All was quiet in the Golden Land.

Ridiculously quiet.

Apparently Beato liked it here better than the smoking room. Battler could guess that it was a kind of safe haven for her. After all, didn't she also come here when she was upset in the fourth game? In any case, it was a very beautiful place, with an endless garden maze of golden roses, a pure white gazebo in the center (or maybe a bit off-center- Battler couldn't keep track very well after going through the maze), a forest surrounding its entirety, and a dark night sky with swirling pink and purple clouds that overlooked it all.

Battler tapped his fingers on the table, having exhausted his mental capabilities for the day.

This would normally be the point where Beato would cackle at him and insist that he go to bed because this is the type of place where not thinking would be equivalent to death.

Now, she couldn't even tell him to get any sleep. He hadn't gotten much ever since they finished the fourth game.

After all, she was counting on him to kill her.

It was a strange concept to think about, but nevertheless, he didn't think he was the type of man to break a promise. Especially not if it was his rival's final wish.

Battler gazed into her empty eyes. They held none of the sparkle that once shone in them. They were lifeless and dull. Like those of a corpse.

"Oh my, Battler-kun. Are you still hanging around here?"

Virgilia had dropped in at some point. Probably wanting to show Beato to her bed.

"I don't want to quit fighting," the man responded, "I still can't forgive her for what she did, but… well…"

"Now that she's like this, you feel a bit sorry for her?" Virgilia interjected, speaking his mind for him.

"I suppose so."

The former Endless Witch held her disciple's shoulders.

"Unfortunately, it's about time for this child to sleep," she explained, Beato's form turning into golden butterflies and floating away beneath her fingers.

Battler assumed that she would reappear in bed, her head rested nicely on a fluffy pillow. Probably a feather pillow. With matching silk bedsheets, knowing the spoiled brat that she usually was.

"The truth is, that child hasn't been sleeping well lately," Virgilia said, walking over to face him, "If you'd like, you may join her. Just this once."

Battler felt his face turn bright red, "Wh-What does my sleeping there have to do with her getting enough sleep?"

"Just trust me," Virgilia winked at him, "She's terribly shy about it, but that child really likes you. I just thought she might sleep better with her favorite toy."

"O-okay," he muttered, a little embarrassed, "But… But only because I can't refuse those big boobs! Okay? Nothing else!"

"Anything more than a hug is strictly prohibited, is that clear?"

"Ah! Y-Yes, ma'am!"

Virgilia giggled, and in a brilliant flash of light, put him into the same bed as his...enemy.

His eyes were quick to adjust to the darkness of the room.

He saw her laying there beside him, her eyes still open, staring vaguely off into the distance.

"Hey, Beato…" Battler explained, his voice quiet, "Virgilia said you haven't been sleeping well. She thinks I'll be able to fix it for some reason."

He laughed, feeling awkward.

"A bit strange, isn't it?"

Beato made a small, gentle noise. It didn't even amount to a single word. Still, it got the meaning across. She didn't mind.

Battler inched closer to her, feeling almost protective.

She was warm, especially considering that she seemed like a corpse. Her breath was shallow, but it was soft. Her hair was splayed out every which way, but it was still smooth and beautiful. Her skin was more pale than usual, so she looked almost like a porcelain doll, with enticing, deep blue eyes. Her lips… Well, they were enemies. And besides, thinking about what her lips feel like would be against Virgilia's rules, he felt.

Her body was delicate but, of course, she wasn't a bone rack or anything. She actually had a little bit of muscle in some places. A little more fat in others. Beautiful, rounded thighs, voluptuous hips, a fairly small but slightly toned waist, and of course, those rather… impressive breasts that he'd mentioned earlier. It was rude to stare, not that he was only staring at her boobs- her entire body was beautiful. Nevertheless, this was the closest he'd ever imagined being to the Golden Witch. He expected a few imperfections here and there up close, but there were none. At least, not in his eyes. He knew a few young men who probably wouldn't go for so many curves, especially in the thigh and hip area. A few people who didn't think long hair looked fashionable or cool. A fair many who probably would prefer a more traditional Japanese woman over this western beauty.

Battler never really shared those people's interests. Not since the very first time he started growing attracted to girls.

… His first crush was a bit more typical. Although he supposed a pretty face was a pretty face no matter how or why. Now that he thought about it, she'd also had a few of those more stereotypically western features, didn't she…?

Battler reprimanded himself for having such a weird thought process. Comparing her to his first crush… Thinking about how beautiful she was... How stupid.

Still, he took the opportunity to snuggle in and hug her tightly.

Even if it was a rival that he was comforting, it was still important to him. After all, he'd grown to understand that she must've gone through at least some kind of suffering to end up as such an evil witch.

