...
{3rd POV}
After the prince's sudden disappearance, chaos erupted throughout the entirety of the Alf Forest.
Even the Elves who lived far outside the borders of Orario had prepared themselves to join the search efforts for their beloved prince.
That was the nature of Elves — a race so tightly united that no other race in the world dared to provoke them carelessly.
Once their race was in danger, every Elf stood together without hesitation.
However, to everyone's shock, the King eventually ordered the search to be stopped.
King Larfal was fully aware of his own limitations.
Despite his authority, influence, and massive magical power, he was not some omnipotent being capable of bending the world to his will.
He had already mobilized countless resources, dispatched search parties, consulted ancient magic, and even requested help from other prominent Elf nobles — yet nothing had led to finding his son.
If all that effort, wealth, and manpower had produced no results, then continuing would simply be a pointless waste.
With a heavy heart, he brought the search to an end.
Months passed.
The forest slowly returned to a normal state, and the cries of panic turned into an eerie calm.
No unexpected incidents occurred after that… at least until a letter unexpectedly arrived from the city of Ember.
"Your Majesty! We strongly suspect that this letter was written by the prince himself!"
A squad of soldiers rushed into the royal hall carrying the news along with the sealed envelope.
Their excitement and desperation were written clearly on their faces.
King Larfal, who had been buried in countless reports and documents lately, looked up at them with a hardened expression.
He straightened his posture and spoke in a firm yet composed tone:
"Hand me the letter. You have my gratitude for bringing it here promptly."
The soldiers bowed respectfully and quickly passed the letter to him.
Larfal held the envelope in his hands, observing every detail — the handwriting, the seal, the paper.
His heart trembled, but his face remained stoic.
When he finally opened it, he froze.
Despite longing for news of his son, he found himself unable to read the first line.
His emotions, bottled up for months, surged all at once — a mixture of dread, hope, and fear that the contents might confirm something he wasn't ready to face.
Silently, he extended the letter toward his most trusted minister, who stood faithfully by his side.
"Please read it aloud," the King instructed in a controlled but noticeably strained voice.
The minister nodded firmly, accepting the letter with both hands.
After a brief moment of adjusting his glasses and clearing his throat, he began reading the message out loud to the court.
[My dear family,
I am writing this letter fully aware that it will, without a doubt, be handed to you first, Father. If by any chance it is not, then I suppose this will be one of the few things I have miscalculated. I want to make it clear right from the start that I am not going to present any excuses for the actions I have taken. I will not attempt to shift the blame toward you or the strict rules you enforced on me throughout my life. Those restrictions were placed because you believed they were necessary, and I understand that.
Maybe I was never the perfectly obedient and dutiful son that you wished for. My decision to leave wasn't driven by some noble purpose or a dramatic event — it was rooted in my own selfish desire to break free and find something more for myself. Still, I truly hoped that someday you would at least try to understand the reasons behind my choices and acknowledge that this was something I needed to do.
Mother and my sister were able to understand my feelings, my ambitions… my desire to experience a life outside the palace walls. I might not be a great prince — not yet, and maybe not ever — but I am determined to become a better man. A man who can stand proudly on his own.
I cannot reveal much about where I currently am or the exact details of my daily life, but I want all of you to know that I am safe. I chose to become an adventurer — and yes, Father, the thing you feared most has come true. I have met the Gods. Everything you warned me about was correct: they can be selfish, just as you often said; they can act indifferent, which was one of your greatest concerns; they are definitely strange and unpredictable, which honestly does not shock me anymore; and above all, they are difficult to understand — perhaps even impossible to fully grasp.
I will not claim that the God who governs the familia I joined is a flawless saint. He has his flaws like the rest of them. However, compared to many others I have encountered, he is far more tolerable, far more patient, and even kind in his own unique way. Knowing this might help you feel a bit more at ease.
My intention is to travel across this vast world and explore everything it has to offer — not for a short while, but for years, maybe decades. Perhaps even for a century if that is what it takes. And once I feel that I have learned enough, once I believe that I have grown into someone worthy of returning… I will come home.
I am not asking for forgiveness. I do not expect things to go back to how they once were. All I ask for is a little understanding. Thank you for raising me, Father. Thank you for everything you have done, even if I did not always appreciate it at the time.
