Chapter 2

Part 1

A small clearing in the forest.

The surrounding trees grew thick, and in the middle of it stood an elf youth, his boyish features now almost shed, his form maturing into that of a young man. He held a bow in his hand.

Perhaps he had been training in archery, for he stood still with an arrow notched, eyes closed, as though focusing.

Then, from beyond the clearing, he sensed a familiar presence. His brow twitched slightly.

He opened his eyes and turned his gaze.

Another elf boy approached, waving cheerfully. This one seemed about the same age as the first, though his appearance still carried more of a boyish air, making him look not quite fully grown.

“Eldmir.”

The newcomer called out the archer’s name with a friendly smile.

“What.”

“What do you mean, ‘what.’”

The elf grinned as he came closer.

“Your coming-of-age ceremony is only two weeks away. I came to ask how things are going with the spirits.”

At the innocent question, Eldmir frowned.

After a brief, sour expression, he sighed.

“They still won’t respond to you?”

“Yeah.”

The elf plopped down on a nearby stump, smiling bitterly.

“An elf rejected by nature… I’ve never even heard of such a thing, so I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Well, it can’t be helped. Even the elders say they’ve never seen a case like mine.”

Usually, elves bond with spirits in their childhood, even before they fully mature, their innate affinity with nature allowing them to communicate and form contracts. Eldmir was the only exception.

He could communicate and commune with spirits, yes—but for some reason, they recoiled from the idea of making a contract with him.

Nobody knew why, but the spirits avoided him.

Even his own mother had once asked if he had somehow wronged the spirits.

Because he alone in the village had failed to make a spirit contract, whispers had begun to spread, branding him with the dishonorable title of heretic.

“Don’t get too down. At least your archery skills surpass even the village rangers.”

“And what of it? I’m already branded an elf unlike any other.”

“That’s less about the spirits and more because you’re just… odd.”

“Shut up.”

“See?”

The elf shrugged.

“Where do you even learn to talk like that? The adults say words like that are crude human curses. I’ve never heard another elf speak like you. Sure, Elder Atrakal sometimes sounds harsh, but not like you.”

“…Leave me alone.”

At his curt reply, the elf chuckled.

“You know what the others call you, El? A heretic. You use words you were never taught, you think in ways nobody else does. Sometimes, they say you don’t even feel like one of us.”

Of course they would say that.

Irritation welled in Eldmir.

“I swear by El L’darel, our god, guardian of the forest, mother of all elves—Eder, if you don’t shut your mouth right now, I’ll plant this arrow in your snout.”

Even invoking the name of their mother goddess in such a grim vow didn’t faze Eder. He only burst into laughter.

“Who uses a prayer like that? You’re the only elf who threatens his kin while invoking the goddess’s name.”

“Then stop bothering with a heretic like me.”

At that, Eder only shrugged.

“Eldmir.”

He didn’t answer, but Eder went on regardless.

“Where are you planning to go?”

Eldmir flinched. For the first time, he turned his gaze directly at Eder, eyes tinged with unease.

“You knew?”

“Everyone who matters does. Your family, me… ah, and a few elders and your teacher.”

“Damn it.”

“Hahaha!”

Another strange human curse from Eldmir only made Eder laugh more.

Most elves his age recoiled at his odd language, but Eder was different. To him, his strange friend was fascinating, endearing even.

“You’ve been making your preparations so obvious, of course people noticed. Did you think news of what happens in the forest wouldn’t spread?”

Spirits.

Eldmir’s lip curled.

They must have tattled to his family and the others.

Useless wretches.

“Mind your own business, Eder. You know as well as I do—I’m a heretic. I don’t belong here.”

“Eldmir, what elf doesn’t belong in the forest? They call you heretic as a kind of joke about your odd ways. Do you really think we’d exile one of our own?”

Of course not.

Elves were the race of the forest, symbols of harmony itself.

That wasn’t the reason he wanted to leave. It was because he knew it too well.

He was the one breaking that harmony. The heretic.

Swallowing words he couldn’t say aloud, he asked roughly:

“What about my teacher? What did he say?”

“Eh, he just laughed.”

“Damn, so you tattled.”

Eldmir grabbed Eder by the collar. Alarmed, Eder cried out:

“Hey, hey! Calm down! Let go!”

“Give me one good reason not to beat you bloody.”

“El L’darel, merciful goddess! What kind of elf is this violent?”

Try being reborn in another world and living twenty years as the wrong race. You’ll turn out like me.

Eldmir scowled, then released him.

Eder straightened his wrinkled collar.

“Honestly, El, curb that temper. It doesn’t suit the spirit of the forest at all.”

“Spirit of the forest, spirit of the forest—”

Snarling, Eldmir drew his bow and let an arrow fly skyward.

