Since all the Witches knew she wasn't the real Satella, that also meant Pandora knew she wasn't the real Satella.
Which meant—
They were both playing roles.
Subaru had realized this the moment she locked eyes with Pandora earlier. That tiny, knowing glint in the blonde woman's gaze, the way she smiled just a little too perfectly—it was the exact same thing Subaru was doing.
A mask.
An act.
Pandora wasn't speaking to Satella, the legendary Witch of Envy.
She was speaking to her.
To Natsuki Subaru, a regular guy—well, girl now—who had somehow ended up wearing the face of one of the most feared beings in the world.
But Pandora wasn't calling her out.
She wasn't even questioning it.
Because she was pretending, too.
She addressed her as Satella. She treated her like Satella. She played the role of the loyal, graceful, all-knowing guide, never once slipping, never once giving away what she truly knew.
They were playing chess with words, both of them waiting for the other to slip up first.
It was almost funny when Subaru thought about it.
Here she was, bullshitting her way through being the Final Boss of a cult.
And Pandora?
She was bullshitting her way through handling her.
A game of masks, played in silence, surrounded by lunatics who had no idea what was really going on.
And neither of them was willing to break the illusion first.
Ē~Ē
The plan was simple.
Attack the capital.
Keep Reinhard busy.
And while the strongest man in the world was preoccupied, Satella would go and consume the Half-Elf.
Of course, the "keeping Reinhard busy" part wasn't her job.
That was for everyone else.
The Sin Archbishops, the fanatics, the monsters that worshipped her.
While they threw themselves at the Sword Saint—knowing full well that they were doomed from the start—Subaru would be moving in the shadows.
Slipping through the chaos.
Using mist travel.
Finding the Half-Elf.
And devouring her.
That was the plan.
That was what Pandora had decided.
That was what the cultists expected.
That was what the Witch of Envy was meant to do.
And Subaru…
She had no idea what the hell she was supposed to do about it.
Subaru had no intention of eating a person. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
None.
Zero.
Absolutely not happening.
The idea of devouring someone's existence, of swallowing their very being the same way she had consumed the rabbits, the forest, the life around her—
No.
She refused.
And that wasn't even the worst part.
Because this wasn't just any person.
The Half-Elf—Emilia.
She had a name. A life. She was real.
And more importantly—
If Subaru actually devoured her, wouldn't she go insane?
Like, berserk?
She wasn't an expert on how Witch logic worked, but if she had all of Satella's instincts, then wouldn't devouring someone who looked exactly like her original self mess her up completely?
Wouldn't that make Envy stronger?
Wouldn't that ruin everything?
And even if it didn't—even if she could somehow stomach it—
She didn't want to.
She wouldn't let the cultists go on a killing spree, wouldn't let them massacre innocents, wouldn't let them butcher an entire kingdom in her name.
She had to stop this.
But if she opposed them outright, they would suspect her.
She had to do this carefully.
So she did what she did best.
She acted like the Final Boss.
She let her mist swirl, let the blackened air press down, let her violet eyes glow just a bit more ominously.
Then, she spoke.
"I do not need your help."
Silence.
Tension snapped into place like a wire pulled taut.
The cultists froze.
The Sin Archbishops paused.
Even Pandora's eyes flickered slightly.
Subaru kept her face cold, unreadable, her voice measured, absolute.
"Do you doubt me?"
Betelgeuse twitched violently, dropping to the floor, writhing in self-inflicted agony. "OHHH! SUCH WISDOM! SUCH OVERWHELMING LOVE! NO, NEVER! I WOULD NEVER DOUBT YOU, MY MOST BELOVED!"
The cultists wailed in unison, throwing themselves to the ground, pressing their foreheads to the floor, whispering their prayers like a chant, like a spell, like a curse.
Regulus huffed, arms crossed, expression irritated. "Hah. If you don't need us, then why even bother? Just go do it yourself."
Sirius giggled violently, chains rattling, breathing in the heightened emotions flooding the room. "AHHH, SUCH DOMINANCE, SUCH CONTROL, SUCH FINALITY—"
Subaru didn't blink.
Didn't move.
Then, finally—
"You are not needed."
A command.
A statement.
A dismissal.
And for a moment—
For a glorious moment—
She thought it worked.
She thought she had successfully crushed their enthusiasm, had shut down the plan without making them suspicious.
But then—
That fucking Pandora actually interpreted her words into some motivational bullshit.
She smiled gently, hands folded in her lap, expression serene.
"Ah, such power. Such certainty. Our beloved does not require assistance, for she is absolute."
The cultists shuddered.
A wave of euphoria spread through them, devotion twisting, mutating, becoming something far worse.
Sirius moaned outright, trembling as her chains coiled tighter. "YES! YES! OUR BELOVED NEEDS NOTHING, NO ONE! SHE STANDS ABOVE ALL—AHHHH, SUCH EMOTION, SUCH PASSION, SUCH LOVE!"
Betelgeuse was crying now, slamming his hands against his face, his body contorting unnaturally. "TO SERVE HER! TO SACRIFICE FOR HER! TO DIE FOR HER—SUCH LOVE, SUCH LOVE, SUCH LOVE!"
Regulus snorted, smirking. "Hah. Well, if that's how it is, then I suppose we'll just have to put on a good enough show to impress her, won't we?"
Gluttony licked their lips, grinning, bodies twitching in excitement.
Capella cackled, clapping her hands. "Oooohhh, this is getting interesting~! Looks like we're having a party after all~!"
Subaru's stomach dropped.
She had tried to stop them.
Tried to shut it down.
Tried to act cool and vague and terrifying enough that they would back off.
And instead, she had somehow made them even more eager to cause destruction.
The plan was still in motion.
The attack was still happening.
They were still going to throw themselves at Reinhard.
And they still expected her to go and devour Emilia.
Subaru forced herself to breathe slowly, to keep her expression calm, to suppress the sheer, overwhelming frustration bubbling inside her.
She had tried to manipulate them.
And Pandora had manipulated her right back.
Fine.
Fine.
If they thought she was following the script—
Then she'd just have to rewrite the ending.
TBC
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