Chapter 127

The Cheong-rok holds possibilities within it. Even with a low probability, it carries the potential to sprout something of great stature.

“Is this branch the possibility you speak of?”

“Yes. Would you insert that branch into my body?”

The elf was hugging the tree and shedding tears profusely. The sorrow was so deep they could barely articulate the word “father,” repeating it over and over.

Gently approaching, I placed the branch into the tree’s body called “father.” No dramatic changes occurred—just the trembling leaves moving slightly, and the forest’s refreshing scent growing a little stronger.

Seeing this reminded me of another item from the desert box. If the Branch of Blue-Green has some kind of effect, perhaps the White Earth tea leaves I occasionally boiled also have hidden properties. It was a small curiosity born from this thought.

“The world feels clear. This is how it originally was.”

With joy emanating from the tree’s words, I fumbled in my bag to pull out the White Earth tea leaves. Though the chances were slim, isn’t hope always about leaning on the improbable?

“Do you know anything about these?”

“Hmm? Those are leaf fragments from the White Earth… Where did you find such a thing?”

“I somehow ended up with them.”

“The leaves themselves have little effect, but the White Earth itself is quite potent. It detoxifies and revives forests. Do you happen to have any White Earth as well?”

I didn’t have the actual White Earth, only the tea leaves. Perhaps if I search through the desert box again, I’ll find more. Maybe there’s even a reason to return to the desert. Who knows? The desert sand might serve the same role as White Earth.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have any.”

“The Branch of Blue-Green is enough. Thank you greatly. You’ve done us a huge favor. Feel free to rest here as long as you like. This forest will be a gentle companion until you leave.”

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“This child needs my care. After enduring so much hardship, it’s time for a rest.”

The elf sobbed loudly, clutching the tree tightly as if unwilling to let go.

I wasn’t sure how my words had been interpreted. It felt pointless to say anything further right now. When they calm down, we can talk.

The tree gently moved its branches, caressing the elf with shimmering green leaves. Startled by the warmth, the elf cried even harder—it seemed there was a story behind this, though I couldn’t guess what action caused it.

Leaving them behind, I slipped from the deeper areas toward the lighter ones, heading back to where my family waited.

Come to think of it, are there no other elves besides this one? Secretly, I’d hoped for an elven village or something similar.

It felt more like a fairytale forest—a cozy sanctuary where various plants and animals coexisted peacefully. The elf seemed less like an elf and more like a druid protecting and hiding this forest.

A squirrel clung to my waist. Somewhere, a rabbit followed quietly in my footsteps. In the distance, a deer watched me intently.

Surrounded by the attention of all sorts of animals, I returned to my family.

“Waah!”

“Me too! Me too, please!”

Sure enough, fairies dressed in colorful clothing filled the sky densely. It looked like every fairy in the forest had gathered.

Their focus was on Anne, who worked busily making clothes, but the demand far exceeded her output.

Human hands simply couldn’t keep up with the speed required.

“Quiet! Quiet!”

Anne, having mastered the art of handling fairies, swiftly subdued the growing chaos. Each fairy quickly covered their mouths and exchanged silent glances. Somehow, the unspoken message was clear—if they got too loud, they wouldn’t get clothes. Just like at home, there were no rules against it.

Having learned some words while conversing with the fairies, Anne managed to communicate smoothly.

“Alright! Rainbow clothes for the nicely lined-up fairies!”

“Waaaahhh!!!”

The fairy adorned in a shimmering, seven-colored outfit cheered ecstatically. Everyone except the envious fairies smiled warmly at the joyful scene.

Anne finished up, dusted off her hands, and sneaked over to me.

“Welcome back.”

“Yeah, the fairies still adore you.”

“Hehe. I persuaded them a bit. I told them when spring comes, if they come to our village, I’ll dress them all.”

“Really?”

“Yep! Wasn’t I good?”

More hands mean better work. While I’m not sure if it’s possible for them to leave the forest, promising to bring fairies along was certainly a big achievement.

“Good job.”

I gave her a warm hug and praised her efforts. She wriggled playfully, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist. Though it made movement inconvenient, seeing her happy made it worthwhile.

“Did anything happen?”

Evangelin approached quietly.

“You met a talking tree?”

“Yeah. Apparently, the Blue-Green branch we planted helped. It’s important to the elf, so I gave it to the tree.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m glad it helped.”

Evangelin joined me, leaning softly against my side. As we enjoyed the freshness of two women nearby, Yul waddled over and handed me something.

“Here!”

“Huh?”

“It’s a feather!”

“Thank you. Our Yul is so kind.”

From somewhere unknown, Yul presented me with a small feather before happily darting off somewhere else—likely to where the fox sprite had been hiding.

“Don’t come near!”

“Let’s play!”

“Get away!”

The fox panicked and fled, while Yul pursued enthusiastically. It was entertaining.

