Chapter 17: The Begging Dryad

Two full days passed before I opened my eyes again.

The first thing I felt was the weight of exhaustion still lingering, the second was the faint scent of herbs. And the third… was Lireath’s presence hovering nearby, like a hawk guarding a nest.

The moment my eyelids fluttered, she was there, leaning over me with a sharp intake of breath. “Tengen-sama! You’re awake.”

I blinked, groaning softly. My throat was dry, my limbs heavy. “Two days…?”

“You collapsed,” she said, her voice sharper than usual, though the relief in her eyes betrayed her. “From the Naming. Do you even realize how dangerous that was?”

I tried to smile. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

Her glare could’ve burned through steel. “Idiot,” she muttered, though her hands were already fussing over me—adjusting my pillow, pouring me water, checking my forehead as though I were a child.

It wasn’t just her, either. Over the course of that morning, Dravel came by with food, Yoruha with a bundle of flowers “to make the room less boring,” and even the twin sisters who had tended me—hovering nervously at the door as if worried they’d be scolded for not doing enough.

I ate, drank, endured Lireath’s constant doting and Yoruha’s constant chatter. Slowly, strength seeped back into my body.

It wasn’t until Lireath returned with that look on her face that I knew something unusual was happening.

“Tengen-sama,” she said carefully, “you have… a visitor.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A visitor? Who’d come to see me? It’s not like I know anyone in this world outside of you guys.”

Her lips pressed into a line. “It is a Dryad. Sylara-sama.”

I froze.

A Dryad?

For a beat, my brain just… stalled. And then the fantasy nerd inside me kicked awake with a vengeance. Of course. Of course there’d be Dryads. Fantasy world checklist: elves, ogres, beastkin, magic… and tree women. Right on schedule.

I sat up straighter, eyes gleaming. “Wait, so… you’re telling me Dryads here are the beautiful tree women, right?”

Lireath just stared at me. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again, utterly baffled.

“Tengen-sama…” she said finally, pressing her fingers to her temple. “…Yes. That is… about right. But for the love of all that is holy, I beg you, act with respect when you meet her.”

“Of course, of course,” I said cheerfully, hopping to my feet.

Her shoulders slumped, despair settling on her like a cloak. She knew, as well as I did, that her warning had gone in one ear and out the other.

---

The council room was already prepared.

Inside, Yoruha lounged against the wall, her twin blades at her side, face bright with her usual energy. Dravel stood nearby, stoic as ever, though his eyes flicked sharply toward me the moment I entered. Zeril, the newly named prodigy, stood stiffly with a seriousness that made him look older than he was.

And then there was her.

Sylara.

A Dryad.

She sat with effortless grace, her presence filling the chamber in a way that made even the light through the windows seem softer. Her hair spilled like a cascade of leaves, green and alive. Her skin carried the warmth of sunlight filtered through forest canopies.

And her face—

Absolutely beautiful.

My heart skipped. My breath caught. I had never, in two lives, seen anything like her.

My eyes widened, locked on her as though she were the only thing in existence. Goddess. Goddess, goddess, goddess.

Then her lips curved, and her voice—gentle but amused—cut through the silence.

“Tengen-sama,” she said. “Have you looked enough?”

The room stiffened. Lireath closed her eyes in dread. Yoruha’s mouth twitched. Dravel’s hand rose faintly to his chin, trying to mask his reaction. Zeril’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

And me?

I grinned.

“No,” I said smoothly. “Can I look some more?”

The air cracked.

Yoruha snorted, covering her mouth with both hands as her shoulders shook violently. Dravel’s lips twitched, a tremor of laughter fighting his otherwise stoic mask. Zeril stared at me in pure disbelief, as if I had just insulted the gods themselves.

Lireath… Lireath pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing so deeply it could’ve shaken the earth. “I knew this would happen,” she muttered. “But not this soon…”

I didn’t even flinch when her staff smacked the top of my head.

“OW—! Hey, what was that for?” I rubbed the sore spot.

“Sit. Down.” Her tone brooked no argument.

I chuckled, obediently heading to the head seat, like a child caught misbehaving. Heh. Getting scolded like that… kinda felt nice.

I plopped into the chair, grinning.

Sylara watched me the entire time, her expression unreadable—half curiosity, half amusement.

Her eyes lingered on me a little too long.

I leaned forward, smirk curling. “Would you like me to undress so you can have a better look?”

For a second, the room went utterly silent.

Then:

“TE—GEN—SAMA!” Zeril practically shouted, face blazing red as he grabbed the nearest cloth and flung it across my mouth. “Forgive him! I shall allow him to speak only when it is his turn!”

