The servant walked briskly down the corridors. His head was lowered, and his eyes quickly scanned his surroundings without drawing suspicion. The pristine palace corridors, illuminated by the white magical glow within round glass orbs hanging on the walls, were covered with porcelain designs in a mix of gold and sky blue hues, along with straight wall lines. In certain places, there were motifs elegantly carved into the walls, depicting dragons and significant elven figures.

In this situation, he paid no attention to these details.

The echo of the greaves worn by elven guards in their plate armor could occasionally be heard in the corridor. He did his best to avoid them.

He wasn’t a fool at all.

"Nījdë fïr qíël'jjå; Gyū ãélt¿"

Voices started to emerge from the far end of the corridor. One was possibly a young man's voice.

"Ehmm; œtheí'dan ßv'zæq fïr-mï hælq:"

And the other, a young woman's. The voices drew nearer.

As the servant continued with his head bowed, he slightly raised his vacant gaze. Two silhouettes became vaguely discernible at the end of the corridor—a tall but frail boy, and beside him a taller young woman (or girl?) with a horn.

A horn? Only one? A demon?

And first of all, she is...?

A twisted smile briefly appeared on his face, but he managed to hide it by lowering his gaze.

Found you!

Before disappearing quickly into another corridor of the palace, he quietly celebrated his success.

...

While walking, Tee'yhan occasionally glanced at Reagan, who was silently following by his side. The girl’s expressionless face was no different from the stone-faced goddess statues at the palace gates.

What does it feel like not to have emotions? he couldn’t help but wonder. Could one still find joy in life? Could anything bring genuine pleasure? Reagan seemed to enjoy alchemy and insects. But was this a hobby she took up just to show the world she was like everyone else? A way to say, “Look, I can be interested in things and have hobbies too”? Or did she really enjoy it?

He turned his gaze briefly to Reagan again before looking ahead. Could one truly love someone? What would it be like if he were in her situation? How would it feel not to have a heart? Did she really care for him? Or… He didn’t want to think about the second possibility.

These were thoughts that had plagued Tee'yhan's mind since he learned about Reagan. When he was a little boy, scared at night, he would walk down the long hallways with his pillow in his arms to reach Reagan's room. He was afraid his mother, the queen, would reject him, and he didn’t want to appear weak in her eyes.

On the other hand, Reagan was his peer and the unwavering presence that gave him courage. It was during the first time they slept together that he realized her heart wasn’t beating. He had been terrified, thinking she was dead, and he remembered running through the palace in a frenzy, screaming and causing a commotion among the palace staff.

Apparently, he was the only one who hadn’t known. That was normal, of course, since there was no way the queen wouldn’t know, and the servants caring for Reagan would have noticed.

After that, he continued to sleep in her room until he reached a certain age. He remembered the quiet opening of the door each midnight and someone calling Reagan away. On rare occasions, he couldn't wake up easily, but being a light sleeper, he couldn't help but witness these moments with closed eyes.

When she left, the bed would immediately grow cold, and he would be afraid of being alone, forcing himself to stay awake until she returned. He would squeeze his eyes shut to avoid seeing the dark shadows that his imagination turned into frightening shapes. That way, whoever was there wouldn’t know he was awake and wouldn’t harm him.

The weak glimmer of candlelight from the nearby sconce was his only protector. But even that was temporary compared to the enchanted light that usually brightened the room. He often asked Reagan to light one in her own room as well, but she never agreed. In fact, if it were up to her, she would have extinguished the candle too. Was it really because she was a demon, or were there other reasons?

Sometimes, Reagan wouldn’t return for hours, and other times, she wouldn’t come back until Tee'yhan’s body succumbed to sleep. What happened then? Reagan never told him anything.

"If you have something to say, don’t hold back." Tee'yhan was abruptly pulled from his thoughts by Reagan’s voice.

"Huh?" he asked, looking at her with widened eyes. He heard her words, but he wanted her to repeat them to let them pass through the lingering fog in his mind more quickly.

The girl repeated, "I said, if you have something to say, don’t hold back. You keep glancing at me and sighing every few seconds." She cracked her thumbs beside her ears, a habit she didn't know when she had picked up.

Realizing he’d given himself away, Tee'yhan felt a little embarrassed. Clearing his throat, he replied, "Actually, I wanted to say- no, ask something, but…" He paused and looked at her, then with a serious expression, he continued walking and fixed his gaze ahead. "I know you won’t give a answer that."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Reagan raised an eyebrow at him, the two pale, grayish lines above her eyes being the best expression she could muster so far. But when she turned her gaze forward, her face returned to its usual blankness. She didn’t deny or contradict him; she merely nodded lightly. Finally, she responded with her usual callousness, "Probably not." her voice growing deeper and huskier as she grew older.

