Creak, clang.
“I’ll be feeding you regularly, so just stay put. Not that you can do anything in this room anyway.”
The man locked the door and left. Arfia could do nothing but helplessly watch him go.
Her bow had been taken, and shackles around her ankles were connected to a central pillar in the room. She could move around the room, but that was about it. It seemed unlikely she could leave unless they were removed.
“Hmph.”
Having long given up on escaping, Arfia slumped onto the bed.
The place where she was confined felt more like a guest room than a prison. There was a bed, a wardrobe, a mirror, and other expensive furnishings.
This space was originally intended to serve as temporary holding for elves captured by Ropermong. Though the story had changed from the original, Arfia had still ended up here.
“It’s all that guy’s fault.”
Arfia thought bitterly of Carami’s sly smile – the reason she had been so easily taken hostage and left defenseless.
Despite all her practice, she hadn’t even been able to fire a single arrow. She decided that next time, she’d practice shooting with a pea balanced on her head – though she wasn’t sure if she’d even get the chance to escape.
“But where is he, anyway?”
Arfia was the only one confined to this room, and she had no idea where Carami was being held. Suddenly, a worrying thought crossed her mind:
“What if he’s down in some underground dungeon, making unnecessary noise and getting himself beaten because he can’t assess the situation?”
It was entirely plausible that Carami would do something like that. After all, he was the kind who once looked at her and muttered nonsense like “Ah, indeed, you are a living air purifier.”
She needed to escape quickly and check if he was safe.
“Gah.”
Arfia winced as a wave of pain washed over her. She’d had a drink before coming here, but the spirits inside her were already starting to wake up. Her resistance seemed to have improved, as they were returning faster lately.
She had reached the point where alcohol alone couldn’t suppress them anymore. She would either need to drink herself into oblivion regularly or take strong medicine.
What would she do if that didn’t work?
For the first time, life was becoming interesting.
“No, no.”
Shaking her head, Arfia pushed the troubling thoughts aside. She’d deal with that after she got out of here.
How much time had passed?
With no windows, the enclosed room made it hard to gauge the passage of time. Luckily, the regular delivery of meals allowed her to make a rough guess.
The food, however, was far from appetizing. The heavily spiced dishes showed no consideration whatsoever for an elf’s palate.
“Elves!”
They were supposed to be esteemed guests. If that were true, they could at least treat her properly!
The pain of not being able to drink was only intensifying, and Arfia had to continually suppress groans.
Clang.
The sound of metal came from outside. The heavily locked door opened, and in walked Reinard, a dark elf with his mask pulled up to just below his eyes.
The dark elves of Taosl didn’t differ fundamentally from regular elves except in settlement patterns and superficial characteristics; they weren’t archenemies or cursed races.
It was more like the difference between modern blacks and whites.
Just that.
Arfia, lying face-down on the bed, turned her head with effort.
“You…”
“Hmm, indeed, I wasn’t mistaken. Not only are the spirits within you but they’re all tangled up in one spot. I have never seen a case like this… fascinating.”
Calling someone in excruciating pain ‘fascinating’ was typical of dark elves’ lack of empathy. Though Arfia would have liked to throw a sharp retort, she didn’t have the energy.
“Why is a dark elf here?”
“There was a request to capture an elf. Our organization happens to be skilled at catching elves, and I’m curious about this particular one.”
“Are the proud dark elves now doing jobs for money?”
At Arfia’s sarcastic comment, Reinard smirked.
“Considering you’re the one hunting slaves under humans, I’d say it’s not your place to talk.”
“…”
“You must be the greatest disgrace to the elven race anywhere in the world.”
Now even a dark elf she’d just met was calling her a shame to the elven race. She was becoming tired of these notions of elven pride; she was an elf just like any other.
“Here to tease me? If you’re not going to rescue me, leave. My head hurts.”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. But first, I’ll enlighten you about your situation—a dog that has been cast aside.”
“I haven’t been abandoned. I’m actually quite trusted.”
“Such naivety.”
Reinard sighed and shook his head before his gaze turned cold as he looked down at Arfia.
“You’ve been sold. To that slave merchant—”
Arfia lay on the bed, staring blankly.
Perhaps thanks to a hint from Reinard, the food now had fewer spices and even came with alcohol. Despite this, Arfia couldn’t bring herself to touch them.
