Plop.
A stone hit the water, skipped four times, and sank.
"Four."
Sylphiette crouched down, picked a larger stone, and squeezed it in her palm. Tension ran through her shoulders, her muscles stilled. Her gaze changed.
A swing.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
The stone danced across the surface, and I immediately knew it would go for a while.
"Sixth... Tenth... Fifteenth..."
At the twentieth skip Sylphiette yawned, stood up, and brushed the dirt from her hands.
"Okay, I'm bored."
We were sitting by the lake, far from the village. The wind drove light waves, the water shimmering under the sun.
Next to me was Sylphiette — the elf girl I had defended from those boys. Since that day we sometimes spent time together, though not too often. She was the same age as my new body, but behaved differently from other children.
At least with her, I could talk normally...
"You know, if you lick a frog, you can see the future."
Well... or not talk. Sometimes I had no idea what she was talking about or how her logic worked.
"If that's true, then all great minds probably live off them."
"Really? I never thought about that..."
She walked along the shore, squinting, carefully searching for something in the reeds.
And I just trailed after her. This morning I wandered around the village, listening to the men's stories in the tavern, and suddenly — bam, she caught me and dragged me to the river for a very important task...
"Catching frogs?" I looked at her, trying to figure out if she was joking or not.
"Frogs." Sylphie nodded as if it were the most logical answer in the world.
My shoes had been soaked for a while, every step accompanied by an unpleasant squelch. And we were still crawling along the shore.
"Maybe we should go back already?" I sighed, stepping a little farther from the water just in case.
"No way! We're almost there, just a bit more!"
"What's all this even for?"
I felt like a player who had accidentally picked up a side quest on the way to the final boss.
"To make an amulet."
She didn't even glance at me, fully focused on her search.
I let out a heavy sigh.
"Of course, an amulet... And here I was hoping for something important."
"It is important!"
Judging by her tone, it really was important to her.
"Is it some kind of magic amulet?"
"Exactly! It protects you from trouble."
She nodded with a serious face.
"Uh-huh. And if you wear it, you can probably see a frog-free future?"
She snorted.
"Frogs are the key. Without them, nothing will work."
I already regretted asking.
"Alright, suppose so. But what do their backs have to do with it?"
"Red frogs have a special poison. If you process it right, it changes color perception."
"You want to blind your enemies with an amulet?"
"No," she answered calmly, not stopping her search. "It's a tradition. I want to give it to someone..."
She fell silent.
"...Is it for me?"
"Why would I give an amulet to you?"
"Well, you don't have to..."
The wind ruffled her hair. Waves lazily lapped at the shore.
Somewhere in the distance a frog croaked.
"There!"
Sylphiette instantly hurled a stone into the reeds.
Splash!
Something rustled, followed by an annoyed croak.
She immediately dashed forward, jumped into the water up to her knees, and covered the reeds with her hands.
"Got it!"
I came closer.
"You didn't kill it with the stone, did you?"
"No! I calculated the force perfectly... right?"
Sylphiette carefully pulled the frog from the grass. Bright red, smooth, with tiny black eyes.
I grimaced.
"And this is supposed to protect against trouble?"
She nodded proudly.
"Now we can gut it."
"What?!" I instinctively stepped back. "Why?!"
Sylphiette gave me a puzzled look.
"Well... what did you think?"
"I didn't think anything! I had no idea you were planning to kill it!"
"And what do you think we should do?"
I glanced at the frog. It sat calmly in her palms, not even blinking.
"Well... maybe just take some poison from its back? You said it's needed for the amulet."
"That won't work," Sylphiette shook her head. "For a real amulet you need not just the poison, but the frog's heart. That's the main part. Without it, nothing will work."
She looked at me with mild confusion, as if she couldn't grasp what my issue was.
"Why make such amulets at all?"
"They're elven clan amulets. My father once belonged to an elven clan."
An elven clan.
Lilia had told me about them once. And nothing she'd said was good.
Crazy fanatics who kill anyone who steps onto their land. Isolated, ruthless, unable to tolerate outsiders. She even showed me a few spots on the map where they supposedly lived.
Dense forests. Deep wilderness. Wild lands no sane person would enter. Only those with no regard for their own life go there. Or those with too much free time and not enough common sense.
Now it felt awkward. I hadn't known that Laws had been one of them...
"And why do you need such an amulet?" I looked at Sylphiette again.
"A gift."
"For whom?"
"My mom."
She said it calmly. With a quick motion she pulled a small knife from under her clothes. A chill ran down my spine. Somewhere deep in my brain a warning light blinked.
Her gaze changed again—sharp, focused, almost predatory.
She had been carrying that thing the whole time?
"One. Two."
Her hand moved with insane speed, making precise, almost surgical cuts. I couldn't do anything like that, and I trained with Paul. How could she do this? Was she lying about not training?
