After a night of rest, everyone woke up early.

  “Hm? Miss Naver, you seem a bit out of sorts,” Farkonia remarked, notig the faint fatigue on Naver’s face, along with barely visible dark circles under her eyes.

  Based on the magical texts Farkonia had seen her reading before, Naver’s abilities seemed advanced. It didn’t seem likely that a single sleepless night would leave her in this state.

  “Ah… it’s nothing. I was just practig magic—water magiaver expined. Her daily practice had gradually made her water magic slightly strohan her wind magic.

  “Let’s not dwell on that. We o leave the pace. Time is running short,” Noelle urged, pulling both Naver and Rover along as they headed out. Misako and the others naturally followed.

  They arrived beh the Sacred Tree outside the pace, where a few maids and soldiers were already waiting. In the distance, a group of finely dressed, aristocratic elves stood gathered—all of them women.

  “Due to the uure of the Sacred Tree Dance, only women are allowed to watch closely. Though there are other reasons as well…”

  Refleg on it, one couldn’t help but notice that male elves were practically absent from the pace, especially near Princess Noelle’s quarters. Perhaps this was for safety—or maybe the princesses simply didn’t like men around.

  “They’re here,” someone murmured.

  All eyes turo the same dire. A petite girl with long, snowy white hair trailing to the ground emerged. She wore loose, sacred robes and held a straight branch adorned with small bells. Each step she took was as if treading on clouds, light yet firm.

  The white-haired girl stopped beh the Sacred Tree and began to dance, her movements graceful and fluid as she waved the branch. Her wide sleeves swayed in harmony, and the bells rang softly with her every motion. High above, the tree seemed to respond, its emerald leaves rustling rhythmically. The sound was like a natural symphony, perfectly plementing her dance.

  As the performance came to an end, the leaves fell silent. The onlookers, from maids to Farkonia and her group, were mesmerized.

  “That was the Sacred Tree Dance,” Noelle expined. “Performed by the highest-ranking female of the royal family, it’s a ritual to seek the Sacred Tree’s blessing.”

  “Highest-ranking female? But I heard the queen is a tall beauty. Does that mean there’s more than one queen?” Veridith asked, recalling what she’d heard about the ritual from a maid.

  “No, there’s only one queen—our mother,” Rover replied, pointing toward a tall, elegant woman who stood nearby, holding a magical device. Her gaze was fixed on the white-haired girl, who was catg her breath after the dance.

  “That dancer is our mother as well—the Elven King,” Rover added.

  “...What?”

  Everyouro stare at the petite girl, who was soon scooped up by the queen. Barely standing at 130 timeters, she seemed lighter than her hair.

  You’re tellihis is the Elven King? A tiny girl who looks like half her weight is hair?

  Suddenly, it made sense why so many maids in the pace seemed to have a pent for petite figures.

  “Don’t be fooled by her sweet and harmless appearance,” Noelle said. “If provoked, she turns into a berserker.”

  Noelle reted an old battle where her mother joined a fight. The diminutive king had returned dragging a bloodied giant, looking unsatisfied, as if ready to tihe sughter. If not for the queen stepping in to calm her with overwhelming magical pressure, the king might have fought until the war ended.

  “This... trast... alright then,” Farkonia muttered. She and Misako had long accepted the odd rule of thumb: the world’s stro people were almost always etri some way—be it their methods, their growth paths, or their mi.

  “By the way, why does the Elven Queen look so familiar?” Misako asked, watg as the queen doted oiny king.

  Not just her face—her hair, her figure, even her intense affe for the king seemed oddly familiar.

  “What’s the queen’s name?” Misako inquired.

  “Our mother’s name is Martha. For referenother’s name is Phil,” Rover said.

  Misako barely registered the expnation, pieg together something in her mind.

  “Does the Elven Queen have any close retives?” she asked.

  “Hmm? Ah… she has a younger sister,” Noelle replied casually.

  Misako fell silent, eg the dots.

  “What are you discussing?” A mature elf proached them suddenly.

  “Aunt Maya? Why are you back?” Noelle asked in surprise.

  “With a few new recruits holding their own at ‘Fluffy Desserts,’ I took some time off. I came just in time to watch my sister-in-w’s dance,” Maya replied, turning—and freezing when she spotted familiar faces.

  “Is that Misako and Veridith? What are you doing here!?” she excimed.

  “Hello,” Veridith greeted politely. Being young, she hadn’t fully grasped Maya’s peculiar tendencies and didn’t feel unfortable.

  “Stay away from me,” Misako said curtly. She had faced Maya’s etricities firsthand and wasn’t eager for a repeat.

  “Wah… so cold… Veridith, let me hug you for fort,” Maya whimpered, reag out. Before she could succeed, a blonde girl grabbed Veridith by the scruff of her ned pulled her back.

  “Take your perversions elsewhere, you disgraceful scum,” Misako said sharply.

  “Oof!” Maya winced, her odd preferences seemingly uerred by the insult.

  “Has Aunt Maya gotten worse?” Noelle murmured to Rover.

  “She wasn’t this bad inally. Mother’s influence must’ve made it worse,” Rover replied, watg Maya twit the ground with a mix of pity and disdain.