{Ember's POV}
The last two days had been rough for me—and honestly, for my sister as well.
Things between us were strained beyond anything I had ever experienced before.
We hadn't spoken a single word to each other during that time, not even something as simple as a greeting.
Whenever we crossed paths, the silence between us was heavy enough to suffocate anyone nearby.
The atmosphere around us was so tense that even the soldiers avoided making eye contact, their expressions stiff and cautious.
They could feel the invisible weight pressing down on the both of us, and in our presence, they kept their mouths shut as if any sound might trigger an explosion.
'Should I ask for her forgiveness?' I wondered more than once over the past couple of days.
The thought crossed my mind several times, usually when I caught sight of her from afar.
But every time I considered it seriously, I came to the same conclusion—what was the point of asking for forgiveness if I was just going to continue doing reckless things anyway?
It would be meaningless.
Asking for forgiveness while knowing full well that I'd repeat the same actions wasn't repentance—it was hypocrisy.
I'd rather not ask for her forgiveness at all than to plead with a false sense of remorse.
She was angry with me, and she had every reason to be.
I didn't blame her for it.
But I also had my own reasons, and I wasn't going to dismiss them just because she disagreed.
Sometimes in life, two people can stand on opposite sides of an argument, both believing they're right—and in a way, both actually are right.
It isn't always about right or wrong. It's about perspectives.
And my perspective simply doesn't allow me to waste time.
I've already wasted far too much of it—back in my last life.
I remembered how I used to drift from one decision to another, constantly being pushed around by others: my parents, my teachers, my so-called relatives.
Everyone had an opinion about what I should do, and I lacked the spine to stand my ground back then.
I was confused, directionless, and easily manipulated.
Even now, it's hard for me to believe that I managed to crawl out of that mess and somehow build a decent life by the time I was in my thirties.
I had my share of relationships too—two or maybe three girlfriends, all of which started promising but eventually crumbled.
I even had a sexual relationship or two, but none of them ever lasted long enough to reach marriage.
I wasn't ready.
Or maybe I was just too broken to sustain something like that.
My past life was a complete mess—plain and simple. A
nd no matter how much I might wish for this new life to be a perfect one, I know that's impossible. There will always be challenges.
There will always be hardships.
There will be times I'll end up hurting people I care about, and times when others will hurt me in return.
That's just how life works.
It's a cycle—harsh, unending, and inevitable.
I sighed heavily, pushing away the pessimistic thoughts that were starting to cloud my mind again.
I didn't want to get trapped in that spiral.
"Your Highness—You had an argument with Her Highness, I heard," Remia suddenly said as she approached me.
Her tone was careful, respectful, but I could sense the curiosity behind her words.
I nodded, not really trying to deny it.
"Yes," I said simply.
"I did have an argument with her. She isn't wrong in her own right… but neither am I."
The moment those words left my mouth, I realized how self-centered they sounded.
'Man, I sound like some narcissistic bastard,' I thought bitterly, internally berating myself for how arrogant it must have come across.
Still, I couldn't take it back—it was what I believed, and pretending otherwise would just make me a liar.
After that short and awkward exchange, I continued walking down the grand hallway, my footsteps echoing softly against the polished marble floor.
Eventually, I reached the doors of the Royal Hall, the towering structure that symbolized the authority and legacy of our family.
As I stood there for a brief moment, I straightened my back, adjusted my cloak, and prepared myself to step inside—whatever awaited me in there, I knew it wouldn't be easy.
"Father... Mother," I said respectfully as I entered the Royal Hall, performing a small bow out of courtesy.
My father was seated behind his desk, deeply absorbed in a stack of reports and documents, his expression serious and focused as always.
My mother, on the other hand, appeared to be taking a brief moment of rest.
She sat comfortably on a cushioned chair with a delicate glass of fruit juice in her hand, her posture relaxed but her eyes still sharp and aware of her surroundings.
The moment my presence registered, my father looked up from his paperwork, frowning slightly, while my mother's calm expression shifted into one of mild irritation.
"Ember... I heard you did something reckless again," she said in a firm yet weary tone, her eyes narrowing slightly as she examined me from head to toe.
I didn't bother trying to deflect or deny it.
Instead, I spoke bluntly, maintaining a straight posture.