A second or two later, the frog was fully dissected.
She looked up at me.
"Why are you just standing there?"
"...What am I even supposed to do?" I glanced at the amphibian remains. "Applaud?"
"I'd like that!" She smiled brightly.
Clap-clap — lazy applause came from me.
"Satisfied?"
"Hee-hee... Now help me and take its heart."
"What do you mean?" I had absolutely lost the thread of what was happening. "I'm not doing that!"
Sylphie frowned.
"Why?"
I looked at her hands, at the neatly opened frog belly, at the tiny still-beating heart.
"Because it's disgusting..."
She shrugged, as if I had just said water was wet.
"So what? You eat meat."
"That doesn't mean I... Ugh! Fine."
Arguing with her was pointless.
Carefully, with two fingers, I picked up the frog's heart. It was small, slippery, unpleasant to touch.
"What kind of crap am I doing..."
Gross.
Sylphie nodded in satisfaction. She pulled out a small wooden bowl, wiped her knife on the grass, and began mixing the ingredients.
"Done," she muttered, examining the contents.
I watched her make this so-called amulet, unable to shake the feeling that everything happening was nonsense.
And then something clicked.
Somewhere deep inside, a strange, subtle wave rose. My eyes felt heavy, and when I blinked, the world wavered slightly, like lake water after a stone hits it.
For a second I thought it was just fatigue. But then…
"Sylph… what's with your hair?"
I froze.
Red. Bright red. As if drenched in blood.
She looked at me in surprise, touched a strand, and understanding flickered in her eyes.
"Ah, the poison has started working."
Casual, steady voice.
"W–what? How?!"
My heart sped up. My head spun. I looked down at my hands and suddenly realized the skin wasn't the same. Too pale, with a bluish tint, like a corpse.
"Were you trying to poison me?!"
"No," she said calmly. "It's not dangerous for humans. It just changes perception."
I blinked, but the colors didn't return. Everything stayed… wrong.
The grass shimmered a thick blue. The river water had turned murky gold. Sylphie stood in front of me, but her skin now had a dark-green sheen, and her eyes glowed like little lights in the night.
I swallowed.
"What the hell…"
"Normal reaction." She tilted her head, studying me closely. "Everyone's different. Some people even lose their sight completely."
"Ah… great. Wonderful." I rubbed my temples. My head buzzed like after a strong hit.
Sylphiette shrugged and kept working on the amulet as if nothing had happened.
"How long will this last?"
"A couple hours. Maybe less."
A couple hours?!
I looked at my hands again, then immediately regretted it — it felt like the bones were showing through my skin.
"Damn… Hey, were you planning to warn me at all?"
"I thought you'd figure it out." She calmly dipped a finger into the mashed herb mixture.
"Why would I?!"
"You said yourself great minds live on frogs."
I opened my mouth but found nothing to say.
Was she serious right now?
"Sit down, I'll be a while. It'll pass with time," Sylphiette said calmly.
I sat on the grass, trying not to look at the amulet or the red paste she was slowly spreading along the carved lines.
My head still spun, but the sensations began to settle. The world gradually stopped being a shimmering mess of colors, shapes returned, and my heartbeat slowed.
I didn't know how long we stayed like that. Ten minutes? An hour?
Sylphie worked in silence, fully focused. She carefully applied the paint along the carved grooves, guiding the brush with precision as if she'd done this many times before.
"How long have you been doing this?" I muttered, flexing my fingers. They still trembled slightly.
"Not long," she replied without looking away from the amulet.
I glanced at her.
"But you didn't live in the clan, right?"
"I didn't."
"Then how do you know how to make it?"
"Father taught me."
My eyes slowly drifted shut.
Drowsiness fell over me suddenly, like a heavy blanket. My head felt light, my thoughts tangled.
I tried to blink, to clear the fog, but my eyelids grew heavier. Everything blurred, sounds dulled, and my body seemed to sink.
The last thing I saw before completely blacking out was Sylphie leaning over the amulet, thoughtfully examining the patterns painted in deep crimson.
***
The colors came back. That was the first thing I noticed.
The trees and grass were green again. Sylphiette's skin had returned to its usual pale shade instead of that red-and-green mosaic burned into my memory. Even her hair looked normal. Everything was back. Almost.
My head still buzzed. A dull pull in my temple, like after sleeping on a crooked pillow. Or after being accidentally fed frog poison. But who keeps track of these little things?
"Don't fall behind," Sylphiette said without turning around.
She walked slightly ahead, steps light, like a cat that couldn't care less whether you follow or not.
"I'm not falling behind," I muttered, speeding up out of habit. "It's just that not everyone's head is built to survive a spontaneous tour through acid hell."
Sylphiette snorted but didn't stop.
"You just need more practice."
"Right. Should've started with half a frog. To warm up."
