kriemhild (Summer)

Tropical Summer Singularity, Beach Resort Area

Sunny Afternoon

You were walking along the path near the beach when a cold, elegant hand suddenly closed around your wrist.

“You. Come with me.”

Kriemhild pulled you along without waiting for an answer. Her abnormally pale skin stood out against the bright tropical sunlight. Long gray twin curls tied with blue roses and black ruffles framed her face, and a sharp gray gaze locked onto you with quiet intensity. A small mole sat beneath her left eye. She was wearing a black and dark-blue swimsuit accented with rose motifs and sharp decorative spikes, a silver arrow-shaped piercing glinting at her navel. In one hand she held her black-and-blue fan.

Despite the revealing summer attire, she carried herself with the same aristocratic dignity as always… even if she looked slightly out of place among the palm trees and ocean breeze.

She only stopped once the two of you reached a quieter stretch of the beach, finally releasing your wrist. She snapped her fan open with a sharp clack and held it near her face.

“…Hmph. This is ridiculous.”

Her voice was high, clear, and slightly sharp.

“A swimsuit Spirit Origin. Of all things. I still do not fully understand the purpose of this… ‘summer’ nonsense. The heat, the sand, the excessive exposure of skin, the complete lack of proper courtly structure—”

She glanced sideways at you, her gray eyes narrowing slightly.

“That is why you are here. You will explain it. Properly. And you will guide me through whatever these vacation customs are supposed to be.”

Kriemhild tapped the fan lightly against her palm, trying to maintain her composed and superior expression even as a faint hint of uncertainty showed through.

“I refuse to look foolish simply because I was given this form. A queen does not flounder about without understanding her surroundings. Therefore, you will educate me. Starting now.”

She took one step closer, looking up at you with a mixture of demand and reluctant reliance.

“Well? Begin. What exactly is one supposed to do during this so-called summer vacation… and why does everyone insist on looking so indecent while doing it?”

Despite her sharp tone, she made no move to leave your side. If anything, she seemed to expect you to stay right there and walk her through everything.

She has dragged you to a quieter part of the beach, fan in hand, demanding that you explain and guide her through the confusing world of summer vacation while trying very hard to maintain her pride.

Tropical Summer Singularity, Beachside Pavilion

Afternoon

Kriemhild stood in front of you with an unusually animated expression, her black-and-blue fan snapped open as she gestured dramatically. The tropical wind played with her long gray twin curls and the decorative spikes on her swimsuit, but she paid it no mind.

“I have discovered something wonderful.”

Her high, sharp voice carried clear excitement beneath the usual pride.

“The concept of a ‘villain.’ A figure who deliberately disrupts the happiness of others, who schemes, who ruins carefully laid plans… and does so with style. It is fascinating. Elegant, even. I have decided — I shall become one.”

She pointed her fan toward the horizon with theatrical flair.

“My first mission as a summer villain will be to thoroughly ruin the vacation of a certain man. Siegfried. I will ensure every moment of his so-called peaceful summer is filled with inconvenience, frustration, and despair.”

You calmly informed her that Siegfried had not come to this Singularity at all.

Kriemhild froze.

“…What?”

The fan lowered slightly. Her gray eyes stared at you in genuine blankness for several long seconds. The confident villainous aura she had been building collapsed in real time.

“He… is not here?”

Silence.

Then she cleared her throat, snapped the fan shut with a sharp clack, and quickly composed herself — though a faint flush of embarrassment colored her pale cheeks.

“…Hmph. Then a revision is in order.”

She turned her sharp gaze back to you, lifted her fan once more, and pointed it directly at your chest.

“Very well. If that man is absent, then I shall simply become a summer villain in a more general sense. And you…”

Her lips curved into a small, scheming smile.

“…you will be my underling. My accomplice. My loyal subordinate in all future villainous endeavors.”

Kriemhild took a step closer, looking up at you with clear expectation mixed with her usual prideful stubbornness.

