Chapter 387: If: Percy Returns 3

Chapter 387 if: 3 Years After Percy's Return

Percy held his breath.

The Mother Goddess responded. She did not demand he cease his offerings—she even wanted to try both treats!

The Mother Goddess liked his sweets!

Could this mean… she did not dislike him?

His heart leapt with joy, leaving Percy momentarily dizzy. Pressing a hand to his chest, he struggled to maintain his composure as he bowed deeply outside the barrier. "As you wish, I shall prepare both desserts for you tomorrow."

Then, before daybreak, he collected the remaining dishes and returned to his chambers, carefully flattening the Mother Goddess’ reply and tucking it between the pages of a book.

Though, well… the handwriting was sloppy and hurried, quite unlike the dignified image of Eluvier depicted in the sacred texts.

Percy began making the sweets.

His hands trembled so violently that he added the wrong ingredients several times. Only after taking deep breaths did he steady himself enough to continue.

Meanwhile, in the water mirror, another Percy stood beside Elu, who watched the Fairy King—overjoyed by the deity’s brief reply—with amusement. Unable to resist, Elu poked the taller Elven King beside him, leaving a dimple in his soft cheek. "Were you like this back then?"

Elu had heard from Number 66 about Percy’s past suffering, how he had once been so desperate for the Mother Goddess’ attention that he was willing to sacrifice everything. But hearing about it was one thing—back then, Percy had merely been one of many children, not his beloved. Elu had never truly understood.

Now, seeing an identical version of Percy in the water mirror, watching the typically disciplined Elven King flustered by the Mother Goddess’ simple words—so much so that he could barely maintain his usual calm—Elu finally grasped what Percy must have felt, leading rituals that received no response, singing hymns no one listened to.

"..."

Seeing the sorrow flicker in Elu’s eyes, his silver lashes fluttering like snowflakes, Percy quickly reassured him, "It’s alright, Elu. I don’t remember those times anymore."

Of course, that wasn't true. He still remembered the confusion and pain, but they had long since been soothed by the Gods' favor and comfort.

With Elu’s awakening, all elves knew the Elven King was the Mother Goddess’ most cherished child. She permitted the elves to enter the Mother Tree, allowing Percy to remain by his side—an honor no previous Elven King had ever received.

"Fine, I’ll try to be gentler with you," the God of Songshan muttered under his breath. "My poor Percy."

As the God of Songshan, Elu truly adored this overly affectionate nickname.

"..."

The brief wave of emotion faded, and Percy took a deep breath, completely exasperated. "Please, don’t call me that!"

Elu arched a brow, offering no direct reply. Percy sighed, knowing it was hopeless. Eventually, they moved past the topic, both turning their attention back to the Fairy King in the water mirror.

Percy had finished preparing the special juice and was now working on pudding. His nerves had settled, and he no longer made constant mistakes.

Just then, Kemi, the Elven King’s assistant, entered with an armful of documents, only to freeze at the sight of his king carefully piping decorative cream onto a pudding.

"Your Majesty… what are you doing?"

Percy didn’t explain, focused on his delicate piping work. "Something you need?"

Kemi clutched his records. "Just more trivial clan matters. The council is in an uproar, yet here you are, cooking. You wouldn’t believe the things the elders said today."

Percy: "What?"

Kemi rolled his eyes. "Same old complaints. That an elf favored by the Mother Goddess has no right to be Elven King, that never in history has a deity skipped so many full-moon ceremonies, that you should just step down—ha! I asked them who’d take your place if you did. The ones halfway back to the Mother Tree? They had no answer."

"Kemi, you mustn’t call the elders ‘old things,’" Percy chided mildly, still focused on his piping.

"They've always been old relics," Kemi muttered discontentedly, plopping into the wicker chair. "But speaking of which, the Full Moon Ceremony is coming soon. Percy, do you have a plan?"

Unease and resentment had been brewing quietly among the clan. If the Mother Goddess did not appear at this festival, the Elven King might lose his crown.

He might even be resented, exiled, and forced to leave his beloved pine mountains that raised him.

Percy hesitated. "Not yet."

He still couldn't ascertain the Gods' stance, let alone guarantee their appearance during the festival.

Kemi: "...So you're making desserts here? I thought you had a solution."

As he spoke, he glanced at Percy's counter. "Looks good. Can I try one?"

The Elven King was an ascetic, who shunned earthly pleasures. Kemi didn't understand why his superior had suddenly taken up baking, but as the second-in-command, he felt entitled to claim one.

Percy glanced at him, raising both desserts slightly higher, and snapped, "No."

"..."

Kemi left regretfully.

When night fell, Percy laid out the desserts carefully into the barrier, along with a letter he'd agonized over.