"Heh-heh…"
Ahead, the wooden curve of a roof appeared, and we turned off the road toward Sylphiette's home. Not long after I woke up, she invited me over, and I decided to accept.
From the outside, it looked ordinary. Trimmed roof. Wide door. A post nearby with a bundle of some herbs tied to it, giving off a sharp scent.
"Come in," Sylphie said without slowing down and pushed the door.
I stepped inside. Stopped at the entrance, instinctively wiping my shoes on the mat. Sylphie had already dashed farther in. Somewhere behind a partition I heard dishes clink, followed by a gentle voice.
"Mama, we're back."
"Oh, Sylphie…"
I saw a short beastwoman. Long, curved ears shaped like a fox's. Big amber eyes. A light smile. A bracelet with a simple fang on her wrist, like a trophy. I'd heard beastfolk had a thing for bones, skulls, and trophies — part of their culture.
She looked at me, and I froze for a second.
"So you're Rudeus?" she said as if we were already acquainted. "Come in, don't be shy. I'm cooking now — hope you don't mind meat?"
I nodded and stepped further in.
Sylphiette was already rummaging through a woven box. When she found what she wanted, she turned around with a triumphant look. In her hands was the amulet wrapped in cloth — the one I'd helped her make.
"Here."
Lia — I recalled the name — took the bundle and loosened the ribbon.
"You made it yourself?"
"Well… with some help." Sylphie glanced my way but quickly looked aside. "Almost all by myself."
"I can tell," Lia nodded. "Good work. The elders of the clan would approve. Even if they don't like you."
"They don't like anyone," Sylphie muttered.
"Exactly," Lia smirked. She turned to me. "And you helped?"
"If handing over the heart counts as helping… then yeah?" I shrugged.
"Then welcome to the circle of trust," she winked. She set the amulet aside and wiped her hands on her apron. "Stay for a while. I was just about to cook meat — a recipe from the Great Forest. The kind they make for festivals. Want to try?"
"Sure."
She nodded and turned to Sylphie:
"Help me with the cutting? There are lots of tendons. Without you I'll be picking at it till evening."
"Alright," Sylphiette replied. And within moments she disappeared through the doorway.
And I was left alone.
Silence.
From the kitchen came the sound of knives and Sylphie muttering something under her breath. I stood by the table, watching dust motes spin in a beam of sunlight slipping through the shutters. I felt a yawn coming on.
And then — a voice. Right next to my ear.
"Hello, Rudeus."
I jolted, my whole body twitching. I turned — and nearly smacked into a ribcage.
Laws.
Silent as always. Where did he even come from?
He looked down at me. Calm. Bare torso, broad shoulders, skin marked with scars and lines like a map of something dangerous. His hair was tied back, tattoos running down his chest and shoulders. Was Sylphiette's father some kind of yakuza? Terrifying.
He smirked.
"Don't be afraid. I don't bite."
"You just sneak up quietly enough to knock someone out from shock," I muttered, taking half a step back.
"Habit," he shrugged.
He walked past me, took an apple from a basket, and bit into it.
"You haven't visited before."
"First time," I nodded.
He sat on the bench, resting an arm along the back, stretching slightly. Scars ran under his ribs — deep ones, like someone hadn't managed to finish him off the first time.
"You like your meat bloody or cooked through?"
"Uh… cooked?"
"Mm. You're like everyone else."
I sat on the edge of the bench, watching him from the corner of my eye. We sat there in silence, broken only by the crunch of his apple.
My gaze slid across his shoulders.
Tattoos. He noticed. And smiled.
"Tell me, have you heard about us?" he asked, leaning back.
I opened my mouth but hesitated.
How was I supposed to say yes when everything I'd heard was about severed heads, hunting outsiders, clans that boil their enemies alive. About elves wiping out villages, living in forests like savages, burning anything that comes near. About worshipping strange spirits, and how if you crossed a border they'd peel off your skin and then sing about it.
I exhaled. And said the only thing that wasn't a lie:
"I've… heard some things."
Laws nodded and took another bite.
"Everything you've heard about us…"
Rumors.
Just rumors. If I thought about it logically, they were probably decent people. Maybe a bit strange, but that was how unfamiliar cultures worked, right?
In my previous world, elves were almost always the same: long ears, long speeches, living in forests, bothering no one. Noble, wise, with ancient knowledge and magical artifacts. A little snobbish, sure, but graceful in battle.
I had almost convinced myself it was all exaggeration. But…
"…it's all true," Laws said.
"Oh…" I shrank in place.
I blinked, waiting for a smile. A correction. A joke. Some sign he was messing with me and would take it back.
"Ha-ha, Rudeus, you fell for it."
But Laws just finished the apple and chewed calmly. Nothing in the room changed, but something inside me twisted. When he was done, he slowly turned his head toward me, as if only now deciding to finish the thought.
