Chapter 2: The Elf Girl

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, events, and settings are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental.

The story, "My Bride from the Elf's Forest", is an original creation by the author and is not affiliated with or derived from any existing copyrighted work. Unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this material without permission is prohibited.

The small wooden cottage was quiet. Morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting golden light on the wooden floor and the small table where a loaf of bread and a bowl of berries sat untouched.

Yuta sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the blanket.

Everything from the night before echoed in his mind—Elira’s lie, the elder’s acceptance, the word “marriage” still ringing in his ears. It didn’t feel real.

But the gentle scent of herbs and flowers that hung in the air, the warmth of the room, and the faint rustling of leaves outside—it was all too vivid to be a dream.

He wasn’t in his world anymore.

He was in hers.

The door creaked open. Elira stepped in, holding a small wooden tray with a cup of tea and a folded cloth.

“You’re awake,” she said gently.

Yuta nodded, avoiding her eyes.

She set the tray down and sat beside him, careful to leave some space between them.

“I’m sorry I lied,” she said. “I didn’t know what else to do. The villagers are kind, but strict about their traditions. If they knew we hadn’t… you know… they might have forced us apart. Or worse.”

Yuta looked at her slowly. “You… didn’t have to protect me.”

“I wanted to,” she replied.

Those three words stunned him.

No one had ever said something like that to him. Not genuinely.

Elira smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. We’ll just pretend for now. Eventually, the village will forget about it. You won’t be forced into anything.”

Yuta shook his head. “It’s not that.”

He hesitated, then spoke softly. “Why are you so kind to someone like me?”

She blinked. “Someone like you?”

“I’m not… I mean…” He held up his hand, where the faded burn scars still marked his skin.

Elira gently took his hand in hers.

“Does this hurt?” she asked.

He stared at her.

“Not anymore,” he whispered.

“Then it doesn’t matter,” she said with a small smile. “Scars show you’ve survived.”

Her hand was warm.

Yuta didn’t know what to say. His chest tightened—not in pain, but in something unfamiliar.

Relief? Hope?

Maybe both.

---

Elira showed him around her cottage. It was simple but beautiful—wooden furniture carved with floral patterns, shelves filled with books, and dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. A small garden grew just outside, where colorful flowers danced in the breeze.

“I live alone,” she explained. “My parents passed away years ago. I was training to become a forest priestess, but I stepped away from that path.”

“Why?” Yuta asked.

“I didn’t want to be tied to a role I didn’t choose. I wanted to live freely, to help others quietly… not from a temple, but from here.”

Yuta followed her to the garden, where she handed him a watering jug.

He hesitated, then watered the plants alongside her.

The silence between them wasn’t awkward. It was peaceful.

“Your name is Yuta, right?” she asked after a while.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“It’s a nice name.”

He smiled faintly. “Thanks.”

It was the first real smile he had managed in years.

---

Later, as the sun began to set, Elira cooked a meal over the small hearth. The aroma of herbs and roasted vegetables filled the air.

Yuta helped set the table, fumbling slightly with the unfamiliar plates.

“You’re doing fine,” Elira giggled.

He looked up at her, surprised by how easily she laughed.

Over dinner, they talked. Yuta told her small things—about his school, his favorite music, the food he missed. He left out the pain. For now.

Elira listened intently, her violet eyes never leaving his.

“Your world sounds busy,” she said. “Ours is slower. More connected to nature.”

“I think I like it here,” he admitted quietly.

She looked down at her bowl. “I’m glad.”

---

That night, Elira offered him the bed again.

“You should sleep comfortably,” she said. “You’re still healing.”

“And where will you sleep?” he asked.

“I’ll take the couch,” she replied, smiling.

Yuta paused. “Are we… still pretending?”

She blinked.

“I mean, if people saw us…”

Her smile faded slightly. “You’re right. If anyone visits, they’ll expect us to behave like… husband and wife.”

Yuta looked down. “I don’t want to make this harder for you.”

“You’re not,” she said softly. “Actually… I don’t mind.”

The air was suddenly filled with quiet tension.

He nodded. “Then I’ll take the floor. I’m used to it.”

“No,” she said firmly. “You’re not a burden. You deserve rest.”

Before he could argue, she gently took his arm and guided him back to the bed.

“I’ll stay close,” she whispered. “Just in case you have another fever.”

That night, Yuta lay beneath the covers, wide awake.

Elira sat in the chair beside him, humming softly as she read an old book.

The candlelight flickered across her face, casting her in a soft golden glow.

For the first time, Yuta didn’t feel empty when the night came.

He felt… safe.

---

In the morning, voices echoed outside the cottage.

“Elira! Elira!”

She stepped outside. Yuta stood by the window, watching curiously.

Several villagers had gathered, led by the elder. They spoke urgently, their expressions serious.

Elira turned to Yuta. “Come with me.”

He followed her into the village square, where he drew curious stares. Some villagers smiled. Others murmured quietly.

The elder raised a hand. “People of Aeralen, the Spirit Tree has awakened. A foreigner has appeared, and yet he bears no curse. The winds did not reject him. The forest allowed him through.”

The crowd murmured.

Elira stood beside Yuta, her back straight.

“We will observe this bond,” the elder continued. “But the boy must learn our ways. Until then, he remains under the protection of his wife.”

Elira bowed. “Yes, Elder.”

Yuta blinked. Wife.

He still couldn’t believe it.

---

As they walked back to the cottage, Yuta turned to Elira. “They really believe we’re married, don’t they?”

She nodded. “For now, it’s the safest way.”

Yuta looked at her carefully.

“You’re going through a lot just for me.”

She stopped walking.