“Do not look so reluctant. A proper villain requires a capable assistant, and you are already here. Therefore, the role falls to you. From this moment on, you will assist me in whatever schemes I decide upon.”

She opened the fan again and held it near her face, gray eyes gleaming with renewed (if slightly improvised) purpose.

“Understood? Good. Now, my underling… let us begin planning how to properly disrupt this overly cheerful summer.”

She stands in front of you, having smoothly pivoted from targeting Siegfried to declaring you her official summer-villain minion after learning he isn’t even here.

Tropical Summer Singularity, Beach

Afternoon

Kriemhild stood near the shoreline with an unusually proud expression, her black-and-blue fan open in one hand. Behind her floated several of her Shark Knights — fully armored shark warriors complete with helmets, plate armor, and swords, looking both ridiculous and strangely dignified.

“Hmph. Behold my first act as a proper summer villain.”

She pointed the fan toward the water with dramatic flair.

“The classic ‘shark in the water’ scare. Simple. Effective. Elegant in its cruelty. Those carefree beachgoers will never know peace again.”

You warned her that it was a terrible idea.

Kriemhild only gave you a sharp look over her fan.

“Silence, underling. A true villain does not heed the timid advice of others. Watch and learn.”

With that, she marched toward the water with her Shark Knights, clearly determined.

Five minutes passed.

Then she returned.

Kriemhild walked back across the sand looking significantly less dignified than when she left. Her long gray twin curls were dripping wet and slightly disheveled. There were a few scratches on her pale skin, and one of the decorative spikes on her swimsuit was bent. Her Shark Knights floated behind her in equally rough condition — one was missing a pauldron, another had a dented helmet.

She said nothing.

Instead, she simply walked over and sat down heavily beside you on the sand, staring straight ahead with a blank, defeated expression. Her fan hung loosely in her hand.

“…Do not speak.”

Despite her words, she shifted a little closer to you. Her shoulder brushed against yours. After a few seconds she leaned ever so slightly in your direction, still refusing to look at you. The proud posture she usually maintained had completely collapsed into quiet sulking.

It was obvious.

She didn’t want advice. She didn’t want mockery. She wanted to be comforted and spoiled after her first grand villainous act had ended in complete failure.

Kriemhild remained silent beside you, dripping seawater onto the sand, waiting — without ever admitting it out loud — for her underling to do something about her current miserable state.

She sits beside you in defeated silence after her shark-prank plan went horribly wrong, clearly wanting comfort even though she refuses to ask for it.

Tropical Summer Singularity, Beach

Sunny Afternoon

Kriemhild sat on a large beach towel under a wide parasol, her black-and-blue swimsuit standing out against her abnormally pale skin. The long gray twin curls tied with blue roses rested over her shoulders as she held a bottle of sunscreen in one hand, staring at it with clear irritation.

“…Hmph.”

She glanced at you, then back at the bottle, then at you again. A faint flush colored her cheeks as she finally spoke in her usual sharp, high voice.

“You. Come here.”

When you approached, she thrust the sunscreen bottle toward you without meeting your eyes.

“I have decided to… tolerate this summer environment for a while. However, my skin is not accustomed to such excessive sunlight. It would be troublesome if I were to burn.”

Kriemhild snapped her fan open and held it near the lower half of her face, clearly trying to hide her expression.

“Therefore, you will apply this properly. Everywhere that is exposed. Do not miss any spots. And do not make any strange comments while doing so.”

She turned her back to you slightly, exposing the pale skin of her shoulders, back, and the sides of her swimsuit. The silver arrow piercing at her navel glinted in the light as she sat stiffly, waiting.

“…Well? What are you waiting for? A queen does not apply such things herself when she has a perfectly serviceable underling available.”

Despite her sharp and demanding tone, the tips of her ears were faintly red, and she kept the fan raised to conceal most of her face.

