Sunlight streamed through gilded wood windows carved with intricate patterns, spilling into the opulent tea-scented chamber and making the tabletop gleam.

Gilded wood and golden-grain wood—both dense, magic-rich timbers—never rotted or attracted insects. Like their homeland’s inhabitants—the Elves—they endured for millennia. Thus, they earned the name "gilded wood." Only the long-lived, elegant Elves could carve such breathtakingly intricate patterns into it.

Before a desk worth more than his entire existence, a black-haired human youth stood. His lowered gaze, clenched fists, and grave expression betrayed his turmoil.

"Could you... repeat that?" His voice was slightly hoarse, laced with quiet struggle.

"Not clear enough? Fine. Dilin, you’re expelled from Coleman Academy." The man behind the desk crossed his arms, bored, as if pronouncing a death sentence.

"Why?" Dilin finally lifted his head. His gray-veiled eyes held no confusion—he knew exactly why. He just wanted to die with clarity.

"Why? I stated it plainly. As a Divine Child, your talent falls short."

"And?"

"Your teammates abandoning you proves it."

"That’s not what I asked, Mr. Frand." Dilin shook his head. "Which academy rule did I break? Where does it say ‘insufficient talent’ justifies expulsion?"

"There isn’t one. But it’s inevitable." Frand ignored Dilin’s glare, indifferent.

"Inevitable? ..."

"Dilin, the Crown Cup tournament is in a month. The bottom ten teams get expelled—you know this." Frand’s patience frayed. Why waste breath on a talentless human mongrel? *Just pack your trash and vanish.*

"That’s a month away. And you’re certain I’ll rank in the bottom ten?"

"Certain. You won’t find new teammates. You’ll compete alone." Frand smirked. "A team with one useless, crippled Divine Child? You’ve reserved last place already."

Dilin stared silently at the handsome man in emerald suit and red tie—polished, poised. His slightly pointed ears betrayed his heritage: an Elf. Longevity, beauty, nobility, grace, ancient wisdom, divine favor... and arrogance. Frand stroked his beard. Pureblood Elves had none. He was merely a half-breed.

"Dilin, being worthless isn’t the crime. Delusions are." Frand’s eyes turned icy, mocking. *A gutter human daring to court the Moon Elf Princess? Spit on you. Coleman Academy bows to the Moon Elf Elders—not trash like you.*

"My teammates left because you schemed behind the scenes." Dilin met his gaze, calm.

"Careful what you accuse, boy. Got proof?" Frand smiled elegantly, as if Dilin were throwing a tantrum.

"They chose better options. Why stay with a liability like you? Nothing to do with me." He chuckled. "Coleman Academy overflows with gifted Divine Children. Don’t overestimate yourself." *Scram.*

"Then you can’t expel me." Dilin’s face stayed blank. "If I’m in the bottom ten, expel me then. But if you expel me now? Show the Headmaster’s signed decree."

"...Don’t push your luck, Dilin." Frand narrowed his elven eyes.

"*You’re* pushing luck, Mr. Frand." Dilin’s words cut sharp. "A lapdog overstepping its master? The Headmaster fears breaking rules to expel me—but you? You’re bypassing him. Do the pointy-eared nobles know you’re grander than your masters?"

"You—!" Frand’s eyes bulged. Rage erupted. "Do you know who you’re insulting?!"

"Lowborn humans lack manners? Better than bastards who don’t know their fathers." Dilin grinned.

"Who are you calling—?!" Frand’s nose twisted.

"Don’t take it personally, Mr. Frand. Do you enjoy collecting insults?" Dilin almost laughed. "Since we’re honest—why grovel for those pointy-eared lords? They’ll never see you as kin. To them..." He tapped Frand’s nose. "Half-Elves rank with ‘lowborn humans’."

"Dilin—"

"Decide: expel me with proper papers, or run crying to your pointy-eared masters. Let’s see if they care for a half-breed’s tears." Dilin turned away, leaving Frand’s livid face behind.

———

When luck turns foul, even water chokes you.

Dilin sat on a park bench, staring at an alien sky. Bitterness coated his tongue.

He wasn’t from this world. Like every web novel protagonist, he was a transmigrator from Earth. Yet he was the worst of them—no cheat skills, no golden fingers. While others heard *"System bound!"* upon arrival, he woke naked beside a truck-crushed corpse. Only a kind monastery elder saved him from freezing to death.

Years later, his Divine Child awakening earned him a spot at Coleman Academy. Hope flickered—until life dealt its cruel joke. It began a month ago, when he saved a silver-haired girl in the woods...

"Isn’t that Lady Astrid?!"

"Astrid? The Elf heiress?!"

"Heiress? She’s the Moon Elf King’s first daughter! Crown Princess of Elven Forest!"

