The next morning, Shichen opened his eyes to a completely unfamiliar ceiling.

The décor was rather luxurious; the crystals hanging from the fixture glowed faintly.

He’d gone straight to sleep last night and hadn’t noticed.

There wasn’t much to notice anyway. He woke with someone small and soft in his arms; after a moment of bleary comfort, he fully collected himself and recalled Est so she was no longer visible. After all, he was a guest in someone else’s home—best not to “move in with the whole family” right away.

Sitting up, he looked over the room. It radiated a noble’s taste at a glance. The guest room alone was spacious; the bed beneath him was absurdly large, and unknown paintings hung on the walls. Shichen didn’t recognize art from another world, but even by modern standards, their quality was clear.

He wasn’t especially interested in any of it. What did disappoint him was that, upon waking, there were no twin maids in sight. They probably hadn’t been told he’d arrived; it had been late, and no one had notified them. Just as well—if they’d walked in to see him sleeping with a snow-white loli in his arms, his first impression would have been ruined.

Emilia likely wasn’t up yet, or she would have come to find him. In that case, he could explore the mansion a bit.

He got out of bed, pulled fresh clothes from his Treasury, changed, and left the room.

Outside the door stretched a broad corridor in warm tones—walls and floors matched—and the passages ran on to left and right so far they disappeared from view. He already knew how vast the place was, or he might have wondered if someone had stretched space like he did with magic. Seeing it in person was more direct than seeing it on a screen—far too luxurious.

He didn’t wander aimlessly. Following the presences he sensed, he set off in a certain direction down the hall.

All was quiet—no footsteps, no signs of anyone. Counting Puck, only six people lived here.

Thinking of the clownish host, Shichen strode along without concern. After a bit, though, he noticed something was wrong: the scene wasn’t changing; the paintings on the walls were identical. Yet he felt no spatial fluctuation.

Which meant a mechanism.

So meeting a certain drill-curled girl spirit wasn’t going to be easy. But that wouldn’t stop him. He looked at a nearby door, walked over, gripped the handle, and when he turned it, he wove space into the action.

“Who’s bothering me so early—… Shichen?”

“Hm?”

The library beyond was lined wall-to-ceiling with books. The curly-haired girl inside, who had been glaring, froze. The room itself wasn’t large—not even as big as the guest room he’d slept in. Bookcases rose to the ceiling, completely filling the space; their shelves were packed, neat and overflowing.

Shichen had no mind for the collection. He hadn’t misheard—she had just spoken his name.

At that moment, the crest on the back of his hand flashed; Est appeared beside him, took his hand, and looked toward the girl.

“Betty,” Est said softly.

“Est…” Beatrice (Betty) spoke Est’s name as well, eyes glazing with an emotion that didn’t match her youthful face.

They knew each other. Under normal circumstances, that should have been impossible. They were both spirits—but not of the same world.

“Mm. We came to find you,” Est nodded.

“Find me… You’ve finally come…” Beatrice’s eyes shone with tears.

“Betty…” Shichen called her name gently. He’d known her already, but now it seemed it wasn’t just “through a screen.” After all—she knew him, just like Est.

With Est as precedent, he wasn’t too shocked. He also now understood why She had told him to bring Est along.

“Mm. It’s me,” Beatrice nodded firmly.

“What am I supposed to say here? ‘Long time no see’? Or ‘sorry to keep you waiting’?” Shichen smiled.

“You come in just to ask that? Shichen, shouldn’t you follow your heart and do what you ought to do?” Beatrice puffed her cheeks, opening her arms wide.

Shichen understood. He released Est and walked forward, opening his arms. When he reached her, Beatrice couldn’t help herself—she threw herself into his embrace.

“Shichen! You finally came to get me! I missed you so much! We’re finally together again!”

She hugged him tight, face buried in his chest, crying tears of joy. He felt his shirt dampen; he wrapped one arm around her back, the other over her head. His voice was gentle and apologetic: “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

There was nothing to ask—no “what happened” needed. All he had to do was answer her long-held expectation.

“Mm! I waited four hundred years! But if you’re here, it was worth it!” Beatrice looked up, eyes brimming, smiling bright.

“Four hundred years, huh… Your face is all tear-stained—that’s a shame for such a cute face. Come on, smile,” Shichen said, brushing her cheeks dry.

“Betty is cute even crying. But since you ask, I’ll smile,” she said in tsundere fashion, squeezing out an adorable grin.

“That’s better.”

Seeing her in person, he could appreciate just how cute she was—small face exquisitely sculpted, skin smooth and springy. She looked about the size of Illya and the others, but her features held a touch of maturity—eleven or twelve.

