolute tone. "Your curse... the Curse Doll. You're no different from a vampire. You don't die. Your body tears apart and pulls itself back together like a killing machine designed to haunt nightmares."

Elsa's heart was racing, though her face betrayed nothing. Not a twitch, not a flicker. She remained composed. Alert. But this was her first persona — the strategic thinker, cautious and observant. The one that calculated every heartbeat, every blink.

Subaru stepped back a few paces, widening the distance between them, but not his resolve. "Even so... I chose to talk to you, Elsa. Not because I expect mercy, but because we still can talk. Because the one standing before me right now... is still you."

The darkness that once pressed in on all sides slowly began to retreat. The world seemed to return to reality, colors bleeding back into shapes, edges softening as tension eased.

Subaru took a deep breath, his shoulders subtly relaxing. "There must be a reason you didn't kill me tonight. I just gave you mine. That's all I can do."

Elsa took a step forward, her boots barely making a sound on the soft earth, eyes still locked on his. "I'm only thinking of Meili. But... right now, I have no reason to kill you. That may change. It always does."

Then she turned her back and began walking into the dark. Her daggers still hung at her waist, untouched, glinting faintly with each step like sleeping serpents.

Subaru closed his eyes. "Like this, we can still talk. But if a battle starts... she won't be here. I won't be able to reach her."

The darkness abruptly withdrew. The void gave way to the natural silence of the night once more. Stars began blinking back into view, and the night wind rustled the leaves gently, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and something wild.

Subaru stood in silence for a while. Then, still turned away, he spoke:

"You know where I live. If your answer is 'yes'... my window will be open tomorrow night. All you have to do is come. Just... walk through it."

Elsa slowly lowered the dagger Subaru had pressed to her neck. There was death in her fingertips, a familiar companion. But this man... hadn't flinched. He had stared into death and remained still. Or maybe he was just too stubborn to show fear. That stubbornness... was unsettling.

"You know I could kill you," Elsa said, narrowing her eyes, her voice like cold metal. "And yet, you remain so calm. Why? What makes you so certain?"

Subaru turned his back to her with slow, deliberate steps. The edge of his cloak fluttered in the night breeze like a weary banner. His gaze neither challenged nor pleaded. It simply... spoke truth.

"If you kill me... then only I die, Elsa. You and Meili go on, doing what you've always done. Killing. Surviving. Running. But maybe one day... you'll regret it. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday. Who knows?"

Without saying anything more, he walked away. The moonlight reflected off his back, his shadow stretching long across the ground like a specter. His steps were steady, yet each one carried a quiet, buried exhaustion. Each movement was a battle won.

Elsa simply watched him in silence, her eyes unreadable. Then, in an instant, she leapt into a tree. Graceful, silent. Like she had never been there at all, she melted into the shadows among the branches, vanishing like smoke.

Once Subaru was sure no one was watching... he dropped to his knees. His breath came in sharp gasps, lungs struggling as if only now realizing how tense they'd been. His palms pressed into the soil, grounding him, anchoring him to a world that still spun despite it all. Sweat gathered on his brow, cooling far too quickly in the night air.

"Acting... is such a damn hard thing to do," he whispered.

Inside his head, from a corner of the darkness, a familiar voice echoed. Sarcastic, but unmistakable. Like a shadow laughing to itself.

Flugel chuckled mockingly. The sound wasn't loud, but it rang deep — a note of irony in the symphony of silence.

The Next Day

Subaru waited. He waited until the final lesson ended and the faint hum of conversation dissolved into a hush. He waited until silence wrapped around the mansion like a thick shroud.

The doorways were shrouded in darkness, the air carrying the stillness of breath held too long. Every room slumbered. Lights had been extinguished hours ago, and now, the corridors lay draped in a silence so profound, it felt like walking through the depths of a sealed tomb.

With measured steps, he approached his window.

He raised a hand, fingers trembling ever so slightly, and pushed the glass wide open.

The night wind swept into the room—cool, but not cold. It carried with it the scent of dew-soaked grass, distant blooming flowers, and something intangible—like stardust wrapped in threads of destiny.

To Subaru, this wasn't merely a window. It was a gesture. A beacon. A silent offering cast into the abyss, left for Elsa to receive. Not a trap. Not a surrender. But an invitation.

A test of trust.

Then he turned away and returned to his desk.

