“Wh-what do you mean the Elf has disappeared?!”
In the city of Noktar.
Every city typically has merchant guilds that dominate the mayor, and in Noktar, the most influential of them is undoubtedly the Desert Rose Guild.
From the office of the desert guild, a voice filled with bewilderment echoed outside the building.
Ropermong, who had been anxiously waiting for the Elf, instead received the news of a dead body.
Ropermong’s secretary reported.
“There has been a report from an adventurer stating that they found the bodies of mercenaries on the road leading to the forest.”
“W-what? All of the mercenaries are dead? Has a monster appeared?”
“No. All the corpses had wounds as if they were stabbed by small blades, and the bars of the prison that had kept the Elf were neatly cut. It is likely the work of skilled assassins.”
“Assassins…!”
Ropermong couldn’t hide his shock.
To slaughter his hired mercenaries and steal the Elf. He couldn’t guess who would dare to commit such an atrocity.
Could it be a fellow Elf? Or someone with a grudge against the guild?
It was impossible to pinpoint.
While working in the guild, one inevitably attracts both profits and grudges.
There were no witnesses, so tracking was also impossible.
“My slave co-collection….”
In despair, Ropermong slumped into his chair. The chair let out a creak, unable to bear his weight.
How much gold had he poured into capturing that Elf? Recruiting mercenaries and providing accommodation alone had cost over 200 gold. That much money had simply vanished into thin air.
He had even boasted about capturing the Elf to everyone in town. He had scheduled promises to show it off to the nobles. What could he say now?
Ropermong sat there as if he had lost the world. Then he quickly rose with his heavy body.
“Is there… is there perhaps another Elf in the city?”
“Do you think an Elf would come to a filthy city like this? If there were one, it would have circulated through the rumors already.”
“Who knows? That Elf might have come here. Pl-please check for me.”
“Understood.”
The secretary responded immediately.
But internally, he sighed.
Would there really be an Elf in such a city?
He could just waste some time and then say there wasn’t one.
*
Early in the morning.
The tavern run by the Duke operates like any bar, starting business only after sunset.
Thanks to that, in the mornings when it isn’t open, Ropermong could enjoy coffee made by Victor and meals prepared by him.
Of course, they were free. After all, he had paid a hefty sum for drinks the previous day. He deserved at least a free meal.
As he comfortably enjoyed his coffee while indulging in brunch.
The children, overflowing with energy that was so excessive it could be explosive, quickly gobbled down their meals, ready to go out and play early in the morning.
Their energy was so immense, it felt like the sound of their rushing feet was as loud as a tractor starting up.
“We’re going out now!”
“Be careful out there. It’s a dangerous neighborhood. Oh, if there are any girls who want to become slaves, feel free to bring them back.”
“Who in the world would want to do that? Even if there were, I wouldn’t bring them!”
“If they’re cute, I’ll buy a sword for Matthew that he said he wanted.”
“There’s bound to be at least one!”
Matthew took the girls and left the tavern. He had already become the protagonist of a harem. You should be grateful to me.
After the children left, a calm peace flowed in the tavern. Enjoying morning coffee in a nice atmosphere. This is romance.
“Say, how long do you intend to stay here?”
Victor, wiping a cup, asked that question.
“Master, are you trying to drive me away? Look at all I’ve done for you.”
“Oh no, that would never happen. You’re Emili’s benefactor. I just thought you wouldn’t be the type to stick around in one place for too long.”
“I’ll be here for a while, so you don’t need to worry.”
The first stage for Arfia’s liberation is here in Noktar. Although the story has taken a twist from the beginning, the scheduled event won’t be canceled overnight.
Until then, I’ll remain here.
At that moment, a woodland scent, softly treading over the smell of the tavern, spread through the air. It was so rich it almost gave the illusion that one had entered a forest.
Tap, tap, tap.
Footsteps hurriedly running up the stairs. Our gazes turned to the staircase, and Arfia revealed herself, peeking from above.
“Ah!”
Arfia’s green eyes widened as they met mine. I gave her a bright smile.
“Good morning, Arfia. Did you sleep well? I was worried after you passed out from drinking last night.”
“D-don’t joke! How come you’re so fine? You tricked me, didn’t you? A person couldn’t possibly look like this after drinking so much!”
That was an extremely reasonable statement.
The original me would’ve been foaming at the mouth, passed out by now.
“That’s why I told you. Doing something you know the outcome of isn’t a gamble, it’s cheating. I made it very clear, didn’t I?”
But what does that matter?
I informed you. You were the one who jumped in.
“Arfia, it seems you need to reflect. If it were someone else, it would have been a big deal. Knowing you’d win but betting nothing—ah, what a kind master I am.”
“You…!”
I took a sip of my coffee, savoring the sight of Arfia’s contorting face.
