Seo Jiwoo

  The dinner lasted longer than I expected, after supper was finished, the maids had brought forth dessert, a special elven made cuisine.

  One of the maids offered me a small, leaf-lined tray near the end of the meal. Nestled atop were three delicate orbs—soft, pale, and faintly glowing under the warm light. They were called “Lunaria Bloom.” Elder Ramus said they were a traditional elven dessert, usually served during spring festivals or homecomings.

  I picked one up. It was cool to the touch, almost like silk-wrapped snow. Biting into it was like tasting a cloud—a thin outer layer of glutinous nectar-wheat, smooth and chewy, giving way to a softly sweet centre made from starlight plums and crystal-pollen honey. Light, fragrant, and just the right amount of sweetness.

  This kind of reminded me of when Master had Fujimoto make homemade mochi for me after I passed my hunter’s license exam. The taste of the dessert back then was something I still vividly remembered—simple, warm, and grounding.

  Much like home.

  I could feel my thoughts turn almost melancholic for some reason, but I brushed those emotions aside. This wasn’t the time for that.

  If comfort had a flavour, this was it.

  But, just for a tiny moment, my mind drifted off to earth, wondering how Master and Fujimoto were faring after I’d told them everything, after they had decided to accept me for who I was. Just how we’re they living right now?

  Did Master eat his meals on time? Did Fujimoto get annoyed over Master’s childish antics? I felt my lips part with a genuine smile for a split second, something so nostalgic.

  I looked around the dinner table, laughter, beaming smiles, people I’d grown a bond with after much trials. They were around me, talking, sharing glances, speaking words of kindness and familiarity.

  From the side, I could feel Mordian’s gaze over me, his thoughts trailed into my mind. I took a mouthful of lunaria bloom, biting into it slowly, savouring the flavourful delight it brought.

  ‘Did you get any response from the system in the time you were training? It’s been six months, shouldn’t there be any notice?’

  I didn’t look at my bond, I didn’t need to.

  ‘No.’ I replied blatantly. And Mordian simply gave me a longer glance than usual.

  After the dinner came to an end, the maids entered the dinning hall once again, their movements were fast, almost in a flash, as they cleared the plates, bowing their heads and then exiting.

  Lady Ariem turned to me, her side profile visible as Elder Ramus leaned back slightly for me to get a better view of her. “Jiwoo, I believe after your journey and trials, you must be tired. After a fulfilling dinner, how about you go take a rest. We can catch up later on the specifics.” Her smooth voice, laced with care and warmth felt like a blanket wrapping around me.

  Since the moment I’d arrived in the elven world, I was made to feel like an outsider, but, she was one of the few that showed me warmth and care. Even if I was no less, a stranger to her.

  I turned my gaze from Lady Ariem to Neil for a heartbeat, and I knew what she was getting at.

  She really didn’t want the mood to turn awkward with having Neil and I in the same room. Well, that was ironic, to a certain sense. I almost felt my arm reaching up to the back of my neck, forcing back an awkward smile.

  I nodded to her, taking her on her offer. “Yes, I would like that. Thank you very much for inviting us to dine with everyone.” I said, taking a respectful bow in her direction.

  My belly was full and my mind refreshed after a long time, eased from the weight and responsibilities I had to always think about. But, I guess, I needed to appreciate these short moments more than ever.

  Even if I wasn’t tired, I knew this opportunity she had given was important. I could finally have a word with Elder Ramus regarding the tri-union alliance. The only thing I could do now was to convince Ramus to consider bringing the humans as an ally into the tri-union faction. But that was only stage one of the plan.

  The biggest concern would be to bring the other high-ranking elders of the elven race on the same topic of discussion. And, that’s where Ramus played the part. I could only throw them a bone, it was there job to bite into it.

  I slowly stood from my seat, Mordian followed suit, Aurora was next, then Camus, and then finally all the others.

  I slowly reached for the doorframe, I saw Elder Ramus right on my tail. We exited silently, bidding farewell to the other, only Mordian, Ramus, Aurora and I were left behind, walking slowly.

  I looked at the elven princess, for a change, she seemed to have turned back into the same, adventure loving, risk taking girl I’d travelled with—albeit just for a short time.