His gaze scanned the cluttered surface: pencils dulled by repetition, worn sketches, gears sketched and re-sketched.

There was a promise he had made. One not to a noble, nor to a witch. But to a friend.

A sewing machine.

He picked up his pencil, fingers already moving with instinct.

As he bent over the paper, shadows of the past drifted across the canvas of his memory.

"Gear systems… Dad showed me once, back in the garage. Pulleys, springs, coils… I remember the way his hands moved. It's all there—just beyond reach.

But…"

"…Something's off. Something small. Ratios. The number of rotations. They're not syncing right. Each time I try, it fails in the same way."

He was consumed by the drawing, lines forming, erasing, redrawing.

Time melted away. Reality narrowed until all that existed was graphite and possibility.

Until… a warmth brushed against the back of his neck.

A breath.

Subaru froze. Not in fear. Not this time. But in focus.

He didn't look up. His pencil did not stop. Yet his senses sharpened, like a blade drawn across whetstone.

"How long have you been watching, Elsa?"

His voice was a whisper—steady and deliberate. Like a ritual. Like a habit forged in fire and blood.

Behind him, the answer came. Soft. Languid. Almost playful. But wrapped around danger like silk around steel.

"Hm? Since the moment you opened the window."

Subaru's shoulders stiffened—reflex, not fear. His body reacted, but his mind... remained still. Quiet.

"Then you saw the invitation. Yet you chose to observe. You chose to listen. Which tells me... tonight, you won't kill me."

He reached to the side, tore a sheet of paper from the table, and extended it behind him.

"What would you suggest for this?"

It was the diagram—the one he had redrawn a dozen times. The heart of the machine. The source of his frustration. It might have been flawed, but it was honest. It carried effort. Hope.

Elsa stepped forward. He didn't turn. But he felt the air shift. The slight creak of wood beneath her feet. The pause of someone not used to being asked.

She took the page, her eyes scanning it.

From Subaru's stained fingertips to the arcs and lines drawn with so much precision, so much doubt.

And in that moment… her gaze softened.

She was… Curious. Moved—if only a little. Subaru felt the shift. A question bloomed in his mind:

"Can I change her? Can I change this world, one breath at a time?"

Elsa tilted her head, strands of dark hair catching the pale moonlight.

She didn't know the language of machines. But her instincts, honed through years of silent stalking and sudden death, were precise.

"These round ones… gears?" she murmured, brushing her fingertip over a cog.

She turned the paper slightly. Studied the spacing. "Maybe… try layering them. One on top of the other. Like how bones move in a wrist."

Subaru blinked. He dropped his pencil.

Then, almost impulsively, he reached out and took her hand.

"You… you're a genius."

Elsa's eyes widened, just for a breath. Praise. Unexpected. Unfiltered. A stranger to her ears.

She wasn't used to warmth. Not this kind. And yet… something within her chest stirred.

It didn't bloom. It didn't blaze. But it flickered. A beginning. And maybe… just maybe… she smiled.

Subaru noticed.

He turned quickly back to his desk, like a man retreating from a truth too bright to face.

But his heart was racing. His fingers itched.

"Why didn't I think of that?" He snatched up his pencil and bent over the design.

"If I place a smaller gear inside a larger one… they'll rotate together.

But the path each one traces—different lengths, different speeds. That's it. That's what I was missing."

He spoke aloud, as if by saying the words, he could solidify them. His pencil began to move faster.

Curves aligned. Lines clicked into place. Gears nestled within each other like puzzle pieces finding their match.

The mechanism was coming to life. Not yet in steel, but in spirit. As if the idea had chosen this moment—this night—to be born.

And in the quiet of the room, under the gaze of an unlikely witness,

Subaru kept drawing.

Elsa watched him silently for a while, her eyes fixed on his every move.

There was an unusual expression in them — a lightness, almost playful, mingled with an unmistakable curiosity, as if she were watching a puzzle slowly unravel itself.

But then, the silence fractured. Her voice, when it came, was gentle and clear, its usual sharp edge blunted as though smoothed over by genuine interest:

"So... a deal?"

Subaru's pen came to a halt mid-stroke.

He stared at the half-written sentence for a heartbeat, then slowly, deliberately, set the pen down.

Elsa's voice had pierced through the haze of his thoughts like a bell tolling in the distance, pulling him back from a dreamlike focus.