What Reinard had revealed had extinguished all her desires.
– That man was going to hand you over to Ropermong in exchange for something. All that business with the knife at your throat was his own theatrics.
– And where is he now? He’s already taken what he wanted and left you here.
“…”
So everything was just Carami’s staged drama?
He handed me over to Ropermong and left, taking his reward?
He left without me?
Arfia couldn’t fully believe what Reinard said. Over time, a certain level of trust had developed between her and Carami.
They weren’t at the point where one word from a dark elf could make her instantly accuse Carami with thoughts like, “I knew it, you bastard.”
Yet, a creeping unease was rising within her. If all of this was part of Carami’s plan, it all fit together too perfectly.
It was like finding the final piece to complete a complicated puzzle.
“Sigh…”
Ah, no. I can’t think straight anymore. I should just drink and sleep.
Arfia shakily grabbed the bottle of liquor and gulped it down, then carelessly threw it aside and burrowed into the bed.
Her eyes were growing heavy.
I’m not sure if I’m falling asleep or losing consciousness, but it doesn’t really matter.
Maybe it would be fine to never wake up. At least then I wouldn’t feel this pain.
Ah, here it comes again.
Still, it’s alright.
Because I’m used to it.
A familiar sensation.
Rough yet gentle.
The feeling of something parting her hair.
It was so painstakingly careful, like a soft breeze blowing over a meadow—soothing her and calming her body, easing her pain.
If only it were always like this, I could live an ordinary life like everyone else—mixing with fellow elves, honing my skills with the bow, being recognized and praised.
A perfectly ordinary life.
For centuries.
Until a fresh tree returns to nature.
Will such a day come? It probably never will. This sensation will likely vanish like a dream when I wake.
So I won’t open my eyes.
I’ll wish for this moment to last forever.
…
But there’s something I can’t tolerate. Something no elf should have to tolerate.
“Wow, you elves really do have sensitive ears, don’t you?”
Arfia shot up in a rage, the sensation vanishing like a mirage.
Just as she was about to miss it, her eyes widened in shock.
“…You?”
“Oops, sorry for startling you—I was hoping you’d sleep through it, but I underestimated your resilience.”
Before her stood Carami, her owner.
And simultaneously, the unwilling partner bound to her by their current circumstances.
There he lay beside her on the bed, propped up on one arm, gazing at her with a serene smile.
“You, why are you…?”
“Strange question, isn’t it? It’s common sense that the owner stays by the slave’s side.”
“But that dark elf said you sold me. That you abandoned me?”
“Would you believe a first-time-meeting dark elf or me, Miss Arfia?”
“Uh, obviously…”
The words caught in her throat, and Arfia managed to suppress them. She had almost fallen into Carami’s trap again.
Despite that, she couldn’t stop a smile from creeping onto her lips.
‘So you didn’t leave me behind.’
Of course not. What kind of relationship did they have?
That meddling dark elf must have been trying to cause discord between them. Dark elves—they’re always so underhanded. Who’s the one disregarding elven pride here?
I’ll wait and see.
I’ll ridicule him when I meet him.
“So how did you get in here? There’s no way in except through the door, and it’s locked.”
“I came in through the door.”
“But it’s locked!”
“While they were bringing in food, I slipped in using one of Master’s invisibility tools.”
Arfia nodded without suspicion. Victor the assassin had the perfect gadgets for infiltration, so it wasn’t surprising.
“Anyway, you were groaning in pain. Are you not feeling well?”
“Huh? Oh, that… wait, I don’t feel much pain now.”
She was sure she’d been feeling pain moments ago. Perhaps the effects of the alcohol she’d consumed earlier were kicking in. With her unruly spirits, it was hard to tell.
At any rate, it was fortunate that the pain had subsided. With the discomfort gone, her thought processes were returning to normal.
“What are we going to do? Are we escaping?”
“We must. But first…”
Carami rummaged in his inner pocket and pulled out a scroll.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a magic scroll, inscribed with a specific spell. I took it from Ropermong’s warehouse.”
“Aha, so you’re using it to escape?”
“No, this scroll is for you, Arfia.”
Arfia tilted her head in confusion.
“For me?”
Carami smiled as he unfurled the scroll.
“I will erase all the pain you’ve endured.”