  “So, what are you plotting in that brain of yours?” She said, almost accusingly, tilting her head in my direction slightly, leaning in until I crossed my arms.

  I gave her a wry smirk. “You guess.” I raised a brow, and she exchanged a glance with Mordian and Elder Ramus.

  “Child,” Elder Ramus began gently, “you can have all the time you want with them later. But may I borrow your companions for the time being? I promised Jiwoo we would discuss the matter concerning the human race.” His voice was warm and kind, his smile melting over his granddaughter like snow. Aurora, however, looked dissatisfied—perhaps she wanted to listen in.

  She had accompanied us in all of the gatherings in the orcen world, even given worthy points to contemplate over. Her cognitive prowess was admiring, but...it may be selfish of me, but I wanted her to take it easy for the time being.

  She had experienced a war only recently, had seen innocents die, fought against an army of demons, performed the impossible. For that, all the words of admiration I could spoke of would be less than the bravery she had displayed.

  But, in the end, she was just an almost seventeen years old teenager, she deserved these fleeting moment of peace and joy that were given to her to the fullest.

  I didn’t want to drag her into this political quagmire that had no bottom to it.

  And, this burden was ours to carry. This thinking of mine was hypocritical—I knew better than anyone that just how much of a hypocrite I was when it came to protecting the people I cared about...and, I cared about Aurora, and I don’t want to see her suffer.

  Aurora frowned, lips parting in silent protest before her eyes flicked toward Ramus. “But—”

  “I’ll make it quick,” I cut in before she could finish, my tone light. “Both Mordian and I will be there. You don’t have to look so heartbroken, like a kindergartener about to lose her favourite toy.”

  She blinked. “A...what?”

  I let out a low breath, amused. “It’s a human thing. Tiny kids. They cry when their sweets get taken away.”

  Her brows furrowed deeper, but the corner of her mouth twitched like she was trying not to smile. “That’s not fair,” she muttered. “It’s been six months, Shun. We haven’t even properly spoken to each other and the first thing you can think of after coming back is discuss politics? Can’t you do that after a day or two’s rest? Do you have to go so hard on yourself all the time?”

  Her words struck worse than I would’ve first thought. Rest...huh?

  That was something I so desperately wanted. The one thing I wished for even in my past life...the only thing I could think of while eating, sleeping or fighting.

  I turned my gaze at Mordian and then at Ramus, somehow they shared the same look of exhaustion which I was looking for, not from fighting wars or seeing too much death...but rather just a weary kind of knowing, the sort that settles in when hope fades but duty doesn’t.

  But, I thought, almost in a sigh; rest was a luxury people like us don’t have.

  “We can spend some time after we’re done,” I said gently, stepping closer and placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m just going to talk with Elder Ramus. It won’t be long. Then I’ll come back and annoy you for the rest of the day.”

  She looked down, her voice softer now. “It just…feels like you’re always slipping away lately.”

  The words almost caught me off guard. Her eyes were glassy, and the pout on her lips quivered with something too close to tears.

  But, she was right, I sometimes let my duties outweigh the things that mattered most.

  I offered a small smile and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hey. I’m not slipping anywhere. Just—give me a moment, alright?”

  Aurora gave a tiny nod, but her confusion lingered—a little blush present on her milky cheeks. “And… kindergartener?”

  “Yeah,” I chuckled, ruffling her hair lightly. “Remind me to explain it later. It’s too cute watching you get all serious about it.”

  She finally let out a small, defeated sigh, her gaze flicking away as a faint warmth coloured her cheeks.

  I saw Aurora leave silently, her figure drifted off into the halls of the castle, as I followed Elder Ramus with Mordian. He guided us to the upper floors of the castle.

  Just like earlier, I saw many elves rushing with boxes full of supplies in their arms, and putting decorations around the fortress, giving their utmost to the palace decorations for the upcoming events.

  After a long walk through the winding halls, we finally arrived just outside a sturdy doorframe. Ramus stepped ahead, his hand resting briefly on the brass doorknob before he twisted it open. He held the door for us, gesturing us inside with a nod.