My muffled laughter vibrated behind the fabric.

Yoruha collapsed onto the table, wheezing with laughter. “PFFFT—Tengen, you’re insane—hahahahaha!”

Even Dravel’s composure cracked, his mouth twitching as he looked away. Lireath’s hand trembled on her staff, whether from fury or despair I couldn’t tell.

And Sylara—

Sylara burst out laughing.

Not a chuckle, not a polite giggle, but a full, unrestrained laugh that filled the room with warmth.

“Oh my,” she said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “This meeting will be… very interesting indeed.”

Her eyes glittered as they settled on me once more.

After the laughter, the teasing, and the foolish grins, I leaned forward in my chair.

Enough games.

I wasn’t just some fool from Tokyo anymore. I was their chief. Their lord. And a lord didn’t waste time when someone like a Dryad showed up at his door.

I straightened my back, my smile fading into something far sharper. The change was immediate—the room sensed it. Yoruha stilled, Dravel straightened, even Lireath’s fingers tightened faintly on her staff.

My eyes locked on Sylara.

“So then,” I said evenly, “what is it that you need from me, Sylara-sama?”

Her hand rose quickly, palm open, her expression almost alarmed. “Please, no. Do not call me ‘sama.’ It’s too distant.”

For a moment, I blinked. Then a slow grin curled back on my lips. “…Is that so? Well then, don’t call me Tengen-sama, either.”

She studied me, eyes wide in surprise. Then she smiled—warm, almost relieved. “Agreed.”

From the corner of my eye, I caught Lireath’s reaction. Her chest swelled with pride, her lips parting slightly in awe. Even a Dryad… so quickly willing to speak on equal footing with our lord.

I turned the agreement into action. “Alright then. Let me readjust my question.” I inclined my head faintly. “So, Sylara-san… what can I do for you?”

Her lips curved. “Well then, Tengen-san. I need your help with a certain… problem.”

One of my eyebrows rose. “A problem? That a Dryad can’t fix?” I chuckled low. “Now you’ve got my attention.”

She drew in a breath, her gaze flickering only once toward Lireath before settling back on me. “It’s about the Ogre Chief. Gorrak.”

The name hit like a stone cast into a still pond.

My eyes sharpened, cold. The air around me shifted.

And it wasn’t just me.

Yoruha’s smile died in an instant, her hand sliding to the hilt of her twin blades. Dravel’s posture stiffened, his face hardening like steel. Even young Zeril, usually so controlled, radiated killing intent so sharp it cut the air.

Only Lireath remained steady, though even she cast a sharp glance toward the others, silently warning them.

The air grew heavy—deathly.

Sylara, who had been all warmth and laughter moments ago, stiffened. A bead of sweat trailed down her temple. She realized, perhaps for the first time, that the Dark Elves truly hated the Ogres. The aura in the room alone was enough to suffocate her, enough to tell her that if not for Lireath’s presence, blades would already be drawn.

Lireath’s voice cut in, smooth but firm. “Calm yourselves. Hear her out.”

The pressure receded. Not gone, but leashed, restrained like wolves barely held back by chains.

I exhaled slowly, eyes never leaving Sylara. “Sylara-san. Elaborate.”

My voice was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that came from fury buried deep beneath the surface.

She clasped her hands, as though steeling herself. “I want you to stop him.”

A low chuckle escaped me.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” I said, my tone sharpening like a blade. “I already planned on killing him. And annihilating the entire Ogre village along with him.”

Yoruha smirked, her eyes flashing. “Same here.”

Dravel, usually the calmest of us, nodded gravely. “If that is my Lord’s will, I shall cut them down without hesitation.”

Even Zeril stepped forward, his expression burning with fury. “I’ll blow off all their heads. Every last one.”

For the first time since she entered, Sylara’s composure cracked.

She bowed her head low, strands of her leafy hair falling like vines across her shoulders. “I see…” Her voice trembled faintly. “This… may be more difficult than I thought.”

Lireath, sharp-eyed as ever, caught it immediately. She knew this wasn’t what the Dryad wanted. But she stayed silent. She would never question me in front of others.

Sylara lifted her head again, her expression soft but tense. “I heard what happened here. I saw the destruction myself as I approached your gates. But revenge… revenge cannot be your solution.”

The air shifted again.

This time, it was colder. Sharper. Like knives pressing against her throat.

I stared her down, my eyes narrowing into slits, my voice dropping into a tone so low it rumbled like distant thunder.

“…What do you mean?”

Her body trembled faintly, but she didn’t look away. She swallowed, gathered herself, and spoke.

