Chapter 1: Welcome Home Yuna (3)

Part 3

Deep within the forest, Hans Versalles had been gathering intel for over a month—preparing the ground, but above all, studying the movements of his target.

Seated on a large fallen log, he nibbled at the last of his rations. Beside him, his pristine crossbow rested—ready and seemingly impatient to be used.

A single leaf, carried by the wind, floated down and landed on his expensive suit.

Without even blinking, Hans brushed it off with a quick, dismissive motion, as if it were a bothersome insect.

"What do you want? Can't you see this is my break time?" he said dryly, his tone serious, never lifting his eyes.

From above, a figure hidden among the shadows replied with a trace of irony.

"Always so charming. That's no way to speak to your superiors," came the voice, laced with mockery.

Hans barely raised his gaze toward the tree, his expression as icy as ever.

"I'm not apologizing, if that's what you're here for. You know I hate being interrupted mid-mission."

"Arrogant as always. No dramatic lines or poetic monologues today?" the figure teased, letting out a stifled laugh.

Hans took one last bite of his food before replying, his tone as emotionless as ever.

"No audience—no need. Now, what do you want? You're ruining my meal," he said, placing his plate aside with disdain.

From the treetops, the figure tossed down a bag, which landed precisely at Hans' feet.

He looked at it with disinterest, then calmly picked it up and inspected the contents.

"Just brought supplies," the figure said, voice now more neutral. "And came looking for the new recruit."

Hans closed the bag with a practiced motion, setting it aside and crossing his legs with an elegance that bordered on theatrical. Without looking directly, he spoke with calm precision:

"You can stop hiding now, rookie."

Like a gust of wind, a green-haired elf emerged from the shadows, stepping forward with a stiff posture and eyes brimming with raw hatred, fixed firmly on the ground.

"This kid, full of spite, wants to join Netheria," Hans remarked, taking another bite of food with complete indifference. "Could you take him? Let them decide if he's fit for the Empire or not."

The figure, still hidden in the canopy, chuckled softly before answering.

"Oh? Interesting. Tell me, boy—why do you want to join the glorious Empire?" they asked, voice teasing with a hint of curiosity.

The elf raised his gaze, his eyes blazing with a mix of fury and resolve.

"Power. Revenge," he said firmly. "I know the Empire values strength. I want power—even if I have to sell you my soul to get it."

Hans let out a quiet laugh, glancing up toward the figure in the tree.

"See what I mean? That hatred in his eyes. Perfect for a soldier," he said, pointing his eating knife toward the elf. "Do me a favor and open the portal."

With a subtle motion, as if reality itself had been torn open, a crimson portal appeared before them.

The figure looked down from above, their tone now colder.

"Open your hand, kid—before you go in."

Without hesitation, the elf extended his hand.

In an instant, blue flames enveloped it—burning intensely, then vanishing in a blink—leaving behind a pentagram-shaped mark carved into his skin.

"Done," said the figure, voice grave. "Show that mark to the imperial guards. They'll know what it means."

The elf stared at his hand for a moment, then nodded silently and stepped through the portal.

It closed behind him with a flash, leaving only silence in its wake.

Hans watched the scene with a slight smile, leaning back against the log.

"Another pawn for the board," he murmured, taking another bite of his food as the figure began to fade into the shadows.

Yet, before their presence vanished completely, Hans lifted his eyes with his usual indifferent expression.

"And you? Still wasting time?" he asked, his tone laced with sarcasm as he calmly wiped his knife clean.

The figure paused their departure, letting out a low chuckle from the treetops.

"I'm on a mission of my own," they replied, voice calm yet laced with mystery. "Recently, a 'Cursed One' and a 'Chosen One' have appeared. I'm keeping an eye on them..."

Hans raised an eyebrow, a flicker of interest crossing his eyes before returning his attention to his meal.

"I see. Not my business… but the king does care about those things. So I hope you don't disappoint him," he said casually—though the words carried an undercurrent of warning.

A sharp huff came from the treetops.