  The study wasn’t as grand as I’d imagined it would be.

  It had a certain aged charm to it—simple, lived-in. An old oak desk stood at the far end, its surface cluttered with scattered with scrolls and ink pots. A high-backed chair rested behind it, angled slightly toward the tall window, where thin curtains swayed gently with the breeze.

  Bookshelves lined the walls, filled to bursting with ancient tomes and brittle parchment, the kind that looked like they’d crumble if handled wrong. Artifacts were placed with some care between the shelves—an assortment of metallic instruments, relics, and worn trinkets that looked half ceremonial, half forgotten.

  There was a small cabinet on the wall, several meticulous bottles inside it, elixirs and old alcohol just from a single look. I was intrigued for a tasting but stopped because it was bad etiquette, not asking before the host offered.

  I moved my gaze and just to the left of the entrance sat a couch, aged leather, still sturdy. A modest coffee table stood in front of it. Across the room, a smaller table caught my eye, surrounded by two opposing couches. Atop it was a board—not quite a chessboard, but close enough. The pieces were oddly shaped, ornate, each one different, but arranged in a way that mirrored the familiar layout of a chess board as I remembered.

  Ramus noticed my gaze lingering.

  “That’s imperial quarrel,” he said, walking over with a faint smile. “A game of kingdoms. Older than any board game—it was made a long time ago as a plaything for young princes. Strategy’s the same when playing this or fighting a war—sacrifice or survive. But the least is, there’s no actual death in this.” Ramus finished with a knowing smile.

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  Then, it was basically chess, but elven version. The design of the board was slick, the gaps of white and black were the same.

  I walked closer to the board, taking a peculiar piece in hand, it looked like a formless beast, gnarled but every changing, perhaps a pawn. There were different pieces positioned across each side of the board.

  The shining marble gleamed under the dim light.

  My eyes followed a bastion, then jumped immediately to a stag that seemed to gleam just by standing there. There were other pieces that resembled shapes such as, bishop, queen or the king. I could only tell just from their position.

  I saw Ramus motion toward the nearest set of couches. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

  Mordian strode in silently, his presence always looming, as he took a seat near the single couch. He settled down, his presence quiet but attentive like always.

  The door shut with a soft click behind us, muffling the world outside.

  First thing Ramus did was approach the cabinet on the wall, opening it and taking an aged bottle out of it—perhaps, he had noticed my lingering gaze. He slowly turned, pointing it at us. “Dragon’s breath. Brilliant and savoury for after a fulfilling dinner. Will you both care to indulge?

  I smiled, and Mordian nodded alongside me. Elder Ramus fetched three glasses from the cabinet, and poured the drink, handing us both our glass.

  It wasn’t like I was going to get drunk anyway. The system cleared any substance could affect my body or intoxicate my mind.

  I took a seat at the board, taking a sip, the liquor burned in my throat, but soothed it the next moment, like trying to put a fire out, but for it only burn with more vigour. The thing I’d started to like about this elixir was it’s aftertaste. Ramus followed and with a curious gleam in his eyes took the chair opposite to me, like it was made for him.

  Elder Ramus offered me another glass, half-filled with dragon’s breath. “Quite a strong tonic, even for elves. Much less, I’d say, for you, Jiwoo.”

  I didn’t mind the remark—he was just being polite. “No worries. An acquaintance introduced me to this drink. Quite fiery, this little devil. Though I’d like to think I hold my tolerance fairly well.

  Ramus raised a brow, genuinely curious. “And when was that?”

  I let a small smile slip, remembering the wry dwarf I’d met in the orcen world. “Right before the war. Took a swig, and it kicked my system into gear. You know how it is.”

  His gaze stayed on me, amused.

  “I suppose elixirs like these are best consumed in times like that,” I continued. “Eases the stress. Blurs the edge of war just enough.”

  Ramus curved a smirk. “You’re a man of culture, I see, Jiwoo.”

  I placed my glass to the side and looked at the elder.

  “So,” Ramus leaned forward, folding his hands over one knee, the previous playfulness vanishing like a bubble just burst. “Let’s talk.” He said, but his eyes spoke of something else. After a second, his lips parted and he added. “I’d like to say that, but before that...would you care for a friendly match of imperial quarrel, Jiwoo?”

