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The modern, sleek, and entirely un-evangelical black suit Subaru wore felt a bit stiff, but as the newly minted Sin Archbishop of Pride, he had to look the part.
He had a checklist. It was a very simple, very bloody checklist.
1. Kill all the Sin Archbishops.
2. Put Emilia on the throne.
3. Die, probably.
To accomplish step one, he needed to eliminate the most structurally annoying obstacle first: Regulus Corneas, the Sin Archbishop of Greed. The man was an invincible cheat code, but Subaru knew every cheat code had a workaround. He just needed to get close, find the weakness, and strike.
Spotting the white-haired millennial lookalike leaning against a pillar in the Witch Cult's temporary hideout, Subaru took a deep breath, plastered on his best "we're coworkers now!" smile, and walked over.
"Hey there! Thought I'd introduce myself since we're on the same team now," Subaru said, offering a casual wave.
Regulus slowly turned his golden eyes toward him, his face immediately twisting into a mask of mild, condescending irritation. "Ah. The new one. Pride. I suppose it is only natural that someone of your lesser standing would seek the presence of the most satisfied existence in this world. However, your lack of basic etiquette is already straining my boundless patience."
"Right, great to meet you too," Subaru said, smooth as silk. "And hey, you don't have to call me 'Pride.' That's just the job title. Call me Natsuki Subaru!"
Regulus froze. The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
"Did you... just suggest..." Regulus’s voice started as a low, dangerous whisper. "...that I, Regulus Corneas, should address you by your given name? The sheer, unadulterated audacity. The absolute infringement upon my rights!"
Subaru’s smile faltered. Oh god, here it comes.
"To think you would presume such a disgusting level of familiarity!" Regulus shouted, gesturing wildly with one hand. "Names are a sacred boundary! A reflection of one's personal domain! By demanding I use your first name, you are actively trampling over my right to choose how I interact with the world around me! Are we childhood friends? No! Have we shared a profound life-altering experience? Absolutely not! Are we lovers? Maybe but most likely not! You are a freshman, a mere novice who walked through the door five minutes ago, and yet you look at me—an existence already complete, who asks for nothing and takes nothing—and you think, 'Yes, I shall force him into a state of casual intimacy.' It is a direct assault on my autonomy! It’s greedy! You are projecting your own desperate need for validation onto my peaceful, unbothered self!"
Regulus didn't even breathe. He just kept going.
"If I call you 'Subaru,' what next? Do we share meals? Do I have to listen to your trivial woes? You are trying to bind me with the shackles of societal expectations! It is a violation of my freedom, my peace of mind, and quite frankly, my right to not have my ear canals violated by your presumptuous demands—"
As the rant crossed the ten-minute mark, Subaru’s soul began to slowly drift out of his mouth.
I remember now, Subaru thought, his eye twitching as he stared at Regulus’s flapping jaws. I remember exactly why I hate this guy. He’s not just a monster; he’s an aggressive, weaponized Wikipedia article. I could be executing my master plan right now, but instead I am trapped in a cosmic void of pure, unadulterated yapping.
Subaru checked his mental watch. Twelve minutes. Thirteen. Regulus was now breaking down the philosophical difference between a first name, a last name, and a pseudonym, citing three different laws he had entirely made up on the spot.
I could just bite my tongue and use Return by Death to escape this hell, but then I’d have to listen to the first half of this monologue again if I want to talk to him. Fuck it, I’ll just listen to him yap. I’m too far in now.
Finally, after a solid twenty minutes, Regulus let out a sharp exhale, adjusting his collar. "—and that is why your request is a fundamental insult to the very concept of mutual respect!"
Subaru waited a beat. He made sure Regulus was completely done. Then, keeping his voice entirely level and polite, he spoke."Hey, Regulus? I'm really sorry about that. Look, it's getting late. Am I allowed to leave now, or did you have more to add?"
Regulus blinked.
He stared at Subaru.
Subaru stared back, perfectly still, embodying the concept of a captive audience.
"You..." Regulus stammered, his eyes widening in what looked like genuine, profound shock. "You... asked for permission? And you waited for me to finish speaking?"
"Uh... yeah?" Subaru said, blinking.
Regulus’s chest swelled. A look of intense, almost emotional validation washed over his face. He looked like a teacher whose worst student had just solved a calculus problem on the board.
"Incredible," Regulus whispered, placing a hand over his heart. "For years... years, Pride... I have been surrounded by savages. Capella just tells me to kill myself. Sirius starts crying and screaming about love halfway through my sentences, endlessly cutting me off. Petelgeuse bites his own fingers until they bleed just to avoid listening to me! None of them respect my right to express my thoughts! They are all self-centered, impatient brutes!"
Regulus stepped forward, suddenly grabbing Subaru by the shoulders. Subaru resisted the urge to flinch and explode into a cloud of meat.
"But you... you possess the rare, exquisite virtue of basic manners," Regulus said, his voice trembling with newfound respect. "You listened. You didn't interrupt. You didn't even roll your eyes! You stayed until the conclusion of my point, and then you politely asked to be excused. This... this is the foundation of a true civilization!"
"I mean, it's just common courtesy—"
"No, do not humble yourself!" Regulus interrupted, waving his hand grandly. "As the senior archbishop, it is my duty to foster such exemplary behavior. I have decided. I shall take you under my wing, Pride! I will protect you from the toxic, uncultured environment of the rest of the cult! And... because you have proven yourself worthy of the privilege..." Regulus gave a magnanimous, benevolent smile. "...you may call me Regulus. And I shall call you Subaru."
Subaru’s brain short-circuited. Wait. What?
"Really?" Subaru asked, dumbfounded.
"Yes! We are on a first-name basis now. You have earned it through your impeccable compliance with my boundaries," Regulus declared proudly. "In fact, if any of those other boors try to bully you—say, that disgusting Gluttony trio, or that wretched Capella—you just let me know. I will happily tear them to pieces to preserve the peace of our new, respectful partnership!"
Regulus gave Subaru a firm, approving pat on the back, turned around, and walked away, practically skipping with joy because someone had finally let him finish a monologue.
Subaru stood alone in the hallway, staring at his hands.
A slow, maniacal grin began to spread across his face.
Are you kidding me? Subaru thought, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in his chest. That's it? That is his ultimate weakness?! All I have to do to disarm the most powerful, invincible entity in the world... is just shut the fuck up and let him yap?
He didn't need a convoluted grand strategy. He didn't need to spend decades researching Regulus's wives or his heart. He just had to stand there like a cardboard cutout, nod his head, and let the man complain about the Witch Cult's seating arrangements, and Regulus would literally go assassinate the other Archbishops for him.
Subaru chuckled, adjusting his collar, his eyes gleaming with the manic energy of a man who had just stumbled into the ultimate life hack.
"Wow," Subaru muttered to himself, turning to leave. "Shutting the fuck up actually gave me the best thing of all time. Well... second best. Right after Emilia-tan, of course."