P.S.: There are additional letters included with this one — for Mother, my sister, and Miss Aina. Please do not discard them along with this message. They deserve to receive what I have written for them as well.]
Larfal's expression twisted into pure frustration as the final lines of the letter were read aloud.
Without a moment of hesitation, he snatched the paper from the minister's hands and aggressively crumpled it into a tight ball.
His anger was so clear that even the usually composed guards flinched.
Just as he was about to throw the letter aside completely, the minister beside him spoke up with slight urgency.
"Sire, the remaining letters are addressed to Her Highness and the Princess," the minister reminded him cautiously.
Hearing that, Larfal froze mid-motion.
His eyes widened slightly before he let out a long, tired breath.
He slowly uncrumpled the pages, smoothing them out with trembling fingers.
Then he tossed his own letter onto the floor with restrained fury and shouted,
"Damn it, Ember!" His voice carried both hurt and authority.
His teeth clenched tightly as he fought back the surge of anger.
The prince might think writing respectfully and acting calm would make everything fine again… but he was sorely mistaken.
Larfal could not simply forgive such a reckless act of desertion.
Such behavior deserved consequences — not leniency.
After forcing himself to regain a fragment of composure, he picked up the set of letters again and pushed them toward the minister.
"Deliver this one to Ada," he instructed, his tone still sharp but quieter than before.
"And do not — absolutely do not — mention that I nearly threw it away."
His face flushed slightly with embarrassment.
His marriage with Queen Ada had already been going through a rough patch… yet again.
If he added fuel to the fire by messing up something as important as their missing son's letter, things could get even worse for the entire forest.
Elven politics were sensitive.
The unity between the King and Queen wasn't just a personal matter — it affected the stability of the Alf's forest as a whole.
The minister nodded quickly, though his eyebrows twitched in disbelief.
At times like this, the King's dignified presence seemed to vanish entirely.
Still, the minister couldn't bring himself to judge Larfal negatively.
If anything, seeing how carefully the King handled matters involving his wife showed an unexpected tenderness beneath his strict exterior.
It revealed a side driven by love and responsibility — which, in its own way, was admirable.
(A/N: Elves watching their royalty sneeze once: "Such elegance! Truly befitting of our noble lineage!" )
"Your Highness, I request permission to speak freely. However, I must beg forgiveness in advance if my words come across as rude," said another minister cautiously.
His tone was formal, but his eyes held seriousness.
"Speak, Darius," Larfal responded, granting permission with a slight nod.
"Your Majesty," Darius continued, steadying his breath, "I believe the prince has become a lost cause—"
Before he could finish, another minister slammed the table and shouted in outrage, "Darius! Do you even understand the weight of your words?! How dare you—!"
Larfal raised a hand, signaling silence.
"Calm down," he ordered firmly.
"Darius, continue what you intended to say."
Darius bowed his head respectfully. "I apologize for the harsh statement, Your Majesty, but I must speak the truth as I see it. I believe that Prince Ember is not fit to inherit the rule of Alf's Forest. He has run away from his responsibilities, abandoned his people, and shown no intention of fulfilling his duty as heir. If that is the path he has chosen, then perhaps it is better to grant him the freedom he seeks rather than forcing him into a role he clearly rejects."
The room fell silent, but Darius pressed on with determination.
"On the other hand, Her Highness Riveria possesses exceptional talent, wisdom, and magical capability. She has demonstrated unwavering loyalty to the kingdom and its people. If anyone dares to question her suitability merely due to her gender, that would be nothing less than irrational prejudice — pure heresy against our principles."
Larfal slowly nodded, acknowledging the undeniable logic behind Darius's argument.
"To be honest," Larfal admitted with a tired exhale, "I had intended for Riveria and Ember to spend another century gaining experience before I decided upon the matter of succession. But given the current situation… my son has made his choice very clear."
His voice hardened, anger mixing with disappointment.
"I hereby decree that Riveria Ljos Alf, my daughter, shall be named Crown Princess and the next ruler of Alf's Forest. As for Ember…" He paused, eyes shadowed with conflict.
"Running away from his kingdom means abandoning the right to govern it. This will be his punishment. He has forfeited his claim to the throne."