"Yes, I did," I admitted without hesitation, "however, it was essential for my growth."
My mother sighed heavily, her shoulders drooping as if she were tired of hearing the same justification from me.
"Ughh—Just two months have barely passed since the last incident," she said with exasperation before turning her head toward my father.
"Larfal, I think it's time we start paying more attention to Ember. He must be feeling pressurized... and perhaps lonely because of us."
My father looked at her, setting aside the papers in his hand and rubbing the bridge of his nose as if weighing his words.
After a moment, he replied, "Ada, I don't think our son did anything wrong. Reckless it might have been, yes—but he came out unscathed and victorious!"
He leaned back slightly in his chair, his tone filled with pride.
"Just think about it! Our Falnaless child—our very own son—killed four orcs all on his own! That's an achievement worth acknowledging."
They continued to bicker lightly for several minutes, exchanging opinions about my actions.
My mother argued that I needed more restraint, while my father countered that I needed freedom to grow.
Their debate was starting to turn into another one of their endless discussions about parenting when I decided to speak up.
"Father, Mother," I said, interrupting their argument, "I want to leave Alf's Forest."
The words left my mouth clearly, and the moment they did, the entire room froze.
Both of them stopped mid-sentence and turned to look at me, utterly stupefied by what I had just said.
For a brief moment, there was complete silence—until the sudden sound of glass shattering broke through it.
I turned my head sharply to the side and saw the maid standing there in shock, the half-filled glass of juice that she had just taken from my mother now lying shattered on the floor, the bright liquid spreading across the tiles.
But no one paid her any attention—not even my mother.
All eyes in the room were fixed on me, disbelief written across every face.
Even Remia, who had been standing quietly behind me, looked completely stunned by my words.
"You won't!"
My father's cold and commanding voice filled the hall, his tone sharper than steel.
He stood up from his seat and began walking toward me, his expression stern and unyielding.
"E-Ember, what are you talking about?" my mother asked quickly, her voice trembling slightly as her worry overtook her composure.
"Have we mistreated you in any way? Are you unhappy here?"
Her expression shifted, the calmness she usually maintained now replaced by visible agitation.
"I heard Riveria had slapped you!" she continued angrily.
"That girl! Ughh! I will have her punished for that insolence!"
"Mother, Father," I said calmly, trying to defuse their reactions before things spiraled out of control.
"With all due respect, my sister's behavior has nothing to do with my decision. Please do not hold her accountable for something she has not done."
I paused briefly, taking a deep breath before continuing.
"It's just... I've always had a desire to visit the outside world," I said honestly, meeting both of their eyes.
"But knowing how dangerous it is out there, I made sure to prepare myself from an early age. I trained my body and honed my skills. I studied every bit of knowledge that could help me survive—and I did so under your guidance and care."
I clenched my fists slightly, feeling my conviction solidify as I spoke.
"And now... I believe it's time. It's time for me to take that step and become an adventurer."
I looked at them both firmly, my voice steady and unwavering.
"That is my intention, and I won't go back on it."
I hadn't lied about anything here.
Everything I said came straight from my heart.
I truly wanted to explore the outside world, to see what existed beyond the borders of Alf's Forest, and to experience whatever mysteries and wonders lay hidden out there.
At first, I had considered escaping by myself, sneaking away under the cover of night, disappearing without a word.
But then I realized—why take such a drastic measure when I hadn't even spoken to my parents about it?
They had every right to know about my dream, about the goal that had driven me for years.
So, I told them everything, every single word of my intention.
"Ember! Have I never told you about the Gods?! How evil they are?!" my father suddenly roared, his calm demeanor shattering in an instant.
His voice echoed through the vast hall, filled with fury and disdain.
"They treat our world—our very lives—like a mere game! Do you truly think I will let my son go anywhere near those vile creatures?!"
His tone carried so much anger that even the maids nearby flinched, lowering their heads in fear.
I looked at him quietly, my expression soft but firm, my tone gentle yet resolute.
"Yes, Father, I understand that," I said calmly.
"But you must also understand that not every God is evil. There are some good ones among them. It's just like with every race, Father—there are bad people, and there are good people as well."
He glared at me, his jaw tightening, his expression one of disbelief and suppressed rage.
