HPV 30

On a miniature canal where water flowed, a paper sailboat and a round boat with a lit candle floated gently along. The candlelight softly warmed the water’s surface, creating a beautiful glow.

As I stood there, watching like a little child, a cool presence brushed close.

“I don’t understand why you won’t buy it,” Yurichen said.

His voice had the refreshing chill of a small piece of ice gliding past my ear. I could feel his gaze trying to read my thoughts.

“Carrying around a commoner’s trinket would just make my load heavier. It’s enough just to look.”

“But you’re too frail to carry anything anyway. In other words, you simply don’t want to burden others.”

I pursed my lips and blinked a few times. If I looked up at Yurichen, I’d only be at a disadvantage. His face was hidden behind a veil, so only my expression would be exposed.

“Whether other people’s burdens get heavier or not, that’s none of my concern. I’m already a burden myself—what difference would a little more make?”

Just then, Penzey, who had wandered deeper into the antique shop to chat with the owner, called out to me. I left Yurichen behind and headed inside.

Or rather, I tried to. A thick hand seized the back of my neck and hoisted me up. I dangled there, forced to stand on tiptoe.

“Don’t go in.”

“Why not?”

After throwing a fit out of nowhere, he didn’t even bother to answer my question. I twisted my shoulders from side to side and slipped free of his grip. Banwes didn’t try to grab me again.

It wasn’t as if there was any real danger inside.

As I ducked low to avoid bumping into an object jutting out from a display, I had a sudden thought.

Maybe the inside of the shop was so crammed and the ceiling so low that Banwes simply couldn’t fit.

Maybe he didn’t want me to go in because he couldn’t go in himself.

I pushed the thought aside and looked at the wooden clock Penzey was holding.

“This is very old. Over three hundred years,” the shop owner said.

“Hm. It certainly looks it.”

Penzey held the clock up to eye level and examined the fine cracks in the wood as if he could actually see something hidden there.

It was a strange clock. The joints, the hands, even the numbers—everything was made of wood. Some parts would have lasted much longer and been easier to make if they had just used metal, but they hadn’t.

“When I first got this clock,” the owner said, “the man who sold it told me it was made by an elf who lived in the Shif Forest, before the Great Demon War.”

“Do you really believe that? If it’s the Shif Forest, that’s just up the hill from this village, isn’t it?”

Even as he responded indifferently, Penzey’s eyes never left the clock. He was probably planning to buy it.

The mage, still studying the clock, lifted his head absentmindedly—only to see a pair of bare feet perched on his shoulder.

They were so light he barely even felt the weight.

“Penzey!”

The mage’s body slammed to the ground as if he’d been struck by a bandit. A display case clattered violently, and the shop owner screamed.

Breathing hard, I stared at the boy’s tattered clothes and dirt-caked feet.

Bzhan had climbed onto Penzey’s shoulder, kicked his head aside, and seized the wooden clock, trembling all over. His hands shook violently, his eyes darting in panic.

Even if he had found the only memento left by his parents, he probably wouldn’t have been this overwhelmed.

Maybe he touched the clock to make sure—but then Bzhan’s body stiffened.

“…It’s a fake.”

The clock dropped with a clang and shattered on the floor.

Penzey stared at the broken pieces in disbelief.

The next moment, Bzhan drew his bow and aimed it at the shop owner.

“Stop!”

There wasn’t a trace of hesitation in the way he pointed his arrow, seething with rage and other tangled emotions. The tip gleamed with deadly sharpness, enough to chill anyone just by looking.

Paronai shouted loudly, stepping between the shop owner and the arrow—not trying to grab Bzhan’s arm or body, but placing himself in front, ready to take the shot.

It was a moment hanging by a thread.

A soft sigh passed near me.

Yurichen had entered the shop and reached into the folds of his robe. A flash of light burst out.

“—!”

The bow and arrow fell from Bzhan’s hands. He crumpled instantly.

Paronai caught him reflexively.

The situation was resolved by the high priest’s sacred tools.

One was a large, stone-like artifact that could restrain Banwes; the other, smaller and slender, was meant for Bzhan. With these, Yurichen could not only track their locations but also steal their consciousness if needed.