  Ramus asked, his expression calm. For a moment, I felt a cold, deadly chill on my neck. I understood his reasoning, what better to test a person’s reasonability and patience than over a game of chess.

  It was a simple request, but for some reason, just by the shift of his expression, he looked different, no longer the caring old man from this moment forth, but a detached strategist that was looking at an enemy.

  I looked at Ramus, my face passive, not showing more emotion than I needed to. “Sure.” I replied, and Ramus gave me a silent nod. “There is a game similar to this back in my world, it’s called ‘chess’.”

  “Oh,” Ramus adjusted in his seat. “Then you must be familiar with the rules, if this chess is similar to imperial quarrel.” He stated, shifting his robes right over his thighs as his eyes followed the board. “But, may I explain the pieces and their uses? Might I clarify if there would be a certain change in our game and the one played in your world? I wouldn’t favour it if you failed to read the flow.” The Elder said and I nodded, just to be sure which piece was which or if they shared some different rules.

  Right next moment, Ramus pointed at the rows of paws at the forefront. “These are formless. A piece that advances only forward, one step at a time. But when striking, it attacks diagonally—a curious irony, that it cannot confront what stands directly before it.”

  I listened carefully, Ramus explained about the other pieces, educating me of imperial quarrel.

  He pointed at the bastion looking piece, sitting like an impenetrable tower. “This is the bastion. This one is unshifting in form, but relentless in direction. It travels in straight lines: forward, backward, or side to side, without limit.”

  The bastion was the rook.

  I followed his finger, looming from the rook, pointing at a different shape, resembling a stag. He named it as strider; the knight.

  Then moved to the a piece resembling something similar to an oracle. It was named: Seer; Bishop.

  Then came the queen, the Imperator that overlooked the board.

  Then the final and most important piece. The king; or in their term, the throne.

  Ramus finished explaining all the fundamental rules and the how the pieces could be used. After the explanation, I was sure that it was just chess.

  “Now, you must have all the rules cleared. Shall we begin?” Ramus asked and I nodded my agreement.

  The board was set, and from the side, I saw Mordian shift, his fiery golden eyes landing over us from the side.

  I corrected my posture, taking a more firm stance, my eyes fixed on the polished wooden table, the elder of the elves, Ramus, settling in across from me. The board between us, set up and ready, gleamed under the light of the magic artifact set around the study, the pieces meticulously arranged.

  We exchanged nods, silently acknowledging the weight of the game ahead, I felt excited for some reason, Ramus keenly observed me, his chestnut eyes holding a deep wisdom obtained over a long span of time.

  I made the first move, pushing my pawn forward two spaces. Ramus responded with equal precision, matching my pawn move for move. The opening moves were familiar territory: knights and bishops taking their positions, each piece a piece of the puzzle in our grand strategy ahead.

  As the game progressed, I castled kingside, seeking safety for my king, while Ramus mirrored my strategy, positioning his pieces for optimal defence and offense. His moves spoke volumes, each one a subtle declaration of military prowess and tactical insight, against every move I placed, trying to catch him off guard.

  “Your choice is good, to secure your highest power from the start, but don’t believe that this choice can lead you to victory. In war, even the slightest change in a particular individual’s movement can change the flow of the battle—inevitably, the ramifications affecting the war itself.” He said, his hand brushed his medium-sized white beard as a wry smirk played on his lips.

  I silently acknowledged his words, but focused on the game.

  Then the tempo shifted. Ramus’s strider—knight—veered boldly to the edge of the board, a seemingly rogue move—but I saw the danger. He was flanking me.

  “You’re exposed,” Ramus noted, nudging his rook subtly into position. “You baited me forward, but neglected the reinforcements. A general who advances without supply lines dooms his troops.”

  I narrowed my eyes, resisting the urge to immediately respond—he was tempting me to make a bolder move, observing how I worked under pressure. Instead, I moved my bishop diagonally to intercept the knight’s path, covering two vulnerable points. “A general who strikes too early loses the element of surprise. You forget—I let you flank.”

