"You coward...!"

A blonde elf bit her lower lip.

The distance might have been too far for an ordinary person to see, but her eyes, trained in mana control, clearly saw the blade aimed at Rime's neck.

"Now, are you ready to have a rational conversation?"

"Shut up! If only you hadn't killed the branch leader...!"

As she shouted, the human stomped on Rime’s back, forcing the air out of him, leaving him sprawled like a corpse.

"Stop, stop it!"

The elf covered her mouth in horror. Silence fell, and only then did the human nod in satisfaction.

"I’ll be the one asking questions. You just need to answer."

"..."

"Answer."

"...Alright."

The human’s cold, golden eyes swept over her body.

"Name."

"Miridis... Miridis Ip Marx."

As soon as she answered, the human frowned.

"Marx?"

There was only one meaning to that surname. She was of the bloodline of Demerond Ip Marx, the leader of the World Tree Revolutionary Group.

"So, a princess, huh?"

It was hard to tell whether the human's words were mocking or admiring as he rubbed his chin. His hand, which had clearly been pierced by a sword, wasn’t bleeding at all.

"Miridis, why were you pursuing the branch leader?"

"...I had something to ask him."

"Ask? What?"

"That..."

Miridis hesitated for a moment, glancing behind the human. Behind him were two glowing orbs, visible only to her eyes.

'Rion, Rallen. Not yet. Just wait a little longer.'

After whispering silently to the light orbs, Miridis continued speaking.

"...I wanted to ask where the bodies of the elves who died recently in Incheon were taken."

"Ah, that incident... So you were chasing the Cleaners’ Guild? It has nothing to do with the fact that the branch leader worked for the government?"

"Government? He was with the government?"

Miridis asked in return, but the human ignored her question and continued.

"So, why are you looking for the elves’ bodies?"

Miridis inhaled the cold night air. For a brief moment, she thought of the two dead elves.

Gon and Regon, her incredibly reliable brothers.

They had left the forest and followed her to Earth, for her sake—her family.

"...Do I need a reason to reclaim my family’s bodies?"

"..."

"The only reason we pursued the branch leader was for that. So... please step aside. I swear we won’t chase you any further. I don't want to lose more family members."

Even as she spoke, Miridis gathered mana and communicated with the two light orbs.

'Rion, Rallen.'

She poured all her mana and will into preparing the spell. It was a once-in-a-lifetime spell that couldn’t afford any mistakes.

One strike, one single attack to take down that cowardly human and save Rime... Her mind was consumed with that thought.

But the next moment, the human suddenly swung his sword with a sharp motion.

‘Did he notice?’

Before the startled Miridis could even open her mouth, the human thrust his sword down.

"No!"

Thunk.

At the sound of the blade sinking in deeply, she squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t have the courage to face the end of her family.

After a moment, trembling, Miridis slowly opened her eyes. And then...

"Huh...?"

A bewildered sound escaped her lips.

Contrary to her fears, Rime wasn’t dead. The human had only stabbed the ground beside him.

The man brushed off his hands, now free, and looked at the confused Miridis.

"Miridis. First, my condolences. Unfortunately, your family’s bodies are no longer in this world."

"What do you mean...?"

Seeing her shocked expression, the human paused before continuing.

"The Korean government... has been selling the bodies that emerge on this land to necromancers. Your family’s bodies were in the government’s storage as well."

"Necromancers...? No, it can’t be."

Miridis bit her lip at the thought of the worst possibility. Not only had her family’s bodies not returned to their homeland, but they might have been used by necromancers?

However, the man’s next words exceeded her worst fears.

"I burned down that storage."

"...What?"

"The bodies of the two elves likely perished along with the storage. It wasn’t my intention, but I apologize to you."

The human placed his hat over his chest and bowed his head, genuinely appearing regretful. Miridis was stunned, watching his solemn demeanor.

Could it be true? Or was this just a lie to get through this moment?

Before she could finish her thoughts, the human leapt forward and stopped right in front of her. His speed was so great that the mana around her rippled from the impact.

Standing before her without a word, he pulled out a note and a pen from his coat and scribbled something before handing it to her.

"It’s the location of the ruins where the storage used to be. If you still want to go, head to the address on this note."

The note contained a crude map and an address. Though confused by this sudden change in behavior, Miridis took the note without resistance.

"I hope you can at least recover some mementos of your family."

Leaving those words, the human turned and began to walk away. Or, at least, he tried to.

"Wait, please!"

Without realizing it, Miridis grabbed the edge of his coat. Why? What was she thinking? She didn’t understand her own actions, so she remained silent for a moment.

What should I ask... Ah, yes.