"I know the king better than you ever will, Hans. So don't start lecturing me, mortal," the figure snapped coldly.

With that final remark, the presence vanished—as if merging with the wind—leaving the forest cloaked in an eerie silence.

Hans stared at the spot where the figure had been, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows as if expecting them to answer back.

Finally, a faint smirk tugged at his lips.

"Such drama," he muttered, shaking his head as he adjusted the strap of his crossbow and stood with graceful poise.

With one last glance toward the woods, the smirk faded.

His face returned to the calm, calculating seriousness he was known for.

"Well, they had a point," he said to himself, picking up the supply bag. "If I want to impress the king, failure isn't an option."

Hans scanned the area with a cold, methodical gaze. Then, moving in absolute silence, he slipped into the shadows—his presence vanishing without a trace.

Meanwhile, as Haruto and the others continued pondering the nature of the semi-human, a soft melody broke the stillness of the Kazeharu household.

It was an ethereal sound, soothing and gentle, wrapping the room in a comforting calm.

Simmone turned her head toward the window, curiosity sparking in her eyes.

"That song..." she murmured, rising to her feet.

A small nightingale with iridescent feathers appeared on the windowsill, as if materializing from the air itself. Tied to its leg was a neatly rolled parchment, sealed with gold wax.

"It's a messenger from Melodía," Simmone said in her usual composed tone, extending her hand toward the bird.

The nightingale hopped delicately onto her palm, dropping the scroll before letting out a soft trill.

Haruto and the others watched in fascination, while Kizuna fluttered near the bird with sparkling eyes.

"How cute! And of course, with a name like Melodía, it had to be as elegant as she is. Right, Kizu?" Kizuna giggled playfully.

Simmone nodded, her expression steady.

"I know. I created this bird based on her personality," she replied, handing the scroll to Yuna.

Carefully, Yuna broke the seal and unrolled the parchment, her eyes scanning the words quickly. Her expression shifted slightly, a hint of concern crossing her face.

"What does it say?" Haruto asked, leaning in.

"Melodía is sending word from Astralith," Yuna answered gravely. "Her father is still angry about what happened in Stonehollow. There's even talk of stripping her of her ambassador position..."

She paused, her gaze softening as she continued to read.

"She also says she hasn't left her castle since arriving in Astralith. In fact, she's been locked in her room… waiting for her mother."

The group exchanged silent looks, each reflecting on Melodía's words in their own way.

Kizuna, floating near Haruto, broke the stillness in her usual chipper tone.

"Then we should write her back! So she doesn't worry, Kizu!" Yuna said with renewed determination.

Simmone nodded gently, still holding the nightingale.

"You'd better," she replied neutrally. "The bird will wait with me for one day. Then it returns to its mistress automatically. That's how this spell works."

"Understood. Let's get to it," Yuna said with a smile, grabbing a scroll and a feathered pen.

One by one, everyone began writing their replies to Melodía.

Though each had much to say, they chose their words carefully—striving to send warmth and encouragement, without burdening her with more worry than she already carried.

As they worked, the nightingale watched them with its bright, curious eyes, as if it understood the importance of their task.

Deep in the forest, a group of elves fished by the river, their laughter echoing through the trees as they tugged playfully at their lines. Their movements were carefree—like this corner of the woods was a haven untouched by worry.

Rina observed them from behind a tree, her yellow eyes glowing with a mix of curiosity and caution.

Her tail, just barely visible, swayed slowly back and forth as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing.

"Elves… fishing," she murmured to herself, tilting her head. "They look like they're having fun. Fishing… what a funny word."

She cocked her head, trying to mimic the sound of their laughter, but her expression darkened as her gaze drifted toward the clear river water.

"Pulling floaty things out of water… Rina want to try too…" she whispered, her shoulders shrinking slightly. Then, her voice dropped to a faint murmur—almost mournful. "But water bad… water very bad."

With a sad face, she stepped back further into the shadows, torn between her longing to join them and the fear the water still held deep inside her.