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A massive tree stood at the center of the elven residential district. Next to it was a three-story building, standing alone while other buildings were clustered together. This isolated structure served as both the Elder’s residence and a meeting space for elves. Its symbolic importance made it off-limits even to other elves.

It was unprecedented for human tourists to visit such a revered building, yet no one could show excitement or curiosity.

I hope this goes well.

I stared glumly at the stairs while sitting on the sofa. While the rest of our group remained dazed on the first floor, the Mage Duchess had gone up to the third floor with the Elder.

After meeting the Elder on the street and learning that the Mage Duchess was her granddaughter, she led us to her home. Though we hadn’t yet spoken about her daughter, the Elder, with over 600 years of life experience, seemed to have guessed the situation from her granddaughter’s solo arrival and Clarisse’s gloomy expression.

Of course, her face showed a mother’s desperate hope that her fears weren’t true.

“Will she be alright?”

Louise, who had been fidgeting with her empty teacup and looking anxious, finally spoke. Her trembling eyes and tense face revealed how mentally strained she was.

“She’ll be fine. Don’t worry too much.”

I understood her feelings, so I gave her a reassuring answer. To Louise, the Mage Duchess wasn’t just a fellow prospective wife, but more importantly, a precious mentor who taught her magic. She was the benefactor who showed Louise the path of magic when she was young and devastated by the loss of her sister.

Now, this benefactor and dear teacher had to inform her grandmother about her mother’s death, and to a grandmother who might hate her. As a disciple, it would be a lie to say she wasn’t worried.

“That’s right. It’s the Mage Duchess we’re talking about. She’ll definitely be fine.”

Irina, sitting next to Louise, held her hand and offered comfort. She added that she was a duchess of the empire and someone who had reached the pinnacle of magic, so she’d be able to overcome any obstacle.

Marghetta also nodded, supporting Irina’s words. Only then did Louise show a somewhat relieved expression. Or perhaps she was just pretending to be okay for the sake of others’ comfort.

I really hope nothing goes wrong.

To be honest, I felt anxious, too. The Mage Duchess was invincible in human society, but right now, she was just someone’s granddaughter.

So all we could do was to pray that things went well.

***The innermost room on the third floor seemed to be a room that my grandmother used as an office. It was also where I found myself in a private audience with her.

I had fortunately been recognized as a guest, so I should speak quickly. I needed to convey the news about Mother and hear how she thought of me. However, I couldn’t bring myself to open my mouth.

I had seen my grandmother’s expression on the way to this room. A face rigid with despair yet tinged with desperate hope, reason whispering of a terrible disaster while the heart refuses to accept it – I had witnessed that contradiction.

Mother.

I thought of Mother while fidgeting with the untouched teacup. I felt a bit resentful towards her.

Why didn’t she tell me anything about her maternal family? Why did she fight with grandmother and cut ties? Wasn’t there, even a little, a better way?

“So you’re my granddaughter?”

Amid these thoughts, my grandmother spoke first.

“Yes, my name is Beatrix.”

I answered politely, bowing my head, but silence fell again. Of course, that was only natural. Having confirmed that I was her granddaughter, she should ask about her daughter who wasn’t here, but the answer that would come was all too obvious.

So how could she dare to speak? If she asked, only to have her fears of her daughter’s death confirmed, so how could she bear it?

“Where is Ariadne?”

Yet my grandmother voiced that terrible question. Whether out of a sense of duty as a mother to accept her daughter’s death, or clinging to hope that her daughter might have a reason for not coming – either way, it was a question that required considerable courage.

Sadly, I had to repay that courage with despair.

“She returned to Enen’s embrace 101 years ago.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as soon as I said those words. I couldn’t bear to see my grandmother’s expression upon hearing my answer, nor did I have the courage to face her potential resentment.

The silence that followed was again broken by my grandmother.

“I see.”

A calm, or rather, a feigned calm, short response came. However, the moisture and emotion mixed in that response were far from calm.

“She ran away from her mother’s arms, only to leave forever.”

The words that followed couldn’t even contain her emotions. With each word my grandmother spoke, the longer she talked, the more emotions contained within exploded out.

“She drove a nail into my heart when she left, and now, not only has she not removed it, but she’s driven in something even worse...”

It was heavy. Each word from my grandmother felt like it was weighing down on my shoulders. I couldn’t raise my head like her, so I kept it bowed.

Of course, Mother’s passing was a sad misfortune. I too was a victim who lost Mother, and this misfortune was not my fault. My grandmother and I were comrades who lost the same family member, not in a relationship of perpetrator and victim.

But why? Strangely, I felt like I had become the guilty one. For me, a granddaughter she’d never met before, to deliver news of her daughter’s death to someone who hadn’t seen her daughter for 150 years, and whose last conversation with her was an argument. This itself felt like too great a sin.

“...I hate humans.”

And with those words, my body froze.

My grandmother couldn’t help but harbor resentment towards humans; Meanwhile, Mother left for the human world despite my grandmother’s objections; and I, whose human blood flowed through my veins.

“My husband met his end during the Apels era. Not just my husband, but most elves departed on that long journey then.”

I bit my lip gently. I knew from history that other races suffered countless losses during the Apels Empire period. I’d heard before coming here that my grandmother had also been a victim, but I hadn’t realized that loss included the death of my grandfather.

