The Elven King And Me

Ilodyer slender fingers inserted into the long hair at his forehead, sliding down following the strands' direction. The black hair reflected a mysterious soft light.

In the silent night, in the gentle glow of the room light, Ilodyer gazed at his fingers weaving through the dark hair. The TV was playing a broadcast of a martial arts epic. Suddenly, his phone rang, and he looked down to see it vibrating and spinning on the table.

Ilodyer picked up the phone and pressed the call button.

"Ilody, come to the company tomorrow. There's a mission."

"Yes, I'll be there tomorrow."

Ilodyer opened his eyes. The sky was as clean as if it had been washed, high and pure, just like the sky he had seen in Tibet during his trip last year.

The vast expanse of the sky made one feel so close to the divine, making the heart devout. He listened calmly to the unfamiliar language, smiling contentedly. The beautiful sky, a shade of blue that could make one melancholic, was the same here.

"Ilodyer! It's getting windy. Let's go back." A stranger voice sounded, and he hesitated before realizing that the voice was calling him.

Ilodyer responded, "Okay." His voice was youthful, with a heavy nasal tone, that of an eight-month-old baby.

Ilodyer profession was quite unique: an assassin. Ever since his father, who had been his sole companion, passed away, he embarked on a career as an assassin.

He didn't find the inner world of an assassin to be particularly bitter; at least that's how he felt.

Disliking working alone, he joined an international assassin organization five years ago, responsible for operations in Central Asia.

A year later, a notice summoned him back to the organization headquarters in St. Petersburg City, the world largest criminal city. Ilodyer arrived in St. Petersburg with a belly full of complaints and soon realized that the work here was much easier than in Central Asia.

There were only three or four missions a year, and he had the rest of the time at his disposal.

So, after becoming familiar with life in St. Petersburg, he opened a small flower shop to pass the time.

He would hand the shop over to a friend to manage during the months of April and May, while he would set off on journeys around the world.

He led a comfortable and carefree life.

If one could distinguish between the boundaries of work and life, they would find life much easier. This saying was particularly fitting for a professional assassin.

In his hometown, there's a saying that goes, "If you walk along the river for long enough, you will eventually encounter the ghost." Having killed many, he knew that one day he might be killed as well.

An assassin wasn't a martial artist or a specially trained soldier. An assassin was merely an opportunist lurking in the shadows, waiting for a chance to strike.

Missing a single strike could mean facing death. Ilodyer was no exception. Ironically, even as he approached death, he was still wondering who would claim his accidental injury insurance, realizing that his plans to visit Iceland this year might not come true...

When Ilodyer opened his eyes again, he had been reborn as a baby, but... he still retained memories from his previous life.

Looking at his delicate little hand, he squeezed it... oh, what an adorable hand.

The woman cradled the baby in her arms and walked home. Suddenly, she stopped and looked at the baby. "Elyndor, it's strange. Your hair and eyes don't resemble mine at all. They're actually black," she said, kissing his little face. "It's rare... your father didn't look like this..."

The baby seemed to understand, reaching up to touch his head, but he only felt a pitiful tuft of short hair. Oh well, at least there was still a hint of his hometown heritage...

Ilodyer was an Eurasian, not easily identifiable at first glance. However, upon closer inspection, the differences were noticeable.

The woman was amused by the baby appearance and chuckled softly.

Ilodyer obediently leaned against the woman shoulder. This beautiful woman was his mother. He had never seen his father since birth, and the woman rarely mentioned him. Even when she did, it was with a tone as if talking about a friend, devoid of resentment or sorrow.

However, this world was completely different from his previous one. There were no machines, no steel and concrete; neither electricity nor plastic. Judging from the clothing, it had a medieval feel to it.

Lost in thought, the two of them arrived back at their house, only to find two strangers already waiting for them.

The woman looked puzzled at the unexpected visitors.

The two strangers wore broad-brimmed hats, the brims shading their faces. They stood up from their chairs as the woman entered.

"Madam, greetings. Please forgive our intrusion," they removed their hats. Ilodyer noticed their expressions when others probably found them quite strange. He stared at those two individuals with his beautiful black eyes.

At first glance, he thought the strangers were likely male, but he couldn't be sure. Both were around 170 centimeters tall, with clean, neatly tied blond hair and healthy, fair skin. Their eyes were sapphire blue, like pure gems shimmering within their gaze.

"Are you... elves from somewhere?" The worry was evident in the woman voice.