He looked up at her, eyes still alight with a flicker of excitement, but when he spoke, his voice had shifted — deeper, more controlled, like someone stepping into a role they had rehearsed long in advance:

"Here's how it's going to go... You and Meili will live and work here, at this mansion."

A breath of silence stretched between them.

Subaru's tone grew steadier, each word now weighed with intention, the edges of his voice sharpening like blades being honed.

"Meili will serve as a maid. She'll help with chores, daily routines, and learn what it means to live without blood on her hands. And... I'll never give her an order to kill. Not once."

Every syllable was deliberate, each pause purposeful.

He wasn't just explaining; he was constructing a foundation, stone by stone, on which trust could stand.

"As for you, Elsa... you'll become another of Emilia's protectors. A guardian in the shadows.

That way, you can keep Meili away from the darkness that once consumed you... and protect her from threats she can't yet understand."

Subaru turned from her, walking toward the wide window that overlooked the moonlit gardens.

The cool night air flowed through the open frame, brushing his hair gently like a ghost's whisper.

The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting silvery light that caught in his eyes and gave them a quiet, metallic intensity.

"Roswaal is the kingdom's most powerful mage. Sometimes... just invoking his name is enough to make problems vanish. That's the kind of shield I'm offering you. Use it wisely."

He pivoted slowly, locking eyes with Elsa.

His gaze was calm, level — but behind it, a spark of challenge simmered like an ember in the ashes.

"As for your more... sadistic tendencies..." He let out a small smile, neither mockery nor dismissal, but something closer to understanding — or resignation.

"If I ever decide someone truly threatens what we're building here — if they stand in the way of Emilia's path — you can eliminate them. As violently as you please."

No bravado. No false promises. Just a plain-spoken deal between two people who had both seen too much.

A pact of necessity, like a condemned man finding common ground with his executioner.

Silence settled again.

This was everything Subaru could put on the table. No exaggeration, no bravado. Just truth, worn and sincere. Each word carried a shard of his resolve, brittle but unyielding.

Elsa didn't respond immediately.

She stood in stillness, weighing his offer against the memories etched into her soul — memories painted in crimson and stitched with regret.

Her past was a symphony of screams and steel, and yet, through all of it, she had survived.

But then there was Meili.

Those eyes — innocent, untainted, untouched by cruelty. In a world that fed on corruption, her purity was a miracle.

"I accept your offer, Natsuki Subaru," Elsa said at last.

Her voice rang clearer now, the human tone breaking through the cracks of the killer's facade.

"But under one condition. No harm will come to Meili. Not through action, negligence, or omission. If I see even a shadow of danger hover near her..."

Her fingers slid over the hilt of her dagger like a violinist touching strings. "...I'll start with you."

Subaru took a deep breath and walked back to his desk with deliberate steps.

He sat down without breaking eye contact, though his head didn't turn as he answered, his voice steady as stone.

"Calm down, Bowel Hunter..." There was no sarcasm, only conviction.

"I'll treat Meili like my own sister. I know what it means to lose someone who matters.

And I won't let that happen again. Not while I'm still breathing."

Elsa met his eyes, searching. She found no deception. No fear. No rehearsed lines.

Only raw honesty — scarred, tired, but utterly immovable.

Her hand fell away from her weapon.

The tension that had coiled like a spring slowly released into a vigilant calm.

"Alright," she said softly. Then she hesitated, and her voice lost its edge. "How exactly are you planning to explain us to the rest of the mansion?"

Subaru was ready for that too.

He spoke without missing a beat, as though this part had played out in his mind a hundred times:

"I'll speak to Roswaal. Frame it so it looks like he brought you in himself. That way, no one questions your presence — or Meili's."

Elsa raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable.

Though she didn't speak, the disbelief in her posture was palpable.

She tilted her head slightly, curiosity dancing at the corner of her mouth. "Is the man standing before me a master manipulator... or a complete idiot?"

Even she didn't know the answer to that. And perhaps, neither did Subaru.

Elsa let out a deep sigh, a slow release of breath that felt heavier than usual.

Her eyes drifted across the room, landing on the fresh lines Subaru had sketched—lines she hadn't noticed forming until that moment.

They weren't just shapes or meaningless curves; they were pieces of something deeper, a quiet storm of thought given form.

Subaru, as Elsa had casually suggested earlier, returned to his work. His pen reunited with the paper like old friends rejoining after battle. But now, the strokes were firmer, more deliberate.

