Lyselle couldn’t tell if the Governor before her was real or fake.

Of course, other possibilities existed—both versions of Governor Fawena were genuine, or both were imposters.

But blind guessing was pointless. Without solid intel, any speculation was futile and wasted energy.

As the saying goes: don’t multiply entities beyond necessity.

Simply put, Lyselle didn’t want to scare herself.

So she reined in her wild imagination and smiled at Fawena.

“Sister Fawena, since you confirmed that commission was fake, we won’t waste effort on it. But…”

She paused, her smile growing even sweeter.

“But I haven’t visited Lundeheim in ages. Before coming, I even discussed with Shall—we planned to tour the city after finishing the commission, enjoy the scenery, and check out fun spots.”

“Who knew plans change? The commission turned out fake out of nowhere…”

By now, Lyselle’s smile had almost vanished, leaving only a hint of wistfulness.

Yet she deliberately met Fawena’s eyes, adding a trace of hopeful expectation—like baiting a hook, she struck just the right note of pitiful charm.

Fawena knew exactly what Lyselle wanted. After a brief weigh of pros and cons, the Governor offered a kind smile.

“Even with a fake commission, you can still tour the city.”

Lyselle reacted with exaggerated surprise.

“Really? Thank you, Sister Fawena!”

She cheered, dashing forward to hug Fawena joyfully.

Fawena seemed uncomfortable with such intimate contact but didn’t push the Sorceress away.

Lyselle wisely didn’t linger. She quickly released Fawena, then looked up with sparkling eyes.

“Sister Fawena, Shall and I aren’t familiar with Lundeheim. If you’re free today, could you be our tour guide?”

Fawena instinctively wanted to refuse.

But she realized this was a chance to monitor the Sorceress and Champion, preventing trouble in the city.

So she smiled again and nodded.

“Sure. I have no duties today—I’ll show you around.”

“Yay!” Lyselle cheered softly.

Truthfully, the Sorceress was pleased—Fawena agreed quickly, saving her effort.

She’d planned this: if Fawena hesitated about letting them tour, she’d directly request a guide. With the Old Sage’s connection and reasonable request, refusal would be hard—especially since it offered surveillance.

The Sorceress, who understood human nature, had predicted Fawena would likely agree to free guiding.

And she was right.

To monitor them, Fawena willingly stepped into the trap, even asking where they wanted to go first.

Lyselle hesitated, then pulled out her Magic Wand.

“My last visit was ages ago. Lundeheim must’ve changed—anywhere’s fine. Let fate decide: I’ll toss my wand. Wherever the tip points, we go. Sound good?”

Fawena found this amusing and nodded.

“Fine.”

Lyselle tossed the wand high.

The slender mistletoe twig spun in the air, then landed softly, bouncing once before settling.

Lyselle picked it up, turned, and pointed where the tip aimed.

“That’s settled—we go that way!”

Shall, beside her, understood instantly—if he recalled right, it pointed toward the Nursery Chamber.

The Champion guessed the Sorceress’s plan.

He stepped forward, matching her pace as a loyal partner.

But as he neared, Lyselle suddenly looped her arm through his.

Through thin fabric, he felt the soft warmth of her body.

He instantly stiffened, trying to pull away.

Before he could move, Lyselle whispered just loud enough for him:

“I suggest you play along nicely. If Fawena gets suspicious, the consequences could be disastrous.”

Her tone was serious, convincing.

Inside, she laughed maniacally.

Because after linking arms, Shall had frozen like wood. His mind seemed overloaded—he couldn’t meet her eyes, didn’t know where to put his hands. After two steps, she noticed he walked awkwardly, even marching stiffly with same-side movements.

*Heh heh*, she thought. *A pure-hearted virgin who’s never held a girl’s hand.*

*So fun!*

Thus, the mischievous Sorceress dragged the flustered Champion along, guided by the hard-to-verify Governor, starting their Lundeheim tour.

…

Of course, Lyselle never intended to sightsee.

Soon, she probed their guide:

“Sister Fawena, I heard outside that Elves all come from one source—the Mother Tree of Elves? Bards say you’re born from it. True?”

She watched Fawena’s expression closely.

Fawena chuckled, teasing.

“We Elves differ from humans, but we’re not fruit on trees. How could a tree birth us?”

She glanced at Lyselle clinging to Shall’s arm, then added meaningfully:

“Elven birth is like yours—well, Sorceresses aren’t strictly human, but close enough. Anyway, how you two make babies? That’s how we do it.”

Lyselle, a veteran in such matters, felt no stirrings—Fawena’s naive boasting was almost funny.

But to deceive her, Lyselle feigned flustered innocence.

“Sister Fawena! What nonsense… I don’t understand…”

She swiftly changed topic.

“So bards lied? Elves aren’t born from a Mother Tree?”

Fawena stopped teasing, smiling gently.

“Exactly. Since we rarely interact with outsiders, wild rumors spread about us.”

“Like what?”

“The most famous one…” Fawena winked playfully. “That we have an elegant, beautiful, powerful, and enchanting Queen.”

She shrugged lightly.

“But outsiders don’t know—we have no Queen.”

Lyselle tilted her head, smiling.

“Not necessarily, Sister Fawena. I think I know why they believe that.”

“Hmm? Why?”

“Because a few lucky humans might’ve entered Lundeheim and seen you—you’re Governor here. In a way, you’re like Lundeheim’s Queen, right?”

Fawena was startled, then thoughtful.

“Makes sense. Maybe someone mistook me for Queen long ago. Other rumors probably started from similar misunderstandings.”

Lyselle smiled but said nothing.

*Was it really just a misunderstanding?* she wondered.

The Elven Queen myth had a prototype—but what about the Mother Tree? Could it be baseless?

Impossible.

She and Shall had both seen the prototype of that “misunderstanding”—

The Nursery Chamber Governor Fawena had once shown them, where all Lundeheim Elves were born.

They were close now. Just a short walk, then a glance up, and they’d see it far away…

“Huh?”

Lyselle froze.

She released Shall’s arm, stopping dead. Her gaze fixed on where the massive Nursery Chamber once stood.

Gone.

The fog-shrouded beast of a building, draped in thick vines, had vanished without a trace.

In its place stood a few scattered structures, surrounded by a low, encircling wall.

“…What is this place?” she murmured, her voice distant, dreamlike.

Fawena, unaware of Lyselle’s distress, acted like a diligent tour guide.

“This is our nursery garden. Newborns are brought here for care and education after birth.”

“…And the Nursery Chamber?”

“Nursery Chamber?” Fawena looked puzzled. “What Nursery Chamber?”

Her expression was natural, showing no hint of pretense—as if the Nursery Chamber had never existed in Lundeheim.

[To be continued]