But even so, he kept telling himself, over and over again… She's just the enemy.

She was a very attractive enemy. That was all. Even if she weren't his enemy, he wasn't the type to consider physical attraction the same as "love".

Someone once taught him that people go around searching all their lives for someone who's able to solve the mysteries of their hearts. When they finally meet someone who can solve it, that's called love.

Then...

Battler let go of Beato and kissed her gently on the cheek.

"Don't worry. I'll solve your final mystery. It's a promise."

Just then, he could've sworn he felt something wet and warm drip onto the collar of his shirt. A tear?

He looked into her eyes and saw a slight sparkle in them. A fleeting glimmer of emotion. Was she... crying?

That happened sometimes. Crying, whimpering, and groaning in pain seemed to be all she was able to express by now. Still, Battler was happy to see her looking slightly alive.

"Thanks for your acknowledgement. It would've been awkward kissing a doll! Ihihihi!"

Beato's cheeks flushed slightly at his joke, but even so, tears kept overflowing from her eyes.

"Mmh…"

She made another small sound. Battler couldn't decide how to interpret it. There was a mix of emotions there.

She couldn't have been that distressed, because she closed her eyes and moved very slightly closer to him. It was the most he'd seen her move in… days? He wasn't sure how to measure time in Purgatorio. In any case, it had been a while.

"That's pretty cute, you know?" Battler smiled and spoke to her again, though she wouldn't answer, "If you keep acting so docile like this, the other witches won't be able to take you seriously."

He said that, but even as the words left his mouth, he found himself wrapping his arms around her even more strongly.

Battler could feel the bare skin of her back against his hand. She was a bit feverish. Although that may have just been their close proximity.

Her skin was smooth and soft. Almost comforting to the touch. He involuntarily began tracing his finger in little circular motions across her back, then he stopped and laughed at himself quietly when he realized what he was doing.

Perhaps the shame he felt wasn't because she was his opponent. Maybe it was just a sense of fear or grief, because normally she would've stopped him or teased him or called him an idiot or something like that.

Instead, she was silent. Even her faint breath was hard to hear unless one were to listen to it.

As she was now, she was too, well, vulnerable.

Not that he'd do anything to hurt her (at least, on a level unrelated to their game), but if one of those other witches came along and wanted to poke fun at her or worse, she… wouldn't be able to stop them.

It was an odd feeling for Battler. He'd never really noticed how powerful a person Beato was until that power was taken from her. He'd never admired her strong, fearless attitude before, but now he had to respect it as something that he honestly missed. Just a little, of course.

"Hey, Beato?"

It was hard to tell whether she was asleep or not, because she'd barely respond either way, but it was the little things. If anything, Battler had learned a few interesting things about his opponent since she'd entered this doll-like state. Namely, her reflexes. Little, barely noticeable things that she'd involuntarily do depending on the situation. Once, he'd joked about how he might just slap her awake. At the time, it was something that he had even expected her to laugh at, saying that her current state was all some sick joke. After all, she'd been that way as far as he could remember. But she didn't laugh or mock him. Rather, he'd seen her flinch very slightly, looking more like a frightened animal than a witch.

Since then, Battler had refrained from making any more insensitive jokes, and he'd started paying much more attention to her small changes in stature. The way her muscles tensed or relaxed. Even the miniscule changes in her breathing pattern became incredibly noticeable over time. After all, it had been truly silent in that garden lately.

Whether he felt comfortable with their closeness or not, Battler was quickly learning her likes and dislikes.

Just now, when he whispered her name, he felt her hands twitch against his chest. A sign of life, and a sign that she was still awake.

Battler breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he was helping a little bit, because she certainly wouldn't have responded at all had it been in any other scenario.

If he could be granted just one smile, just a small nod, anything resembling a single ray of happiness within her current darkness, then that would be good enough.

Battler embraced her once again, this time with almost a loving devotion. How did it even come to something like this? Hadn't Beato been chatting with Gaap about witch fashion just the other day? Hadn't she been tricked by Ronove just a while ago, resulting in her total loss of composure?

How on Earth… did it come to this?

Before he knew it, he was shaking slightly as he held Beato in his arms.

She had tormented him, degraded him, mocked him, and hurt him many times before. But right now, all he could remember was the horribly miserable, bloodied face she wore when she asked him to kill her.

"... a… nk… y...u."

She whispered to him softly, the words barely able to escape from her chest. It was more like a breath than a whisper, really.

Still, because he was listening, he heard it. Because he was trying to understand it, he understood. Maybe the answer to her riddle would be the same way…

In any case, those simple words were enough to calm his heart and carry them both peacefully into the land of dreams.

Thank you.