Falling Flowers Fill the Sky, and the Scent of the Zither is Heard Again

Evening of May 20 — Floating Harbor Forest Free Camp — Victor's Private Tent

"Ha... ah... mm," Victor let out a long yawn. He had finished his afternoon alchemy research. Today's material had been specially collected by Toluvel: "Memory Roses," said to grow only in some elven ruin within Floating Harbor Forest.

Judging from the material's name and the surviving records, they could be identified as magical psychic mediums. Unfortunately, he had no usable formulas on hand, so he could only conduct preliminary medicinal testing.

Of course, such a beautiful name and appearance had to conceal some elven love story, along with corresponding mystical properties. For instance, they would wither unless watered with blood or sold to someone else, or a rose given to one's beloved would never wilt—dreamy nonsense like that.

Victor casually put the Memory Roses into his herb pouch, stretched, and prepared to head out for the celebration. After more than twenty days of rough food and thin fare, he was especially looking forward to finally eating his fill of roasted meat today.

Today was the elves' summer festival. Put simply, it celebrated the arrival of summer: men and women sang and danced around bonfires beneath the stars, then chose someone they liked and entered a tent together to make love.

If they still felt good about it upon waking the next day, they would become a couple. But there were also plenty who, after finishing, immediately decided it would not work out, left the tent, and each went looking for another encounter.

Angoulême, who had been made to sit at the adjacent table reading all afternoon, saw Victor rise and happily tossed aside her book before springing to her feet as well. She whistled excitedly.

The goshawk Catherine, perched on its stand, immediately gave a low cry and leaped onto the specially made hawk perch on Angoulême's shoulder. Affectionately, it pecked at her hair, and she reached up to stroke the feathers on its breast in return.

While Victor had been busy brewing potions and teaching formulas, this wild girl had run all over the place. After getting acquainted with the elven falconers, a "young hawk recognizing its master" incident had somehow occurred.

That was how she had gotten Catherine, a beautiful golden goshawk. According to the elves, even among their people, it was extraordinarily rare for a young hawk to recognize someone as its master.

Honestly, having a spirit hawk that shared your heart and mind was pretty damn cool. So Victor had eagerly gone to try it himself the next day. Regrettably, no bird wanted anything to do with him.

Seeing how well the girl and bird got along, Victor darkly wondered whether he ought to add a few more courses beneficial to Angoulême's body and mind.

Just as he was pondering it... the tent flap was lifted, and Xilang Isnilán—the chief deputy officer of the Floating Harbor Squirrel Party—walked in. The handsome young elf gave Victor a slight bow. "Master, the celebration is about to begin. Lord Iophis sent me to invite you over."

Then, thinking Victor had not noticed, he secretly winked at Angoulême.

Good for her! Who would've thought this short little turnip with straw-like hair, a flat butt, flat chest, and thick waist would be so popular... Victor thought.

I'd overlooked the fact that she has needs too. Who knows whether the contraceptive methods of this era are reliable? I should find time to make her some morning-after medicine to keep on hand!

Night of May 20 — Floating Harbor Forest Free Camp — Central Plaza

With over a thousand people filling the boundless plaza, the summer festival was far livelier than the boy had imagined beforehand.

The roast meat smelled wonderful, the drinks flowed freely, the dancing was picturesque, and the passion burned like fire. Naturally, the latter two had nothing to do with Victor. He was human, and Iophis's guest besides; unless he took the initiative, no one would come drag him into the dance.

Angoulême, on the other hand, was grinning foolishly from drink as she comfortably mingled with the elves and danced. Wearing her little cap, she blended in without the slightest sense of incongruity. It reminded Victor of how she had been at Vergen's tavern, fitting seamlessly among the dwarves as well. No one thought anything was strange. That sort of affinity ought to count as a talent.

Amid the bustling laughter and chatter, Iophis carried a cup of wine over and sat beside Victor. "Aren't you going down to dance and have some fun? This is a free occasion. There are no restrictions—so long as a man and woman catch each other's eye."

Glancing at Iophis, Victor said, half self-mockingly and half teasingly, "It's precisely because all it takes is catching each other's eye that I'm afraid I don't stand a chance!"

The elf raised his cup toward Victor's utterly unremarkable face. "Have some confidence. Once they're drunk and their vision gets blurry, what wasn't possible becomes possible!"

Victor raised his cup with a snort. "I never thought you had such a lewd side!"

"Because it's a festival!" Iophis took a huge gulp of wine. "Long ago, summer festivals were ten times grander than this one."

"..." Sensing that this was not something he could respond to well, Victor took a sip of cream beer and remained silent.