Too nervous to be direct with Elu, Percy phrased it subtly: "May I offer you desserts every night?"

The next day, retrieving the empty plates, he unfolded the Gods' reply, a smile creeping across his face.

Elu had written: "Of course."

Thus, guided by the two in the water mirror, Percy tried his hand at all sorts of sweets, sliding them through the barrier. He inquired about the Mother Goddess's preferred flavors and desired varieties. His bookshelf now held many notes bearing her handwriting. On the eve of the Full Moon Ceremony, Percy ventured to ask, "During tomorrow's ceremony, may I request your gaze?"

Elu replied, "Of course."

The festival coincided with Elu's daily cake time, so he could easily rise to enjoy his treat while observing Percy.

Having spent so many years alone atop the Mother Tree, receiving his first heartfelt dessert from an elf warmed Elu's heart.

—His elves were no longer just an ascetic race that turned food into punishment. One of them had even created such delightful sweets.

Elu: "This must be a very adorable elf."

Seeing the Mother Goddess's reply, Percy let out the breath he'd been holding.

From the water mirror, he knew Elu's condition wasn't optimal, so he didn't dare hope she'd descend. Yet he still longed for her gaze.

Suddenly, the water mirror shifted, words materializing in the air.

Elu from another world reminded him, "Later, Kemi will bring ceremonial robes. Don’t choose the middle one—it’s too stuffy and boring. Pick the leftmost one; it will help you gain 'my' attention."

Percy didn’t understand but nodded obediently. "As you wish."

Unbeknownst to him, the older Percy on the other side of the mirror recalled the moment, his mouth quirking.

The elder Elven King remembered that robe—the skimpy outfit left the spine almost entirely exposed, adorned only with interwoven silver chains that did nothing to preserve modesty, instead resembling decoration or restraint. The precarious fabric swayed with movement, giving peeks at his tailbone from certain angles.

The elder Elven King turned to the Gods, face carefully blank. "So... you liked that robe?"

He remembered the Mother Goddess had dropped two leaves to cover the front and back.

Eluvier said matter-of-factly, "Of course, I thought you were well aware of my preferences."

In the many small attempts that followed, Eluvier had more than once made the Elven King wear similar attire.

Regarding this, he was utterly candid: "If you wish to see, I can wear it for you as well."

The Gods didn't see this as something to hold back about.

The Great Elven King's vein pulsed slightly in his forehead as he took a deep breath. "Not necessary for now."

He pressed on, "Then why did you drop leaves to cover up back then? I thought you didn’t like it."

"Hmm?" Eluvier pondered for a moment. "Just like how you clearly anticipated it earlier but told me 'not necessary for now.' And Percy, you do like the way my back curves, don’t you?"

Percy's breath hitched.

Eluvier teased, "Every time you lose focus, your hands wander there, sometimes gripping rather tightly."

His expression was as casual as if remarking, "The weather is lovely today."

Under the serene gaze of the Gods, the Elven King struggled to avert his eyes, the tips of his ears visibly flushing crimson.

Beyond the water mirror, the Elven King Percy fixed his gaze on the leftmost attendant’s offered attire, his temple throbbing violently.

Completely inappropriate!

But—but this is the Mother Goddess’s favorite fashion. One must not question the aesthetic of the Gods, nor their preferences—that would be blasphemy!

Indeed, the Mother Goddess’s tastes define the Elven aesthetic. Percy took a deep breath and reached for the third outfit.

He changed swiftly and made his way to the ceremony, accepting the harp from Kemi.

Under the glow of the full moon, the ceremony commenced as scheduled.

Percy sat at the center of the chanting elves, bowing his head respectfully. With light fingers, he began to play the harp.

Ethereal melodies rose upward, drifting to the edge of Eluvier’s barrier. The God had awoken, annoyedly grabbing his long hair—its ends tangled into knots from both its length and frequent snagging. Without his magic or the patience to comb it, Eluvier could only let it grow increasingly unruly.

Today, Percy had delivered the dessert early—a small cake paired with a drink, now the God’s regular late-night treat. Tonight's drink was birch sap with lime. Holding the crystal glass, Eluvier rose leisurely and approached the sealed window, envisioning the musician’s appearance.

Percy—Eluvier remembered him. Last they met, the Elven King had been a rather soft-spirited soul.

Eluvier mused: Hmm, to invent desserts among an ascetic race and climb the tree daily to deliver them—this must be an adorably naive child.

He recalled the body he had crafted for Percy—theoretically a graceful, elegant beauty. Eluvier had trouble picturing that image with innocence, but he was certain it would be adorable.

As he took a sip, he cast his gaze toward the harpist.

"Spit take—"

Lime juice sprayed across the floor as the God’s face went completely still in shock.