—————————————————————–
Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
—————————————————————–
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Sylvia was flustered, unprecedentedly so.
Yesterday, and again today, she’d been surrounded by crowds of students, their gazes filled with barely concealed intentions—lust, greed, envy.
She was accustomed to such attention. As the Elf Princess, she was a valuable asset, a target for those seeking to exploit her connection to the Elven kingdom.
But being accustomed didn’t mean she was comfortable with it. She was older than her human classmates, but by elven standards, she was still young, barely an adult in a society where lifespans stretched for centuries.
“Princess Sylvia, after class, perhaps we could…”
“I have some questions about elves… if you have a moment…”
“There are certain elven spells…”
‘If only I had a chaperone…’
She couldn’t handle the constant barrage of questions, the veiled attempts to manipulate her, not on her own.
And she couldn’t afford to offend them. She was here to foster goodwill between the empire and the elves. Her every word, every action, had political implications.
“My apologies, I have a slight headache…”
“Oh, the infirmary…!”
“No, I couldn’t trouble you. I’ll go alone.”
She preferred to avoid them, to escape the suffocating attention.
“Wow, elves are not only beautiful but kind as well…”
“She’s so independent, so cool…”
‘That’s not it at all…’
She overheard their whispers, her elven ears picking up every word, but she ignored them, heading towards the infirmary. She needed a break, a moment of respite.
She reached the infirmary and opened the door.
“…Huh?”
“…”
And froze.
The Saintess, a woman she respected, was bowing before the black-haired man she’d met yesterday.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
I had to clear up the misunderstanding.
The elf stood awkwardly at the door, her expression unreadable.
“…Could you close the door, please?”
“R-Right.”
Sylvia closed the door and entered, her eyes darting between the Saintess and me.
It took some time to explain. The attack on the church, my involvement, my request for her discretion.
“…I understand.”
“Thank you.”
She seemed surprisingly unconcerned, simply lying down on one of the infirmary beds.
She was probably the only person at the academy who’d react so casually to the Saintess’s presence.
Hildegarde, who’d been silent until now, looked at Sylvia, her brow furrowing slightly.
“Um… Sylvia…?”
“You can call me Sylvia. You are the Saintess, after all.”
“Ah… Why are you here, Sylvia? Are you feeling unwell?”
Sylvia flinched at the Saintess’s concerned question, as if she’d been caught off guard.
“…I’m… not feeling well.”
“Oh… what’s wrong? Perhaps I could examine—”
“N-No! It’s fine!”
Her denial was vehement, her face still expressionless, but her ears were bright red.
I understood. I’d noticed earlier that she didn’t seem to enjoy large crowds. She was likely exhausted from the constant attention and had come here to rest.
I decided to help her save face, placing a hand on the Saintess’s shoulder, gently pulling her back.
“Saintess, you seem tired. Perhaps we should leave.”
“But I haven’t received your answer yet…”
“I’ll think about it.”
My words seemed to mollify her. She bowed her head in thanks and left.
Now, it was just Sylvia and me.
The perfect opportunity to ask for her help. The usual crowd wasn’t here to distract her.
She seemed surprised that I hadn’t left with the Saintess.
“Um…? Do you need something?”
“Princess Sylvia.”
“Ah, about yesterday… I apologize for the misunderstanding—”
“No, it’s not that.”
I interrupted her, anticipating her apology.
“I have a request.”
“…A request?”
Her face hardened, her usually impassive expression replaced by something colder.
Her eyebrows, usually horizontal, slanted downwards, her eyes cold and distant. The air in the room seemed to chill slightly.
“…Tell me. I’ll at least hear you out.”
“…I need a Spirit Stone. Could you… obtain one for me?”
“…A Spirit Stone?”
“Yes.”
“…Is that all?”
“Yes.”
“…I see.”
The tension in the room seemed to dissipate the moment I stated my request. Her expression softened, her eyebrows returning to their usual position.
Her lips curved into a faint smile, and her spirits, who had reappeared at some point, giggled softly.
I stared at the spirits, and she cleared her throat, drawing my attention back to her.
“I can’t give you a Spirit Stone right now.”
“…Why not?”
I was disappointed. I needed the Spirit Stone for my research.
She seemed to sense my urgency, her expression turning serious.
“I don’t know what you plan to do with it, but a Spirit Stone is a spirit.”
“…”
“Spirits are part of our family, part of the Great Forest. I can’t just give one to an unproven outsider.”
“Then, is there another way to obtain one…?”
“Not unless a spirit chooses to form a contract with you directly.”
“…”
“And humans lack the necessary affinity with nature, so it’s unlikely.”
Her tone was firm, her words leaving no room for doubt.
“…How do I prove myself?”
“Before that, may I ask a question?”
“…Go ahead.”
“Why do you need a Spirit Stone so badly?”
“…”
“You’re a strange human.”
He wasn’t like the other humans she’d encountered. He wasn’t a womanizer, he didn’t seem interested in luxury or pleasure, he hadn’t tried to exploit her status or flatter her with empty compliments, and he didn’t ogle her with lustful eyes.
His reaction to her presence had been unusual.
If he were a half-elf, his lack of interest in her, his almost hostile demeanor, would make sense. But he’d denied it, insisting he was human.
She knew humans and their desires. She knew how they acted, how they pursued their own self-interests.
So, his motives intrigued her.
Why did he need a Spirit Stone so badly?
And if it was so important, why hadn’t he tried to flatter her, to curry favor?
She’d asked, but…
He hadn’t answered.
Not that he couldn’t, but as if he wouldn’t.
And that made her even more curious. What secret was he hiding?
“You really want a Spirit Stone, don’t you?”
“…Yes.”
“Earning the trust of the elves and the spirits isn’t easy. Are you prepared?”
“Yes.”
There was no hesitation in his voice, his eyes burning with determination, devoid of lust or greed.
Elves, as a race, were arrogant and prejudiced, but there were exceptions. And Sylvia was one of them.
‘…He does have a strong affinity for nature… Perhaps I should consult Mother…’
“Very well… we can discuss the details tomorrow. Is that acceptable?”
“…Thank you, Princess Sylvia.”
He bowed his head, then left abruptly.
She was alone again, the brief respite over. The crowds awaited.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
That was the end of our conversation.
I was willing to undergo any “test” she devised, but I had no idea what it would entail.
I tried to speak to her again, but she was constantly surrounded by other students.
I spent the rest of the day in my room, frustrated.
And then,
“Come with me to the Great Forest, Jenison.”
Another bombshell.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