“If the Dark Elves and the Ogres descend into war… there will be no end. Parents killed before their children’s eyes, children growing up with hatred engraved in their hearts. They will seek vengeance, spilling more blood, only to raise the next generation in the same endless cycle. Do you truly wish for that, Tengen-san?”

Her words were calm, but there was urgency in them. Pleading.

And me?

I leaned forward, the table creaking beneath my hands. My eyes locked on hers, unblinking, blood-soaked with rage.

“…Sylara-san,” I said, my tone dripping condescension, the weight of authority pressing into every syllable.

“Are you telling me what to do?”

The room tightened like a noose.

Yoruha’s blades trembled at her sides, eager to be drawn. Dravel’s knuckles whitened around his hilt. Zeril’s aura flared dangerously, his mana sparking against the walls.

Lireath’s heart hammered in her chest, but she did not move, her lips pressed tight. She knew this moment could shatter into blood at the slightest misstep.

And Sylara—

Sylara stared back into my killing gaze.

Her voice shook, but her resolve did not. “…No. I am asking you. Begging you. Because only you can stop what comes next.”

The silence that followed pressed against every heart in the room like a blade.

Sylara’s face was serious as she took a small breath.

“As guardian of the forest, I have to watch over everything that happens here. Every tree, every race, every balance that Ashryn-sama built with his own hands. If this forest turns into a battlefield, all of it will crumble. Everything he left behind will vanish.”

Her words hit heavy. Lireath lowered her head, silent but tense.

Sylara pressed on, her tone more desperate now. “This forest is your inheritance, Tengen. Are you really willing to let it all burn? Are you going to destroy what your father built?”

The air froze. Everyone looked at me.

I stared at her for a long time without saying a word. My thoughts went back to that one meeting with Ashryn—the man who called himself my father. His face. His words. That strange weight he carried.

Then I sighed and shook my head.

“If you thought bringing up my dad would make me reconsider…” My voice dropped low. “You’ve completely misread me.”

Sylara’s eyes widened a little.

“I only met him once. And it wasn’t even the real him. Just some… fragment. So no, I don’t owe him anything.”

I stood up, chair scraping against the floor.

Sylara panicked. She rose too and grabbed my arm. “Please—Tengen! Don’t do this!”

I ripped my arm free and glared at her. “I live by my own terms. My own beliefs. And right now, my terms say the Ogres must be annihilated. That way, every other race will think twice before messing with us again.”

The room went silent. Yoruha, Dravel, and Zeril moved with me the moment I turned for the door, their expressions hard and ready.

“I won’t let you leave it like this!” Sylara shouted suddenly. “If I have to, I’ll bother you every single day until you change your mind!”

That finally made me laugh. A cold, amused chuckle as I walked away. “Suit yourself.”

The doors closed behind me.

The only ones left in the council room were Lireath and Sylara. The Dryad slowly sat back down, frustration on her face.

“Why is he so stubborn?” she asked, voice almost trembling. “Can’t he see the fate he’s pushing this forest into?”

Lireath stayed quiet for a while, then exhaled softly. Her eyes showed guilt, not anger. “Tengen-sama blames himself for what happened to our village. He thinks it was his failure… that he wasn’t here to protect us. So now, the only way he knows to ease that guilt is to make the Ogres suffer the same pain—ten times worse.”

Sylara’s lips pressed tight. She leaned forward, her eyes pleading. “Then help me. Lireath, please. I won’t give up on him, but I can’t do this alone. You’re his elder, his right hand. If you don’t stand with me, I can’t make him see reason.”

Lireath looked away, her grip tightening on her staff.

How am I supposed to get myself out of this one…

For the next few days, Sylara stayed in the Dark Elf village.

And true to her word, every chance she got, she would sidle up to me, tilt her head, and ask in her sweet but relentless voice:

“Tengen… have you reconsidered?”

And true to my word, I ignored her every single time.

If I was helping Ren oversee construction? She’d walk up beside me, “Reconsider yet?”

If I was sparring with Yoruha and Dravel? She’d wait until I was mid-swing, “Reconsider?”

If I was just trying to nap in the sun? Her shadow would loom over me, “Tengen… reconsider.”

I swear, that woman was worse than a mosquito. At least mosquitoes eventually give up when you smack them.

Still, construction was going well. Ren had basically become the construction foreman of the entire village. He barked orders like a mini boss, and I had no choice but to follow them along with the rest of the elves. The shelters were sturdy, the council room was rebuilt, and little by little, the village was looking less like ruins and more like a place people could breathe in again.

But Sylara… oh, she wasn’t about to stop.