  Ramus chuckled, leaning back slightly. “A feint, then. You’ve read the board well, Jiwoo. But gambits don’t win wars. Only attrition and patience do.”

  “Attrition works until your opponent stops playing your game.”

  I pushed a pawn aggressively down the centre. Ramus raised a brow.

  “Bold,” he murmured. “But reckless. That pawn is now isolated—unsupported. A single foot soldier surrounded by cavalry.”

  I could feel Mordian’s gaze over me, he read my thoughts, knowing what I was planning. He didn’t interrupt me, only observed how I played.

  In the past, I wasn’t quite sure how such strategies worked. But thanks to a certain kind General who took the time to teach me, I’ve become more or less educated in the art of war.

  “That’s true,” I said, tapping the pawn gently. “But sometimes one soldier only needs to hold long enough for the mages to reposition.”

  Ramus stared at me for a second, then smiled faintly. “You speak like someone who’s commanded before—in tight situations. Yet again, you have in the orcen world—I’ve heard grand words of your cognitive prowess that led the orcs to victory.”

  The board continued to evolve. He tried to tighten the pressure, coordinating a double attack with his queen and knight. I answered swiftly, sliding my rook to defend and open a new line. A sacrifice was coming—I could sense it.

  “You’re too reactive,” he said, sliding his bishop into my territory. “You protect, I provoke. Eventually you’ll run out of resources. I’ve seen this play before. It always ends the same.”

  “And yet you still play.” I shot him a smirk, downing dragon’s breath, feeling my face warm from the heat Just as my glass was empty, Ramus poured me another one. He finished his own, and poured himself a drink to.

  He tilted his head, bemused. “Because every war has exceptions. You may be one.”

  I let his bishop linger in my side of the board, then turned the tables with a calculated risk—advancing my knight deep into his formation. He paused. His fingers hovered over a pawn, but he didn’t move.

  “A threat,” he muttered. “That knight. I take it, and your queen has a clear line. I leave it, and it wrecks my internal structure.”

  “I told you,” I said coolly. “Stop playing your game.”

  He snorted. “You’re arrogant.”

  “Only when I’m right.”

  That got a laugh from him. It was dry, but genuine.

  “You remind me of an elven commander I once fought beside during the Siege of Nierdael,” Ramus said, shifting his rook to pressure my bishop. “He was stubborn, reckless, and always two moves ahead when no one expected it. He died horribly.”

  “Let’s hope I’m just stubborn and reckless then,” I replied, deflecting the rook and forcing his bishop into an awkward pin.

  He looked genuinely impressed. “I underestimated your patience. You’re not rushing into trades—you’re building pressure.”

  “You call it pressure. I call it inevitability.”

  “I see,” he remarked. “Then, can I make it that your strategy used in the orcen world was well thought or just luck?” Ramus’s remark was like a blade ready to strike.

  I took a breath, reading the board, as if it was the orcen lands and I was commanding the forces at hand. “You could say luck played a very big role in our victory. But, back then, our only option was to advance with risks, too many risks, but the gambles we made paid off.” I let my words linger, Ramus looked at me curiously, his eyes looked convinced, but there was admiration and respect bubbling up in his gaze.

  Then the game picked up speed. Our hands moved faster now, the rhythm of the battle accelerating. He advanced his central pawn forcefully.

  “You’re too late,” I said, locking it down with my remaining knight and pawn. “That centre belongs to me now.”

  “That centre is a trap,” he warned.

  “Maybe. But it’s my trap.”

  Ramus leaned in closer, a flicker of respect in his eyes. “You’ve got bite, boy. Your tactics are sharp, but your instincts...they might be sharper. It makes me think you have lots of experience fighting wars. Your talent isn’t in battle... it’s in making sure the battle never happens. But, you don’t cower for when it happens.”

  He launched a surprise counter: a sacrifice of his rook for position, opening a path for his queen. I had to respond fast—one wrong move and he’d storm through.

  “You’re not the only one who knows how to bluff,” I murmured.

  With calm precision, I realigned my bishop, skewering his queen and locking down her approach lane. His eyes widened, just slightly.

