"But… what if they don’t come back for us? If they lift Elfe’s ‘Curse’, what reason would they have to find us?" Her doubt drifted like a cold fog.

"They won’t," the reply fell like a pebble into still water.

"What do you mean?" The question sparked like flint on dry straw.

"I mean they won’t get the chance to break the ‘Curse’, because the ‘Curse’ has already begun…" Frost crept across the words like ice on glass.

—The ‘Curse’… has started?! The shock cracked like thunder over a clear sky.

"No… don’t say such unlucky things! Ling, even if you don’t like Elfe, you can’t just curse someone to die!" The protest splashed like stones thrown into a quiet pond.

—How did this swing back to me? I didn’t even say anything… Thoughts fluttered like sparrows in a bamboo grove.

And sure, that loli vying with me for Alicia is annoying. Jealousy prickled like tiny thorns.

But she’s still a cute loli; who even picks fights with lolis nowadays? The question drifted like a kite in mild wind.

Branded out of nowhere as the one cursing a loli, Ling scratched the back of her head in weary bafflement, fingers combing like reeds through tangled hair.

"Sis… you got me wrong; I’m not making things up. Elfe’s ‘Curse’ has truly begun. Three reasons…" Her tone stacked steady like stones along a riverbank.

She raised three fingers one by one and waved them before Alicia, pale digits flicking like willow leaves counting the wind.

"First, it’s now Elfe’s seventeenth birthday, and the ‘Curse’ says she dies at seventeen." The date ticked like a blade of ice.

"Second, her mana has turned unstable; it only holds for now, and it could erupt at any moment." Power simmered like a volcano under snow.

"That matches the death pattern in the ‘Curse’." The lines aligned like constellations in a winter sky.

"Third, the last missing condition—‘sleep’—has arrived as well." Drowsiness fell like a heavy veil.

"S-sleep?" The word trembled like a leaf in wind.

"You get one minute! Bring those who can lift the ‘Curse’ here, and fetch our best doctors too, right now!" Her voice cracked like a whip in a storm.

Cradling Elfe’s limp, sleeping body, she barked the order to the guard at her side, arms braced like a shield under a fallen flower.

The guard sensed the emergency, dropped his weapon to shed weight, and sprinted for the doctors without clinging to his post, steel clattering like hail as he bolted like a stag.

She kicked a shut wooden door open with one foot, the wood flying like a leaf in a gale, strode to the central bed like a hunter to a clearing, and laid the small girl down on that pale shore.

As the soft mattress touched her, Elfe winced, her brows knotting, her lips letting out a faint moan, pain rippling like cold water over stone.

Even without feeling it herself, Amelia watched that pain and felt her chest clog, worry swelling like dark rain. It felt as if something unforeseen was about to break, like a storm rolling over the ridge.

"Thud-thud-thud!!" Footsteps drummed like war drums and stormed the room as a dozen elf men in white robes fanned around Elfe like gulls circling a sinking boat.

"Report, Your Majesty! We’re sorry, we—" The words stumbled like pebbles down a slope.

"Don’t apologize to me! Tell me how to ease Elfe’s condition, now!" Her demand lashed like lightning across a dark field.

Amelia’s panic bled through her words like spilled ink, but some answers don’t rise just because you shout, like fish in a drought-struck river.

The elf she addressed rubbed the back of his head, awkward, unsure how to answer, his hand fluttering like a moth at dusk.

"Um… Your Majesty, this whole ‘Curse’ thing—we don’t really know how to alleviate it. Frankly, we only know how to lift it; as for easing it, we’re at a loss." Their knowledge floated like thin reeds in deep water.

"Then lift it already! Why are you standing like statues?!" Her words hit like thrown stones against a wall.

Her orders slid into the unreasonable. They had told her earlier the ‘Curse’-breaking ritual needs three hours of prep. She seemed to have forgotten, time falling like sand she refused to see.

"Um… for the ritual… we still need two—no, one and a half. At least another hour and a half to prepare." Minutes ticked like beads on a string.

"Tsk… what good are you two? You just eat and drink day to day—when it’s urgent, you drag your feet. You’re worse than weevils in a rice jar!" Her anger buzzed like hornets in summer.

Usually gentle and polite, the Queen was cursing now. Whether it’s Elfe’s weight or a mother’s love, Amelia looked like any mom—helpless, anxious as a squall.

Thankfully, the gathered men understood her lapse; though uneasy, they chose to bear her storm like trees bowing in wind.

"How about… trying a perception-dampening spell? It might ease the princess’s pain, help her push through the next ninety minutes." The idea fluttered like a paper crane.

A timid voice slipped out of the crowd, yet that softness jolted everyone awake, like a reed whistle stirring a flock.

"Right! We can try that. Even if it fails, we have other pain-reducing spells; one of them will work." Options spread like lanterns along a path.

"Mm, yes! Better to soften her pain than stand here doing nothing." Resolve froze like ice across a river.

Having decided, they turned to their Queen; Amelia nodded without hesitation, and they began to split tasks, heads moving like sunflowers tracking light.

"Nicholas Manau Stikai Leno Yueyu—you specialize in support magic. You handle the princess’s pain; we’ll keep prepping the ritual!" His mouthful name marched like a centipede.

The elf with the very odd, very punchable name nodded, dashed to the princess’s side like a swallow, and raised his wand over a wounded fawn.

"Eternal Silence!" The word fell like a curtain of ash.

Gray light coiled around Elfe; her clenched teeth slowly loosened, the glow wrapping her like fog over a lake, and it seemed the spell had worked.

Seeing it take effect, the elf lit up, glad to win the room more time, relief warming him like sunrise spilling over snow.

But good things didn’t last; moments later, Elfe’s jaw tightened again—the pain surged back like a tide under a red moon.

"W-what do we do! The spell seems to be failing!" Panic fluttered like trapped sparrows.

"Keep casting! Don’t stop! Cast without pause—even if your mana runs low, keep going!" The order beat like a drum driving a march.

He looked at Elfe’s stricken face, bit down hard, set his resolve, and raised his wand again, will hardening like iron in a forge.