Chapter 386: If: Percy Returns 2

Chapter 386 if: After Percy Returns 2

Eluvier was dreaming.

He sensed the fluctuation of Mana, detected an unusual sweetness, as if something awaited him to rise and taste.

Yet his slumber was too deep and heavy, rendering him momentarily unable to wake—thus unaware that an elf stood outside his door, from the high-hanging moon until the dew dried.

Percy pursed his lips.

Following the instructions of the Percy from another world and the Mother Goddess, he had ground evening primrose into powder, mixed it with an egg mixture, milk, honey, and gelatin, using pure acacia honey. Every step was executed meticulously, yet the Mother Goddess remained unresponsive.

...Where had he gone wrong?

Was he, in this world, the only one despised by the Mother Goddess?

Percy returned to his quarters, staring blankly at the water mirror before swiftly tracing out a line of text.

Elu: "How goes it, Little Fairy King?"

Percy lowered his gaze. "You still refuse to acknowledge me."

Elu: "Hmm—"

After a moment of contemplation: "Perhaps you still need to say some words outside his door. At this point, I might not yet know it's edible."

Before Mr. Succubus introduced many luxuries to the elven race, Elu could be described as ascetic. The elven ascetics were exceptionally skilled in enduring hardship, relying solely on the natural flavors of ingredients in their cooking. Thus, as the ruler of Pine Mountain, Elu only truly began to savor the joys of the world around that time.

The water mirror displayed long passages.

Percy concentrated intently.

Elven history recorded that overlapping words could converge into wondrous effects. Legends from ancient times spoke of Eluvier shaking mountains and reversing tides with mere speech—these solemn, archaic phrases were collectively known as "words of power."

As he imagined what intricate words might rouse the slumbering God, he concentrated, his expression grave as he read and memorized silently.

Then, his face froze.

Ten minutes later, Percy stood upon the branches of the Mother Tree, his expression one of resigned determination.

The Mother Tree was the most sacred site of the elven race—even stepping upon its branches was a grave offense. Yet here Percy was, poised to recite such words in this sacred place.

With not a trace of emotion, he intoned: "Today, we present to you the Evening Primrose Mousse—light and airy, lovingly whipped by the Fairy King himself, whisked over 5,000 times, infused with a unique aeration technique, each airy bubble soft and delicate. Carefully selected evening primrose, ground into powder and folded in, imparts a refreshing sweetness unique to plants, smooth as moonbeams..."

—Indeed, it was the effusive recommendation of another world's Percy after tasting the delicacy.

Within the barrier, Elu faintly heard something.

Though he slept, he was not entirely insensate—only, never before had an elf dared stand in this place and speak to him. Thus, aside from the ceremonial music during festivals, only mountain winds and birdsong had ever accompanied Elu.

He seemed to catch words like "acacia honey," "milk," "evening primrose," and a string of delicious-sounding adjectives, along with an incredibly sweet aroma.

Elu struggled to wake.

By now, less than an hour remained before full daylight. Once the sun rose above the horizon, gilding Pine Mountain in crimson-gold clouds, the elves would awaken and gather beneath the Mother Tree in small groups. To avoid being discovered in the impropriety of climbing the tree to disturb the Mother Goddess at night, Percy had no choice but to leave immediately after finished his strange recitation.

What followed was an exceptionally long day.

The next evening, Percy once more ascended the Mother Tree, guided by the water mirror's instructions.

He leapt through the forest in a few bounds, alighting lightly on a branch, then suddenly paused.

The plate of moonflower mousse was pushed out, now holding only scattered crumbs.

"!"

The Mother Goddess had eaten the cake he made!

Staring blankly at the empty plate, the Elven King pressed his lips tightly together, his eyes inexplicably growing moist in that instant.

This was the first response the Mother Goddess had ever given him.

All these years as the Elven King, Percy had followed the strictest etiquette unfailingly. He wore the most conservative garments, behaved with such propriety that even the most critical elders could find no fault. He practiced the harp through the night, becoming the best harpist among his people. He held ceremony after ceremony beneath the Mother Tree, using music and chants to express the elves' devotion to their Gods.

All the elves agreed he was a dutiful Elven King, yet none of his efforts had ever received even a hint of response.

Except this time. Only this time.

Percy's emotions surged, but he didn’t dare show even a trace before the Gods' resting place. He merely collected the plate with reverence and wandered home in a daze.

That day, the Elven King was completely unable to focus on his duties. He gazed distractedly toward the Mother Tree, lost in thought.

The courtyard trees drooped their branches as the water mirror formed intricate words.

Elu: "My naive little Fairy King, how are things on your end?"

Percy immediately snapped back to attention and stood up respectfully, then bit his lip—even after hearing it many times, he still couldn't get used to this way of addressing him. Yet though this being came from another world, he was still the Mother Goddess, and Percy maintained his devout attitude.

"Thank you. The Mother Goddess has... eaten the cake I made."

The water rippled rapidly.

Elu in the water mirror: "Pfft—"

Percy in the water mirror: "Pfft—"

The deity struggled to swallow a mouthful of nectar. "Must you use such peculiar phrasing?"

'Partaken'! 'Presented'!

The Percy beside the God wiped nectar from his hand and said tactfully, "Percy, for food like cake, we usually say 'eat' rather than 'partake'. As for 'present', you could just say 'made'."

"Understood. As you wish." Percy ignored the other 'crass and impolite' version of himself as usual, obediently keeping his attention on the deity. "Might I ask what else I should do?"

Percy in the water mirror: "."