The arrow soared free, bursting upward with raw force until it vanished from sight.

“I love the forest, but I am not its plaything. Elves are meant to live in harmony, not as slaves to the forest’s will.”

“Eldmir!!”

Eder frantically looked around, afraid someone had overheard.

“If anyone wants to hear, let them. If they don’t like it, they can settle it with a bow.”

“For the goddess’s sake, Eldmir Architea, quiet down! What will the elders think? This is exactly why they call you heretic—because of thoughts like that!”

Eder was genuinely shaken. His friend often talked strangely, but never had he spoken so directly against the elves’ very identity.

Eldmir only scoffed.

“And yet you went running to my teacher. Some friend.”

“Hey, that’s different. Besides, I didn’t have to tell him—he already knew. You think your teacher wouldn’t notice what I notice?”

It made sense.

Still, Eldmir ignored him and started walking away.

Eder stared a moment, then hurried after him.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. Don’t follow.”

“Hey! Then where are you leaving for?”

Eldmir paused, still facing forward, silent for several seconds. Then he muttered softly, almost to himself:

“To where the great spirit dwells.”

“…What?”

That was the last word.

He kept walking, while Eder stood frozen, unable to move.

The conversation was over. Eldmir made his way back to the elven village.

The village was quiet and peaceful, as always.

Elves lived for the tranquility the forest offered. In the silence, only birdsong and insect cries filled the air. Sometimes, the footsteps or calls of animals joined in, composing the symphony of nature that elves so loved.

“Damn it.”

A symphony, my ass.

Sure, the sounds of nature were pleasant, but quiet was one thing—lifeless was another.

If all you do is listen to the forest sing while never opening your own mouths, that’s not a village, it’s a ghost town.

What kind of people speak only when necessary? That’s how machines behave, not living folk.

Eldmir had lived here for twenty years now. He’d adapted, but it still grated on him.

Thirty years as a human before that didn’t just disappear. He still felt out of place as an elf.

“…I’m home.”

He said the words, though no one was there.

It had become a habit.

—Oh, you are.

“What, you’re here?”

One eyebrow lifted. Instead of silence, a voice greeted him.

On the table in the center of the small living room lounged a translucent, reddish raccoon spirit.

Eldmir frowned, but the spirit only snorted.

—What.

“…Could you get off the table?”

—Why? This is my home, not yours.

“Since when are you part of my family?”

—Then cancel the contract if you don’t like it.

Such insolence, coming from a spirit. Eldmir could only shake his head.

“You’ve got a sharp tongue.”

The raccoon snorted again.

—I learned from you.

Scowling, Eldmir grabbed it by the scruff and tossed it toward the door.

“Out. Go back to your contractor.”

—Hmph. My contractor sent me here. To check you weren’t wallowing in self-pity again.

“Mother did?”

That was new. Eldmir tilted his head without thinking.

Still floating, the raccoon gently perched on his shoulder and spoke:

—Hey, rebel elf.

“Gods, don’t call me that.”

In this world, “people” was a term used for all races—elves, humans, orcs, beastfolk. But rebel elf… that stung.

—What else should I call a rebel elf but rebel elf?

Eldmir flicked its nose. Spirits couldn’t be harmed that way, but the raccoon twitched its snout all the same.

It was obvious from its smug look that it was teasing him.

—Eshiria worries. The ceremony is close, and still no spirit contract.

“If you know that, why don’t you help me contract?”

—Not my problem. I already have a contractor.

“Then at least talk to your friends. Why do they all recoil whenever they see me?”

—Tch. Put your hand on your heart and tell me, rebel elf—how much of a true elf is really in you?

“…”

His face darkened. Meeting the spirit’s gaze, Eldmir could only stay silent.

The raccoon snorted again.

—Rebel elf, we spirits don’t doubt your existence, nor do we spread suspicion about you to others. You are still an elf, one of the forest’s people. That alone is enough. So we decided to stand aside. Even if your soul carries none of the forest’s scent, you are still elf.

It spun midair, flipping onto its back.

—Your existence means nothing to us. You’re elf, but not our friend. So we watch from afar. No matter what your soul smells like, elf is elf.

“…Am I supposed to thank you for that?”

—Don’t mention it.

“Damn it, really.”

The raccoon chuckled.

—We’re just part of nature, feeding on all that exists. Whether or not you contract with us doesn’t change what it means to be elf. You don’t need to fret so much.

“The saddest thing in the world is being the minority among the majority.”

—Strange philosophy.

Strange to spirits and elves, maybe.

Eldmir sighed, then changed the subject.

“So… where’s Mother?”

—Ah, she went to check the traces of beastfolk found in the forest. To investigate and keep watch.

What the hell…?