Chapter 64: Flamme's Ghost Story
Wolfwood Inn, top-floor suite.
Flamme staggered out of her room, rubbing her temples, her expression dull with a pounding hangover.
When she saw Elias in the kitchen—and the pot of steaming milk porridge on the stove—she suddenly felt as though she had forgotten something important.
"Elias…"
"Why does my head feel so dizzy? Do you remember what happened last night…?"
"Flamme, you made a mistake."
With his back to her, Elias spoke coldly, his tone uncharacteristically severe as he listed last night's events one by one:
"You let your underage disciple drink alcohol."
"You drank yourself into a complete stupor."
"And in the end, you had to be carried back to the inn by a demon."
"Who would believe that this is the same Grand Mage who's slain countless enemies on the battlefield?"
At this point, Elias suddenly changed tone, turning his head and casting her a sly, probing look.
"That said… Flamme, when did you start trusting me this much?"
Flamme froze for a second.
She tried to shake off the haze in her head, but all she managed was a lazy, unfocused smile.
"Uh… well…"
"That was my mistake, I guess…"
She laughed and scratched the back of her head.
"Maybe it's because…"
"I was just too happy last night."
"Even though I didn't fight personally, seeing Erwin rolling on the ground, screaming in agony…"
"That moment was incredibly satisfying—both body and soul~"
Elias lifted the pot of porridge off the stove, raising an eyebrow slightly.
"Flamme, I didn't expect you to enjoy other people's suffering."
"—He deserved it!"
Flamme snapped angrily.
"That inhuman bastard…"
"He actually treated my teammates' deaths as something natural!"
"If I'd run into him on the battlefield…"
"I would've killed him myself just to vent my anger!"
"…I see."
Elias fell into thought.
"Then… does that mean what I did yesterday still wasn't enough?"
"—Pfft!"
Flamme burst out laughing before she could stop herself. At that moment, the last of her drunken haze finally lifted, her mind clearing completely.
"Elias, actually, I admire what you did very much."
"Meeting him with his own methods—that was the perfect ending for someone like him."
As she spoke, her eyes sparkled as she looked at Elias.
It was the first time she had ever said the word admire so openly to him.
Yet the ancient demon from the Mythic Era remained completely oblivious. He simply continued stirring the pot, ladling the milk porridge into a bowl and setting it neatly on the table.
"Go wake Frieren and Julie."
"Those two idiots almost threw up all over me last night."
Five minutes later, after repeated attempts failed, Flamme resorted to levitation magic, floating the two pajama-clad women into chairs in the dining room.
Frieren: «(´✘_✘)» Julie: (´✘_✘)
Elias pressed a hand to his forehead.
He had already experienced scenes like this two thousand years ago.
The image of Serie and Aivis getting drunk at the same time was still painfully vivid in his memory.
A truly traumatic experience.
So history really did repeat itself…
Judging by their half-dead expressions, Elias gave up on expecting them to eat. Instead, he had Flamme carry them back to their rooms as they were, then cast a heat-preservation spell on the remaining porridge.
The dining room was left with just the two of them.
Taking the opportunity, Elias told Flamme about General Yug's suspicions.
"So even Master Serie… and now high-ranking military officials too, huh…"
Each spoonful of warm milk porridge sharpened Flamme's thoughts.
"Unfortunately, the enemy is still in the shadows. Acting on intuition alone won't work."
"Elias, your involvement might become the trigger they can't ignore."
"—What do you mean?"
Flamme smiled with quiet confidence.
"A demon race that survives on powerful mana, upon encountering a stronger one…"
"They'll either try to recruit you—or fight you."
"Either way, they will make a move."
Elias silently agreed. As expected of the Valkyrie of the battlefield—her understanding of demons far surpassed that of ordinary people.
After a discussion that unfolded largely as expected, Elias paused, then casually brought up the full-moon ball scheduled for five days later.
The next instant, Flamme's spoon slipped from her fingers and dropped into the porridge.
Her eyes widened slightly, disbelief written all over her face.
"Elias…"
"Are you… inviting me?"
"—An invitation?"
"You mean like when you dragged me around town the other day? That counts as an invitation too? I see…"
Elias's genuinely puzzled expression made Flamme sigh inwardly.
What an inflexible man…
"Wait, Elias—you don't seriously mean to tell me you don't even know how to dance, do you~?"
Elias searched his memories.
"I remember you taught me."
Flamme: Σ(ŎдŎ|||)ﾉﾉ
"—Huh?!"
"W-What did you just say?!"
Her face froze in shock. To her ears, those few words sounded like a ghost story.
By contrast, Elias calmly described that night in the village.
Fueled by alcohol, Flamme had pulled him under the moonlight and insisted they dance together.
Two people awkwardly stumbling, swaying without rhythm—that scene formed the core of his memory.
After personally experiencing it, Elias had come to a new understanding of dancing:
"Follow the rhythm and imitate your partner's movements."
"And occasionally step on their foot to liven things up."
...
Flamme was struck speechless.
On one hand, she had almost completely forgotten that she had initiated that dance.
So years ago, while drunk, she had already committed an unforgivable mistake?!
On the other hand, Elias's understanding of dancing left her with extremely mixed emotions.
Had her dancing really been that bad—to the point she misled him so thoroughly?!
Flamme took a deep breath, desperately assembling a response in her mind.
"Elias…"
"You do understand that things people say and do when drunk can't be taken seriously."
"Whatever happened that night, dancing isn't quite what you think it is…"
"—It's fine."
Elias replied honestly.
"Given how we performed back then, it should be sufficient for the full-moon ball."
Flamme: (≖_≖'')
"Elias, I'm sorry, but I don't think stepping on each other's feet in front of everyone counts as fun."
"I see…"
Elias pondered silently.
"There are still five days left…"
Flamme instantly caught on and was just about to suggest practicing together—
When the next second arrived.
"Alright."
Elias had already made up his mind.
Flamme saw the determination in his eyes.
That man…
He was actually taking the initiative?
"Flamme…"
"I intend to create a spell within five days."
"A spell that prevents stepping on your partner's feet while dancing."
Flamme: (≖_≖'')
"…That's certainly…"
"Unexpectedly practical."