“Even the World Tree, given to us by our god, burned. Our spirit friends never showed themselves again, and the fairies fell, weeping.”

I knew this too. The World Tree that elves cherished like life itself, the spirits and fairies who were the elves’ friends. All of it crumbled at Apels’ hands.

“Of course, I know the current empire is different from Apels... but a moment of good fortune doesn’t erase all the past misfortunes.”

“...Yes, that’s right.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

A voice with a faint trace of a smile. But my grandmother’s words were absolutely not something to smile about or brush off casually.

Although they benefited from Kefellofen, the period of suffering under Apels was too long to forget the pain inflicted by humans just because of that. So while she might not resent Kefellofen, she had no desire to associate with humans again.

“That’s why I tried to stop Ariadne from going to the human world. Not all humans are demons, but there’s no guarantee she’d only meet kind ones. I didn’t want her to harbor the same hatred I do.”

And that resolve led to concern for her child. Having lost her husband to humans, she worried her daughter might also fall victim to them, or that her daughter might come to hate and fear humans as a race. These worries were enough for my grandmother to try to stop Mother.

But she failed. With final, harsh words that declared she’d treat her as a stranger if she didn’t listen, the two parted ways.

“In the end, it came to this...”

The maternal love that hoped her daughter wouldn’t get hurt went unrewarded.

What should I do in this situation? Should I comfort my grandmother as her granddaughter? Or should I bow my head as a sinner with human blood flowing through me?

I don’t know. No matter how much I think about it, I don’t know. If only my grandmother had blamed me, perhaps I would have felt more at ease—

“Child.”

My foolish thoughts crumbled as soon as my grandmother spoke. Now that I faced the possibility of actually being blamed, fear outweighed any sense of ease.

“Can you tell me how Ariadne lived? What you remember is enough.”

A gentle smile, a voice on the verge of tears. I could only nod quietly at that pitiful contradiction.

Grandmother’s request was her natural right as a mother, after all.

***I told her everything I remembered. What clothes Mother liked to wear, what food she enjoyed, what weather made her happy, and what hobbies she pursued.

How she was kind to the family’s servants, loved her husband, was affectionate to her daughter, and respected her mother-in-law.

That although her race was different, it didn’t become a barrier. That she was a beloved figure to the ducal family and duchy.

“...I see.”

Each time, my grandmother nodded with a faint smile, as if trying not to interrupt my recollection of memories with Mother.

“It seems she lived well, forgetting this unworthy mother. That’s a relief...”

But those words made my mind go blank. This shouldn’t be the conclusion. What my grandmother needed to know were the happy memories of Mother, not a life lived without her. She shouldn’t think of herself as a mother erased from her daughter’s memory.

If so, then truly, truly, the last memory between Mother and grandmother would be their argument with harsh words exchanged.

“That’s not true.”

So, I dared to speak my mind.

“Mother wouldn’t have forgotten you, Grandmother.”

Grandmother threatened to consider her a stranger if she left the sanctuary area. Mother didn’t take that threat at face value and cut ties.

“When Mother disliked something, she showed it clearly. If she had complaints, she’d hold me, still young then, and list her grievances.”

Honestly, it wasn’t a particularly good memory. She’d grumble about politics and social affairs that a young child couldn’t understand. Those times were truly difficult.

“So if she disliked you, Grandmother, she would have voiced all sorts of complaints to me. I think Mother didn’t say anything because she felt guilty and missed you.”

Hearing this, Grandmother’s eyes widened for a moment, then she smiled again.

“What a mess of an argument.”

“Pardon?”

“If she had forgotten me, she wouldn’t have even thought to dislike me, so of course she wouldn’t have said anything.”

...

Was that... the case?

“Come here.”

Grandmother beckoned to me just as I was about to lower my head in embarrassment and self-loathing at failing to persuade her.

“You said your name was Beatrix?”

“Yes, yes...”

At that, Grandmother’s smile deepened.

“It was about 300 years ago. When Ariadne was still young, I used to sit her on my knee and read her fairy tales.”

Saying this, my grandmother took my shoulders as I approached and sat me on her knee.

“It was a fairy tale written around the time Kefellofen drove out Apels, about the friendship between elves and humans. I didn’t particularly like it... but Ariadne was especially fond of that story, so what could I do? I had to read it.”

My grandmother chuckled softly, saying the signs were there from the start, but I couldn’t laugh at all.

It was embarrassing to sit on someone else’s knee at my age. This would be embarrassing even for a child, let alone on my grandmother’s knee.

“I couldn’t understand why she liked it. It was hastily made, the content was a mess, not very interesting, and the plausibility wasn’t great either. So it’s a fairy tale long forgotten now.”

Thanks to my grandmother now stroking my head as she spoke, I couldn’t bring myself to move.

“But it became a fairy tale that remained forever in Ariadne’s heart.”

The hand stroking my head stopped, and I felt two frail arms embracing me.

“...Unlike me, like in the fairy tale, she learned love from humans...”

The arms trembled faintly. No, not just the arms, but her entire body embracing me shook.

I also carefully extended my arms to hug my grandmother. At this moment, such an action would be better than any words.

“Like that fairy tale... she left behind a treasure...”

And then, Grandmother fell silent again.

But strangely, the silence didn’t feel awkward now.