They had used that very method to drag Banwes from Byahil Forest all the way to the royal palace.

“…I shouldn’t have used it here. The antiques could be damaged,” Yurichen muttered.

The shop owner stared at him, trembling.

He had just witnessed an unimaginable scene—an unknown boy appearing out of nowhere, attempting to kill him, and then suddenly collapsing with his eyes rolled back.

Fear filled the shopkeeper’s gaze.

Instead of sighing again, the priest lifted his own veil to earn the antique shop owner’s trust. Thanks to the glasses that dulled the oppressive gleam of his eyes, the owner could clearly see them.

“I startled you, so I’ll make amends,” Yurichen said.

“Th-there’s no need for that…” the owner stammered.

“I am looking for information about the forest beyond the village. Could you tell me what you know?”

Yurichen pressed a few coins into the reluctant owner’s hand and asked for directions to the next village as well.

Penzey, though furious over the broken clock, paid for it anyway. Even after it was revealed not to be something crafted by an elf, he didn’t haggle for a lower price and simply packed the broken clock away. As expected, it seemed he had a separate purpose for it—probably research.

“That’s the Shif Forest,” the owner said. “You must not enter that forest. You’ll fall under the spell of evil elves. You’ll keep wandering in circles until your body withers away, and eventually you’ll collapse, a lifeless skeleton drained of all vitality.”

“But hey, weren’t the elves supposed to have all left after the Great Demon War?”

“The elves left, but their power still lingers!”

“Even so, we must pass through. Surely there are others who have crossed that area too, right?”

“They say if you stay outside the boundary someone strung up with ropes, you’ll be safe… But even looking at the forest from afar is said to be enough to get bewitched. We don’t go anywhere near it.”

Even hearing talk of death, Yurichen didn’t so much as flinch.

I wondered if there was anyone in our group who might suddenly get scared… then noticed Paronai gripping the hood of my robe a little too tightly.

Holding the unconscious Bzhan, Paronai looked deeply worried. He kept wiping the sweat from the boy’s forehead and tending to him, even though I’d explained over and over that Bzhan was only unconscious from the sacred tool’s influence and was otherwise unharmed.

I felt tired.

I stepped outside the antique shop and leaned against the massive figure standing next to the door. Of course, it wasn’t a statue—it was the man who hadn’t been able to enter the shop.

The forest said to lure people in, the Shif Forest where elves once lived, looked like a cute miniature from a distance.

At that range, keeping the boundary separating the danger zone and the safe zone to their left, the group pressed onward with determination.

“Put me down. I want to walk.”

It all started when Bzhan, having regained consciousness in Paronai’s arms, insisted on walking by himself—and Riarun decided to climb down from Banwes’s back too.

Bzhan’s wild gaze darted around frantically, moving as if he had suddenly gone blind. Then he grabbed Riarun’s shoulder.

“Please tell me the truth. Please! You’re an elf, aren’t you? You’ve hidden your ears, haven’t you? Elves can disguise themselves and live among humans. You must’ve forgotten the elven tongue because you’ve lived among us so long!”

The madness was clear in the boy’s eyes.

Riarun gasped, startled.

Even if this boy was heartsick from longing for the elves… he couldn’t lie.

“You’re just seeing what you want to see. I’m human.”

“No, it’s okay to tell me the truth! Or—maybe you don’t even know yourself? Maybe you were raised by humans and forgot you’re an elf!”

“Is that kid still drunk or what?”

Penzey clicked his tongue and exaggeratedly shrugged his shoulders.

“How much longer do we have to put up with this?” he muttered, throwing a glance at Yurichen as if asking him to step in soon.

“You’re being chased by those black-clad humans because you’re an elf, aren’t you?”

The whisper was so faint the others didn’t catch it—but the next words rang out clearly for everyone.

“There’s no reason to stay in a place like this! Let’s run away together. Tell me the truth when we’re somewhere safe, where no one else is around!”

Banwes reached out faster than a wild beast to grab Riarun.

But he didn’t catch him.

“Damn it…!”

Only Yurichen’s belated sigh remained in the air.

There were just four of them left, each staring at the distant forest with a different expression.

The forest once home to elves, now said to drain the life from any human who entered.

Riarun had been pulled inside.