Tee'yhan nodded in response, rolling his eyes lightly. "I figured out that."

A while later, when the only sound in the corridor was their footsteps, Tee'yhan couldn’t help but sense a tense silence between them. It wasn’t the usual silence when they walked without speaking, but it felt uncomfortable after their recent conversation. So he searched for a topic and glanced around.

"Well, sooo… I think you got a new pet, didn’t you?" he began. "A subspecies of Phloxtopus, right? Yes, definitely that." He nodded to himself in affirmation. Actually, he had made it up, likely pulling the word from somewhere in his memory. Considering how ridiculous the names of Reagan’s bugs usually were, he figured the chances of being right were high. Wouldn’t he seem very knowledgeable if he was right? At least, Tee'yhan thought so.

Reagan gave him a look that could only be described as deadpan. "No, it’s a Kraterfablium. Not a subspecies, but it has features similar to spiders, turtles, and snails. Also, the Phloxtopus you mentioned is an edible plant used to ease Wyverns’ indigestion."

Eh?! That was… unexpected.

Tee'yhan’s ears turned red at Reagan’s correction. "W-well, I just wanted to make sure you knew. Good job, you’re clearly not doing this just for show." Damn it!

Reagan sighed softly and shook her head. "If you want to make sure I know, let me explain it to you in more detail."

Oh! No way in hell!

"Haha," Tee'yhan laughed nervously and immediately patted Reagan on the back. He made a mental note never to gamble on subjects she was an expert in again. "No need, Jaya! Aren’t we already studying this at the academy?" I really don’t want to hear about it here! Especially not from you, who never shuts up once you start!

Reagan glanced at him briefly. "Well, if you say so. As long as you understand everything at the academy without issue, then there’s no problem."

At that moment, their gazes turned to a group of elven guards marching down the corridor with practiced, mechanical movements. They wore golden helmets adorned with silver horns—reminiscent of Wyvern horns.

"Elegant and majestic," Tee'yhan commented, looking at their armor. "Don’t you think?"

Reagan, observing them, responded, "Hmm, I think they’re sturdy but impractical." From the beginning, she had always thought practically. Plate armor was exceptional at deflecting swords and arrows, commonly used not just in human kingdoms but also by elves with an even more resilient alloy. The chest area was pointed, causing swords—especially when thrust—to be misdirected. But on further thought, wasn’t it impractical unless in a large-scale battle? It made walking and movement difficult and contrasted sharply with the agile bodies of elves.

Elves, despite having slender bodies, were strong, yet their long legs, which made them more agile, seemed almost pointless considering the weight they carried. If a powerful spell was used, couldn’t it easily pierce through their armor?

At least, these were Reagan’s own thoughts. Sometimes, it took more than eight years to understand that Elven craftsmanship held more than what met the eye, and sometimes one needed to see things in action to grasp it fully.

They finally reached a door that was pure white, shiny, and wide. The private room of the royal family. Four guards stood at the door—two on either side. Those closest to the door formed an 'X' with their spears, while those beside them stood straight with their long swords pressed to the ground. The blades of the swords widened towards the tip, which was not pointed but rather oval-shaped. However, Tee'yhan, who had watched the swords in training several times, knew that they were just as effective for thrusting as they were for cutting.

Every royal guard was undoubtedly highly skilled and powerful. In their training, guards learned first and foremost how to conquer pain and fear of injury. They were struck with real weapons by their masters without any concern for injuries or limb loss during combat. If they lost a limb, they were forced to remain conscious for a while to endure the pain before finally being tended to by superior healers, who mended them through healing spells said to draw their strength from the soul. They were trained not only in physical combat but also in theurgy to use magic. Their unwavering stance wasn’t just for show; within those armors lay true warriors willing to give their lives for their queen and royal family without a moment's hesitation.

As the pair approached, the guards slightly bowed their heads, offering a brief announcement, “Prince Tee’yhan. Lady Reagan,” before opening the wide door. Tee’yhan gave a small nod, his eyes betraying admiration and respect as he looked at them. They’re so cool! He didn’t realize he was still staring until Reagan lightly tapped his shoulder to remind him to move forward.

The doors opened to a massive space. It took over thirty steps to reach one end from the other. Although resembling a throne room, this area was merely the space leading to the royal family’s private quarters, which spoke volumes. Besides those of royal blood, only a few trusted personnel and Reagan were allowed inside. Along both the right and left walls, there were numerous doors, each leading to the private chambers of individual royal family members.

