Do You Remember Me?
The familiar smell of antiseptic. The familiar hospital room vibrating with that scent. The familiar back turned toward me as I opened the door. You turned at the sound, your familiar face meeting my eyes. Our gazes locked, and as always, you grinned at me with that mischievous glint in your eyes.
Seeing you like that, I eyed you warily, wondering what scheme you had up your sleeve this time. That was always how it was between us—the playful little sister and the brother tormented by her antics. We'd fool each other with obvious lies, hiding our true feelings behind masks.
How long do I have to keep taking care of her? A thought I could never voice in front of her. Do you think I wanted to be born like this!? Do you think I wanted to be born a cripple!!! And yet, on the other hand, words that always lingered on the tip of my tongue. Mom and Dad are getting old, and I'm barely scraping by myself. If I'd known it would be like this, I would've rather... rather... [I wish I'd never been born.]
――
"...!"
My eyes snapped open. Had I been thrashing in my sleep? What a shitty dream. Come to think of it, it was the first dream I'd had since arriving here. And for my first one to be this? What a bad omen.
It had been an exhausting day, no doubt. Dragged out by Frederica first thing in the morning for a full day of shopping just the two of us—that alone was tiring enough. And then that incident on the way back...
Already worn out, and then getting that rough "care" from the servants laced with their usual resentment? My body and mind were completely drained.
"..."
I parted the curtains slightly, and soft moonlight filtered through. The moon hung high in the midnight sky, far from dawn. Careful not to wake Hia sleeping soundly beside me, I eased myself up and slipped out of bed.
The unpleasant dream had chased away any hope of sleep anyway, and tossing and turning might wake the kid. Better to step outside for a mood-lifting walk.
Frederica's new clothes hung neatly in the wardrobe, but I couldn't be bothered to change. Not because they were expensive... just too much hassle to dress up for a quick nighttime stroll. So I headed out in my pajamas.
This makes me feel like Urtic Mirhane. I get why she wanders around like this. It's insanely comfortable.
"Suuuu..."
Out in the garden, I inhaled the cool night air deeply.
"Hooo..."
I breathed it in until my lungs stung, then exhaled. Only then did my cluttered mind start to clear a little.
And... that's when the sense of wrongness hit me, belatedly.
"...?"
Was the garden always like this? There definitely wasn't a tree that big in the estate's garden.
Snapping to attention, I looked around. Unfamiliar trees had sprouted everywhere—towering far taller than any person, trees that didn't belong in a garden.
It looked less like a garden and more like a forest. A dangerous one that devoured lost wanderers.
"...!?"
I spun around to rush back to the house, but all I saw were endless tall trees. I whipped my head every direction—no estate in sight. The house that should have been just a few steps away had vanished without a trace.
"Wha... what..."
What the hell is going on? A dream? Am I still dreaming? No, wait... where does the dream even start and end?
Frederica's attack? Urtic Mirhane falling ill? Or... from the very beginning?
If it was all just a dream... then what is this scene...?
A chilling voice brushed my ear. Not quite human, like a old radio crackling and cutting out. Just hearing it filled me with disgust—no, fear first.
Bathory. I know this voice. I know exactly who it belongs to.
My eyes met the birch tree. Its snowflake-like patterns writhed, staring right at me. From the top of that birch tree, something fluttered down with a soft whoosh.
I quickly realized it was a small owl. But unlike an owl, it wasn't cute—just terrifying.
"..."
Bathory might know what it is or not—I have no knowledge. In the story, Bathory only encounters this entity once, in the late game.
"...Yes."
But even if Bathory doesn't, I do. I know what it is.
"How could I forget you?"
The final boss of the night the witch departed. Moonlight's collaborator and the first Artificial Witch.
"...Lady Gretel."
Calling her name, its form began to shift. From a small owl... to a human.
"I'm glad you remember me, Bathory."
Gretel Aure. The witch who sheds black tears spoke in her normal voice now. To hear the true voice from the story's endgame before it even began...
"Where... is this place?"
"Your dream. Your real self is probably still sleeping soundly in a comfortable bed."
What magic did the original Gretel use? I couldn't quite recall. The story had plenty of plot holes and vague descriptions.
"Don't worry. I'm not here to harm you."
"..."
But one thing was certain: among the original characters I'd meet, Gretel was the most dangerous. Even setting aside her magic, a madwoman driven purely by hatred for the world? That wouldn't be dangerous? Yeah, right.
"However... lately, your actions have deviated from expectations in several ways."
"...Pardon?"
And now this Gretel—the one barely seen in the original—was coming to me personally.
"What I expected from you was to play the role of the villainess."
Doubting my recent actions, here to probe my intentions.
"But... it seems you no longer wish to fulfill that role."
A smile devoid of any warmth.
"Are you relieved now that your watchers have all vanished?"
Her voice was soft and gentle, but the words were anything but.
"Even so, I hope you don't forget your role, Bathory."
Gretel wants me to fulfill my assigned [role]. And I understood what she meant.
"I'll be watching you closely from now on."
"..."
Gretel wants me to be the villainess. To play the evil lady's part as in the original and meet my ruin.
...Why?
In the original, Gretel had no particular interest in Bathory. Moonlight was the one who wanted her to stir chaos; Gretel was just a collaborator out of necessity.
But... why now?
As the endless, mirage-like forest faded away, I kept questioning endlessly.
――
Everything in the world has its role. From apex predators to invisible microbes. All fulfill their parts and live on.
Humans are no different. Some are protagonists. Some heroines. Some villains. Some extras.
Gretel thought: Those roles are decided from birth.
"How's your body holding up, Biche?"
Like this girl.
"Gretel."
The girl turned at the witch's call and answered.
"Still fine. Fewer side effects than before."
"That's a relief."
Gretel smiled at Biche's response—a genuine smile, unlike the one for Bathory. To Gretel, this girl, Biche, was precious.
Not out of friendship or affection. Gretel cherished Biche purely as a [character].
Beatrice Portinari, or Biche for short. One of the two main heroines, the femme fatale who leads the initially ordinary student Anahita Clodel down a dangerous path. Moonlight had implanted various commands in her mind, but Gretel was certain none would come to pass.
Biche would surely betray Moonlight.
"You're leaving soon, right? With the priest as chaperone?"
"Yeah, that's right."
It wasn't from divination, fortune-telling, or astrology. Witchcraft or magic offered no answers.
"Take care of yourself. Don't get hurt."
Gretel knew only one thing.
"I saw you sleeping earlier—was that you using magic?"
And that was everything.
"Yes, I had to contact and meet someone discreetly."
The original story. Gretel knew it.
"Unlike you, she's a troublesome kid who won't listen."
Her possessed body, her allied organization, and the girl before her now. She knew every character's arc and ending.
Gretel would die. Moonlight would crumble. Biche would be fully liberated.
That was the true ending, the happy ending—and what Gretel desired most.
That's why she couldn't understand Bathory's actions, which ran counter to every expectation.
Watching Bathory deliberately choose things the original Bathory Mirhane would never do, Gretel pondered.
Eliminate the variable? Or observe for now?
"Anyway... have a wonderful school life."
Either way, no need to act immediately.
Gazing into Biche's cross-shaped pupils, Gretel smiled.