Anastasia's pale golden hair reached her earlobes, making her look like a Golden Apple.
Her amber eyes were clear and translucent, as intoxicating as brown liquor.
The girl was barely tall enough to reach Mr. Iver's chest—about the same height as Yulia.
Compared with the average height of the elves, she was noticeably shorter... Mr. Iver had hardly ever seen an elf shorter than Isabel, but today, he finally had.
And in a daze, Mr. Iver realized why timid Yunus had suddenly found his courage and even rescued Anastasia from the bandits—he didn't know whether Isabel had worn this kind of short, bobbed haircut as a child, but her hair color was exactly the same as Isabel's.
She also looked about the same height Isabel had been at nine years old.
Obviously, ever since Anastasia had been sent to the Fairy Kingdom, she had stopped growing.
And Isabel at that age... was the Isabel Yunus remembered from when he left Glass Island.
...He must have been traumatized.
Perhaps he had only realized after striking out that she wasn't Isabel. Or perhaps even a mere resemblance was enough to make his heart ache.
Anastasia scampered over to Grace, spread her arms, and made a practiced little jump toward Grace's embrace.
If they had been outside, Grace could surely have swept the girl into her arms with ease. But Grace had shrunk as well, so she could only flap her Dryleaf Butterfly-like wings rather awkwardly and fly two steps backward before barely managing to catch Anastasia in her arms.
"Aya..."
Grace addressed Anastasia by her affectionate nickname and lovingly stroked her hair. With the same hair color but different hair lengths, the two looked as close as sisters.
As her hair shifted, Mr. Iver clearly caught its pleasant fragrance. It was a