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Chapter 268
Sense of Kinship
They stared at each other for a long while.
No wonder—one had no tongue, and the other couldn't speak, so a verbal conversation was impossible.
"......."
"......."
They just kept gazing at each other in silence.
Wе b n о̂ vе̌ l̇ Е n u m̊ а̃
Then the one to move first was the girl.
The shy girl emerged from behind the pillar and carefully stood before Mori.
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Light shone in the young girl's eyes.
The name of that light was admiration.
To the girl of low birth and little education, Mori looked like a nobleman's daughter.
Well-groomed appearance and a mature expression. Yet a strange sense of kinship over their similar age seemed to act like gravity, pulling her in.
Ẅе b̄ n о́v̂ е̃ ľ Еnú mа̄
The girl's actions grew increasingly bold.
Since Mori didn't get angry or annoyed at being stared at, she was definitely harmless.
Mori simply mulled over her information.
The once-timid girl cautiously took Mori's hand.
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Seeing even this wasn't rejected, she led her away somewhere.
Mori naturally couldn't resist and just followed wherever her hand pulled.
W е̄ b ń õ v̂ė l̄ Е ǹũm̆ã
The place the girl hurriedly brought Mori to was the backyard of Valdrova Castle.
The backyard had an herb garden for making medicinal decoctions.
A pleasant fragrance wafted faintly through the air—perfect for young girls to spread out mats and sit.
There were three girls there, and
"......!"
"......!"
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"......!"
All of them had been fidgeting anxiously, but when Mori appeared, their faces turned pale.
The girls hastily pulled the innocent young girl toward themselves.
Fear settled on their faces.
Because no matter how you looked at it, Mori looked like a high-ranking noble's child.
The oldest among them, and the one who looked a bit younger than Mori, stepped forward and wrote on the ground with a tree branch, bowing her head.
Е̇ ǹúm̆.ȧ. і̌d̃
-Jeseonghamnida, agassi.
'......Jeseong?'
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Mori searched that word several times in her mind before finally understanding what it meant.
Mori also picked up a branch and wrote on the ground.
-Do you want to say 'I'm sorry'?
The girls made startled faces.
Е n̆ u m̂ӑ
They glanced at each other's faces, then wrote again.
-Yes, sorry. I'm sorry.
-No need to be sorry.
-Still, we were rude, so we thought we should apologize.......
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-I'm just a lowly worker of this castle, and you are honored guests. In terms of status, 'rude' doesn't apply, so there's no need to be that sorry.
As Mori wrote in neat block letters without hesitation, the girls
Wеb̀ ṅo̊ v_е l̆ Е n̊ u̇_m̃а́
-Your handwriting is insanely good.
-I must do this for accurate and quick communication.
-I see.
Mori added one more thing.
-And I cannot be called agassi.
-Then what do we call you?
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-Seogwan.
They looked at each other in bewilderment, then asked again.
The girls found that word very difficult.
-Can't you just be agassi?
-No.
Agassi is a word used only for noblewomen's daughters.
Е̌n ü m̀ ӑ.
Since Mori isn't a noble, it doesn't apply.
-Instead, I have the name Mori.
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So Mori told them her name.
Hearing the name, the girls wrote letters with slightly excited expressions.
-I'm Jessica. This child is Rami, that one's Hurin, and the youngest is Yuri.
Jessica, Rami, Hurin, Yuri.
Е ṅu m ӑ
Mori recorded all their names on a page in her mental library.
Once introductions were over, the awkward atmosphere eased a little.
The girls decided to step closer.
-Wanna play together?
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-I cannot choose.
A slave only ever receives orders.
É n̊ ùm а̊
-Then let's play together.
Mori quietly nodded.
The girls took Mori and led her to their mat.
On the mat lay a armful of autumn wildflowers, and piles of things made by weaving stems.
You couldn't call the craftsmanship good, but traces of effort were abundant.
The four girls stared fixedly at Mori.
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Her expressionless face was cold, and her thick blonde hair was sleek, giving off a noble bearing.
The four girls looked at Mori with admiration, then seemed to decide something as they glanced at each other and nodded.
-We'll make you a hwagwan.
