Although Alvenheim made a grand announcement about preparing a gift for me, I already had an inkling of what it might be.

Considering the hints dropped by Arwen’s reactions and Alvenheim’s so-called elven communism, it would be strange not to know. Besides, she had already confessed her feelings for me, so it was impossible to miss.

Alvenheim intended to present their queen, Arwen, as a gift to me. They wouldn’t lose to the demons, so they planned to offer their queen as a token.

Some might question the logic—offering a queen, a ruler of a great nation, as a gift seemed excessive, if not outright dehumanizing. How could a person be treated as a present?

But that’s just how the times were. Political marriages were a customary diplomatic tool, and Alvenheim was no exception. Even a queen like Arwen wasn’t immune to being a target of such arrangements.

For Arwen, aligning with me would serve as both a personal and political shield. It was the perfect arrangement for her—she could secure her happiness while also strengthening Alvenheim’s diplomatic position.

"Still, they wouldn’t just give the gift outright."

A day is long. Arwen wouldn’t simply hand over the gift without some buildup; she would surely follow a process before revealing it.

Most likely, we would spend the day together, perhaps on a date, and she would reveal the gift’s nature in the evening.

Of course, this was all speculation on my part. To confirm my theory, I’d have to head to Alvenheim myself.

Even though the world outside my blanket was dangerous, I’d have to step out to receive this gift. Alvenheim was well aware of the risks, so they’d likely send the most elite of their forces for my escort.

So far, everything seemed predictable—until Alvenheim presented an entirely unexpected condition.

"Honestly, if they want exclusivity, they should just say so outright. Why bother with all these excuses? Don’t you agree, Sister Adelia?"

"I agree."

I couldn’t help but give a wry smile as I listened to Mary and Adelia’s conversation. At the moment, Adelia was helping me dress, while Mary was voicing her complaints.

Their grumbling was directed at the condition Alvenheim had set for the visit.

The gift, which was "exclusively for Zenon"—in other words, me—had to be received alone. No one else was permitted to accompany me.

It was a formal declaration at the national level, and yet it demanded my solitary attendance.

To outsiders, it might seem reasonable. After all, it was a gift for an individual. But those around me immediately saw through Arwen’s intentions.

She wanted to monopolize me during the gift exchange. That was the true meaning behind the condition.

"It’s a good thing she agreed to let you go for a few days. Otherwise, all the goodwill she’s built up would’ve gone out the window."

"You’ve met Arwen before?"

I gave Mary a puzzled look. I knew that Cecily and Arwen occasionally exchanged light correspondence, but this was the first I’d heard of Mary being involved.

Mary flinched slightly before shrugging nonchalantly and answering with a playful tone.

"We met at the mansion once, remember? She gave me a communication crystal, saying we should stay in touch. But we don’t talk often unless it’s something urgent."

"Urgent?"

"Well..."

When I pressed her with another question, Mary turned her bright blue eyes toward me, an unreadable expression on her face. Then, with a sly smile, she pinched my cheek lightly and said cheerfully:

"I can’t tell you right now. You’ll have to ask Queen Arwen directly later. Just don’t be too obvious about it—time it well."

"What timing?"

"Just ask her when the topic of your first night comes up. You’ll figure it out."

"..."

She was so blunt that I was left speechless. Was this really the same Mary who used to get jealous whenever I was involved with another woman?

As if reading my thoughts, Mary smiled mischievously.

"I told you before—your capacity is too big for just one person. Instead of letting others drag you down, it’s better for everyone to embrace you together."

"..."

"But!" she added firmly, her tone playful yet resolute. "As I’ve said many times, I’m your number one. Never forget that. Even now, I’m just ‘lending’ you to Queen Arwen for a little while. Got it?"

Her words were so quintessentially Mary that I couldn’t help but chuckle. As my reputation grew, so did Mary’s understanding and consideration.

How could anyone not love a woman like her? She was as captivating as any other woman I’d met, if not more.

Smooch.

I gently cupped her cheek and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. It was a simple act, but it was enough to reaffirm our affection for each other.

When I pulled back, her cheeks were adorably flushed. The flames of our love burned as brightly as ever.

"Take care. And don’t overdo it with Queen Arwen."

"If someone hears that, they might misunderstand."

"Who cares? It’s not like the people who know us would be surprised. Oh, and don’t forget to kiss Sister Adelia before you go."

"I-I’m fine!" Adelia stammered, her face turning bright red as she waved her hands in denial. Her reaction was so cute that I couldn’t resist.

Before leaving, I gave her a light peck on the cheek, which only deepened her blush. Then I checked my outfit.

I was wearing a crimson ceremonial robe adorned with golden embroidery. While simpler than what most nobles wore, it still looked striking. I particularly liked the intricate golden cross stitched into the fabric.

Originally, I’d planned to wear a plain robe, but Mary had vehemently opposed it, insisting on something more fitting. In the end, I had to agree—and I didn’t regret it.

"All right, time to go. Alvenheim’s sending their best, so there’s no need to worry about demonic worshippers."

"Got it. Stay safe until I return."

"Don’t worry. I’ll be spending time with Sister Adelia, and I plan to get closer to Kate too."

Even though I was about to go on a date—possibly leading to a first night—with another woman, Mary remained unfazed. Her calm and supportive attitude was as endearing as ever.

I smiled softly at her, then said my goodbyes. My father had already left for the mansion to take care of some matters, and Kate was at the temple for her duties, so only Mary and Adelia were there to see me off.

