Chapter 49 — An Invitation After Eight Years
The priest never even managed to activate his spell. Under the girl's cold, disdainful gaze, he died with his eyes wide open.
The uneasiness he felt from the moment this girl first awoke… had finally proven justified.
The girl looked down at his frozen expression, smiling faintly as she nudged aside the holy scripture still clutched in his lifeless hand.
"A bunch of incompetent fools, hiding behind the goddess' name," she murmured.
"Cowering inside that so-called Holy Capital, thinking they can escape the war."
She raised her hands, and her body gently lifted into the air.
Suspended high above, she gazed toward the distant city—its grand bell tower standing stark against the horizon.
"But soon…"
"As one personally chosen by the Demon King—one of the Seven Sages of Destruction…"
Her lips curved.
"I, Miraculous Grausam, will lead the people of the Holy City into that beautiful, near-real paradise."
---
"Elias, what are you thinking about? Ever since that caravan passed by, you've looked a little… distracted."
Pulled back by Flamme's voice, Elias subconsciously touched his neck.
She was right—his thoughts had drifted, especially after meeting Quinn's eyes.
There was something off… something uncomfortable he couldn't name.
"Probably because this one's been annoying me."
He bent down and flicked Frieren's forehead with a crisp ber~!
The sound pleased him greatly.
Frieren winced, rubbing her forehead with one hand while hugging her precious bottle of snot with the other.
"Hmph… Since you bought me a gift, I'll let you off for today!"
But the very next second she switched faces again, smiling cheekily up at him:
"Anyway~ since we're already in the capital, can we please go eat something nice?"
Her pouty lips, raised brows, and big sparkling eyes—
That smug look of someone who thinks they've mastered manipulation made Elias' fingers itch.
Before he could reject her, Flamme stepped in:
"Today's meal is on me."
She eyed Elias carefully, as if already predicting his stern refusal.
"Elias' cooking is wonderful, of course. But it's good to try something different once in a while, don't you think?"
Elias' expression darkened, though he was laughing helplessly inside.
Flamme… since when did you become this crafty?
Praise him first, then slide in a reasonable suggestion anyone would accept—
How exactly was he supposed to refuse now?
"Fine, Flamme. Thank you for appreciating my cooking. I hope one day I'll be able to appreciate yours."
"Oh, spare me," Flamme groaned.
"I already noticed this morning—Frieren's tragic expression while eating my fried egg was definitely not the expression of someone who liked it."
"That's not true, Teacher!"
Frieren threw herself against Flamme's leg, flustered.
"Your egg may have been… burnt… but at least it was edible!"
"…Is that supposed to be comforting?"
Flamme's shoulders slumped.
A woman with top-tier magical talent, defeated by a frying pan.
Is cooking truly harder than becoming a Great Mage…?
But seeing her adorable disciple earnestly trying to console her, the ache in Flamme's chest eased a little.
"Thank you, Frieren… Hearing that makes your teacher feel much better."
Elias: (≖_≖'')
What was this woman talking about?
Frieren's "comfort" was basically an insult with extra steps.
…Or maybe Flamme simply dissolved the moment her disciple acted cute?
Or worse—did she have some kind of masochistic tendency?
"Alright!"
Flamme straightened up again.
"Since I'm treating today, pick any restaurant in the capital—you two decide!"
But before anyone could answer, a dark green figure flickered into view.
A teleportation specialist.
A messenger—likely from someone important.
"Lady Flamme, Lady Serie requests your company for a meal."
"Huh? My teacher… wants to see me?"
Flamme hesitated and glanced at Elias and Frieren.
"But I promised them—"
"Oh, and Lady Serie invites the two behind you as well."
Elias remained perfectly calm, as though he'd expected this from the start.
After all, the moment he stepped foot into the capital, every single one of his breaths had already fallen under Serie's tiny, watchful eyes.
Still…
Eight years without a word, and suddenly she invites him to dinner?
Something was definitely unusual.
"Well then," Elias exhaled.
"If the old dwarf is hosting, she must've prepared quite the feast."
He stepped forward and patted Frieren on the head.
"Frieren, you're in for a treat today."
---
Eight years had passed since Elias last entered Serie's sanctum.
Ironically, eight years ago, it was Flamme who sent him away—declaring she never wanted to hear her name spoken by a demon.
And now?
The very same orange-haired woman was the one leading him inside again…
After living under the same roof with him for some time.
Elias wasn't blind.
Aside from the faint remnant of killing intent, Flamme had changed—deeply, unmistakably.
They walked across the gleaming hall, feet tapping on polished white jade, before turning into the right-hand corridor.
Golden tapestries, beast-head carvings, even the lamps were made of literal gold—
Frieren stared around wide-eyed like a country girl entering the city for the first time.
(✿☉｡☉)
༼⁰o⁰;༽
Elias couldn't deny it either:
This gaudy, luxurious aesthetic… it's definitely her.
"But Flamme," Elias muttered, "Serie lives in a palace while the priest in the capital are all… frugal. Don't they complain?"
"You're overthinking," Flamme smiled.
"It's the opposite."
"This place used to be an old, abandoned monastery. The monks left it behind, no one wanted it. Teacher purchased it herself. Everything you see here—every golden ornament—is from her personal collection. Neither the military nor the clergy has the right to question it."
Frieren tugged Elias' sleeve, smirking mischievously:
"Two people who've lived for thousands of years—one lives in a palace, the other spent centuries squeezed inside a moldy storage shack~
Even now, he only lives in a big house thanks to the villagers. Makes you wonder… what someone was doing for three thousand years, hmm~?"
—BONK.
«(´✘_✘`)»
Elias' fist dropped straight onto her head.
Just then, the doors at the end of the corridor swung open.
The three stepped inside the grand dining hall.
And there she was—
The golden-haired elf seated at the far end of the long table.
But the table itself… covered in pristine white cloth…
Was completely empty.
There wasn't a single dish.
Not even a plate.