The beautiful caretaker of my family often told me stories. From powerful heroes, hateful villains, fluffy beastman, comedic dwarves, rich nobles, mighty dragons, witty gnomes, mischievous fairies and more. I adored all her stories as the characters came to life through her hilarious narrations.

One night, after finishing telling her new stories. She stared at me, her pupils shifting hue from crimson to a mystifying lilac, as her lips curled into a beam. The room fell silent, the cool spring wind crept through the open windows. The sweet wind caressing my face.

Bereft from any of its fetters, the wind whispered to the trees, its leaves like an orchestra playing a waltzing tempo for its audience.

It was odd, as if nature itself seemed to be waiting for her words, acknowledging her existence.

It felt like we had arrived at a different place, a land full of unknown and mysteries.

In a soft hum, she then asked me.

"Little master, did you know elves didn't always have pointed ears?"

Aug. 3, 2019 - Note: Going to resign from my work soon. Currently doing the turnover of papers while studying. I'll do another rewrite for this series since I feel like I am wasting the potential of the novel. So I'm going for a hiatus. Sorry, I'll come back to writing again after finishing the RRL pieces of stuff.