"See you later."

"Take care—oh, wait! I almost forgot. Here."

Just as I was about to leave, Mary handed me a small bottle filled with white pills. It didn’t take me long to recognize what they were.

Birth control pills.

I stared at the bottle in disbelief before looking back at her. Mary, as usual, was smiling brightly.

"You never know. I can’t let another woman have your child before I do."

"…You do know elves rarely get pregnant, right?"

"I know, but better safe than sorry. Besides, if you spend the night with her, you won’t be leaving her room anytime soon. So take them. If you don’t, and Queen Arwen ends up pregnant, be ready to face the consequences."

"Fine, fine."

As always, Mary was nothing if not thorough. Truthfully, I had completely forgotten about this, but I wasn’t about to admit it.

"You forgot, didn’t you?"

"No?"

"You’re a terrible liar, but I love that about you. Nom!"

"Ow!"

When will she stop biting my face? Rubbing the faint teeth marks on my cheek, I left with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

***

While Isaac Prepared for His Journey to Alvenheim, Arwen Was the Busiest of All.

The fact that Arwen had chosen herself as the "gift" for Zenon, or rather Isaac, didn’t bother her in the slightest.

Not only would it elevate her political standing, but it was also heavily motivated by her personal desires.

To be honest, her personal feelings played the biggest role. The political implications weren’t something she cared much about, nor had she even considered them.

After all, this was what the people of Alvenheim strongly desired. What leader could refuse such a fervent wish from their citizens?

Although Arwen had delayed the announcement out of embarrassment, at least it was finally made public, so that was enough.

"Your Majesty, before you leave, you must prepare your body with the water from the World Tree's spring."
"And don't forget the perfume..."
"You are the symbol of Alvenheim, Your Majesty."
"You mustn't leave looking anything less than perfect. Please, this way."

Before even spending a single night, Arwen was already on the verge of collapsing. She had been so preoccupied with her royal duties that she had forgotten the traditionalist nature of elven customs.

Elves placed immense importance on tradition, and even a queen couldn’t escape such practices.

Especially now, when she had to "package" herself properly as a gift for Isaac. Though the old fogies like the Council and Firren were mostly gone, the remnants of their stodgy traditions lingered.

These weren’t outdated bad habits but deeply rooted customs passed down through generations. For someone like Arwen, a half-elf, enduring them was no small feat.

"No wonder the birth rate is so low..."

It was during this preparation that she began to understand why elves had such low birth rates.

Both men and women had to go through this elaborate process every time they engaged in "nightly activities." No wonder they lacked the stamina for it.

Fortunately, as queen, Arwen had attendants to help her. Regular citizens, however, had to manage it on their own, which undoubtedly took a lot of time.

For the sake of Alvenheim’s prosperity, perhaps these customs needed a slight revision. With an exasperated sigh, Arwen added yet another task to her mental to-do list.

"At least it’s good that I got it done in advance."

Arwen examined her reflection in the mirror, taking in her beautifully adorned appearance. At a glance, she didn’t look much different, but her current polished look stood out compared to her usual unadorned self.

Normally, makeup on someone with such a youthful appearance could be hit-or-miss, but today she radiated a blend of maturity and charm.

When she smiled brightly, she exuded a youthful freshness, and when she smiled softly, she displayed a maidenly elegance.

To top it all off, her subtle perfume, made from the dew of the World Tree, filled the air with a calming fragrance.

Her attire was the final touch. The "true gift" for Isaac had been prepared for later that evening, so for now, she wore a simple white dress.

However, her attendants had clearly understood Arwen’s strengths, as the design was anything but ordinary.

One side of the dress was modestly covered, while the other boldly exposed her shapely hip and smooth, white thigh.

There was no garter belt—only her bare, flawless skin on display.

Despite her small stature, her proportions rivaled Cecily’s, giving her a unique allure.

"I-It’s embarrassing, but... it’s for Isaac..."

Even though Arwen often wore side-slit outfits, today’s attire felt different—likely because it was meant specifically for Isaac.

Blushing, she gazed at herself in the mirror before spinning on her heels and walking toward the bed. Her new shoes clicked against the floor with a rhythmic tok-tok-tok.

On the bed lay the real "gift" she had prepared for Isaac, neatly arranged and waiting.

After a brief glance at it, Arwen looked around nervously before clearing her throat.

Then she practiced, her voice trembling slightly.
"M-My dearest... Please, l-lift this blanket... and you shall find the true gift..."

Thud.

Before she could finish, Arwen dropped to her knees, her hands pounding the bed in frustration.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Her face flushed bright red, and her elongated ears twitched uncontrollably.

No matter how many times she rehearsed, the words refused to leave her lips.

"How does she manage it?"

Her thoughts turned to Cecily, who had taught her this line. Cecily had even described herself as a "dessert" in front of Isaac.

The audacity to say something so brazen in his presence—Arwen couldn’t help but admire Cecily’s boldness.

As she continued to punch the bed in embarrassment, a knock came at the door.

"Your Majesty, Zenon has arrived..."
"I’ll be there shortly!"

Meeting Isaac took priority over her flustered rehearsals. She could deal with the rest later.

Arwen shot to her feet, her face still flushed. She quickly stowed the gift on the bed into a box, avoiding what could have been a major disaster.

"Where is he now? I’ll go meet him myself."
"Currently, Sir Isaac is..."

Thus began Alvenheim’s grand gesture of hospitality. The true spectacle was just getting started.