"Your, your name! What’s your name?"

The man replied with a deadpan expression.

"Dung Beetle."

"...Dung Beetle?"

Was it an alias? Miridis unconsciously moved her mana to check the translation magic. Everything was in order.

"That’s... quite a unique name."

"I hear that a lot. So, anything else you want to ask?"

"No, no. There's nothing else, but... um..."

The conversation didn’t go any further. Once Miridis let go of his coat, the man gave her a slight nod. It was a brief farewell gesture.

Dung Beetle passed by her, heading toward the bridge. Miridis, staring blankly at his back, finally summoned the two light orbs.

"Rallen, Rion. Carry Rime. First... let’s head to the storage on this note."

 

The 'writer' frowned as he spotted a headline while browsing an online newspaper.

"Shocking!! Extremist Elf Declares Enrollment at Lord Howe! Heated Debate Over 'Elves at the Academy?!' "

When he clicked on the provocative title, an article from a fairly reputable news outlet—rather than a third-rate tabloid—appeared on his smartphone screen.

"Multiple Testimonies from the Dimensional Rift!"
"Ghosts of the Fallen World Tree Cross the Dimensional Boundary!"
"U.S. State Department: 'Neither Confirm Nor Deny,' Stirs Controversy."
"A Signal for a Peace Treaty? Drastic Changes in Elixir Market Prices."
"Some Worry About the Safety of Academy Students."

A quick glance showed that the article had already garnered hundreds of thousands of views, approaching a million.

At this rate, it would become global news within a few days.

‘What the...? How has this already come out?’

The writer rubbed his forehead as the article brought someone to mind.

Miridis Ip Marx.
The Elf Princess... or rather, the Red Comrade.

As with the heroines in this world’s narrative, Miridis was always a divisive character. Her true identity wasn’t revealed until the end of the first arc, after the academy’s entrance ceremony.

A red-leaning elf, hostile to Earth, and a princess-level figure—her enrollment in the academy was a key plot device leading into the third arc. Yet, here it was, exposed before the entrance ceremony even took place.

‘What the hell changed?’

He scrolled through news articles from the past few months, searching for clues, but found nothing that could explain this twist.

He couldn’t figure out where it all went wrong.

‘Should I be grateful her full identity hasn’t been revealed yet?’

Tsk. He clicked his tongue.

Stuck here, the speed and quality of the information he could gather were terrible. All he could do was wait for the entrance ceremony to happen and for the story to move forward—then, maybe he could do something.

‘If only I could strike a deal with the Blue Rats or the Secret Society, I wouldn’t have to worry about this.’

He licked his lips, thinking about the various information guilds in this world. But knowing their identities didn’t help him much when they were out of reach, just like a picture-perfect fruit he couldn’t grasp.

While he was sighing in frustration, someone knocked on his door.

Knock, knock.

‘Who the hell is it at this hour?’

The writer quickly hid his phone under his blanket and got up to open the door.

"Huh? Jeon Yun-seong? What brings you here?"

Standing beyond the door was a boy so incredibly handsome... even more so than the protagonist of his novel.

"I just had some free time."

"At this hour?"

The writer glanced at the clock on his wall. 5:30 a.m. It was still a long while until the 7 a.m. dorm wake-up time.

"I figured you wouldn’t be asleep."

The boy smiled brightly as he spoke. He had a face that would make any woman fall for him, but the writer was neither a woman nor homosexual.

In fact, he kind of hated Yun-seong’s appearance. Being around him made it impossible to form relationships with any female side characters.

However, he hid his true feelings and acted like a friendly classmate.

"Really? Well, I was just bored too, so that works. What do you want to do? Play some games?"

"Let’s spar."

"...Spar?"

"You asked me to teach you martial arts last time, remember? It’s hard to find time during the day, but I can help you out for an hour early in the morning."

The writer fought to keep his face from contorting in frustration.

It was true that he had asked Yun-seong to teach him martial arts. But that was merely a courtesy, an empty remark to keep the conversation going.

However, the boy, who had spent his life enduring the hatred of Koreans, seemed clueless when it came to social niceties. He didn’t seem to understand the concept of "saying things just to be polite."

‘...I’m screwed.’

At this point, saying it was just a throwaway comment wasn’t an option. Yun-seong was, after all, one of his top candidates for the protagonist of this world’s story.

Swallowing his internal sigh, the writer forced a smile.

"Oh, right. I did say that, didn’t I? I didn’t think you’d actually take it seriously, so I forgot."

"What are friends for? This much is no problem."

Internally, the writer screamed in frustration. But what came out of his mouth was entirely different.

"Thanks for thinking of me, Yun-seong."