"Yes, I've been waiting seven years to be called by that name again."

Master puts his hand on his forehead as if he were ashamed.

"But now you can finally act as" authentic. ”Let me thank you, Rosie."

Master takes off his hat and lowers his head with a gentleman's waist.

And the shadow jumps out from the edge of your vision.

"Why is that?"

"Celia, I was hoping for you."

"... expectations?

Master drops his shoulders with a sad face.

"I've been waiting for you. I hope you will prove Alec's innocence and bring the Patchworker back to life."

"Eh...?

"I enjoyed it the first time, too. It was a hobby to help you to recruit hatred day by day and be willing to find a real“ patchworker. ”

However, the master who cut the words sighs greatly.

"Honestly, I'm disappointed. Seven years later, I wonder if I really am his daughter."

I'm your daddy's...

"Yeah, I guess so. But Alec was good. He was too good, but he was killed for it."

Shake your shoulders and laugh.

You're laughing, but you're smiling, and your mind isn't laughing at all.

The unnaturalness causes chills.

"It's been a tough seven years trying not to weather the incident. Patchworkers must not be ghosts of the past."

"It was all a lie that you supported me and told me to clear my father's carelessness...."

Celia's plucked voice stung her ear.

I reached out to my body and stopped.

"Whether you called me family or you wanted my honor back, it was all for me!

"No, I swear to my late friend, it's not for me. It is for this ugly and distorted world, where endless discrimination reigns."

It looks like the conversation is closed and not meshing.

There was a fundamental misalignment between the two of them, as if the clothes were buttoned incorrectly.

"Ah, Celia, why don't you take a little apprenticeship with Rosie? The truth that you haven't even found your destination in seven years, he arrived in less than half a month. I even realized I was a patchworker!

Whatever makes him happy, the master exhales a hot breath with a trance expression on his face.

"When I first heard the rumors from Rosie, I was heartbroken. I had Albert Glendrek's school board admit a silver-haired elf."

"So now you've looked me in the eye after Celia?"

"Yes, when Rosie visited my shop, I was sure that the Goddess of Destiny smiled at me. I was chosen as the apostle of God to eradicate discrimination in the world."

"Maybe it was. Anyway, the story of the incident was mostly in that store, so it was a development that was too convenient for you. But this time, I realized it and let you use it."

"It's also the goddess's temptation. If Rosie hadn't taught me how to break into the school, I wouldn't have been here."

Schools that severely restrict the entry and exit of objects and people have no way of entering a fully outsider master.

That's why I taught the Master the secret escape route I was using to get in and out at night.

Because I was hoping that Sweden would guide me when I put it in.

And as the prospectus suggests, this situation came to an end.

"I really appreciate it.... now, the stage is finally climax. Please clarify with your own hands the truth seven years ago."

"... Master, you know why I invited you here."

"Yes, of course. This is the quickest way to end both Albert and I at the same time... isn't it?

The master laughs as if he were someone else.

You're just pushing one foot into ruin right now, and you're not aware of that?

... no, no. He just believes.

Because I am a messenger of God, I can overcome this kind of situation.

If you have unfounded confidence, you can collapse as much as three inches from your mouth.

But I can't get enough confidence to call it blind fanaticism.

As I knew from the beginning, I was too helpless when I took on people who were different from the general mental structure.

That's why I have to fight in his dungeon.

“Patchworkers” have rules. Win according to the rules, that's all.

"... okay."

Sighs after that.

He paid attention to his forehair and looked straight at the master.

"Patchworker, it's time for your stage to end. Seven years... no, let's end eight years of history."