Sona adjusted her glasses, her gaze sharp and inquisitive.
"If we're done talking about Sacred Gears and reincarnation," she said, voice calm but direct, "I'd like to ask about her."
She nodded toward Florence, who stood near Shirou like a shadow—silent, statuesque, unmoved by the scrutiny. "Who is she?"
Before Shirou could answer, Florence responded with serene clarity. "I'm his servant."
The words made the room go still.
Shirou choked on his tea. "N-not like that! Not in the Evil Piece context!"
Rias tilted her head, curious. Akeno smirked. Even Kiba raised an eyebrow.
Florence looked unbothered.
"I'm a summoned spirit," she clarified, folding her hands in front of her. "I was called to this world by him. I am bound to his existence—my presence anchored by his power."
That made even Sona blink.
"You… summoned her?" she asked, frowning.
Shirou exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's complicated. And I'd rather not get into the details right now." He glanced at Florence, his gaze softening. "She's not a devil. She's not human anymore either. She's… something else."
Florence gave him a quiet nod. "I am not what I once was. I no longer possess a mortal body. I am simply a fragment of a legend, tethered to this form. I exist only because of him."
Shirou didn't need her to say more.
He could feel it. That quiet thread tying her to him—the Lesser Grail pulsing faintly in his core. It was like a lantern, and she was the flame it sustained. Even if Florence looked alive, even if she spoke and moved and breathed—her being was no longer fully her own.
It ached, knowing that. He looked down at his hands… at the white Evil Pieces resting in the wooden box near his side.
He looked back up at Florence. "Then maybe…" he said quietly, "maybe I can give you a real second chance."
Florence tilted her head slightly.
He turned to Rias and Sona, resolve growing behind his voice. "The Evil Pieces—they're supposed to be able to resurrect anyone, right? Even if by doing so it converts them into Devils."
Rias blinked. "That's… theoretically true."
Sona frowned, intrigued now. "It's extremely rare, and the soul has to be intact. But yes—if the body and soul can be stabilized, the Pieces can be used as a resurrection medium."
Shirou nodded slowly. "Then it should work. I already gave her a vessel. Maybe the Pieces can complete it—make it stable, permanent."
Rias exchanged a glance with Sona. "It might be possible," she admitted. "But we don't know what she is. That changes things."
Shirou's gaze didn't waver. "She's someone who gave everything for others. And I gave her form. A second life."
He looked at Florence again, his tone gentler now. "Maybe not as a servant… but as an ally. Someone free."
Florence looked at him in silence for a long moment. Then she smiled, the first real one she'd shown. "That would be… acceptable."
Shirou stared at the white Queen piece in his hand, its glow subtle but warm—resonant. It pulsed faintly in time with his heartbeat, like it was already attuned to his thoughts, his doubts.
"It sounds plausible," he said, voice low, "but… dangerous. I don't want to risk hurting you."
Florence stood silently at his side, arms at ease. "And I know you mean that."
She stepped closer, calm and unshaken. "Because of the link between us—I know pieces of your thoughts. Enough to trust that you wouldn't use me."
Shirou turned to her, brow furrowed. "Are you sure? Because if something goes wrong, if it backfires, you could get—"
"Injured?" she interrupted, soft but steady. "Shirou. I'm already dead. What's another risk compared to a second chance?"
Without waiting for further protest, Florence moved forward and lowered herself onto one knee before him.
The others in the room—the devils and their peerages—watched in shocked silence as the composed, indomitable woman knelt before this strange new King.
"I am Florence Nightingale," she said, voice firm yet gentle. "And if this gives me even a sliver of life again, I would like to try."
Shirou exhaled slowly, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're incredibly brave."
Florence tilted her head, unfazed. "You summoned me. Perhaps some of that rubbed off."
There was a soft sound—Akeno's gentle gasp, Kiba's barely stifled exclamation—as Rias and Sona both processed the name she had spoken aloud.
"Florence Nightingale?" Sona echoed, startled. "As in—the Florence Nightingale?"
Shirou ignored the ripple of surprise behind him and looked down at the piece again, then up to Sona. "How do I… do this, exactly?"
Sona blinked, recovering quickly. "The pieces are already connected to you. All you need to do is channel your intent. Press the piece to her chest—it'll respond to your will."
He nodded, feeling it now. The subtle web of energy flowing from each piece—his pieces—into him. Like they were satellites, waiting for his command.
He extended his hand, holding the glowing Queen piece over Florence's heart. She didn't flinch, didn't move—just looked up at him, unwavering.
"This may sting a little," he said softly.
