An Anomaly (Part 3)

Moving down the hallway, I knock randomly on each door in the corridor before stopping at a specific one without any particular reason. And then, as usual, I begin my customary approach of blabbering until the other party responds.

"Um... Hello! This is Frederick speaking. I know that you're sitting on a stool behind this door. I actually have something important to discuss with you. It's something that you won't regret hearing about. It'll take just five minutes, and I promise it's worth it. I believe five minutes can't be too much to spare, right? I mean, you've probably read all those books during your time here. Even if you're a spirit, isolating yourself like this without fresh air and sunlight isn't good for spiritual health. Uh…The library has magical air conditioning, so just sunlight and social interaction, you need those two to have good mental health, you know? Opening up a bit to everyone would help you break out of your shell and it wouldn't hurt right?..."

"Come in," came a reply. Recognising the owner of the voice was difficult due to the voice being muffled. Nevertheless, I enter and proceed with my job.

And currently, I find myself within the forbidden library, facing a little girl. Her eyes were widened and her pupils dilated in shock. Her lips trembled as she processed the implications of my declaration 'back in chapter 10'.

Witnessing her in such a state struck a mix of emotions within me—empathy, sympathy, apology, and strangely, even a hint of disgust.

Why disgust?

Because she obediently followed her mother's last instruction for 400 years. And what did she gain from this unwavering loyalty? Four centuries of isolation and seclusion! Her deep love for her mother prevented her from questioning orders or her purpose, even after all those millennia.

Although this might seem like a relatively short span in the context of a novel, imagining myself in her position, I couldn't imagine enduring those 12,600,000,000 seconds questioning my purpose, let alone counting every star in the universe.

400 years is nothing to scoff at, believe me. She deserves admiration for enduring all that flawlessly. But to me, she appeared like a dumb little, just 400 years old girl..

Honestly, I had wondered if her 'Tome of wisdom' was empty too like Roswaal's, given that the events which were unfolding were contrary to the canon. I did need information, and fortunately, my info broker, Roswaal the clown, had provided me the insights I required-

Her book had been blank for an extended period—longer than even Roswaal's. It had stayed empty since she assumed her role as the librarian of the Forbidden Library. Consequently, she was ultra-vulnerable, so it was only right for me to exploit her. Hehehe...

"Firstly, I'm not what you're thinking," I explain. The expression in her eyes shifts from expectancy to disappointment, akin to a student who expected promotion but received a failing grade after a year of hard work.

"Secondly, that doesn't mean I can't be what you currently need the most."

Based on my estimation, these two statements alone would amount to a blend of disappointment and hope potent enough to kill an average person tenfold. I mean KILL A PERSON using just emotions. That's how terrific her condition was.

"Thirdly, I won't be helping you for free. If you want more information, we'll need to make a contract," I say, extending my hand towards her.

Before me stood one of the most formidable magic users, perhaps second only to Roswaal. Yet, she is gazing at my hand with a mix of fear and trepidation. Her fearful eyes and trembling pupils tugged at something within me—guilt, perhaps?

Indeed, guilt was the emotion that I felt. Despite being 400 years old, Beatrice was still a young girl at heart. She adhered to her mother's final words for four centuries, even while suffering. While I should have admired her unwavering devotion, I found myself frustrated with her for the same reason.

But the issue wasn't with her; it was with me. I was a bit….huh…leave it. Old habits die hard.

*Sigh* I exhale deeply and scratch my head. Leaning down to meet her eye level, I soften my tone and say, "uh… I may have said too much for now. I'll return later."

Turning back, mentally exhausted, I prepare to leave.

Rushing someone struggling with depression was a no go. My earlier experiences had taught me as much.

I open the door and step out, only to feel a gentle tug from behind. It was warm and fluffy. Turning around, I catch sight of red frills.

What is she doing?

She wrapped her small arms around my left leg and sobbed with a tearful voice, "D-d-don't l-leave me! Don't leave me again! I promise to do whatever you ask! Please, don't go!" Her tearful cries mixed with sniffles, perfectly suiting her innocent appearance.

Ah… I must be a sadist for finding her cute when crying.

Oh boy, I have truly done it now! There is no escaping my own mess!

"Um... I apologise. I didn't intend to upset you..."

"Don't leave Betty alone, please!" she wailed. Perhaps she wasn't really talking to me? Was it her trauma taking effect?

Normal speech isn't going to do. It is time for ultra-cringeworthy mode.

"Beatrice," I address her with the most gentle voice I can emit, all the while putting my hands on her trembling shoulders.

"I'm not going anywhere. I just wanted you to consider your options and make a decision."

"I'll do it."

"!?"

"I'll make the contract. Just please, don't leave me."

I can sense a mixture of anxiety and determination in her response. It is adorable how she puts up a brave front to make that bold statement. I hand her my handkerchief, which she takes, and uses it to wipe her tears and, well...snort.

That handkerchief would need a good washing.

"Why don't you take some more time to think it over?" I suggest.

"You're not a bad person."

I fumble upon that statement. How clichéd! Calm down, calm down, my heart! Deep breaths.

"Nevertheless, that doesn't change the fact that I might exploit you."

"I don't mind."

"Even if I ask you to do terrible things, like killing people?"

"I don't mind," she stubbornly replies.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Why don't I bring you some cookies and tea while discussing our terms of contract?" I ask her.

"Then Betty will accompany you, I suppose."

And so, we proceed to the kitchen using her space magic, saving time. Our snacks awaited us, courtesy of the maids—Ram and Rem, to be precise. No inquiries like, "What is Beatrice-sama doing with you? You scum!"

When I ask about Subaru, I find out that he is cleaning the corridors. That sucks. Well, that's what he signed up for by becoming a butler in this mansion.

Back in the library, Beatrice is nibbling down on heart-shaped cookies with her usual composed expression, which I find cute nonetheless.

However, something was off. I didn't need much thought to realise it.

Subaru possessed a strong affinity for spirits. However, in the canon, he struggled to communicate with Beatrice and even had a hard time dragging her out of the library.

My interactions with her seemed remarkably smoother. It had merely taken dialogue and an emotional exchange, culminating in an agreement. Well, I suppose my ability to get things done through talking was a unique trait. But it shouldn't have been so easy…

Speaking of which, I haven't checked my system status today.

[Hey, Jenna, display my stats.]

The small blue square on the left side of my vision expands, presenting me with some details. They appear as follows:

=======

Name: A**** B****

Race: Human (soul form)

Age: 19

Traits: Great Pretender, Romantic.

Level: 30

ATK:100 MATK:0

DEF:100 MDEF:0

HP:100. MP:??

Titles: Lolimancer, Clown's Partner, Manipulator, Bitch-roaster, One-armed Demon.

=======

Name: Frederick Raymond

Race: Human ???? (inactive)

Age: 21

Traits: Pushover, Stoic

Level: 100+

ATK::@#&+/ MATK::@#&+/

DEF::@#&+/ MDEF::@#&+/

HP::@#&+/ MP::@#&+/

Titles: Adopted Noble, Hero Who Stopped the War, Errand Runner, Demon Slayer, The One Who Died.

______________________________________________

AN: The narrative started dragging on a bit. However, Re:Zero places significant emphasis on interactions, necessitating a more intimate chapter. Unfortunately, such content tends to be wordy—10,000 words would be ideal. But I'm spreading it across three 1,500-word chapters, thus trimming the context by 2,500 words, which equates to two additional chapters.

So yeah, this 'An anomaly' chapter series was not the best I could do.

Regardless, I'll keep on going.