The luxurious dress with its profusion of ruffles made her look like a doll—and suited her cherubic face perfectly. Her long, creamy-blond hair was curled in rich European waves. She tilted her head up at him, eyes shining with expectation; tear tracks still clung to her cheeks, but she smiled. His heart melted at the sight.

Beatrice—Betty—was a man-made great spirit over four hundred years old.

“Shichen…” She hung her hands around his neck, unable to hide her delight. “You owe me a promise.”

“A promise?” he blinked.

“You said so yourself—next time we met, you’d give me a kiss as a reunion gift.”

“…A kiss? Really?” he frowned, looking a little odd.

“Really! Est can testify!”

Shichen looked to Est, who nodded calmly.

“…”

He still found it hard to believe. Even if Betty was four hundred plus, he hadn’t imagined he’d have made such a promise.

“Shichen… are you backing out?” Beatrice pouted.

“I won’t. But let me ask you one thing first.”

“What? Hurry up!” she urged.

“You said you’d waited four hundred years, right?”

“Mm!”

“Then… did we meet more than four hundred years ago?”

“Mm… it counts,” she said after thinking.

“What do you mean ‘counts’?”

“I know what you mean. In this world, this is the first time we’re meeting,” Beatrice explained.

“This time… I see,” Shichen nodded. So, like Est, she must have “earlier” memories—not that he’d time-traveled back to meet her four centuries prior. Est knew many people, but none of them remembered her. Betty did.

“Alright! Stop overthinking—let’s settle that promise!” Beatrice turned her cheek toward him, impatient.

“Mm? You mean a cheek kiss?” he arched a brow.

“Of course. You promised,” she said solemnly, afraid he’d back out.

“So it’s a cheek kiss… good,” he exhaled, a hint of regret flickering.

“If not the cheek, then—mm! If you want… that’s alright too,” Betty mumbled, catching his meaning, cheeks flushing pink.

“No… cheek is fine,” Shichen said righteously.

“Tch. Still the same as before. That’s how you always were with me,” she grumbled.

“How was I before?”

“Before you… hmph. Sister said I can’t tell you,” Beatrice corrected herself quickly.

“Sister… The same ‘sister’ Est mentioned?” he asked.

“A sister is a sister—there’s only one,” she said.

“…”

Her again. Always the riddles, never the explanation. What was there to hide?

[What are you hiding?] Shichen asked Her.

[Nothing dramatic—just want you to focus on collecting divine fragments,] She replied for once.

[If you told me, I could focus better.]

[It’s the same either way. And weren’t you the one who said you wanted to find out my identity yourself?]

[…Just wait. When I do, I’ll show you what I can do.]

[Mm. I’ll be waiting. Do whatever you want then.]

[…]

“Shichen! What are you doing spacing out? Don’t tell me you’re skipping the promise?” Beatrice prodded.

“Oh… a promise is a promise,” he said, leaning in and kissing her soft, rosy cheek.

“And this side too.” She turned the other cheek. He obliged—another smack. Springy, like pudding.

“Hehe~”

Beatrice smiled, then cast a triumphant glance at Est. “See? Shichen likes me.”

Expressionless, Est said, “So what? Shichen hugs me to sleep every day—and gives me development massages. Not over clothes, either~”

“Wh-what?!” Beatrice’s eyes went wide.

“And with my feet I also—mmph!”

Before she could finish, Shichen covered her mouth—but the point had been made.

“Shichen! How can you treat Est like that? You weren’t like this before!”

“…What was I like before?”

“You were proper with us—no… desires at all.”

“I-I see…”

“How could you do that with Est… I want it too!”

“…Don’t,” Shichen said firmly.

He didn’t know why, but in his heart, there were lines—things he could do with Est that he couldn’t with Beatrice. No matter Betty’s age, she was “a little girl” in his mind. Est… perhaps because they’d first met with blunt candor, or because of white hair and a blank face—she’d slipped past his mental barriers. Maybe it was just first impressions, formed from a screen.

“How is that fair! If Est can use her feet, then can she use her whole body later?” Beatrice demanded. She knew exactly what she was saying.

“Absolutely not. I’m not that kind of person,” he said, solemn.

“Hmph! I don’t believe you!”

“…Betty, can we not talk about this?”

“No. You like this kind of thing, don’t you?”

“…Nonsense.”

“Hmph. It’s not like I don’t know you,” she said, smug.

“…”

“Shichen, I want equal treatment. That’s how it used to be.”

