Two in the morning.
Iver was carried onto the swing in the yard by Madam Grace. Sherlock, Lily, and Maxim were all watching from the side.
Both Madam Grace's appearance and clothing made her look young. Although it was impossible to tell exactly how old she was, she looked just like a university student.
That was also why Iver had never really had any concept of Madam Grace's height—especially since she was always beside Maxim, who was two and a half meters tall. Compared to him, she looked even more petite.
—But now that Madam Grace was holding him, Iver suddenly realized that she really was a Pure-Blood Elf. When she held him, she pinched him beneath the ribs, as effortlessly as if she were holding a small cat or dog.
Iver noticed that she even instinctively raised both little fingers. She was barely using her ring fingers either.
She sat on the swing and placed Iver on her lap. Then she took a small bottle from her chest and fed him the liquid inside.
She urged him softly, "Good boy, drink it all in one go. Drink faster."
"Mmmph."
Iver answered muffledly and reached out to hold the bottle himself.
The liquor—or rather, the beverage—tasted pretty good. It was like apple-flavored champagne.
It had an alcoholic taste, but it wasn't strong. It was very sweet and full of bubbles... It could be said to have an endless aftertaste, just like the other drinks from the Theocracy. They all tasted quite good. Aside from the first mouthful, which nearly made Iver choke, he simply held the bottle himself and gulped the rest down.
The bottle held roughly six hundred milliliters. After finishing it, Iver let out a burp.
But just as he burped, he suddenly felt the entire world become