Chapter 18 – A One-Hundred-Percent Birthday Gift
The memory struck Elias like lightning.
He could almost see that wild night again — Serie and Aivis, faces flushed crimson, laughing like lunatics beneath the chandeliers…
"Important or not, what matters is enjoying the moment," they had said.
Maybe… maybe they'd been right all along.
— — —
A short while later, through the window of the village chief's house, Elias noticed a sudden commotion outside.
Night had fallen.
In the village square, a bonfire blazed to life.
Magical lanterns drifted through the air like tiny, glowing spirits.
Tables sparkled with candlelight as villagers hurried in and out of their homes, carrying steaming dishes piled high with food.
When everything was ready, they gathered quietly outside his house — arms full of gifts, faces full of anticipation.
The village chief gently knocked on the door.
Thirty seconds later, a sleepy white-haired elf cracked it open, blinking in confusion.
"Lady Frieren…"
"Happy Birthday!!!"
The sudden cheer made her freeze on the spot.
The impromptu celebration, thrown together by the entire village in under an hour, somehow turned out perfectly.
By the end of the night, the gloomy, withdrawn elf had been swept into laughter and warmth, her cheeks glowing under the starlight.
Elias, of course, didn't show his face.
He simply stood at a distance, watching from the shadows — watching the way her smile lit up brighter than any of the lanterns.
Perhaps this… this was what Aivis and Serie had meant by "living in the moment."
— — —
As midnight neared, the laughter faded. Villagers, yawning and content, drifted back to their homes.
Elias returned quietly through the back garden, only to hear rustling from inside the living room.
"Dear Goddess… the villagers really get me!" Frieren's voice rang out in delight.
"This one's a spell that makes snakes tie themselves in knots! How thoughtful!"
"And this—oh! A whistle only dogs can hear! What a fascinating magic tool!"
"Ooh, and Hair-Dye Potion, Emerald Green edition! Maybe I'll try a new look tomorrow…"
Surrounded by piles of gifts, she pouted suddenly, cheeks puffing like a squirrel's.
"Hmph! That stingy Elias didn't even get me a bottle of 'Green Demon Boar Mucus Extract'!"
"A heartless demon indeed! I should've known better than to expect anything from him!"
— — —
"Still angry, are we?"
The low voice made her freeze.
Elias's shadow stretched across the floor as he stepped from the doorway, pale and calm as ever.
Frieren snorted and turned away sharply.
"Even if you're here to make it up to me now, I'm not accepting anything!"
"Then I won't give it."
He turned on his heel as if to leave.
"W–Wait!"
She shot out a hand, eyes shining with sudden hope.
"Don't tell me—you did go all the way back to Strahl City to buy me that Green Demon Boar Mucus Extract?!"
Elias sighed, expression unreadable.
"Frieren, imagination is a lovely thing. But delusion—"
He gave her a look. "—is your biggest flaw."
"I told you, that ridiculous stuff isn't worth buying."
"Then what did you come here for?" she huffed. "If it's not that, I don't want it!"
"Oh?" Elias's lips curved faintly. "Then I suppose you don't want this, either?"
With a wave of his hand, a faint shimmer filled the air.
From his study, a leather-bound book floated into the room and landed softly in her hands.
Frieren blinked. Then she read the title—
[Spell of Mimic Identification]
Her breath caught.
— — —
One month earlier, inside Missol's cave…
After Elias had pulled Frieren out of the mimic's jaws, the bedraggled elf had muttered through tears:
"If only someone would invent a spell to detect treasure chests that are actually monsters…"
That night, he'd begun his research.
Using the structure of an old spell—one shamelessly titled "Clairvoyance of Clothing Transparency"—he reworked its formula entirely.
Night after night, while she slept soundly, Elias sat at his desk under lamplight, scribbling arcane runes and refining the magic circle.
Half a month later, the spell was complete.
But he hesitated.
He couldn't quite imagine what it would feel like to hand it to her.
Only tonight, moved by something he didn't fully understand—perhaps guilt, perhaps something softer—had he brought it here.
Now, the elf who'd been pouting seconds earlier stared in stunned silence, her golden eyes shimmering.
