“I have indeed long yearned for the customs of the Dark Elves. Whether it be the records of my tribe or the ballads of the bards, they always describe your people as… captivating.”
She leaned in slightly, her posture intimate but not overbearing, as she continued, “And in recent years, especially from Aunt Traka, I have heard even more about the Dark Elven tribe. Among those stories, what piqued my curiosity most were the rumors concerning a very special Dark Elf girl.”
Her gaze landed on Celia’s face, her smile deepening.
“A Dark Elf who is approaching adulthood yet remains pure. In the history and legends of this entire continent, such a thing is far too rare. It is not just special; it made me very, very curious about what kind of person she could be.”
“So, when I learned that Aunt Traka’s escort guard would be setting out as scheduled, and that the special Celia happened to be of age, I took the initiative to request to come along.”
Onyxia’s ears twitched slightly, revealing a hint of playful honesty.
“I wanted to see for myself what kind of person she was. This journey is less for the festival and more for the purpose of getting to know you, Celia.”
She adjusted her posture slightly to face Celia directly and extended her hand.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Onyxia of the Askala Fox-kin.”
Her warm amber eyes looked straight into Celia’s slightly averted ones.
“After meeting you today… I find myself liking you even more than I had imagined. This is the first time in my life I have felt this way.”
“!”
Celia had never expected the other woman to be so direct.
She felt her cheeks flare up instantly.
The heat spread rapidly, staining even the tips of her ears and her neck a noticeable shade of light red.
In two lifetimes, this was the first time someone had confessed to her so bluntly.
Her memories of being an ordinary man in her past life had long since blurred, but in that lackluster youth, there had never been such a burning gaze or such words.
Having lived in this body for nearly sixty years, she had lived like a monk for the sake of that damned System, not even daring to comfort herself…
“H — Hello…”
Her voice was so thin it was almost inaudible.
Her hand rose stiffly from her side, and the moment her fingertips touched the other’s warm palm, she jerked back as if burned.
“I — I am Celia…”
Onyxia followed the movement and gently grasped the fingertips that tried to escape, her grip light yet firm.
She did not push further, merely maintaining this polite yet intimate contact.
The smile in the corners of her eyes deepened, her amber gaze shimmering with interest, as if she were admiring an extremely rare and amusing treasure.
“Celia. I know. I have heard that name and stories about you many times. But no matter how much I hear, it cannot compare to seeing you in person. You are even… cuter than I imagined.”
“Especially a Celia who blushes, stutters, and is at a loss like this. You truly are different from the Dark Elves in the rumors. It really makes my heart flutter.”
She leaned forward slightly, the distance between them closing silently.
Celia could even clearly smell the warm, alluring sweetness on her.
Celia was dizzy from her words and proximity.
‘Am I the Dark Elf here, or are you?’
Just then —
“Celia!”
A crisp voice cut in, breaking the delicate atmosphere.
Celia seized the opportunity.
At the sound of the call, she pulled back sharply, finally managing to retrieve her hand from Onyxia’s light grasp.
She quickly hid her hand behind her back as if startled.
Ilyas had returned to the campfire at some point, still clutching that colored stone.
Her knuckles were somewhat pale.
She stood a few paces away, staring straight at Celia and Onyxia, who were nearly pressed against each other.
She bit her lip, her voice slightly faster than usual.
“I — I am finished watching… Lia said — said I could come back.”
Celia took the chance almost gratefully, quickly adjusting her position to put some distance between herself and Onyxia.
After that, no more words were spoken for the rest of the night.
***
The next day, just as the sky was beginning to brighten, Celia shook Ilyas awake.
“Shh,” she whispered as she met Ilyas’s blurry, sleepy eyes.
“We need to go.”
The two of them quietly packed their simple belongings.
Celia moved faster than usual, driven by a sense of urgency.
Most of the tents in the Beastman camp were still silent, with only the night watchmen dozing by the embers of the distant campfires.
They led their horses away, leaving the sleeping camp as quietly as possible.
The morning wind blew against their faces with a chill.
She breathed a silent sigh of relief, wanting only to put some distance between them and leave the previous night’s unsettling interlude behind.
Ilyas followed silently by her side, occasionally glancing back toward the camp as it was gradually obscured by the trees.
Her expression was complicated, her thoughts unknown.
However, they had not been away from the camp for even half an hour before the clear, rhythmic sound of galloping hooves echoed from behind.
The pace was steady, neither rushed nor slow, yet it was closing the gap between them.
Celia’s heart tightened.
She pulled the reins and looked back.
Through the morning mist, a fiery red figure came galloping toward them.
Onyxia had changed into hunting gear more suitable for riding, which outlined her graceful figure.
Her signature crimson hair fluttered in the morning wind like a dancing flame.
A bright smile graced her face, as if she had expected to catch up to them.
She controlled her mount with ease and, within a few breaths, arrived at Celia’s side, riding parallel to her.
“Good morning, Celia,” her voice was clear, as fresh as the morning dew, yet it instantly made Celia feel a surge of familiar tension.
“And Miss Ilyas. Why did you leave so early without saying a word? Aunt Traka instructed me to take good care of you, after all.”