"Good Gods?!" he barked, his voice dripping with scorn.
"Hmph! They only deceive us with false compassion and worthless tears! They don't cry out of grief for the loss of their so-called children—they cry because they've lost another pawn in their twisted little game!"
I sighed softly, realizing I had struck a nerve.
My father's hatred toward the Gods ran deeper than I had imagined, rooted in something personal and bitter.
Still, I didn't back down.
"Father," I said, taking a small step forward, "I promise that I won't ever visit Orario for the next fifty years. After that, if I find that all Gods are indeed as you have said, I'll return to Alf's Forest willingly. That is my word."
For a moment, the room fell completely silent.
"Ember..." my father said slowly, his tone lowering, and the anger on his face seemed to fade.
But instead of relief, I felt a sudden chill run down my spine as I saw the expression that replaced it.
"Larfal, wa—" my mother started, realizing what he was about to do, but before she could stop him—
SLAP!
The sound echoed sharply throughout the hall.
The impact sent a sharp sting across my cheek, the pain blooming instantly.
The room fell silent, utterly silent, the air heavy with shock.
There weren't many people present—just Remia, a few maids, and several royal ministers—but every single one of them froze in disbelief.
None of them had expected the King of Alf's Royal Forest to strike his son.
'Ah, it stings,' I thought to myself as I winced slightly, my face turning to the side from the force of the blow.
First my sister, now my father.
Two slaps within two days.
I slowly lowered my head, keeping my expression neutral even as the side of my face throbbed in pain.
I had told him everything.
He knew how hard I had worked, how much effort I had poured into preparing myself for this dream.
And yet, he had just slapped that dream across my face, dismissing it entirely without hesitation or care.
It was almost funny—almost nostalgic, in a twisted way.
'Ah, how nostalgic,' I thought bitterly, a wry smile forming on my lips despite the ache.
'Some things never change, no matter the world.'
GET STRONG
Again the thought involuntarily surfaced to mind, killing whatever hesitation that slap might have.
My father stood rigidly in front of me, his tall frame seeming to cast a shadow over my figure—or at least, that was what I wanted to believe.
In reality, he was slightly shorter than me, but his presence carried a weight that made it feel as if I were dwarfed beneath him.
Before I could process his stance, all hell broke loose.
"LARFALLL!!!!"
My mother's shout reverberated through the hall, a bone-shuddering scream of rage and disbelief that made my father visibly wince.
For the first time, his overbearing and commanding aura faltered, replaced by a flicker of panic, as my mother's sharp, fiery gaze bore into him like daggers.
"Why did you slap him?!" she demanded, her voice shaking with barely contained fury.
My father quickly retorted, his anger flaring once more.
"Ada! He is talking about leaving Alf's Forest! It is taboo for royalty to leave Alf's Forest! Such an act is nothing short of cowardice and a betrayal of one's royal duty!"
His words seemed to fall on deaf ears.
I didn't even register his argument, because in that instant, my mother pulled me into a tight hug, holding me close as her hand brushed gently across my cheek.
The moment she saw the mark left by my father's hand, her anger intensified, the heat in her eyes growing sharper and fiercer.
"Enough!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the tension in the room like a blade.
"You have slapped your son for such a trivial and foolish reason!"
Larfal sighed, his frustration evident as he tried to assert control over the situation.
"Ada, in my name, in the name of Alf!" he declared, his voice carrying authority.
"I hereby punish Ember with house arrest for six months!"
My mother's gaze snapped toward him, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Ada, you may ask me for anything! I will fulfill all your requests, but only as your husband! Don't forget—I am the King!" he said, his voice overbearing, brimming with authority and command.
My mother bit her lip, the conflict between her authority and my father's power clear for all to see.
As second in authority to the King, challenging his royal decree directly could result in catastrophic consequences.
It could spark a dispute—at worst, even a civil war.
After a tense pause, she finally gave in, though not without leaving her warning clear.
"Fine! But remember this," she said firmly.
"If I catch even a whiff of another punishment against him, be prepared for the consequences."
My father's gaze shifted toward me, unable to meet my mother's glare.
'Well, that's new,' I thought sarcastically, noting the unusual shift in power dynamics.