"Sorry. I made you uncomfortable."

Realizing he had misspoken, Iophis apologized, then rose and clapped twice to draw the entire plaza's attention. He raised his voice and announced, "Since everyone is so happy today, let me play a tune to add to the festivities!"

As the plaza of a thousand people erupted in cheers, Iophis drew a flute from his waist. Then a clear, winding melody rang out. It seemed to be a piece all the elves knew well, and they spontaneously linked shoulders, forming circles as they softly hummed along.

After a long while, in the lingering afterglow of that soul-cleansing music, Victor, immersed in the beautiful performance, suddenly felt that something was wrong. Angoulême's cheeks were flushed with drink, and her excited eyes were sparkling as she stared at him.

Before he could stop her, Angoulême was already shouting, "Iophis's music was amazing! Since we're all so happy today, why don't we let Victor the bard play us a tune too!"

Back at Vergen's tavern, when the mood had struck him, he had played the lute once or twice. Every time, his drinks had been free for the rest of the day—after which the male dwarves would throw him out of the tavern, claiming that he was not allowed to seduce dwarf women.

Heaven bore witness that he had never entertained such a thought for even one second. Yet for some reason, dwarves firmly believed that every race coveted their women.

In any case, next time they went swimming, her training time would be doubled. Victor thought resentfully as he unwillingly endured the attention of the entire plaza.

Then applause broke out. Iophis, wearing an ambiguous smile, was the first to egg everyone on. Clearly, he found Angoulême's declaration very amusing.

The alchemy master and demon hunter apprentice they had known for over twenty days was also a bard!? They simply had to hear this song!

Taking the lute Xilang handed him, the boy skillfully plucked the strings and tuned it.

Iophis's flute performance had undoubtedly been a fine piece. Though he had not understood the lyrics, it had truly stirred his homesickness.

It reminded him that he was a stranger in a foreign land.

The familiar motions summoned familiar memories. It had been over a year since he arrived here. Are you all doing well in the alchemy world? Are you all doing well on Earth?

Perhaps because he was immersed in his memories, Victor took rather a long time to compose himself. Whispers gradually spread through the plaza, which had initially waited in silence.

Iophis frowned. Though he had joined in the teasing, that had been based on Angoulême's claim that Victor could play. He had no intention whatsoever of making a guest embarrass himself.

Just as he stepped forward to rescue Victor from the situation, Victor swept his fingers down. The opening seven notes instantly froze Iophis in place and silenced the entire plaza.

Seven notes abruptly carried the listeners' hearts into his world. There, he was going to tell a moving story.

The incomparably beautiful opening did not disappoint afterward. The rippling music seemed like a hopeful confession, at once like a father's warm gaze and a mother's gentle expectations, flowing slowly through everyone's hearts.

As the music rose and fell, Iophis withdrew from the center of the plaza and climbed onto the branch of a beech tree. He could feel his eyes gradually growing moist, and this was not a sight anyone should witness.

Until the song came to its end—

"This piece is called With You. I hope everyone finds someone they fancy today." Amid thunderous applause, Victor's otherwise ordinary face shone brilliantly. Then the young man bowed at the waist and made a dashing exit.

In the crowd, Toluvel stared at Victor with bright, glittering eyes—so bright they were almost frightening.

Escaping back into his tent from countless passionate gazes, the young man kept his heart as clear as ice and prepared for bed. His only regret was that he had not had a glass of milk before sleep in nearly a month. He could tolerate the gamy smell of goat's milk, but it did not satisfy him.

After finishing his stretching exercises, he fell into bed and slept as soundly as a baby. That was, until he realized he seemed to be suffering from sleep paralysis and instinctively tried to call for help.

"Shut up!" The one pinning him down was Toluvel. In a gentleness he had never heard from her before, her voice breathed into his ear, making it tickle—then she covered Victor's mouth.

In his shock, Victor suddenly understood. Yes, there was one kind of attack from which guests were not protected by their hosts: a woman's nighttime attack on a man, abbreviated as a night raid. In certain cultural circles, it was even considered part of gracious hospitality.

In other words, not only could he not make a sound right now—even if he screamed himself hoarse, no one would come to save him.

At that thought, he made the choice every normal man would make. Since he could not resist, he might as well submit...

Unfortunately, Bard Victor's tent did not remain peaceful that night. More than ten minutes later, Toluvel's scolding shattered the silence: "Get out! Can't you see someone's busy? Go line up outside, and come in one at a time, in order! Do young people these days not know how to follow the rules?"

Incidentally, Victor's mouth was still firmly covered.