From the ceiling, books with their open pages facing down hung in mid-air, with some leaves softly fluttering. They remained suspended, tracing light circles as if enchanted. The beams of light reflecting from the books were the primary source of illumination in the room. Although it seemed as if the ancient power or magic within these ethereal books lit the room, Reagan knew better. They were merely empty pages with extinguishable light spheres embedded in them, which drew mana from the environment, emitted it back, and floated endlessly—essentially, a renewable source. The same could be seen in the throne room.

The walls were adorned with mosaics of various colors, and the ceiling’s illumination reflected off these glass mosaics, casting a dazzling array of hues onto the cream and gold floor tiles that formed the figure of a dragon.

For a royal room, it was indeed ostentatious, yet stunning. In the background, the gentle strumming of lutes could be heard, played by male and female elves sitting or lounging suggestively on the couches at each end of the room. Their brightly colored robes revealed just a bit too much skin. Even a few tiny fae, who normally buzzed about noisily, hovered quietly around them or perched on their shoulders and heads, absorbed in the music.

The fae… Truly eccentric creatures. They were humanoid beings divided into various types, ranging from the size of a human to the size of a palm. Some loved light and music, others nature, and some found joy in the endless mysteries of the ocean depths.

At last, Reagan’s gaze turned to the people gathered around the long table at the far end of the room. At the head of the table sat the Queen, with her eldest son, Prince Wu'diiyn, on her right. He sat calmly, arms crossed, but his brows were slightly furrowed for some reason. His hair, black and long enough to reach his back, was swept back from his forehead and fell forward over both shoulders. He gazed at the approaching pair with his sea-green eyes inherited from his mother, his expression cold, lingering especially on Reagan for a moment.

And to the queen’s left sat a woman—someone Reagan had never seen before. She resembled the queen with her golden hair and sea-green eyes, and even shared similar sharp facial features and a pointed nose. However, her skin was bronzed compared to the queen’s, and her demeanor was less graceful and more… stern? She briefly glanced at Tee’yhan before raising an eyebrow and fixing her gaze on Reagan with interest.

“Sister?!” Tee’yhan’s voice rang out through the room. “You came too?! When did you return?! You didn’t even tell me!” His excitement was unmistakable in his voice and eyes.

Sister?

The woman merely chuckled softly, shaking her head from side to side. “Allow the elders to speak first, young man,” she admonished gently, gesture her head towards the queen. Tee’yhan blushed lightly and quickly turned to the queen, bowing his head. “I’m sorry for being late, Mother.”

After studying the woman for a moment longer, Reagan, with a subtle nudge from Tee’yhan, redirected her gaze to the queen—no, to Yewsher Ryk Del, the Great Queen of the Elves and the Fae. She sat gracefully at the head of the table, maintaining a neutral expression as she observed the standing pair.

“Oh, I’m glad you could finally arrive. For a moment, I was worried my dear son and our esteemed princess had lost their way,” she quipped lightly, a gentle smile gracing her lips as she elegantly gestured to the seats beside her. "Come, we're waiting for you."

...

The man disguised as a servant had revealed his now charcoal-gray skin and crimson eyes, dragging himself up the stone steps of the colossal cliff, which towered eight hundred paces high, overlooking an endless void of mist. Even upon reaching the final step, he couldn't afford the relief of resting against the stone. The edge of the abyss, shrouded in dark fog, began to crackle, sensing his presence. Finally, the mist lifted, revealing a figure seated cross-legged in a throne-like hollow of rock—a figure with ashen gray skin, clad in a dark robe, and possessing long silver hair. His red gaze was piercing, his presence overwhelmingly oppressive and suffocating, as if his eyes alone could bore a hole into whatever he looked upon.

"Speak!" The command carried such force that the cliff trembled, causing several stones and rocks to fall. The other man, shaking, clung desperately to the stones beneath him to keep from slipping.

"M-my lord! I-I found her! I found her!" His voice was less of excitement and more the desperate plea of a man trying to save his own life, as if not delivering the news swiftly would mean his end.

The figure on the throne narrowed his eyes at him. "Who?!" he roared.

The man trembled, clinging tightly to the rocks. "Her! Iblis’ traitorous eye! I found her!"

The figure frowned at first, but then his face broke into a wide, unsettling grin. "So, you did," he chuckled darkly, "So, you found her, huh?"

*

I pity the poor soul chosen as her vessel.