"Elias… you made this spell just for me, didn't you?"
"No. I found it on the side of the road."
Frieren's blank stare lasted two seconds before a laugh escaped her lips.
"Elias… so you did remember my birthday after all."
"Coincidence. Believe what you want."
"Hmph." She smiled faintly. "For someone who pretends not to care, you're awfully bad at hiding it."
Gathering her presents in her arms, she turned toward her room, tail of white hair swaying behind her.
"Thanks, Elias."
"I think I'll sleep really well tonight…"
"Maybe even have a nice dream."
The door clicked shut behind her.
And for a long while, Elias stood there alone—
quietly, faintly smiling.
***
The moonlight lay quiet and pale across the village roofs.
In front of Elias's house, a woman with hair the color of burnt orange stood silently beneath the silver glow, her cloak fluttering faintly in the night breeze.
"Ah… even at my fastest pace, I still didn't make it in time," she murmured.
Her eyes swept over the grand, lantern-lit villa before her—gleaming white stone, glass balconies, a small garden glistening with dew.
"…Since when did this old warehouse become so luxurious?"
She smirked lightly. "So, Elias does know how to live in comfort after all."
But then, a glint of cold light flashed across her gaze.
"Come out. The moment I felt killing intent, I knew you were there."
A dark silhouette dropped soundlessly from the third floor, landing beside her as softly as a feather.
"Flamme," Elias said, his voice low. "You've grown more cautious."
"Don't flatter yourself," she replied coolly, her lips curling with a faint, amused smile.
"I remember your murderous spells used to graze right past my ear. Without caution, I'd have been long dead on the battlefield."
"Then tell me," Elias said, hands tucked behind his back. "Did you rush back because of your disciple's birthday… or because of me?"
Flamme snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, Elias. I came to report on the demons' movements—and to check in on that troublesome girl."
She tilted her head toward the upper floor windows, her voice softening with a rare trace of warmth.
"Too bad I missed her birthday. She's probably fast asleep by now."
A tiny smile ghosted across her face, as if picturing Frieren's hopeless sleeping posture.
"That's easily fixed," Elias offered dryly. "I happen to know a certain spell called 'Forced Wake-Up Magic.'"
"Elias," Flamme sighed, giving him a pointed look, "you're really that cruel to my adorable disciple?"
"Unfortunately," Elias said with mock regret, "your disciple has plenty of moments that are anything but adorable."
The two locked eyes under the moonlight—
and for a moment, it felt like old times.
They hadn't exchanged barbed words like this in years.
In an age consumed by total war, even petty bickering like this had become something precious—something worth remembering.
"…Anyway," Flamme said softly, her tone finally easing, "you've worked hard, these past months."
She reached into her travel bag and pulled out a delicate light-blue hair ribbon that shimmered faintly with enchantment.
"This is my birthday gift for Frieren," she said, handing it to him.
"It's soaked in a potion that makes mimics vomit instantly."
"My disciple has… a bit of a treasure-hunting habit. Whenever she sees a chest, she can't help but pounce."
Her lips twitched. "With this ribbon, at least she won't need to blow herself up to escape again."
Elias accepted the gift, eyebrow arching in faint amusement. A rare, teasing smile crossed his face.
"Too bad you're a step late," he said. "I already gave her a spell—'Mimic Identification Magic.' Ninety-nine percent accurate."
Flamme blinked, momentarily stunned.
Then, as she studied him more closely, her expression softened with quiet wonder.
"Elias… you've changed."
"You remembered someone's birthday," she said slowly, "and even gave a thoughtful gift…"
Elias scratched his head, avoiding her gaze.
"I just… remembered something old, that's all."
A pause. "If she's happy, that's enough for me."
He looked down at the blue ribbon, smirking faintly.
"Though it's a shame—your gift won't get much use now."
Flamme chuckled, her amber eyes glinting warmly in the moonlight.
"That's fine. Your spell's accuracy is ninety-nine percent, right?"
"Then let my gift handle the last one percent."
The night wind carried her words away—gentle, amused, and quietly full of care.