“I-I won’t admit that!”
Arfia attempted to escape.
She dashed toward the door.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’
If you go out like that, it will be noticed. Why would I want to advertise that I stole Ropermong’s Elf?
I pulled the chains of her soul.
Click.
“Stop!”
Arfia, who had been running, suddenly froze. She clenched her mouth in resistance, but couldn’t budge an inch.
It’s because Mira Belle is awakened; would you even stand a chance?
“Don’t waste your energy and just eat.”
Arfia ignored my words, trying a few more times, and then realized it was impossible.
With a defeated gait, she sat beside me. Her gaze fell lifelessly onto the table.
In front of her, Victor pushed a dish towards her. It was bread and a sunny-side-up egg. Even looking worn out, Arfia spoke up.
“I don’t eat eggs…”
“Miss Elf, I’m sixty this year. Even so, don’t talk to me informally…”
“I’m older than you.”
“…Hey, Carami. What happens when a slave talks informally? Shouldn’t we educate her strictly?”
“An expressive slave is always welcome.”
Victor shot me a betrayed look.
What are you looking at? I’m always on our slave’s side.
“Nothing with eggs. Stick to vegetables.”
“…Understood.”
Victor went to prepare a new meal as per Arfia’s order. Arfia began to munch on the bread.
I propped my chin on my hand, watching her profile carefully. Arfia chewed on her bread in silence, not casting a glance my way.
“What are you staring at?”
“You’re pretty. Even the way an Elf eats looks like a sculpture.”
“That’s just empty praise.”
“Is that so? I’m serious. And you also acknowledged it yourself yesterday, didn’t you? You said you were completely pretty.”
At that statement, Arfia turned her head sharply. Her braided hair whipped around like a whip.
“I-I said that?”
“Of course. You even acted cute while making a flower shape with your hands.”
Half of it was a lie, but that’s no issue. She has no way of finding out the truth. Just adding one more spoonful here would make it perfect.
“Don’t you remember saying, ‘I’m so happy to be your slave’? Wasn’t I the only one being sincere?”
“I have no such memory! I would never say something like that! It must have been a lie!”
“Tsk.”
Looks like this one won’t work.
It’s disappointing, but it’s fine. I can raise her favor slowly.
“Could you pass me some water?”
“You have hands, don’t you? Drink it yourself.”
“….”
I really felt like the world was collapsing at that moment.
No matter how you look at it, for a slave to tell their master to drink by themselves. With a complicated heart, I let out a deep sigh.
“Sigh, but Mira Belle would’ve happily made me some if I’d asked for water.”
“Mira Belle? Who is that?”
“She’s someone like that. She makes ice when it’s hot, water when needed, and gives warm hugs when it’s cold. The cutest witch in the world.”
“Then just ask her to do it. Where has she gone?”
“I sent her back to her mother. She’ll be living happily in that high place.”
Arfia’s gaze turned cold, but I wasn’t concerned about that. Water was more important.
“Ah, I miss Mira Belle. She even made me water.”
“Why are you like this?”
“So depressed. Soooooo depressed.”
“Okay, okay! I’ll pour it! Just wait!”
Unable to withstand my relentless pleading, Arfia reluctantly filled a cup with water and handed it to me.
“Here. Is that good?”
“Really not cool. Isn’t there any water made by a spirit instead? They say spirit water is exceptionally refreshing.”
“Seriously, are you for real? Do you think the water spirit thinks it’s a well? And… even if I wanted to, I can’t. I don’t handle spirits.”
Arfia, with a face full of serious troubles, murmured in a voice laced with doubt.
If rolling your tongue is a basic quality of a slave trader, then handling bows and spirits must be a basic quality of an Elf.
But Arfia failed to handle both. It’s not like she didn’t have spirits.
“She’s too closely bound to the spirits, making things problematic.”
Originally, the spirits would choose a favored Elf, bestow power to that Elf. But Arfia is somewhat different.
From birth, the spirits have entered Arfia’s body and become a part of her physically.
Spirits of different natures clash, and the pain resulting from that friction falls entirely upon Arfia.
When she drinks, it seems that even the spirits get drunk, so the pain decreases. This was the reason why Arfia became an alcoholic. As a result, she spends most of her day inebriated.
Can’t handle spirits.
Can’t handle a bow; a useless Elf.
Isolated with not a single friend. Expelled to the outskirts of the gathering. All she does is spend most of her time inebriated.
She’s quite a pitiful character with a tragic setting.
Not a wise, pretty older sister but more like a neighbor with a recluse who can’t get their life together. That’s Arfia.
Though thanks to her, I can estimate what needs to be resolved just by listening.
“Once you’re done eating, let’s get up.”
“Huh? Why?”
“I’m going to make the useless Elf play the part of a person.”