Jack, meanwhile, silently communicated with a group of animals following him. Despite being quiet, he showed a natural talent for interacting with both spirits and silent creatures.

“Please forgive my disgraceful behavior.”

Somewhere along the way, the elf appeared, eyes red and voice hoarse, addressing me in a shaky tone.

“It’s okay. Anyone would feel sad in such a situation.”

“Thank you for your help…”

“It’s a relief that we could assist.”

Exhausted and weak, the elf spoke with a strained voice.

“If it’s not too much trouble, may we stay here for a night?”

“It shouldn’t be difficult.”

“I have many things to tell Father. Please, kindly allow us…”

“Of course, we’d be happy to help.”

“Thank you.”

Confused by our conversation, I briefly explained the situation to the others: the tree known as Father nearing its end, my ability to interpret, and why the elf had been crying so deeply. Understanding this, everyone empathized deeply with the elf’s sorrow.

“Here’s a feather!”

Yul brought another feather, this time offering it to Evangelin, then Anne.

To me, she gave a silver feather.

For Evangelin, a crimson one.

For Anne, a golden one.

And finally, hesitating slightly, she gifted a green feather to the elf.

Wherever Yul found them, the gesture was touching enough that I observed silently.

“There!”

“Thank you.”

“Yes! Stop crying!”

Had Yul noticed the tears? Evangelin smiled and embraced Yul, telling her not to cry.

“Our Yul is kind.”

“Hehe.”

“Our Yul is the best.”

“Yep!”

An innocent act can sometimes be the ultimate weapon against sadness. With nothing but pure intentions, Yul’s delight in receiving praise lightened the mood. The turning point came when the elf chuckled softly—”Pfft!” Following Yul’s giggles, everyone wore warm smiles.

“Shall we spend the night here?”

“Sounds good.”

That settled it. We’d stay here for the day.

* * *

“Who were those newly appointed nobles again?”

“Minho ‘Melon’ Baron, James ‘Numbers’ Baron, Doris ‘Weapons’ Baron. There are three of them.”

“Only Melon Baron hasn’t responded, correct?”

“Yes. We sent Cardoni, but contact was lost.”

“How incompetent. Can’t complete a task and then vanish without a trace.”

“Should we recruit them at the banquet?”

“Done. Let his luck be what it is. Suppress him appropriately during the formalities.”

“Understood. I’ll select personnel for the separate induction ceremony.”

“With the title ‘Melon,’ he must be some country farmer. Someone like Doris, who’s armed, should suffice.”

“We’ll proceed in that direction.”

“Right. If he seems overly ignorant, assign someone who listens well. You understand the implications?”

“Yes.”

“Tsk. What kind of ability do they value to elevate such insignificant bloodlines to nobility? How absurd that our pure noble blood mixes with such riffraff.”

Marquis Multein muttered this as he sipped a green liquid. Sweet and delightful, it spread a pleasant flavor throughout his mouth—a drink rather than an alcoholic beverage.

“Where did this alcohol come from?”

“From the royal palace. It’s called a cocktail.”

“Remarkable. Truly, the royal palace leads trends, doesn’t it? Keeping up with them is overwhelming.”

He swirled the pale-green drink a few times. The clear liquid rippled in the glass, filling the room with a sweet, fresh aroma.

Magnificent.

In sync with the recent fruit trend, even these fruit liqueurs became popular.

Multein pondered what the next trendy combination involving fruits might be.

“Even a country farmer might catch the wave of fashion.”

Muttering disdainfully, Multein took another sip of his cocktail. Its sweetness and mild buzz gently enveloped his mind.

Such a thing won’t happen.

Absolutely not. A mere farmer ascending to the ranks of nobility was ridiculous. The very title ‘Melon Baron’ sounded absurd.

Thus, resentment rose alongside the liquor’s influence.

“About the induction ceremony.”

“Yes!”

“Who’s a decent candidate?”

“Recently, a promising young man named Marco has emerged.”

“Good. Is he aligned with us?”

“Yes. He’s been part of our line since his forefathers. Although he’s recently become a marquis, will he do?”

“What does it matter? If he’s on our side, it’s his duty to cooperate. Try persuading him appropriately.”

“Understood.”

“Take two fruit baskets on your way out.”

“Thank you!”

“After all, we’re all nobles trying to eat well and live well together, aren’t we?”

With a cunning smirk, Multein raised his cocktail.

Its sweetness was strangely delightful.

Deciding to indulge fully at the upcoming banquet, he glanced at the calendar on the table.

“About two weeks left, huh.”

Amidst the lack of entertainment, this was exciting news.

Nobles must uphold their dignity while enjoying themselves, so such stimulating events are always welcomed.

Waiting for the 30th day, Marquis Multein drained the glass of liquor.

“How will this country bumpkin handle the situation?”

Ideally,

One limb would be disabled in a grand show.

Suppressing his cruelty without showing it, he chuckled quietly.

A noble without limbs?

How hilarious.

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