The morning light struggled to pierce through the thick mist of the forest, casting dappled spots across the camp.
Celia and her group were packing their luggage, preparing to set out.
Ilyas was frantically tidying her small bundle.
This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary; she was always a bit of a klutz.
However, what was unusual was that when she dropped something, Onyxia, who was standing three steps away, naturally bent over to pick it up and handed it back.
Ilyas froze for a moment before quickly taking it.
There was no fussing, no bickering, and Ilyas even whispered a quiet “Thank you.”
Something’s wrong.
This is very wrong.
‘How did their relationship get so good after just one night? Am I really a genius? To think I came up with such a clever plan… hiding like a turtle actually worked? Was Silvia actually right?’
Celia clapped her hands, drawing the attention of the other two.
“We’re picking up the pace today. We’ll reach the border in a few days. Tonight, we’ll stay at Greystone Town near the border. It’s the last town before we leave the Elf Kingdom.”
Onyxia’s eyes lit up, and the corners of her lips curled into a light, airy smile.
“Then we definitely need to hurry. I can’t wait to get there.”
Celia turned her head to look at her, a look of confusion on her face.
During their days together, aside from teasing her, Onyxia rarely showed such overt excitement—especially when the destination was just an ordinary border town.
Sensing Celia’s gaze, Onyxia immediately cleared her throat and quickly suppressed her overly bright smile.
“I mean… the prospect of finally resting in a real inn bed instead of sleeping outdoors is certainly something to look forward to.”
That was indeed worth anticipating.
Even with Celia’s Dark Elf Constitution, the travel over the last few days had left her feeling weary.
She turned back to mount her horse, failing to notice the oddity beside her.
Out of her line of sight, Ilyas’s entire face had already turned beet red.
She buried her head low, nearly hiding her face in her nonexistent collar.
The tips of her ears and her neck were a deep crimson.
She knew exactly what Onyxia was looking forward to.
She had secretly flipped through that booklet last night.
Under the dim light of the campfire, those illustrated Reference Materials—every page made her fingertips feel numb with heat.
They had left the innocent girl flushed and tossing and turning nearly all night.
In the latter half of the night, she had simply gotten up and, by the faint moonlight, opened the book regarding Dark Elf racial and social customs once more.
This time, she read it more carefully than ever, especially the sections introducing marriage, family, and intimate relationships.
However, the more she read, the more she felt that Celia was truly special.
This uniqueness might not be obvious in their daily companionship.
But regarding certain things rooted in racial instinct, Celia’s behavior was worlds apart from the typical Dark Elf described in the books.
Furthermore, in the Holy Kingdom, there were actually no emotional restrictions placed upon the Saintesses; they only needed their faith in the Goddess of Light to remain absolutely steadfast.
The commandments never forbade emotions or marriage.
The Pope had even encouraged them to experience earthly romance, believing it helped them understand the full scope of the love bestowed by the Goddess upon humanity.
It was simply that the vast majority of Saintesses never actually exercised that freedom.
This discovery left Ilyas’s heart filled with complex emotions.
She was lost and uneasy—would a Celia like this really respond to their “proactive strike” as Onyxia planned?
Or would it simply be an offense to some invisible principle Celia held?
If Celia knew what Ilyas was thinking, she would truly want to cry.
She really didn’t want to be celibate; this damn **System** was just being cruel.
***
Celia rode her horse at the front of the group.
While her senses were focused on any surrounding dangers, she remained constantly aware of the two people beside her.
The journey had been far too quiet.
While Ilyas wasn’t usually exceptionally talkative, she usually couldn’t help but find topics to discuss on horseback, or she would hum unknown hymns or tell stories of her time as a Saintess.
Today, however, she was unnervingly silent.
What puzzled Celia even more was that Ilyas, sitting on the saddle in front of her, was actually sitting up straight for once instead of leaning back into her arms.
Moreover, she noticed that every so often, the fair skin of Ilyas’s neck and ears would turn bright red.
Celia knit her brows.
‘Is she sick? A fever? But her condition hasn’t changed in any other way.’
As for her other companion, her state was even more off.
Onyxia wasn’t using her words to provoke her this time, but her gaze was incredibly scorching.
Even without turning around, Celia could clearly feel that gaze resting on her back, tracing the line of her spine, sweeping over her shoulder blades, and lingering at the nape of her neck… as if she were expecting something.
‘Did something else happen between them after I left yesterday besides their relationship improving?’
“Ahem.”
Celia cleared her throat, attempting to break the uncomfortable silence with a safe topic.
“Once we pass through that cedar forest ahead, the road will be easier to travel. Greystone Town is famous for its hot springs; the inns there usually have private baths.”
She thought for a moment; perhaps they were just exhausted, and the desire for comfort was making them act a bit strange.
“Hot springs?”
Onyxia’s voice came from behind, her tone rising slightly.
That inexplicable heat seemed to grow thicker.
“That sounds… truly something to look forward to, Celia.”
When she finally spoke Celia’s name, her tongue seemed to carry a certain lingering hook.
A more distinct sound came from Ilyas’s side—a light cough as if she had choked on her own saliva—followed by her burying her head even deeper.
Celia’s fingers tightened around the reins.
Something’s wrong. Very, very wrong.
This thick, subtle tension permeating the air was harder for her to handle than any clear hostility.
Hostility could be cut down, and conspiracies could be seen through, but this… this secret atmosphere where everyone seemed to be in on something except for her gave her a rare sense of confusion and even a hint of irritation.
‘Is it because of my own avoidance and lack of certain experiences that I’m misunderstanding the normal emotional flow or plans between companions? Even though the **System** lifted the forced celibacy, it didn’t teach me how to handle interpersonal relationships like this. If theory counted as practice, then why have I been single for two lifetimes now?’
Finding no solution, she could only suppress her doubts for the time being and look toward the gradually thinning trees ahead.
Greystone Town was just ahead.
Perhaps once they arrived, everything would return to normal.
At least, that was what she hoped.