"Ah? Don't worry," he said with a grin. "Though a lot of it is true, plenty is exaggerated."
I exhaled so sharply it felt embarrassing, trying to keep my face neutral even though everything inside grumbled. If this was his idea of reassurance, I would've preferred he stayed silent. Or just ate his apple and pretended I didn't exist.
Laws smirked again.
"For example," he said, raising a finger as if choosing from a list, "we don't boil outsiders alive. Takes too long, uses too much firewood. And the taste gets worse. And those screams…"
He shook his head, remembering something.
My eye twitched.
He was definitely doing this on purpose. No one said things like that in that tone unless they wanted to scare someone for their own amusement. What a weirdo.
He added:
"See? People like to make up scarier stories. Makes them more fun to tell. Ha-ha-ha!"
Laws suddenly burst into loud laughter. I actually jumped, staring at him in confusion.
"Haaa…"
The laughter stopped just as suddenly. He squinted at me.
"But another part…" he said darkly, "is actually an understatement. So children won't get scared."
He leaned forward, his gaze sliding over my skin.
"You know, yours is so… soft. You can really see how it would tear if you pulled it sideways."
Everything inside me tightened.
"Ha-ha-ha!"
Laws paused. Then burst out laughing again. Then fell silent.
"Joke."
"Are you insane?"
Laws tilted his head, examining me from another angle.
"Insane? Possibly."
"…"
"Ha-ha-ha!"
He blinked a few times, then laughed again. The laughter stopped. He pulled another apple from the basket and lifted it questioningly.
"Want one?"
"Uh… no, thanks."
"As you wish," he said and took a bite himself.
If this was him "joking," I didn't want to know what he was like when serious.
He turned to me again. I braced myself for another stunt, another strange comment that would make me consider escaping through the window. But instead, he said something unexpected.
"Thank you, Rudeus. For being friends with my daughter."
I didn't get a chance to respond.
The door opened, and Lia entered carrying a tray. She smelled of roasted meat, sharp herbs, and oven heat. A faint smile rested on her face.
"Food," she said. "Hope you eat spicy, Rudy. Today's a dish from our tribe…"
Lia set the tray on the table and covered the dish with a cloth. She sat beside us, looked at me with narrowed eyes.
"What's the mood here?" She glanced at Laws, then back at me. "My husband bothering you?"
I straightened a little.
"No-no, nothing like that," I blurted out quickly. "We were just… talking?"
"Hm…" She nodded, though not like she fully believed it. "Well, if anything, you tell me. He can be intimidating, but sometimes he goes overboard."
Laws snorted without lifting his gaze.
"I didn't even say anything."
"Exactly," Lia smirked. "Without me, no one would take you seriously anymore…"
He shrugged.
Lia lifted the cloth. A dense aroma hit my nose — smoky, sharp, stinging enough to make my eyes water.
"Alright… Try it. Don't be shy. But I'm warning you! The meat is spicier than it looks. Tribal recipe. Our elder mentor passed it down before she died. If it burns your tongue — that means it's perfect."
"And if I die?"
"Then it wasn't your destiny," Lia said with a laugh and pushed the plate toward me.
I glanced at her, then at Laws. He was silent again, staring off to the side as if nothing had happened.
The door creaked. Sylphie returned. She set down a bowl, sat across from me, wiped her hands on her hem, and looked straight at me.
"If you start mumbling nonsense after eating, don't worry. It's not poison," Sylphie said, pulling her own bowl closer. "It's just… well, no one's checked how it affects humans."
I stared at her.
"Huh? What?"
"You won't feel it. It's just hard to talk in the morning. The words don't fit… I tried!"
"Is that a joke?"
"I don't know? No one laughed then…"
I froze with the spoon halfway to my mouth. My heart skipped. My stomach felt hollow. Should I even eat this? Maybe I could still leave before it's too late?
"Wait. This won't be like… last time, right?" I slowly set the spoon back. "You know, with the frog…"
Sylphie shrugged.
"It shouldn't."
"'Shouldn't' isn't 'no.'"
"Sylphie," Lia said calmly.
"I'm just joking," Sylphie muttered. Then she looked at me with the same expression people get when they think, 'let's test it.' "Let's do it this way… if you feel sick, I'll know the recipe works on humans too! And then… then… I can tell Mom everything worked exactly like she said, and we'll figure out how much you need so you don't lose consciousness too early!"
She said it proudly, smiling without even a hint of concern.
"And… maybe next time we'll choose milder spices. So your tongue doesn't burn off too fast."
I stared at her.
Apparently, she really didn't understand why that wasn't comforting. To her, this was just a normal dinner, not a potential experiment in knocking me out. I guess normal people would politely smile and eat in silence.
I sighed and pulled the plate a little closer.