She dreamed of the forest again.
Silver starlight spilled through the branches, countless white blossoms unfurling beneath the moon. The distant strains of harps and flutes wove a gentle melody, as though someone were singing a tender ballad far away.
The girl blinked awake, drowsy, only to find that night had already fallen. She scrambled down from the windowsill and hurried out the door, dashing toward the lively town under the bright moonlight.
The festival's night celebration was in full swing. People had gathered in the small square at the town's center, where makeshift musicians sat around the fountain, playing flutes and concertinas. Young men and women danced to the music, their laughter blending with the melodies.
The mayor had provided an abundance of sweets and drinks—honeycomb cakes, rolled wafers, spiced bread drizzled with syrup, barrels of creamy soup, and all manner of fried fish. Considering the entry fee was a mere twenty copper coins, it was practically a free feast.
Myma, clutching a few cheese-and-fruit pastries with a slice of milk cake still in her mouth, climbed a ladder onto the tavern's roof. Perched there, she scanned the crowd for Sophia.
Hundreds of people danced in the square, but it didn't take long for her to spot the vampire standing out among them.
Kevin held Sophia's hand while a swarm of eager girls tried to catch his attention, inviting him to dance or striking up conversations. He kept shaking his head, refusing them all, while Sophia's smile grew brighter by the second.
They drifted to the edge of the square, where Kevin leaned down to whisper something in Sophia's ear. The girl covered her mouth, giggling shyly.
Their gazes locked, hands intertwined, unwilling to part. Then, Kevin lowered his head and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.
Sophia's face flushed crimson. Biting her lip, she mustered her courage, looping her arms around his neck and rising onto her toes to kiss him back.
Under the flickering candlelight, their figures melded together. The clamor of music and laughter faded into the background, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in each other's embrace beneath the moonlight.
Myma sat frozen on the rooftop, staring blankly at the scene—until the half-eaten cake in her hand suddenly vanished!
Her eyes widened in alarm. She spun around, nearly slipping on the rain-slicked tiles, and instinctively clutched the pocket holding her coins.
Not far away, the little demon perched on the chimney, lazily flicking his tail as he held up her stolen cake—before popping it into his mouth.
Myma: "..."
He's a devil. He must be.
She didn't even know where to begin—his bizarre appearances, his habit of snatching food, or—
She took a step forward. "You know it costs twenty coppers to get in here, right?"
"Coppers?" The little demon tilted his head, taking a bite of a pastry. "Those shiny things on you?"
A shadow flickered before her eyes. His terrifying tail, its scales shimmering with ember-like light, darted down and poked at the coins in her pocket.
They were standing too close. The next second, his tail lashed out, coiling around her waist and yanking her toward him.
Releasing her, he stuffed the remaining pastries into his mouth before reaching into her pocket and fishing out a handful of coins. "Twenty?"
Myma, still recovering from the sudden movement, snatched the money back. "Yes, you freeloader. Not all of us can just fly in without paying."
He didn't stop her, though he easily could have. Instead, he scowled. "I didn't fly. I don't like flying."
Myma was starting to get used to this—deciphering his cryptic statements, piecing together meaning from his sparse words.
The ladder was in front of her, yet he'd appeared from behind. She frowned. "Do you just… walk without making any sound?"
He gave her a look of utter disdain, as if the question were beneath him. His gaze drifted to the food stalls around the square. "That—"
Before he could finish, Myma blinked—and he was gone.
No, not gone. He was still standing there.
Except now, he held a basket of milk puddings in one hand, his tail curled around another basket of cranberry biscuits. His expression hadn't changed, as though teleporting across the square to steal desserts was perfectly normal.
Under Myma's incredulous stare, he took a bite and declared, "I liked the other ones better."
She didn't know whether to scold him for theft or preen at the backhanded compliment. "You can't just take the whole basket— Wait, what?"
He shoved a biscuit into her mouth. "The ones in that house were better."
"Mmph—" Chewing quickly, she swallowed and brightened. "You mean the ones from my pantry? I made those! And yes, I do think mine are better—though you ate them all. But still, you can't just take the baskets. At least put them back when you're done."
He ignored her again, eating lazily before tossing the baskets aside. His gaze swept over the dancing crowd, lingering on the few vampires and dark elves scattered among them—all of whom seemed to be enjoying quite the popularity.
Bored, he looked up. "Why are you here?"
Myma sighed, grabbing the baskets and climbing down to return them, her cheeks burning under the amused stares of the crowd.
By the time she made it back to the roof, the little demon was still perched on the chimney, his tail flicking idly, its spiked shadow slicing through the crescent moon above.
"You didn't follow me here, did you?" Myma climbed back up. "Where's your home? Is this your first time in Eloven?"
He tilted his head. "Home?"
She hesitated. The word didn't seem to translate well into Demonic—if it even existed. "Do you live in the Dusk Continent? Morandi? Is that how you say it?"
"Hahahaha—" He burst into laughter, as if her butchered pronunciation were the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "You're so stupid."
Myma's face heated. She knew her pronunciation was rough—Sophia had only taught her enough to understand, not speak fluently. "Fine, laugh all you want. But I speak Common Elvish and Dwarvish. Bet you don't."
He gave her a sidelong glance, then rattled off a string of guttural, archaic-sounding words.
Roughly translated: "Idiot. I know everything."
Her eyes widened. "...That's Ancient Elvish? How do you even—?"
The elves of the Dawn Continent reject the existence of the dark elves. Each of the various tribes of the high elves has its own language. Their communication, apart from using human language, is more often conducted in the common language among elves, as it has been simplified. There are also some loanwords from human language, which many races other than elves can master proficiently. Before this language was simplified, it was the ancient elvish.
The difficulty of that language lies in the fact that some syllables can only be successfully produced by elves of pure bloodline, and even half-elves cannot do it. Of course, anyone can understand it if they are willing to learn.
"You can't possibly—" She stared. "You're not an elf. Lava elves have your coloring, but they don't have tails or horns, and they definitely don't raid pantries like demons—"
"I told you, I'm not a demon," he interrupted, frowning as if searching for the right word. Then, with sudden conviction, he declared: "I'm a deity!"
Myma: "...Pfft."
Sorry, but that word carries zero weight coming from you.
Either oblivious to her disbelief or indifferent, he repeated, "Why are you here?"
She blinked. He'd asked twice now—if she didn't answer, he might just toss her off the roof. "I… My friend invited me. I thought we'd dance, but she's clearly occupied." She nodded toward the couple still entwined by the flower bushes.
His golden eyes followed her gaze to the vampire and human girl entwined by the flower bushes. "What are they doing?"
"Uh, kissing?" She gave him a strange look. "Haven't you seen that before? I thought demons or beastmen did something similar?"
"Maybe," he mused, scowling. "But why? Are they trying to eat each other's tongues?"
Myma: "..."
She took a deep breath. "No. It's how they show they like each other."
"What's that mean?"
"Well…" She thought for a moment. "It's when seeing someone makes you happy. You want to be with them all the time, to make them happy too. If they're sad, you feel sad. And if you lose them… it hurts."
He considered this, though the concept seemed foreign. Still, for some reason, he pressed further. "So… do you 'like' someone?"