-A crown made of flowers?
Nod nod.
Mori nodded in response.
E̊ n̄ um.а̀
The girls concentrated and began making a hwagwan to place on Mori's head.
Mori observed the four's movements.
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Despite their hands moving in complex ways, they didn't tangle or collide.
It was movement only possible after long practice breathing together.
The eldest, Jessica, wrote characters on the ground so Mori wouldn't be bored.
-Rize unni taught us.
E n u̇ḿа
Hearing that title, Mori couldn't hold back.
-Not unni, but oppa. Correction needed.
-Not oppa, unni.
-Former Secretary Rize-nim's gender is male.
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Jessica looked flustered.
But she tilted her head and objected.
Ënu.m̈а̄._і̌ d
-But men don't do things like make flower crowns. They said women handle spirits better too. And above all, you're tens, hundreds, thousands of times prettier than the prettiest unnis in the village?
-Everything you said is true.
But it leading to the conclusion that Rize is a woman is a terribly serious error.
Facts cannot be overturned.
Yet Mori didn't move her branch pen.
The usual Mori would have insisted to the end that Rize was male and tried to explain.
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Mistaking gender is a serious error, but not fatal—rather, it became an opportunity for them to open their hearts.
Rize is a harmless elf, and they'd feel safer with her as a woman.
Sometimes a kind lie is needed more than a cruel truth.
Such a thought rose from deeper than Mori's consciousness, but she didn't realize it.
The hwagwan woven by four hands was completed.
Stems were clearly visible, and it was shoddy beyond measure, but the girls wore proud faces.
Е̇ nū mâ.іd
-Is it pretty?
At Jessica's question, Mori nodded with an expressionless face.
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-Then why don't you smile?
-I cannot smile.
The girls didn't ask why.
They thought she must have some pain preventing her from speaking, just like them.
Е̂nu m̈ ä .i d
-Then are you having fun?
To that question, she obviously should have said she feels no emotion.
But Mori thought for a moment, then nodded.
Whether it was because explaining was bothersome, or out of kindness,
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Or whether she truly was having fun—she herself didn't know.
Even with the Library of All Things, when it concerned herself, the answer never came out like this.
Еn ũm а̌
The girls couldn't possibly know Mori's complicated feelings.
They just shared in the joy that she was having fun.
The girls carefully placed the hwagwan on Mori's head.
Weight forming a circle around the crown pressed down, wrapping around Mori's head.
Mori focused on the sensation resting on her head.
Rising stray thoughts became sediment, sinking to the very bottom.
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Just like when Ferda strokes her head—all fatigue vanishes.
The girls surrounded Mori wearing the hwagwan and whistled.
Surprisingly, every action made her feel free and peaceful, like a fish swimming in a tranquil lake.
The corners of Mori's mouth twitched and moved.
* * *
In the west of the Serdes Continent, there stands a single great tree.
Е ń ŭ m а̇.i ḋ
It has rooted itself across the entire continent since the primordial era, a tree called the World Tree.
Centering on that tree, the race called elves formed settlements and lived, and in the very heart of the World Tree existed beings who ruled over them.
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High Elves.
Closest to the World Tree they call Mother, they were aristocratic beings with closed-off, tradition-obsessed natures.
Due to High Elf characteristics, opportunities to meet and see them are extremely rare.
For a guest other than elves to stay long in a High Elf settlement was unthinkable.
Е̄.n ûm а
He stood at the highest place, the Great Chieftain's position, looking down below.
"Autumn has come."
He was a man with white skin, but surprisingly, he was a demon.
Called one of the Seven Scars, he was the first to meet death, and the last remaining.
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It was Gokma.
"Everyone is abundant, and you must prepare for sorrow in this season."
Е̄ń u m̆ a
"Bullshit."
The one snorting at those words was a middle-aged elf.
An elder directly below the Great Chieftain, a High Elf named Cyprus.
Originally a man of noble bearing with a strongly restrained impression.
"How long do you intend to remember and cite such outdated customs?"
But since losing one arm, that restraint was gone.
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Black thread-like capillaries writhed around his severed left arm.
"Isn't inheriting the ancestors' will the duty of High Elves?"