The proclamation echoed throughout the hall.
And once King Larfal made a ruling, it was absolute — carved into Elven law like unbreakable stone.
None of the nobles or ministers dared to object.
Even if Queen Ada wished to challenge the decision, doing so would damage the authority of the crown and be considered a sign of unstable leadership.
The court remained silent in full agreement, placing their faith in Riveria's ascension.
Yet none of them could foresee the truth waiting in distant years — that the very prince they dismissed and marked as a failure… the one they believed lacked the qualities of a ruler and cast aside as unworthy… would eventually accomplish something so extraordinary that their regret and shock would shake them to their cores.
And the name they had nearly erased from their future would one day become the name that reshaped their fate entirely.
...
While the drama continued to unfold in the Royal Palace of Alf's Forest, Ember — completely unaware of the chaos his letter had caused — was peacefully celebrating the festive occasion of Christmas Eve.
One might wonder if Jesus Christ existed in this world, but the truth was quite different.
In this world, there was once a man named Jaina, a prophet-like figure who brought back the gospel of the Gods during a time when humanity had nearly abandoned their belief in divine beings, dismissing them as mere myths.
The day of his birth eventually became what people here called Christmas.
On this particular Christmas Eve, the entire town had transformed into a vibrant display of twinkling lights and festive decorations.
Even though this world wasn't as technologically advanced as the modern world Ember once lived in, it possessed something far more versatile — magic.
And after the descent of the Gods into the Lower World, they brought with them fragments of scientific knowledge from Tenkai.
The most notable contributor was the Goddess of Wisdom and the ruler of Altena, Athena.
Thanks to her innovations and intellect, her militaristic nation and familia rose to be a formidable force, especially in the field of magic, boasting more magicians than any other place in the world — rivaled only by the famed city of Orario.
Altena's contribution to society was enormous; countless inventions and advancements helped everyday life progress far beyond what would have naturally existed.
Because of that influence, many items and technologies that might be considered modern conveniences were now commonplace across the continent.
Amidst the festive environment, Ember walked through the lively streets with his party members, admiring the joyful atmosphere spreading throughout the town.
Children ran around with laughter, merchants sold colorful trinkets, and music echoed through every corner.
"Tithonus! How about you join Aschelois Familia for tonight's Christmas Eve celebration?" Aika asked with sparkling eyes, practically vibrating with excitement.
Ember, unable to refuse her enthusiasm, nodded with a helpless smile.
Before he could react further, she grabbed his arm and dragged him along toward the familia's home.
As they stepped inside, they were immediately greeted by complete chaos — but in the festive sense.
"Alright, everyone! Get to work!" Goddess Aschelois declared with theatrical authority.
The adventurers all raised their voices in response, cheering somewhat begrudgingly, before scattering to take on their assigned tasks.
"Griffith! Place the Christmas tree right in the center of the room!" she commanded loudly and then immediately pointed to someone else.
"Mika! Decorations go over there! And James — stop slacking! Do something useful for once! Diana, make those ribbons more artistic! Shazar, put the purple lights on that wall!"
James groaned irritably and snapped back, "Goddess! How about you stop bossing us around and actually help out for once?!"
"Absolutely not!" Aschelois exclaimed dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest with exaggerated elegance.
"How could you expect a lovely and delicate Goddess like me to perform manual labor?! Just the exhaustion alone would force me to ascend back to Tenkai!"
Everyone let out a collective sigh or clicked their tongues in annoyance at her theatrics — perfectly accustomed to their Goddess's ridiculous behavior by now.
That was the scene Ember walked into, still being dragged along by Aika — a house full of rowdy adventurers, a bossy Goddess who refused to lift a finger, and a festive holiday preparation that seemed far louder than necessary.
"Fufu! Impressed, aren't you?! Miss Amalda reacted the exact same way when she saw all of this. I've heard that elves rarely celebrate Christmas, so of course this must feel surprising to you," Aika said with a smug expression as she proudly showed Ember the half-finished decorations.
Even though the work was still in progress, the room already looked vibrant and festive, filled with warmth and excitement.
"Oh, Aika, you're here. And Tet as well," Mika said as she noticed them entering and waved with a welcoming smile.
