Re:Zero: Emilia If a Villainess

Shadows Beneath the Snow

Emilia walked down the street, Subaru's reaction looping in her mind over and over, like a memory she couldn't escape. His face had twisted in fear the moment she introduced herself as Satella. Confusion gnawed at her, tightening her chest.

"Why did I even use that name?" she muttered softly, a pang of regret in her voice. What's wrong with me? Was Subaru's reaction truly justified, or had she brought it on herself by uttering the cursed name?

Frustration welled up, and she shook her head. There was no time to dwell on it. Her insignia was still missing, and wasting time over Subaru's fear wouldn't bring it back.

Focus, Emilia, she reminded herself firmly as she pushed forward, her heart set on finding what was stolen.

Determined, Emilia made her way to a dimly lit demi-human bar. It was the kind of place where stares didn't linger as long, and judgment wasn't so openly cast. The demi-humans here, much like herself, understood what it was like to be on the receiving end of suspicion and fear.

Approaching the bar, she caught the bartender's eye. He was a broad-shouldered man with feline features—large ears that twitched with every movement and sharp eyes that watched her carefully as she sat down.

"What can I get you?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

Emilia leaned forward, lowering her voice. "I'm not here for a drink. I'm looking for information."

The bartender raised an eyebrow, wiping the counter with a cloth. "Information, huh? That's a little more expensive than what's on the menu."

"I don't need much," Emilia said quickly. "Just help me find something that was stolen from me."

"Stolen, you say?" He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. "We don't see much stolen property in a place like this. Why don't you try the guards?"

"It's... not something I can take to the guards," Emilia admitted, trying to keep her tone calm. "It was a personal item. My insignia. I believe it was taken by a girl—blonde, small, quick." She paused, then added, "Her name might be Felt."

The bartender's expression didn't change, but his ears twitched slightly. "Felt, huh? Can't say I know her." He set the cloth down and leaned in, lowering his voice. "But if you're looking for stolen goods, they usually end up in the slums."

"The slums?" Emilia echoed, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Yeah." He gave her a slow nod. "That's where the loot house is. You might wanna start there if you're looking for something that was taken. But..." He hesitated for a moment. "That place isn't exactly welcoming to outsiders. Watch yourself."

Emilia frowned. "Do you know anything else about this loot house?"

"Not much. Rumor is an old man runs the place. Big fella named Rom." He shrugged. "But if you're serious about getting your stuff back, you might have to go through him."

"Thank you," Emilia said, rising from her seat. "That's more than enough."

The bartender nodded, his sharp eyes watching her as she turned to leave. "Be careful out there," he called after her. "People in the slums don't play nice with nobility—or anyone with an insignia."

As Emilia headed toward the slums, a small sobbing sound caught her attention. She looked to the side and spotted a little girl standing alone, lost and crying in the street. Her tiny frame shook with each sob, her face streaked with tears. Emilia paused, looking around for anyone who might help, but no one else seemed to notice—or care.

For a moment, Emilia hesitated. Her search for the insignia was urgent, but something tugged at her heart as she watched the frightened child. She couldn't just walk away.