"We are from Evergreen Glade Forest. We've come to reclaim our lineage," the elves' voices were melodious, like soothing music.

With delicate rises and falls in tone, the dialogue was pleasing to the ear. However, upon hearing these words, the woman face turned pale.

One of the elves readjusted their hat and extended their hands. "Give the child to us. We will take him back to our elven king."

"But... what about him?" The woman clung tightly to the child.

"If what you say about your husband is true, he has already passed away. The Elven King will find someone to raise your child," the elf spoke with a sincere and sorrowful tone. "For a half-elf like him, the human world is not suitable."

The woman still held onto Ilodyer but hesitated before carefully placing him in the elf embrace. The elf held Ilodyer gently. "Madam, we will take good care of him. Please rest assured."

The woman nodded, and one of the elves removed a silver-gray cloak from themselves and draped it over the child. The two elves bid farewell to the woman and left.

Ilodyer rested his head on the elf shoulder, looking at the woman. Neither cried nor made a fuss; they had grown accustomed to parting, finding the best way to bid each other farewell.

It wasn't until the cottage became a tiny speck that Ilodyer wearily closed his eyes.

The two elves began to converse.

"Why does this little one have black hair and eyes? Could they have made a mistake?"

"This child is indeed a half-elf. Judging by his appearance, our people probably won't like him."

"Ah, his ears aren't even pointed. This is a predicament."

"There's no choice; we'll have to take him to The Elven King first, and then The Elven King can find foster parents for him."

"The elves won't even acknowledge him as one of their own. Who would be willing to raise him?"

"...," the other elf began to fall silent, and then they continued their journey in silence.

Ugh... I want to go back. I don't want to be a despised half-elf.

Feeling the child on his back becoming restless, the elf slowed down and gently soothed his back.

A loud cry shattered the silence, and the two elves rushed to comfort the child, the situation continuing until midnight. Ilodyer began to fall asleep. After all, who could blame him for falling asleep inside a baby body...

Ilodyer slept soundly, without any nightmares, until he was awakened.

"Waa... waa..." a voice of complaint rang out. Dammit, didn't they see I was sleeping?!

"Baby, wake up. Our king is watching you." Someone patted his butt.

"Waa... waa..."

"Baby...?"

"Waa...!" Ilodyer opened his eyes wide and glared ahead.

Oops... I forgot I've already reincarnated...

Ilodyer lifted his small head curiously, observing his surroundings.

In a vast, ethereal hall carved into the heart of a towering ancient tree, The Elven King's court comes to life. Sunlight filters through delicate, iridescent leaves, casting a soft, enchanting glow that dances across the polished marble floor. Intricate, ivy-covered pillars rise to meet the grand canopy above, woven with silver and gold threads that twinkle like stars.

Elaborate tapestries, woven with scenes from elven history, adorn the walls, each thread telling a tale of valor and wisdom. The air is filled with the subtle fragrance of blooming flowers, hinting at the deep connection the elves have with the natural world.

At the center of the hall, a majestic throne of intertwined vines and shimmering gemstones stands as a symbol of the king's authority. The king, dressed in robes of forest green and adorned with regal jewelry, sits with an aura of serene dignity, his ageless eyes reflecting centuries of wisdom and compassion.

Ilodyer looked ahead and saw a man sitting on marble steps. He had long silver hair neatly tied back, and his deep green eyes fixed on Ilodyer. However, his expression remained enigmatic, leaving one puzzled.

"Bring him over." The voice of The Elven King echoed through the hall. His voice was slightly deep, instilling an unprecedented sense of tranquility in the heart.

In a moment, Ilodyer was handed over to The Elven King. As he looked at The Elven King, he was somewhat captivated.

The handsome face exuded a masculine aura without being intimidating, and the angular features were gentle. Despite lacking the fear-inducing aura of a monarch, he exuded the benevolence of a king. The emerald green eyes seemed to harbor stars within, radiating a captivating brilliance.

Ilodyer sighed inwardly, thankfully I'm not a woman... those emerald eyes are so deep they could pull someone in. A shiver ran through Ilodyer body as The Elven King slender fingers gently tapped his round face. Then, The Elven King turned to the people below the steps and asked, "Is anyone willing to adopt this child?"

No one below the steps answered. The Elven King asked again, but there was still no response. So, he turned to the old elf standing next to him, whose white beard reached his knees. "Then let this child be adopted by me. Let him become my child."