The gears in his design meshed together smoothly, purposefully, like a perfectly tuned mechanism coming to life under his fingers.

It resembled the complexity of existence itself—chaotic yet beautiful—only this time, the chaos bent to his will.

Elsa moved slowly, her bare feet barely making a sound as she walked to the bed.

She gently pulled back the blanket, settling onto the mattress with a grace that seemed out of place for someone known as the Bowel Hunter.

eyes tracing the patterns in the wooden ceiling.

Shadows twisted and danced across the ceiling, cast by the low flicker of a distant lamp.

But deep within Elsa—where once rage and thrill had always stirred—something was unusually quiet.

There, in the hidden corners of her heart, a strange hollowness spread.

Not painful, not cold... just unfamiliar.

And yet, nestled within that emptiness was a warmth, fragile and new.

Bowel Hunter Elsa. A name soaked in blood, cloaked in fear. A woman who thrived in the bleakest corners of life. And yet now, in the depths of that same darkness,

By the time Subaru finally put the finishing touches on his sketches, dawn had already begun to brush the horizon with pale gold.

The lines on his desk, once scattered and chaotic, now formed a complete whole.

His plan was no longer a dream. It had shape, edges, intent.

He inhaled deeply, his breath shaky from exhaustion but tinged with satisfaction.

His mind was still alert, racing through the potential futures his design could unlock.

But his body—heavy, aching—had begun to surrender to fatigue.

Then, just as he adjusted the position of his chair, his gaze drifted leftward...

Elsa lay curled in bed, 

The blanket had risen to her shoulders, her black hair splayed like strands of moonlight.

For a brief moment—just a flicker—her face looked peaceful, unguarded.

Subaru's eyes lingered, unwillingly but helplessly drawn.

A part of him simply couldn't look away. But shame bloomed immediately afterward.

He forced his head to turn sharply to the side.

"Okay... look away. Even glancing could be taken the wrong way," he muttered to himself.

The familiar sting of embarrassment—now amplified by sleeplessness—made his ears burn.

He didn't want to wake her. Not like this. Not when she looked so still, so utterly defenseless.

And in that vulnerable stillness, something unexpected had bloomed within him—respect.

Not just for the killer she was, but for the quiet soul she might still become.

Subaru stood, trying not to let the chair scrape.

He tiptoed across the room, careful not to disturb even the dust.

His fingers brushed the doorknob—

And then a voice, cold yet sly, slid through the silence like a blade:

"Staring at a sleeping woman's breastst is harassment, Subaru."

He froze instantly.

Shoulders locked. Spine straight. Panic lit up in his brain like fireworks.

He turned his head slowly, as if expecting to find her still asleep.

But no—Elsa's eyes remained shut, her breathing unchanged. Only the subtle curl of her lips betrayed her. That infuriatingly smug grin.

Even in sleep, she was a predator. Even in sleep, she could humiliate someone.

"Wh—!? I wasn't even looking!"

His voice cracked between indignation and desperation. He didn't care to argue. He just wanted to vanish. But his feet—traitorous things—refused to move.

Elsa giggled softly.

She snuggled deeper under the blanket, pulling it to her chin before cracking open one eye.

Her gaze was different this time. Not sharp. Not dangerous. Just amused.

"Just teasing… But what if you had looked?"

Subaru's face went up in flames.

His thoughts scattered, chasing themselves like panicked birds.

He hesitated—then, perhaps more seriously than necessary—lowered his head and replied:

"Even if they were on the list of the most... impressive I've ever seen— I couldn't bring myself to do that. Not to someone sleeping. That's not who I am."

He straightened his back, his jaw set. There was no humor in his voice. No apology, either. Just a boundary drawn in stone.

He turned, opened the door, and stepped out.

The quiet click of the door closing behind him was all that remained.

Elsa stared at the ceiling for a moment longer.

Then she buried her face in the pillow, laughing softly. Her smile widened, open and genuine.

There was no trace of her colder self Right now, she was just... a woman in a warm bed, entertained by a peculiar boy.

But her thoughts were far from still.

"Meili's going to love this..."

With a mischievous grin, she threw the blanket aside.

In one swift motion, she launched herself to the windowsill,

perched like a cat, eyes gleaming.

And then—just like a shadow—she slipped into the waking world, silent and unseen.