One afternoon, when Sari was in the kitchen with a few Dark Elf women, busy experimenting with recipes, Sylara came in quietly.

Sari was rolling rice with her tiny hands, tongue poking out slightly in concentration. When she looked up and saw Sylara standing there, she almost dropped the ball of rice in shock.

“S-Sylara-sama!” Sari stammered, quickly wiping her hands and standing at attention. “W-what can I do for you? Do you need something?”

Sylara smiled gently. “Yes. I need your help, Sari-chan.”

Sari blinked at her, confused. “My help? With what?”

The Dryad stepped closer, lowering her voice like she was sharing a great secret. “I want to make a dish for Tengen. Something so good… he won’t be able to refuse my request after tasting it.”

Sari’s jaw dropped. “Eh?! You want me to… help you cook for Tengen-nii?!”

Sylara nodded firmly. “Yes. Lireath told me his greatest weakness isn’t strength or magic. It’s food. And from what I’ve seen… you’re the one who wins his heart every time you cook. So… please. Teach me.”

Sari’s cheeks flushed with surprise. She scratched the back of her head nervously. “Well… I-I guess it’s true Tengen-nii really likes food. But… you’ve never cooked before, have you, Sylara-sama?”

Sylara tilted her head, innocent as a child. “Cooked… before?”

“…I’ll take that as a no,” Sari sighed, smiling despite herself.

Sylara folded her hands, eyes sparkling. “So? Will you help me?”

Sari hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Of course. If it’s something I can realistically do, I’ll be happy to help. Let’s figure out a dish together.”

Then she reached behind her, grabbed an apron, and held it out. “Here. First lesson: apron.”

Sylara’s eyes widened. She took the apron like it was a holy relic. “Apron…”

When she tied it on clumsily, the kitchen helpers all watched in awe, whispering among themselves about how surreal it was to see a Dryad standing there like a nervous student.

Sari giggled, stepping closer to adjust the strings. “There. Now you look like a proper chef.”

Sylara looked down at herself, then back at Sari with the brightest smile she’d given since arriving. She suddenly hugged Sari tightly, almost knocking the girl over.

“Thank you, Sari-chan. Truly.”

Sari froze for a second, then slowly hugged her back, smiling. “You’re welcome… now let’s get started!”

And just like that, the strangest cooking duo in the village was born.

sat at the head of the long table, arms crossed, pretending I didn’t notice how tense everyone else was. To my right was Lireath, graceful and calm as always. Dravel sat opposite her, posture perfect like the knight he thought he was. Yoruha lounged with her blades leaning against the wall, smirking like she owned the place. Zeril, the magic prodigy I’d named, had the sharpest eyes in the room, already studying maps like he was born to.

And then there was Shirina. The genius. The kind of person who made me feel like I’d wasted my entire education back in Tokyo.

She stood at the center of the room with a pointer, tapping against a large parchment map of the forest spread across the table.

“Our scouts have confirmed the Ogres have allied with the Beastkin,” Shirina began, her tone crisp and confident. “Meanwhile, the Orcs have secured an alliance with the Lizardmen. It’s already a volatile situation. The Lizardmen–Orc coalition has superior manpower, but the Ogre–Beastkin alliance has higher quality fighters. Both sides are evenly matched for now, but if they clash…”

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle.

“…the battlefield will be chaos. That is where we, the Dark Elves, have an opportunity. If we hold back until the fighting reaches its peak, we can strike clean through the confusion. With precision. And with that chance… we take Gorrak’s head.”

The room was silent for a heartbeat.

Then, like a wave, everyone clapped. Even Dravel, who usually stayed stiff as a statue, gave a sharp nod of approval. Yoruha clapped dramatically, like a spoiled child at a theater show, while Lireath’s smile was equal parts admiration and maternal pride.

I leaned back in my chair, watching Shirina carefully. This girl… way too smart. I can’t let her out of my sight. If she leaves, my IQ rating in this group drops to zero.

The meeting ended not long after. Everyone rose, chairs scraping against the floor as we filed toward the doors.

And, of course, the moment I stepped out into the hall—there she was.

Sylara. Standing gracefully, holding something wrapped neatly in cloth. Her smile was so calm and beautiful it was infuriating.

This woman is relentless, I thought, sighing internally. I’d tolerated her hanging around so far because she was easy on the eyes—let’s be real, she was practically art—but my patience was running on fumes.

“Tengen-san,” she greeted warmly, holding out the parcel. “For you.”

I blinked at the package, then at her. “…What is this?”

“Open it.”

I frowned, but curiosity won. I untied the cloth.