"Sir Elf!" Ember heard the voice and instantly felt a headache coming.
Here we go again… he thought, fully expecting what was about to happen.
His premonition came true as Goddess Aschelois suddenly appeared before him, dramatically rushing in his direction with sparkling eyes.
"Siiir Elffff!" she called out enthusiastically, stretching her arms wide as she ran to hug him.
Ember, having already experienced her antics multiple times, swiftly sidestepped her approach, causing the excited goddess to continue running forward and crash face-first into the wall behind him.
A loud thud followed.
Aika whistled as if witnessing a predictable disaster.
"Damn, that looked cold…"
"Ouch! That hurt! It's not nice to avoid a goddess like that!" Aschelois complained with a pout, rubbing her forehead while glaring at Ember as though he had wronged her.
Ember simply looked back with a dry expression, clearly seeing her as nothing but a source of trouble.
"Anyway! Sir Handsome Elf—" she began dramatically.
"I have a name, Goddess," Ember interrupted her promptly, refusing to allow the ridiculous nickname to continue.
"He does," Chad chimed in from the side.
Ember briefly stared at him with narrowed eyes, his thoughts puzzled.
'Did he just say what I think he said? No… maybe I misheard it. Has to be my imagination.'
Meanwhile, Aschelois shook her head dramatically at Chad as if lecturing him.
"Chad, you need to live up to your name! Be more like a 'Chad'—confident and bold!"
"But… I am Chad," he responded, looking completely lost.
A few members of the familia struggled to hold back their laughter, especially Amalda, who looked like she was moments away from bursting out loud.
"Anyway, Sir Tithonus, don't you think today is a perfectly fine day to plant your seeds inside me?" Aschelois declared loudly, without shame or hesitation.
Her voice echoed across the room, immediately bringing all movement to a halt.
Every single person froze, eyes wide in shock, jaws nearly dropping to the floor.
This brat…! Ember's mind screamed, and he let out a slow, exhausted sigh before replying, "You are a Goddess."
Instead of backing down or realizing how outrageous her statement was, Aschelois only smiled wider, as if proud of her boldness.
"Isn't that even better? You won't have to worry about accidentally impregnating me. I can handle it!" she insisted with complete seriousness.
Gasps erupted around the room — the kind people make when they hear something scandalous, unbelievable, and deeply inappropriate.
Ember didn't even bother arguing or scolding her.
Instead, he turned his expressionless gaze toward Griffith, the captain of the Aschelois Familia.
"Sir Griffith, may I please hit her?" he asked in a perfectly polite, respectful tone that somehow made the question sound even more dangerous.
Griffith grinned like a madman and gave a dramatic thumbs up.
"Slap her, smash her, she's all yours," he said confidently—only to pause and realize, a second too late, how badly those words could be interpreted.
His eyes widened slightly as confusion hit him, but the damage was already done.
Ember silently facepalmed.
'Language…! Damn it! Her stupidity is contagious,' he thought irritably.
Aschelois stared at him suspiciously, sensing his annoyance.
"Why do I feel like you're thinking something rude about me?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Because I am," Ember replied immediately with a shrug, not even attempting to hide his thoughts.
The goddess blinked in disbelief, stunned for a moment — but only for a moment — before springing back into her usual insane behavior.
"Anyway! How about we go to bed—"
Before she could finish that sentence, Ember flicked her forehead with a single, precise motion.
"AaagghhhHH!!!" Aschelois screamed dramatically as she dropped to the ground and began rolling around in exaggerated agony.
"It hurts! It hurtsss!!! My poor forehead!!!"
Her cries were met with laughter from several members of the familia, while Griffith proudly offered Ember another thumbs up, highly impressed with his fearless retaliation against their own goddess.
"Tet! How da—" Aschelois began to complain, but the moment she saw Ember's cold, emotionless face gradually shift into a slowly growing smile, she froze in sheer terror.
"Goddess, what exactly were you saying?" he asked with chilling calmness.
Aschelois immediately shook her head like a scared animal.
"Nothing! Absolutely nothing! I completely agree with you! That horrible woman Aschelois totally deserved that! How dare she speak such nonsense to the great Sir Tithonus! She must be punished more!" she said while pointing at herself as if she were a separate entity entirely.