"The ‘Silver Moon of Aureniem’?!"

"Where? Let me see!"

The quiet park erupted. Students swarmed like seagulls chasing bread. Dilin didn’t move. At "Astrid," his breath hitched. He watched the crowd part.

Security cleared the way. There she stood: the silver-haired Elf girl he knew. Hair like moonlight on midnight waves. A figure light as thistledown. A face that redefined beauty. And those gently swaying, astonishingly ample "jade pigeons" beneath her uniform. She *was* beauty incarnate.

Today, she wore Coleman’s standard uniform: white blouse, red bowtie, navy pleated skirt, sheer black thigh-highs, and loafers. An ordinary outfit—but on her, it radiated princess-tier elegance.

Astrid Aureniem. First daughter of the Moon Elf King. Her bloodline was purest moonlight; her talent, a once-in-millennia gift. The Elves hailed her as "Saintess." With her longevity, all believed she’d ascend to Demigod rank—perhaps surpassing the legendary Elven War God himself.

Dilin looked away as she glided past, adored by all. One glimpse of that face was unforgettable. Princess Astrid was every young noble’s dream across the continent. Every inch of her—skin, hair, breath—was sculpted for perfection. Rumor said even girls turned queer overnight after seeing her.

Humans crave beauty. Astrid’s allure was lethal. Dilin was no exception. That first meeting? He’d gaped like a starstruck fool.

But now? He understood. They existed in different dimensions. Like a celestial body and dust.

*Dreams are for dreaming.*

He glanced back. Who’d believe this radiant goddess was once a tiny girl barely reaching his waist?

When a Divine Maiden awakened her Divine Right, she underwent "Divine Maiden Transformation." Overnight, a pure, petite child became a mesmerizing beauty. Dilin had witnessed it.

He shook his head. A month ago, he’d saved a frail silver-haired child in the woods. That girl was Astrid—before her transformation, before she became untouchable.

Dilin hadn’t overthought it back then. The night he saved her happened to be a full moon. Waking up the next morning to find an exquisitely beautiful Moon Elf maiden sharing his bed, his jaw nearly dropped.

After that, Astrid joined Dilin’s team. Until recently, he’d known nothing of her true identity.

Then came the scene at the administration office just now.

Seemingly, his closeness to Astrid had drawn ire. Disapproving onlookers reported him, convinced he harbored improper thoughts about her.

To eliminate any possibility—to stop this lowly, unknown human from tainting their Moon Elf tribe’s sacred Divine Maiden—the Headmaster decided to ‘discipline’ the reckless boy. A warning to curb his fantasies about Astrid.

Well, merely a light tap. By dawn next day, Dilin learned his two teammates had quit. Astrid vanished too. Only yesterday, when the Half-Elf instructor approached him, did he grasp the truth.

The Headmaster intended only a warning. But this eager Half-Elf department head overreached, pushing for expulsion to prove loyalty to his master.

What a damn nuisance.

Objectively though, the Moon Elf Headmaster’s caution made sense.

Beyond arrogance, Elves prized fidelity above all—a pure love warrior’s devotion, a nightmare for cheaters.

To defend their chastity, they’d die proving it.

An Elf loved only one person for life. Especially Elf women: only their true love could make them conceive.

They rarely fell in love. Because once they did, it was forever. If their partner died first, they’d remain widows eternally.

So when ruthlessness was needed, act fast. Sever nascent feelings before they tangled—later, it’d be impossible.

Initially, learning the Headmaster’s role bred strong dislike in Dilin.

Later, he let it go.

Switch perspectives: who’d want a wild boar from outside trampling their tender young sprout?

Besides, he was merely human. Lifespan alone mismatched Astrid’s.

Moon Elves, as High Elves, lived five thousand years easily. Him? He’d likely kick the bucket before a century.

Worst case, if they paired up, he’d doom her to five millennia of widowhood. Who was he to be so audacious?

Considering the Elves’ pitiful birth rate, Dilin calmed down.

If tragedy was inevitable, why begin at all?

Still, he held no fondness for those nose-in-the-air Elves.

Elves were kind—but only to their own. Not outsiders.

Extreme as it sounded, in their eyes, humans might not even count as ‘people’. Their treatment of Half-Elves revealed that truth.

Dilin stood up and left.

Better he and Astrid never met again. To spare them both awkwardness.

He was just a barely-passing Divine Child. Astrid was the dazzling, celebrated Divine Maiden.

She deserved a worthier Divine Child.

Unseen by him, the silver-haired Elf maiden in the crowd sensed something. Spotting Dilin’s retreating back, her lively eyes flickered with strange light. Her lips parted slightly, as if to call out—but no sound escaped.

Drowned in boisterous praise, she parted ways with the youth.