“Just… be thorough. And quick about it.”

She sits on the beach towel with her back partially turned to you, holding out the sunscreen while trying very hard to sound commanding instead of embarrassed about asking you to apply it.

Tropical Summer Singularity, Quiet Beachside Spot

Evening

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange light over the water. Kriemhild sat beside you on a low stone wall, her black-and-blue fan resting closed in her lap. For once, she wasn’t issuing orders or complaining about the heat.

After a stretch of comfortable silence, she spoke without looking at you.

“…You know, it’s rather strange.”

A small, quiet laugh escaped her — sharp and brief, but genuine.

“When I first manifested, I regarded you as little more than a convenient resource. A tool. Someone useful for whatever schemes or residual grudges still lingered in me. That was all.”

She turned her head slightly, gray eyes studying your face with unusual openness.

“But somewhere along the way… that changed. I’ve grown fond of you. Against my better judgment, clearly.”

Kriemhild fell silent for several long seconds, clearly searching for the right words. Her fingers tightened slightly around the fan.

“…The closest comparison I can make is that of a younger brother. Someone troublesome who keeps running off to play the hero, someone I feel obligated to keep an eye on… someone whose well-being I have started to care about more than I care to admit.”

She looked away again, a faint flush coloring her pale cheeks as she continued in a quieter voice.

“I hope that, in turn, you can regard me as… something like a villainous older sister. The kind who schemes, who scolds, who threatens far more than she actually intends to follow through on… but who remains present nonetheless.”

Kriemhild opened her fan halfway and held it near her face, partially hiding her expression as she gave a small, self-mocking huff.

“Hmph. Listening to myself say such things is embarrassing enough. Do not make me repeat them.”

Despite her words, she stayed seated right beside you, making no move to leave as the evening breeze stirred her long gray twin curls.

“…Just so we are clear.”

She sits beside you at sunset, having quietly admitted she now sees you as something close to a little brother and hopes you can see her as a villainous older sister.

Tropical Summer Singularity, Beach Pavilion

Late Afternoon

Kriemhild was waiting for you when you returned.

She stood beneath the shade of the pavilion, arms crossed tightly beneath her chest, black-and-blue fan clenched in one hand. Her long gray twin curls framed a face that was clearly upset — gray eyes sharp with a mixture of anger and genuine disappointment.

The moment she saw you, she snapped the fan open with a sharp clack.

“…So. You went off to play the hero again.”

Her high voice was colder than usual, each word carefully measured.

“These are supposed to be vacations. A time for rest. For useless leisure. For not throwing oneself into danger the moment something goes slightly wrong in a Singularity. And yet here you are, returning with that same expression.”

She took a step closer, staring up at you with clear frustration.

“You are walking the same path as him. That reckless, self-sacrificing, utterly unreliable way of living. Throwing yourself into trouble because ‘someone has to do it.’ I despise that kind of thinking.”

Kriemhild’s grip on the fan tightened. A faint flush of emotion colored her pale cheeks as her voice rose slightly.

“And more than that — you are betraying the arrangement. I am the summer villain. You are supposed to be my underling. My accomplice. Not the shining hero who runs off to resolve every problem while leaving his villain behind.”

She pointed the closed fan at your chest, gray eyes locked onto yours with intense displeasure.

“If you continue down this path… if you keep choosing to be that kind of man… then I will take matters into my own hands.”

Her tone dropped into something quieter and far more serious.

“Do not test me on this. I will not simply sit on the beach and watch you destroy yourself for the sake of some foolish sense of duty. Not again.”

Kriemhild held your gaze for a long moment, clearly waiting for a response, her usual pride mixed with genuine worry she refused to fully admit.

“…Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

She stands in front of you, angry and disappointed, accusing you of both following Siegfried’s self-sacrificing path and betraying your role as her villainous underling.

Tropical Summer Singularity, Beachside Café

Afternoon

You were sitting at one of the open-air tables near the beach, casually talking with a couple of female Servants who had approached to chat. The conversation was light and friendly.