The man, normally so imposing, seemed almost helpless against my mother's fury.
Unable to challenge her, he turned to me instead, his eyes dark, carrying a mix of emotions that were both heavy and pointed.
'You have disappointed me,' they seemed to say.
'You disgust me,' they added silently, each glance sharp and laden with condemnation.
It would have been painful, truly agonizing in another time or under different circumstances, but I was past the stage where such attempts at guilt could trap me or manipulate me.
I met his gaze calmly, unmoved, standing firm despite the weight of his disappointment.
Breaking from my mother's embrace, I straightened my posture and bowed deeply toward Larfal.
"I apologize to you, Father, and to Mother, for all the ruckus caused because of me," I said sincerely, my voice calm but respectful.
"I accept your punishment," I continued, hoping my words would ease some of the anger that still lingered on my father's face.
My mother snorted softly, a mixture of exasperation and relief in her tone, and pulled me back into a warm hug.
"Let's leave, son," she said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.
"Let your father faithfully perform his kingly duties without further interruption."
My father winced at her words, a slight grimace crossing his face, and I felt a small twinge of satisfaction at her subtle victory.
I was carefully pulled away by my mother, her hold firm yet protective as we made our way out of the Royal Hall.
Remia, who had been silent until now, quietly followed behind us, maintaining a careful distance, likely fearful that any sudden movement or comment might incite further anger from either my father or my mother.
We left the Royal Hall together, stepping into the quiet corridors beyond, where the tension in the air slowly began to dissipate.
3rd POV
"Um—Your Majesty," a minister said hesitantly as Larfal sank heavily onto his throne, the weight of the day finally catching up with him.
"Dammit! What have I done?!" he thought bitterly, his mind racing in anger and disappointment at Ember.
Not only had he slapped his own son in front of his most trusted ministers, but he had also managed to provoke a serious argument with his wife, a rare and terrifying occurrence.
He could already foresee the consequences—his wife might very well ignore him for years, perhaps even decades, over this incident.
The very thought sent a chill down his spine, leaving him uneasy despite the authority he held as King.
"But I am not wrong! Ada, why don't you understand me?!" he thought, grief and frustration intertwining in his mind.
There had been a time, long ago, when he himself had yearned to see the outside world, to explore and adventure like Ember now desired.
But in the end, he had discarded those dreams under the crushing weight of his royal duties.
Thus, just like his predecessors, he considered leaving Alf's Forest to be a strict taboo—even if, deep down, his objection stemmed more from jealousy than tradition.
How could he allow anyone else to experience what he himself had been forced to abandon?
These were the thoughts of the King of All Elves, thoughts he rarely admitted even to himself.
"Y-Your Majesty, Her Majesty seemed really angry," a minister spoke again, breaking into Larfal's spiraling thoughts.
Larfal turned his gaze toward Pempler, the minister who had dared to speak, his expression a mixture of irritation and resignation.
"Indeed, Pemp," he thought, his brow furrowing.
"I fear this incident may destabilize Alf's Forest once the news of Ember's intentions spreads to Ada's brother and beyond."
He leaned back against the throne, realizing the full extent of the mess he had created and the difficult situation he now found himself in.
Alf's Forest was governed not only by the Royal Family but also by seven ducal families, each ruling over one of the major cities.
Each ducal family consisted entirely of High-Elves, a proud and noble lineage, though their numbers were not very large.
Typically, each generation produced only one or two children, making each heir precious and highly valued within their respective families.
Ada herself hailed from one of these distinguished ducal families, a fact that carried significant prestige and influence.
Despite being High-Elves with opportunities that many could only dream of, the ducal families deeply respected the Royal Lineage, adhering strictly to tradition and protocol.
They never considered settling anywhere outside of Alf's Forest, even if they possessed the means and the political clout to ascend to another Elven Royal Lineage elsewhere.
The Royal Family, in turn, respected them in equal measure, treating each ducal family with the deference and courtesy befitting their station.
In rare circumstances, if the Royal Family failed to produce a suitable successor, a member of the ducal families could succeed to the throne.
However, this was accompanied by one significant change—their family name would be forever altered to reflect their new position, integrating them fully into the Royal Lineage.