  “You gave me the wrong bait,” I said. “And I bit just hard enough.”

  Ramus stared at the board, then slowly nodded. “So you’re the kind of strategist who invites disaster just to show it the door...only to have it beg for a second chance to lose.”

  “Only when it forgets to wipe its feet.” I chortled.

  He laughed again, a low, rumbling sound. “Very well, Jiwoo. Let’s see where your courage takes you.”

  Then came the critical moment. Sensing an opportunity to exploit Ramus’s exposed position, I advanced my knight into a threatening formation, hinting at a potential sacrifice. Ramus countered cautiously, moving his bishop to reinforce his defences. Undeterred, I pressed on, forcing him to make difficult choices to protect his king.

  The endgame approached with relentless intensity. Pawns were pushed, pieces traded, and both of us analysed every move for its strategic implications. Ramus’s bishop tried to hold the line, but my queen’s relentless pressure was undeniable. I maneuvered with precision, inching closer to victory with each move.

  Finally, the decisive moment arrived. With my queen and bishop coordinating flawlessly, I maneuvered into position, my heart racing as I executed the final sequence of moves. Checkmate. I leaned back, a mix of relief and triumph washing over me.

  Ramus nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Well played,” he said, acknowledging the depth of our battle. Our rivalry wasn’t just about victory—he was testing me. And perhaps, I had passed.

  Through this game, we shared our strategy and military tactics—and he had seen just how I could meet the expectations he placed on me.

  But indeed, my strategy was reckless from the start. And if Ramus hadn’t taken my bluffs, it wouldn’t have been my victim.

  Because, I took the approach to keep the damage to the minimum on my side, but in the end, Ramus had pushed me to make sacrifices to secure the victory I wanted to.

  But, this was merely a match played with no ramifications for our actions. If this was a real war, then the setting would have been different. Would I have been able to make the choices I did today?

  The sacrifices, the bold moves, the uncertain trails...I thought, but pushed it away in the end. This was just a match, not some real war.

  We packed up the board, discussing the game in detail, dissecting each move and countermove—the choice and feeling we had for playing it. Our conversation veered into military history and the parallels between “imperial quarrel” and ancient warfare.

  “Good game,” Ramus said, his eyes looked satisfied by the outcome. “Your ability to make sacrifices when needed, making bold assumptions to secure a better standing and bluffs to confuse your enemy...these are all standard tactics that all good strategist must possess...but the way you wield them—like second nature, without hesitation—that’s what separates a skilled player from a born one.”

  “Then,” I finally spoke, Mordian who had been silently observing us from the start stared at Ramus. “Should I take this as your agreement to my offer?”

  Ramus turned to Mordian, then at me. His face was serious with determination. “Yes,” a nod. “I believe it would be a good choice to bring the humans into our alliance. The demons are always on our shadows, looking for any moment to strike and claim our land and people. Having another ally we can rely on would be reassuring.”

  I felt assured after hearing Ramus. But, he raised a finger, pointing at me. “But, you must remain the mediator when this alliance is formed. I presume you have yet to inform your kind of such matters, and even before that, they must first learn that races different from them exist outside the plane of their world’s boundary.”

  I had no words to rebut him. He wanted me to be the representative between the races. I knew I had taken a bold step in the orcen world to ease the situation, but when I thought about it, being the representative for an entire race was nerve-racking.

  I sighed, knowing the journey ahead wouldn’t be easy. It never was. “Alright. And, once I go back home, I’ll try my best to have the authorities of my world know about these facts. Because, there are still matters they are unaware of. The sooner they learn of this, the better.”

  On my words, Ramus nodded. Mordian looked at me. He knew this would take a while, but, if time was on my side, I could do it.

  But, currently, the biggest problem I faced was that I couldn’t return home until I finished all the trials, according to the system. I hadn’t tried going home because I had no way.

  But, perhaps, I might be able to find a way with help from the elves’. I had never tried to access a compass home. But, what if I could?

  It was still just a theory in my head, but what if I was able to bypass the compass and reach home. Then, it would be good thing, until then, I needed to play my part well in the elven world.

  I made up my mind. Next Ramus brought up the question of my training and how I expect to take this notion forward.