Elu hesitated slightly, considering his own tastes, then expertly added to the otherworldly menu: "Prepare some lily-of-the-valley ice cream for him. He'll like it—I certainly do, and he probably hasn't had any in this lifetime yet."

As he pondered, Elu grew somewhat melancholy. "Oh heavens, how pitiable 'I' was. Thinking back to when there was nothing, what kind of life was 'I' living then?"

Percy in the water mirror: "."

The real Percy bowed. "As you wish."

Elu prepared to leave, but paused. "Oh, little Fairy King, his condition is somewhat special—hard to explain quickly. But you might try asking why he ignored you before. Perhaps slip a note under the plate with your question written plainly. When he returns the plate tomorrow, he'll give you a satisfactory answer."

Percy blinked. "Thank you for the guidance."

He busied himself making lily-of-the-valley ice cream and memorized what to say about it.

When the main preparation was complete, Percy pulled out the letter paper, dipped the quill in ink, and hovered above the page, hesitating to write.

He burned to know why the Mother Goddess had ignored him.

Had he not done well enough? Had he somehow offended Her? Or, as that certain Lord had said, was She simply in slumber, without any dislike whatsoever for the Elven King?

But when it came to actually asking, Percy didn’t dare.

Though he longed for the truth, though he was deeply hurt, straight talk would sound too accusatory—as if he were blaming the Gods for not responding.

Percy feared that such boldness might make the Mother Goddess angry again.

So after a pause, he merely wrote cautiously:

"Respected Mother Goddess, I came across a recipe for sweets that I found quite delightful, and thus wished to present it to You. I hope You will forgive my disturbance and not think poorly of this simple gift. Additionally, I possess two other recipes—Starlight Fruit Special Blend and Sweetwater Berry Pudding. Would You be interested in trying one of them? —Your devoted child, Percy of the Elves."

He deliberately gave a choice between two options, giving the Mother Goddess a choice instead of a chance to refuse. If She chose to respond and try one of the dishes, it would mean She did not despise the elf who offered them.

It was terribly roundabout, but this was the boldest move Percy could make at the moment.

Taking a deep breath, he put a preservation spell over the ice cream, then carried the tray to the Mother Tree. Carefully, he pushed it to the edge of the barrier and began reciting his prepared introduction:

"Lily-of-the-valley flavored ice cream—fragrant with floral notes, rich in texture, the delicate bitterness of the blossoms perfectly balancing the sweetness of the cream. May... may You enjoy it."

*

Once finished, Percy bolted away.

Within the barrier, Elu was roused once more by the scent of sweets.

Still drowsy, he got up like a sleepwalker from the plush down of his bed, stumbling groggily toward the tray—only to step on his own hair mid-stride. His silvery-white locks tangled beneath his feet, almost making him fall flat on his back.

"......"

The God, almost done in by his own bedroom floor, steadied himself with effort, sighed deeply, and turned his gaze to the new dessert.

It was a tower of ice cream, made of four perfectly round scoops, adorned with fresh lily-of-the-valley leaves.

—When it came to offerings for the Mother Goddess, Percy had an almost obsessive perfectionism. The four scoops aligned into a flawless tetrahedron, topped with pale yellow whipped cream, making it irresistibly appetizing.

Elu was still overwhelmingly sleepy, but his godly senses told him that the dessert would spoil if left uneaten—and this was a treat he had never tried before. Who knows if he'd get another chance if it went bad.

After all, yesterday’s mousse had been absolutely delicious.

So, suppressing his drowsiness, he lazily yawned, carried the dessert to the table, and began eating.

Once finished, just as he was about to return to sleep, Elu’s gaze flickered to the note tucked beneath.

He pulled it out and stared at the words, his mind moving slowly.

...Percy. Ah, a very cute elf.

His soul was fluffy—if you squeezed it, it'd go "squeak"—and had a pleasant texture.

So... what did he want?

Half-asleep, the God’s mind worked at a snail's pace. It took him a long while to parse that an elf named Percy was asking what dessert he’d like tomorrow, thoughtfully providing two suggestions.

Elu: *Stare—*

Both options seemed equally appealing. Unable to decide, he finally took the quill, scratched out one line, then shoved the empty tray and note back outside the barrier.

—As for washing dishes, the Mother Goddess would never do such a thing—that’s the duty of her devotees.

After nearly tripping over his excessively long hair once again, Elu grumbled, "I’ll cut it off sooner or later," before face-planting onto the large bed, pulling the blankets over himself, and was out like a light.

He soon sank into deep slumber.

When night fell and the elves were all asleep, Percy slipped out of his door once more, sneakily perched on a tree branch.

Seeing the empty plate, he breathed a sigh of relief, then quietly reached beneath it and retrieved the letter he had tucked there.

The moment he unfolded it, Percy's hands shook with nerves like never before.

—If the Mother Goddess was willing to communicate with him, if she was willing to leave a written reply!

Worst case: she scolds him to stop sending food. Middle ground: no reply. Best case: she picks a dessert.

Percy thought, "As long as it’s not the worst, any response will do."

Taking a deep breath, he opened the letter.

Elu’s chicken-scratch handwriting greeted his eyes. The Lord of Pine Mountain had never known the meaning of politeness—under the Mother Tree’s protection, all elves were his children. He never sugarcoated things or stood on ceremony, always bluntly stating whatever was on his mind.

Elu wrote honestly, "Percy, I can’t decide. I want both."

Author’s Note:

That night, the Elven King went at those eggs like a madman, and nearby elves could hear the weird whipping noises.