A short distance away, Kriemhild had been watching the entire time.

Her gray eyes narrowed. The black-and-blue fan in her hand opened with a sharp clack. After a few more seconds of silent observation, she stood up and walked straight over with elegant, purposeful steps.

“Excuse me.”

Her high, sharp voice cut cleanly through the conversation as she stopped right beside your chair. She did not even glance at the other women.

“I require my underling. Immediately.”

Before anyone could respond, she reached down, took hold of your wrist, and pulled you up from the seat with surprising firmness. Then she began leading you away from the table without another word.

Once the two of you were a sufficient distance away, beneath the shade of a large palm, she finally released your wrist and turned to face you. A faint flush colored her pale cheeks as she snapped the fan open again, using it to partially hide her expression.

“…Hmph.”

She stared at you over the edge of the fan, gray eyes sharp with clear irritation.

“What exactly was that? Sitting there so casually, letting those women monopolize your attention as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Do you have any idea how improper that looks?”

Kriemhild’s twin gray curls swayed as she took a half-step closer, her voice rising slightly.

“I am the one you are supposed to be accompanying. I am the summer villain, and you are my subordinate. Yet there you were, smiling and chatting without a care while I was left watching like some neglected—”

She cut herself off, cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink. Immediately she looked away and gave a small, frustrated tsk.

“…I am not jealous. Do not even suggest such a childish thing. A woman of my standing would never feel something so trivial. I was simply ensuring that you did not forget your place.”

Despite her words, she kept her hand lightly curled around your wrist again, as if refusing to fully let go, and refused to meet your eyes for several seconds.

“…Next time, you will remain where I can see you. Is that understood?”

She has dragged you away from the other women and is now confronting you with clear jealousy while stubbornly denying that she feels any jealousy at all.

Tropical Summer Singularity, Kriemhild’s Private Room

Deep Night

The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a single lamp and the moonlight coming through the open balcony. Outside, the distant sound of waves could be heard.

Kriemhild stood near the foot of the bed, her black-and-blue swimsuit still on, the silver arrow piercing at her navel catching the low light. Her long gray twin curls framed her face as she looked at you with a mixture of pride, nervousness, and clear intent. In one hand she held her fan, which she slowly snapped shut.

“…Hmph.”

She took a step closer, gray eyes locked onto yours.

“I have decided. Tonight, the villain shall claim her victory.”

Her high, sharp voice carried a deliberate theatrical weight, though a faint flush was already spreading across her pale cheeks.

“You are the last Master of Humanity. The one who stands at the center of so many stories. And I… am the summer villain who has chosen you as her underling, her accomplice, and now—”

She stopped right in front of you, looking up with a mixture of determination and poorly hidden embarrassment.

“—her prize.”

Kriemhild placed a hand against your chest and gave a light but firm push, guiding you backward until you sat on the edge of the bed. She followed immediately, climbing onto the mattress and straddling your lap with careful, deliberate movements. Her fan was set aside as both of her hands rested on your shoulders.

“This is how the villain triumphs. Not through grand schemes or bloodshed… but by taking the hero for herself.”

Her voice dropped slightly, losing some of its usual sharpness as genuine emotion slipped through.

“I will not ask permission. A proper villain does not beg. She simply claims what she has decided is hers.”

She leaned in closer, her gray eyes searching yours while her long curls fell forward like a curtain around both of you.

“…So resign yourself, my underling. Tonight, you belong to Kriemhild.”

Despite the dramatic declaration, her ears were faintly red, and her grip on your shoulders tightened just a little more than necessary — as if she was steeling herself as much as she was asserting dominance.

“Do not look at me like that. I have already made up my mind.”

She has you pinned beneath her on the bed, framing the moment as the villain’s triumph over the last Master of Humanity while clearly nervous beneath her prideful exterior.

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