The moment the lid lifted, the scent hit me like a truck. My mouth actually watered. Inside was an assortment of perfectly arranged, colorful dishes—things I hadn’t seen since Japan, but recreated so carefully it made my stomach growl on the spot.

I froze. Then slowly, very slowly, I turned my head toward Lireath.

She looked away with her chin lifted, smug smile plastered across her face. A look that screamed I don’t know anything, don’t question me, while her guilt was practically glowing like a beacon.

“…You sold me out,” I muttered.

“Tengen-san,” Sylara cut in gently, eyes sparkling with amusement, “I made this myself. Well… with Sari-chan’s help.”

That explained it. Of course Sari was involved.

I picked up a piece and took a bite. My jaw nearly unhinged. The taste exploded on my tongue—perfectly seasoned, balanced, nostalgic in a way that made my chest ache.

I sat down right there in the hallway and demolished the entire bento like a starving animal. Every bite reminded me of home. Of things I didn’t even realize I’d been missing until now.

When I was finished, I exhaled deeply, leaning back like I’d just survived a war. “…Damn. That was delicious.”

Sylara clasped her hands together, her smile blooming like spring.

I sighed, running a hand down my face. “Fine. I’ll think about it tonight.”

Her smile widened.

“Don’t smile so hard,” I snapped quickly, pointing at her. “I haven’t decided anything yet. Got it?”

“Of course, Tengen-san,” she said, bowing slightly, though her grin didn’t falter for even a second.

I stood, handed the empty box back, and muttered, “Thanks for the food.”

Then I left, ignoring how smug Lireath looked in the corner of my vision.

The next day, I sent word for Sylara to meet me in my office.

Did I want to? No.

But her food had been way too good for me to keep ignoring her forever.

When she walked in, she wasn’t her usual relaxed, graceful self. Instead, she stood with her back perfectly straight, head bowed slightly, posture full of respect.

I raised an eyebrow. “…What’s with the posture?”

Sylara smiled softly. “When someone seeks help, it’s only proper to stand a step below the one they’re asking. That is respect.”

I let out a sigh, leaning back in my chair. “You really don’t have to do all that. But fine. Let’s get to the point, Sylara-san.”

Her ears twitched slightly at the “-san,” but she said nothing.

I rubbed my temples. “I thought about everything you said last night. And… you’re right.”

Her eyes widened, her face lighting up instantly.

“My father did entrust me with this forest,” I went on, keeping my voice steady. “And even if I barely knew him… he’s still my father. I can’t just ignore what he left behind. So I’ll do as promised. I’ll do my best to stop Gorrak without unnecessary bloodshed.”

Sylara shot out of her chair before I could blink. The next thing I knew, she leaned forward and—

Chu.

She kissed my cheek.

My whole body froze. Heat surged from my neck all the way up to my ears.

Sure, I’d gotten used to talking with girls, even flirting a little here and there. I’d even teased Lireath just the other day. But this? Actual physical contact? From Sylara, of all people? This was the first time anyone besides my mom—and Minako back home—had kissed me.

I cleared my throat violently and stood up so fast my chair almost toppled. “A-anyway, I have… somewhere to be.”

Sylara’s smile was gentle, but her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Of course, Tengen-san. I won’t keep you.”

---

Two Days Together

After that meeting, something changed.

Sylara didn’t just hover around anymore. She joined in.

For the next two days, she was everywhere. Helping Sari in the kitchens, learning how to cook little things (though she still managed to set a pot of soup on fire, which I didn’t think was even possible). She helped the villagers carry supplies, sometimes singing softly, which left everyone enchanted.

And somehow, someway, she kept finding excuses to be near me. Passing me tools while I helped Ren at the construction site, offering me water when I was taking a break, or just sitting nearby while I went through reports.

Was it annoying? Sometimes.

But… it was also kind of nice.

---

The Departure

Finally, the day of her departure came.

The whole village gathered at the gates. Sylara stood there with teary eyes, looking at everyone like she didn’t want to leave. Her usual elegance wavered, replaced with something warmer.

“I’ll visit often,” she promised, her voice trembling slightly. “Please, everyone… take care until then.”

Yoruha waved wildly, shouting something about making sure to bring sweets next time. Dravel gave her a knight’s bow. Lireath smiled warmly, clearly moved. Even the villagers, who had been nervous around a Dryad at first, were now waving like she was one of their own.

As for me… I just crossed my arms and muttered, “Don’t keep us waiting too long, Sylara-san.”

Her smile at that moment was so bright it almost hurt to look at.

And with that, she turned and left the village, her figure fading into the trees.

For some reason, the village felt a little emptier the moment she was gone.