Such transitions had occurred in the past, before the descension of the Gods, and were historically significant, which had helped forge extremely close ties between all the prominent families of Alf's Forest.
Now, in the present, Larfal feared that Ada's brother might cause a significant ruckus, his concern rooted in the deep bond siblings often share.
After all, who could bear to see their beloved sibling being suppressed or punished by their own spouse?
"Ember," Larfal muttered quietly to himself, his voice heavy with frustration, "that boy… he has disappointed me."
He placed blame on the individual he considered responsible for the disruption, though it was a tangled web of family loyalty and personal emotion.
The minister standing nearby nodded in agreement, understanding the weight of the King's words and the delicacy of the situation.
It was deeply ironic, Larfal reflected, that the same boy who had once been praised and celebrated as if he were the chosen one of all Elves, now faced the judgment of being a disappointment.
All of this because of a single wish—a desire that had driven him to pour every ounce of sweat, blood, and tears into preparing for the journey he longed to undertake.
Yet to them, his ambitions, his hard work, and his dedication meant little compared to the perceived audacity of wanting to leave Alf's Forest.
...
"Ember, are you all right?" asked Ada as Ember rested against her embrace.
He nodded, expression deadpan, while his mother caressed his head full of love.
"Remia, give me the cake; Ember must be hungry," she said to the maid.
Remia nodded and handed her the plate without hesitation.
Ada quickly scooped a piece of cake with a spoon and, moving it close to Ember's mouth, cooed, "Sweetie, say 'Ahh'."
Ember obediently opened his mouth, and Ada fed him the cake with a soft, practiced motion.
"Good boy," she praised in a sweet tone, rubbing his hair gently.
Ember, meanwhile, felt socially dead inside; his mother's insistence on forced son-mother bonding made him uncomfortable.
She had spent the entire night clinging to him like a teddy bear, hugging him tightly as if he were still a child.
Now she held him in her arms again and fed him like a small boy.
Normally he might have felt giddy at such attention, but his mother's love was overflowing to the point of suffocation.
(A/N: Who is hoping for some overflow? If yes, then you are in the wrong place!)
Once he finished the cake, he looked up at his mother, who was still showering him with affection.
He gathered his courage and said, "Mother, please forgive me; because of me, you and Father got into an argument."
He looked ashamed as the memory of his father's yelling returned.
Ada giggled softly and replied, "Don't worry, sweetie, your father was asking for it! He's been getting on my nerves lately."
Her smile faded as thoughts of Larfal crossed her face.
"Don't worry! He will apologize to me soon," she added in a nonchalant tone.
"Last time we argued, he apologized after seven years!"
Ember almost had a heart attack hearing how long it took his father to apologize.
"Embe—"
Suddenly Riveria barged into the room, taking in the sight of her mother and brother cuddling together.
She sighed and looked at Ember; guilt and concern filled her face when their eyes met.
"Si-ster," Ember said in a strained voice as Riveria closed the door behind her.
'Damnit! Why is this old hag here?! Should I leave? No, that would only make things worse!' she thought inwardly.
Ada, sensing the tension, realized Riveria's dilemma and prompted gently, "Come here, sweetie; don't you have something to say to him?"
Riveria barely nodded and sat at the corner of the bed.
Remia quietly left the room, sensing the charged atmosphere and not wanting to intrude.
"Em—Ember! Please forgive me!" Riveria blurted, lowering her head in front of him.
"No need, sister; it was my mistake in the first place, and I shouldn't have said those things either," Ember answered with genuine guilt.
"It might be, but I overreacted—and I even slapped you! I can't believe I did that!" she said, her eyes moist with regret.
Ember pulled her into a hug without hesitation.
"How about this? Sister, you forgive me, and I forgive you," he said, nodding as he spoke.
In the end, both of them embraced each other, held together by relief and apology.
Ada smiled happily at the sight of her children reconciling, warmth spreading through her chest.
'Oh, Larfal,' Ada thought, watching them, 'if only you could step away from your kingly duties for a moment and see how much we've neglected our children.'
'They are practically adults, yet we've been barely present in their lives since childhood,' she reflected with a pang of regret.
How she wished she could pry open her husband's mind and see what had gone wrong with him—why he was blind to such an obvious truth.
To be continued...
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