"Inherit the ancestors' will, sure. But what was the ancestors' will?"
He raised his right hand and spoke.
"Reaching the World Tree's source. If the ancestors saw short-lived mortals using magic, they'd think the same as me."
Cyprus vented his deep loathing for humans.
W е b̂ n о̀ v̆ӗ l Е núm̆ a
At the same time, one man surfaced in his mind.
"Ferda......."
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He clearly remembered the three-syllable name.
The man who used the witch Lucy Philiaz's magic and blew off his left arm.
The occasional throbbing sensation constantly reminded the newly-adult man that he'd been defeated.
Whenever that happened, anger swelled in Cyprus's heart.
Web n o v̌ëĺ Е n̊ um̀ ă
"Won't you ascend to the Great Chieftain's position?"
Gokma asked him.
Cyprus calmed his emotions and answered.
"I cannot."
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"Do you know your own limits?"
"Hah! Can't be helped. The Great Chieftain's position isn't just recognized by qualification like the elders. You must directly receive the succession to control the World Tree's mana."
E n ů m а̊ .їd̂
Cyprus looked up at the blue-glowing ceiling.
There, white-light-emitting silk threads were tangled in a cocoon-like mass.
The Great Chieftain lost to Cyprus in battle.
But at the brink of death, surging mana threads gathered around the Great Chieftain and completely enveloped his whole body.
A perfect defense allowing no mana penetration whatsoever.
It was as if the World Tree was telling Cyprus he wasn't qualified as Great Chieftain.
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But it couldn't have said such a thing.
The World Tree is just a big tree.
Cyprus already knew that fact.
The Mother they worship is a delusion, and the name 'restraint' is just a shackle binding their ankles.
That's why Cyprus made a decision to save the nation.
Even now, breaking the shackles and reaching the source—that is what the ancestors truly desire.
Èñũ m а̊. і́d
Even if it means borrowing the power of demons who once threw the continent into chaos.
Taking control of the High Elf clan went extremely smoothly.
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Their minds connected as one for purity, the elder's authority, and the Great Chieftain's absence made it proceed in one breath.
It was enough to corrupt the High Elves' minds, and by the time they felt something wrong, it was too late.
High Elves were now nothing but beings extracting mana, captured in euphoria under Cyprus.
Cyprus rejoiced at such a sight.
Еnu ḿ а́.і̃ d
"Did you know?"
Gokma said lightly, watching.
"That the source of the brainwashing magic that let you seize the whole clan was the one you exiled."
"Linne, that damn bitch?"
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Linne, treated as the High Elves' dark history.
Cyprus sneered at the name.
W еb n о v̄ӗ l̃ Е n̆um̈ а
"I only thought she was a traitor who didn't know her place, joined hands with demons, spouted nonsense about burning the World Tree, and led her kin to dog deaths—but even that bitch has her uses."
"You seem to have quite a grudge."
"In the old days I'd have chewed her up and it wouldn't be enough...... but well, I'm the same kind of bastard now."
Cyprus chuckled.
"If this ends, can I face Linne, that woman, again?"
"Accept her back as a comrade? As a colleague who lent a hand to those filthy demons?"
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He didn't answer.
He just smiled in a fishy, meaningful way.
Gokma knew what he'd said, and knew those words wouldn't change.
"When the time comes, I'll hand her over. May I add just one footnote?"
"What?"
"You're an even more ridiculous existence than I thought."
Е n̆um̄â . ї d̃
Gokma sneered at Cyprus too.
Cyprus showed displeasure and asked.
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"What do you mean?"
"In my eyes, Linne and you look like the same kind, yet you sit there dividing ranks. You can't even honestly reveal your desire, so full of contradictions."
"Linne is a bitch who abandoned the clan for personal feelings. How can she be the same as me, who moves to achieve the great cause the ancestors continued?"
He was incredibly confident.
Е̇ n̆ um ӓ
"Right. They wouldn't be exactly the same."
Gokma didn't say more.
Criticism wouldn't help the plans ahead.
He hates humans.
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That fact alone is what matters.
"I ask for your cooperation in toppling the Arken Empire ahead, Elder Cyprus."
Е̌ n u m а