A few people facepalmed simultaneously, while others simply stared in disbelief at the sheer absurdity taking place before them.
Meanwhile, Aschelois silently screamed inside her mind, 'Aurora! Someone! Anyone! Save meeee!'
For the first time in countless centuries, the Goddess deeply, sincerely, and painfully regretted her own impulsive antics.
...
"Achoo!" Aurora sneezed abruptly while placing ornaments on the tall Christmas tree.
Her sudden sneeze made the decorations shake slightly.
"Goddess, are you alright?" Maria asked in a worried voice, stepping closer to her.
Aurora shook her head vigorously, waving her hands as if dismissing the concern.
"No, no, I'm not sick. It's probably because someone is thinking about me or talking behind my back. And if I had to guess—Aschelois! It must be that troublemaker!" She spoke confidently, nodding to herself like she had solved a grand mystery.
Maria stared at her goddess for a second, clearly confused about how she ended up being dragged into this strange logic.
But choosing not to question it, Maria simply nodded with a forced smile.
—
Back at the Aschelois Familia estate, chaos was erupting as usual.
"That's exactly what you deserve for threatening an elf's purity!" Amalda declared with righteous conviction.
"Elf supremacy!" Aika whistled teasingly, grinning as several others burst into laughter at Aschelois's expense.
Aschelois's eyebrow twitched aggressively, and she clenched her teeth.
"I have had enough of your racism!" she shouted before charging after Amalda like a furious puppy goddess.
"Get back here! You little brat!"
The entire room echoed with laughter as Amalda ran for her life, and the goddess sprinted after her like she was chasing her stolen dignity.
Soon enough, the decorations were finally complete, and everyone gathered around the dining room table for what promised to be a lively dinner.
"Is that… a violin?" Griffith asked, surprised to see Ember holding a finely polished instrument.
Ember nodded calmly and explained, "I found this violin a few days ago and thought it would be a nice idea to play a tune during Christmas. I remember a particular carol, though I haven't touched a violin in decades. So I practiced a little—and now here we are."
"Oh! Oh! Then play 'Christmas is Here!'" Chad said with excitement sparkling in his eyes.
"Sorry, but I don't know that one," Ember replied, sounding genuinely apologetic.
Chad deflated like a balloon losing air, and a wave of mild disappointment traveled around the room.
Some of them even seemed a little afraid, imagining their sensitive ears being assaulted by a rusty performance.
"Don't pay attention to these cowards. Just play," Amalda encouraged confidently.
Ember gave a small nod, inhaled deeply, steadying his grip on the bow.
Then, with every eye in the room fixed on him, he began to play.
As the music flowed through the room, it immediately captivated everyone present.
The lively chatter that filled the place just moments ago vanished completely.
One by one, each person grew still, listening intently.
A calm silence washed over the dining hall, as if even the air itself had paused to hear every note more clearly.
The carol seemed to wrap around them like a gentle wave, making several people instinctively close their eyes just to fully soak in the melody.
Ember was performing Carol of the Bells, and despite having no additional instruments or background accompaniment, he managed to pull it off with surprising grace.
For someone who had only practiced recently after decades of not touching a violin, his play was more than impressive—it was mesmerizing.
And beyond that, this was a carol no one in this world had ever heard before.
For the very first time, Carol of the Bells echoed through this world's Christmas Eve, giving the song a fresh stage and a new audience.
When Ember finally lowered the violin and the last note faded away, Goddess Aschelois leaned forward with curiosity and asked, "What is the name of that carol?"
"Carol of the Bells," Ember answered simply.
The name spread through the room in whispers as everyone tried repeating it—some mispronouncing it slightly, others saying it slowly as if committing it to memory.
Aika, practically bouncing in excitement, immediately shouted, "Tet! Play it again! One more time!"
The others quickly jumped in with loud chants of encouragement:
"Once more!"
"One more time!"
"Again! Again!"
With a sigh that was clearly more amused than annoyed, Ember agreed and ended up performing the piece three more times—each round earning a stronger reaction than the last.
Only after the third performance did the group finally move on to dinner, their spirits lifted and the festive atmosphere brightened even more.
To be continued…