“…We just met again—must we talk about this now?” he sighed.

“Isn’t this great for building intimacy?”

“…If you know me, you know I value feelings,” he said.

“Of course. We’re already so close.”

“But you’re forgetting—we’ve just met, here. We’re not ‘close’ yet.”

“Ah…”

“How about we take our time?” he said, ruffling her hair.

“Fine… but you must be fair later!” she insisted.

“Mm…”

“Then let’s renew our contract. I’ll be your spirit,” she said.

“How do we sign?”

“Leave it to me—and then you drink my blood.”

“Drink… blood?”

“Of course. I want to be one with you!”

“…Don’t put it like that,” he said, flicking her forehead lightly.

“Mm… Got it.”

Beatrice solemnly bound the pact with him, and he drank her blood. Now they were joined not only by contract, but by blood—completely his. With his blood in her, her nature was no longer “man-made”; she wouldn’t have to worry about some unreasonable “chosen one” preventing her from controlling mana.

There were no bite side-effects—because he didn’t want there to be.

“Alright! Let’s go, Shichen—I’ll show you around Roswaal’s mansion. Treat it like home,” Beatrice said, taking his hand to lead him out. Shichen went along, taking Est’s hand as well.

“Treat it like home… Is that okay?”

“Who cares? Don’t mind that clown—steal his mansion for all I care, after what he tried.”

“Sounds like you know everything,” he said.

“Must I not? I hardly spoke to him once in four hundred years.”

“Just… waiting for me?”

“Mm!”

“…,” Shichen felt ashamed. She spoke lightly, but four centuries of waiting isn’t. Four hundred years of loneliness—perhaps only the certainty that he would come kept her going. Even with that certainty—most couldn’t bear it.

He’d make it up to her—not with grand gestures, but simply by staying with her. Making up for four hundred years of loneliness.

“Right—you had that book that tells the future, didn’t you? Where is it?” he asked as they left the library. He was curious—and maybe it held clues about Her.

“Long gone,” Beatrice said lightly.

“Gone?” he blinked.

“Of course. If I knew you’d come now, why keep it? I just need to be by your side.”

“…That works too,” he said. Whether She had a hand in it didn’t matter—it was done.

“Come on. I’ll take you to see them. You want to meet them, right?”

“Them?”

In short order, Beatrice led him to them.

“My, two strangers, Sister.”

“Yes, I wonder where they came from, Rem.”

Two girls stepped out of a doorway—their voices exactly alike.

“The stranger’s even holding Beatrice-sama’s hand. Beatrice-sama has come out, Sister.”

“Yes, it’s indeed Beatrice-sama, Rem.”

“Shichen, you do want to meet them, right?” Beatrice said proudly, pointing at the identical pair. Est watched them quietly—focused mostly on one. Clearly, she knew them too.

The two girls stood side by side—identical faces: obvious twins. They weren’t tall; big eyes and peach-pink lips on lightly sculpted faces made “childish” and “cute” coexist—impossible to look away. Both wore short bob cuts, but with opposite bangs—one over the right eye, one over the left. Most striking of all: their hair colors differed. One pink. One blue.

Their outfits? Something else entirely—matching maid uniforms. Black-based apron dresses, white headpieces, off-shoulder cuts paired with short skirts, the lines of the body shown clearly—irresistibly alluring. A completely different maid aesthetic from Tohru’s—unsurprisingly, Shichen preferred this type.

Twins. Twin maids. No need to say more about the appeal.

“Beatrice-sama, are you familiar with these two guests?” the blue-haired one asked.

“Of course!” Beatrice lifted her chin proudly. “Shichen has already contracted with me!”

“What?! Contract?!” The pink-haired one’s placid face changed—she stared at Shichen, surprised. The blue-haired one also gave him a measuring look.

“Hello—my name is Shichen, and this is Est. We’re guests of Emilia. We arrived late last night, so we didn’t inform you,” he said proactively.

“So you’re Emilia-sama’s guests. Shichen-sama, welcome,” the blue-haired one said with a nod and bow.

“Shichen-sama,” the pink-haired one echoed, still surprised that he’d become Beatrice’s contracted spirit so suddenly.

“No need to be so formal. I just got here—please forgive any missteps,” Shichen said politely.

“Yes.”

“You’re both too proper—and Shichen, you too. I told you—treat this place like your own home. Don’t worry about Roswaal,” Beatrice said breezily.

“Hehe~,” Shichen laughed awkwardly.

“Right—shouldn’t you two introduce yourselves?” Beatrice prompted the twins.

~~~

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