Florence actually smiled. And then—he pressed the Queen piece into her chest.
The moment the piece touched her, it ignited.
Light flared—not red like Rias's pieces, but a soft, radiant silver-white, casting the entire room in a muted glow. It sank into her, dissolving in a swirl of energy as arcane runes lit across her body—glowing briefly beneath her skin like veins of magic awakening.
The silver glow slowly faded, leaving behind an unmistakable stillness in the room.
Everyone was watching.
Florence remained kneeling, breathing slowly, fingers lightly resting over her heart. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment—then opened, clearer and brighter than before.
She raised one hand and flexed her fingers, watching the motion like it was new. Her other hand hovered over her cheek, brushing along the skin as if confirming it was hers. Then down to her forearm, gripping lightly. Testing muscle. Tension. Weight.
She turned her head slightly, then blinked several times. "…My vision is no longer filtered through spiritual feedback. I can feel depth. Air. Sound."
Her voice remained composed, but a quiet awe threaded through every word.
Meanwhile, Sona had pushed her glasses up again, eyes narrowing with almost scientific intensity.
"You performed resurrection through the Evil Piece system," she said, mostly to herself. "But the target wasn't human. Or a youkai. Or even a recent corpse. She was… someone who's been dead for a long time."
Rias took a step forward, her expression torn between fascination and wariness. "That shouldn't have been possible. Her essence shouldn't be compatible with the Pieces at all."
"Her magical composition was stabilized," Sona added. "But how?"
Florence glanced at them, but said nothing.
Shirou, however, didn't answer either.
He had eyes only for her.
He stepped closer, ignoring the devils' whispers, and crouched down in front of Florence. "How do you feel?"
Florence turned to look at him fully, and this time, she smiled—genuine and unguarded.
"Alive," she said. "Whole."
Her eyes shimmered with warmth. "I am no longer bound to the Throne. I no longer feel its pull. I can still sense the blueprints of who I was, the skills, the memories… but this body? This breath?" She placed a hand on her chest, feeling the steady thrum of her pulse. "It is mine."
She straightened slightly, flexing her hands once more. "My strength has increased. My Noble Phantasms respond effortlessly to my will. And yet… I also feel human. The limits of mortality. The clarity of thought. Emotion. Memory."
Her voice softened. "And it's good."
Shirou let out a quiet breath, his shoulders easing.
"I'm glad," he said, voice low but full of genuine relief. "I really am."
Florence's gaze remained on him. "Thank you, Shirou."
Behind them, Rias and Sona stood in quiet disbelief.
The silence lingered for a few more moments, soft and reverent.
Then Rias glanced toward the window, the night pressing dark against the panes. A faint sigh escaped her lips.
"…It's late," she said gently, straightening. "And I have a lot to report to my brother."
Sona nodded, brushing nonexistent dust from her skirt. "So do I to my sister."
She turned toward Issei, her tone softening. "You're still healing. You're not required to attend school tomorrow."
Issei blinked. "Wait—really?"
Sona offered a rare, thin smile. "Consider it… approved leave. You'll need time to recover. And to decide what you want to do next."
Issei glanced toward Rias, and she nodded, not unkindly.
"But lay low," Rias added. "Others may have sensed what happened. Not all of them will be as willing to offer you a choice."
Issei paled slightly, but nodded. "Got it."
Then Sona's gaze shifted to Shirou, sharp again. "You, however, will come to school tomorrow."
Shirou raised an eyebrow. "Why me?"
"You're not dying," Sona said flatly. "And you've already broken several metaphysical assumptions. I need to keep an eye on you."
"She means she's curious," Rias added, smirking faintly.
Shirou sighed, then nodded. "Fine."
He glanced down at Florence again, who had moved to a standing position beside him—shoulders back, breathing steady. Still Florence. Just… more.
Shirou rubbed the back of his neck. "But there's one more thing," he said. "Florence… she's new to this world. She doesn't have an identity. No records, no history. She'll need one to function in modern society."
Rias and Sona exchanged a look, then nodded.
"You can bring it up with my brother tomorrow," Rias said. "If he's not busy, I'm sure he'll come. He'll want to see you for himself, anyway."
"And if he isn't," Sona added, adjusting her glasses, "it's not difficult for us to generate a false identity. We do it for reincarnated devils all the time."
Florence tilted her head. "You fabricate governmental documents as part of the reincarnation process?"
"Of course," Sona said matter-of-factly. "What, did you think we just showed up to class and hoped no one noticed our wings?"
Florence actually looked mildly impressed.
Shirou smirked. "Tomorrow, then."
Rias nodded. "Tomorrow."