Chapter 37: You fell into a trap

Olivia fell asleep waiting.

She was leaning against the door, silver hair spread across the floor, the collar of her torn shirt slipping below her shoulder, bare legs curled up under the shirt’s hem.

Her head was tilted to one side, silver eyelashes lowered, breathing even.

A glistening string of something hung from the corner of her mouth—probably dreaming of food.

After her consciousness sank, the surroundings were not dark.

It was a forest.

Silver-leaf trees intertwined overhead into a canopy, moonlight leaking through the gaps in the leaves, scattering patches of silvery light on the ground.

The air smelled of the Elf Forest’s unique scent—moist soil, rotting leaves, unknown wildflowers.

The sound of a stream flowed in the distance, very soft.

She looked down at herself.

Silver hair, torn shirt, bare feet stepping on the wet leaves.

Still looking like Olivia.

“Yo.”

A voice came from behind a tree.

“Little one.”

Pink hair peeked out from behind the trunk first.

Then a face—delicate features that didn’t look real, pupils the same pink as her hair, shimmering with a faint fluorescence in the moonlight.

Her body was translucent; you could see the texture of the silver-leaf tree’s trunk behind her.

She was barefoot on the leaves, but the leaves weren’t bent under her—there was an extremely thin, invisible gap between her soles and the ground.

The God of Love.

She tilted her head, pink hair sliding off her shoulder, hanging in midair.

“What’s wrong?”

Olivia rolled her eyes.

“Alright, don’t bother.”

She sat down on the leaves with a plop.

Her silver hair spread out, mixing with the fallen leaves.

She hugged her knees, chin resting on them.

“What do I do now?”

She stared at a half-rotted leaf on the ground.

“Why didn’t you come out when that black fog appeared?”

“I was watching the whole time.”

The God of Love floated out from behind the tree, sitting cross-legged in midair.

“Then you—you—”

“You managed to come back alive.”

The God of Love raised a translucent finger.

“Partially thanks to me.”

Olivia thought she was a piece of garbage.

I was about to get beaten down and you didn’t come out.

You live in my body without paying rent, watch me get hit without helping, and now you have the nerve to say “partially thanks to me”?

“That was the power of a demon.”

The God of Love’s voice suddenly turned a little serious.

Just a little.

“If I hadn’t been constantly purging the demon’s power from your body, you probably wouldn’t have made it to now.”

Olivia was stunned.

“Huh?”

“When that tin can sent you flying, his black fog seeped into your body.”

The God of Love tilted her head, pink pupils reflecting the moonlight.

“Not much, just a little. But that’s demon stuff. Not magic, not dragon breath, nothing your bloodline can suppress. If I hadn’t been in your body, that bit of black fog would have taken root inside you.”

She paused.

“Then slowly devoured you.”

Olivia was silent.

Her silver pupils stared at the God of Love’s translucent face.

The stream’s sound still echoed in the distance.

“So,” her voice was softer than before, “you expelled it?”

“Mhm.”

“When?”

“Don’t let it happen again.”

The God of Love’s smile faded a little.

Her pink pupils looked at Olivia, a hint of something more in her gaze.

“I don’t know the methods of those people from Urske. I’ve lived many years, but that demon thing—it appeared after me. I don’t know what it really is.”

She paused.

“Don’t forget. I’m an elf.”

Olivia looked at her.

The translucent body, pink hair, bare feet hovering above the leaves.

Moonlight passed through her body, casting a faint pink glow on the ground.

“Then what’s your name?”

The God of Love tilted her head.

“When you’ve gathered enough mana or something, you can summon me then.”

“There you go again.”

Olivia leaned back, lying on the leaves, her silver hair spreading out like melted moonlight.

“All you gods and riddlers, every single one of you, won’t speak plainly. Victoria too, and you too.”

The God of Love didn’t respond.

A short silence.

“Oh, right.”

Her voice suddenly changed.

Not the lazy, watchful tone from before—another one, closer to the tone she used in the underground library of the Elf Forest, just before she bit Orlando’s finger.

“Here’s a piece of advice.”

Olivia lifted her head from the leaves.

“You should have met someone named Victoria.”

Olivia’s pupils contracted slightly.

“Her words.”

The God of Love raised a translucent finger, pressing it to her lips.

“You’d better only believe half of them.”

The forest began to fade.

The silver-leaf trees became transparent, the moonlight thinned, the stream’s sound grew distant.

The God of Love’s body also faded—from translucent to nearly completely transparent, leaving only a pink outline.

“Wait—”

Olivia reached out.

The God of Love gave one last smile.

It wasn’t the same as her usual look-what’s-happening smile.

It was different—like the ancient trees deep in the Elf Forest, quietly watching a passing little creature.

Then she vanished.

The forest vanished.

Olivia opened her eyes.

She was sitting on the floor with her back against the door, silver hair spread out.

While she slept, her body had stayed in that position, and her neck was a little sore.

She rubbed the back of her neck.

Then her nose twitched.

A rich smell drifted in through the crack in the door.

It was meat.

Roasted, sizzling with oil, seasoned with some kind of spice—fresh meat.

She stood up.

Her silver hair slid off her shoulders.

Her hand pressed the doorknob—then stopped.

Prunier had said “no dinner.”

But that plate of meat was in the hallway.

At the door.

She could smell it, right outside.

Probably Prunier had brought it up.

She said no dinner, but her body was honest.

She was the captain, after all—she couldn’t really let her member starve.

Olivia pulled open the door.

A tray sat on the hallway floor.

On the tray was a whole roasted rib, the surface golden brown, oil still bubbling.

Next to it was a small dish of dipping sauce, dark brown, smelling like honey mixed with some kind of spice.

And a neatly folded wet towel.

She pounced on it.

Kneeling on the floor, she grabbed the roasted rib with both hands and opened her mouth to bite down.

Her teeth tore through the crispy skin.

Hot meat juice gushed out, running down the corners of her mouth.

Her silver pupils went wide.

She let out an indistinct, satisfied grunt.

Her cheeks puffed out, stuffed full.

She chewed a couple of times and swallowed.

Her silver hair hung down, the ends dipping into the sauce dish, coating a layer of dark brown sauce.

Click.

Olivia froze.

A rib bone was still clamped between her teeth.

She glanced sideways to the left.

Prunier was crouched beside her, holding a camera.

At that moment, the photo paper was slowly sliding out of the slot at the front of the camera.

White borders, the image in the middle gradually developing.

Red twin tails hung in front of her shoulders.

“You fell into a trap.”

Prunier pulled the photo paper from the camera, holding it by the edge and shaking it.

The image fully appeared—a silver-haired, silver-eyed girl, wearing a torn oversized shirt, bare-legged, kneeling on the hallway floor, both hands gripping a roasted rib, cheeks puffed out like a hamster’s, mouth covered in oil and sauce.

Her silver hair was in a mess over her shoulders, the ends stained with dipping sauce.

Her eyes were wide, her pupils full of bewilderment at being suddenly photographed.

Olivia spat out the bone in her mouth.

The bone bounced on the tray and rolled to the floor.

“You—”

“So adorable.”

Then she pounced.

Her hands slipped under Olivia’s armpits and lifted her up.

Olivia’s feet left the ground.

Her silver hair hung down, brushing against Prunier’s face.

“Hey, wait—”

“I’ve wanted to do this for two years.”

Prunier buried her face in Olivia’s silver hair, her voice muffled, carrying a satisfaction held back for too long.

She tightened her arms.

“Now you can’t run away.”