Yuhran's eyelids twitched slightly, but he didn't open them.
The moment Miliarde moved closer, his mind had already snapped back to full alertness.
He suppressed his breathing, carefully sensing the warmth and softness pressing against his back—and honestly, he couldn't understand why she would do something like this.
Weren't you an elf?
Aloof, unsmiling, treating him like an infant.
And now… a midnight cuddle? Throwing yourself at him?
Yuhran's Adam's apple rolled soundlessly as his thoughts surged like a tide.
Since he couldn't tell whether Miliarde was acting out of loneliness or for some other reason, he decided to hold his ground for now.
He maintained the steady rhythm of feigned sleep, while focusing all his senses on his back—
—where two soft points of pressure rose and fell gently with her breathing.
However, to his mild disappointment, he soon realized he'd guessed wrong.
Miliarde simply held him quietly. Other than that, there were no further movements at all.
A faint sense of regret welled up in Yuhran's heart.
"So I really was overthinking it."
"Come to think of it, if she actually had those kinds of desires, she wouldn't have stripped so casually in front of me back then."
"She's probably hugging me the same way someone hugs a doll."
"Sigh… looks like my road to turning the tables is still a long one. But one day…"
One day, he would take the initiative. He would learn magic. He would surpass her in every possible way.
And when that day came, who would dare call him a baby again?
With those thoughts, Yuhran slowly calmed his mind. His half-lowered eyelids finally shut completely, and he drifted into sleep.
...
The next morning, gentle sunlight spilled across the land as Yuhran gradually woke up.
He instinctively reached out to his side—only to find that Miliarde was already gone.
He lifted his head and sighed softly.
After getting dressed and stepping out of the tent, he spotted Miliarde squatting by the river not far away, washing up and tending to her hygiene.
Sunlight bathed her figure, turning the outer layer of her clothes almost translucent and outlining her slender, graceful curves.
Seeing this, a line suddenly flashed through Yuhran's mind—
You can always trust in light.
Unfortunately, the chunk of black charcoal in her hand completely ruined the moment.
Yuhran's brows immediately knit together. He strode over and couldn't help asking:
"Do you really use nothing but charcoal for washing up?"
"Didn't I give you toothpaste before?"
To him, toothpaste was nothing special—even if it was unheard of in this world.
Hearing him, Miliarde raised her head, scooped up some water, and gently wiped her face.
After rinsing her mouth, she turned to the side and said bluntly:
"I'm not used to it. Not everything from your homeland agrees with me—it's probably just a matter of habit."
"The taste is strange. Hard to swallow. Even diluted with water, it makes me feel like throwing up."
"?" Yuhran froze, the corner of his mouth twitching.
At that moment, he finally understood why Miliarde disliked it.
Charcoal and salt were fine if swallowed by mistake—but toothpaste was a chemical product. Even a small taste could strongly irritate the throat and stomach.
"That's…" He took a deep breath. "Something you're supposed to spit out."
He decided to teach Miliarde from scratch how toothpaste was actually meant to be used.
At the same time, he couldn't help feeling puzzled, and asked whether this world truly lacked any magic for cleaning the mouth.
This didn't line up with his memory of the story—weren't there plenty of convenient everyday spells in the original work?
Miliarde took the toothbrush and mimicked Yuhran's movements step by step.
Afterward, upon hearing his question, she frowned deeply, her face full of confusion.
"How could there possibly be magic that convenient? Can you even imagine what it would look like for teeth to clean themselves?"
"I told you—magic is a world built on imagination. If you can't imagine it, it's absolutely impossible."
"At least… not for me."
She didn't phrase it too absolutely.
Although most magic to date had been created by elves, even elves varied in age and experience.
At just over three hundred years old, she was roughly equivalent to a human teenager by elven standards.
"I see," Yuhran nodded in understanding.
He quickly sifted through his memories of the plot and soon identified a key point.
Flamme's birth…
Those convenient spells had only appeared after she thoroughly researched and systematized magic.
And until then… there were still several hundred years to go.
Just thinking about that length of time was enough to make one despair.
Yuhran exhaled softly and crouched by the river, gazing at his reflection in the rippling water.
Watching the shimmering surface, he couldn't help thinking:
"I hope that once the Two-World Gate finishes charging, it can give me a chance at immortality."
"A human's peak is between twenty and thirty… and I only have less than four years left."
Four years wasn't exactly short—about the length of a college education.
But it wasn't long either…
With that thought, Yuhran pushed himself up by his knees, a trace of melancholy on his face.
Seeing this, Miliarde felt utterly baffled.
It was just the lack of a tooth-cleaning spell—why did he look so heavy-hearted?
Humans really were strange creatures.
She shook her head lightly.
Bang.
A moment later, after packing up the washbasin, the two of them returned to camp together.
...
Breakfast passed before they even noticed.
On the open ground—
"Let's set off. From yesterday until now, we've covered less than five kilometers. I didn't expect you to be able to ride a horse—at least that's a stroke of luck."
Yuhran gently patted the horse's head, feeling that the royal capital was already within reach.
Compared to people of antiquity, he had a unique advantage—
He could buy large quantities of fresh fodder from the modern world at any time to feed the horse.
There was no need to worry about it collapsing from hunger or thirst.
Miliarde walked over, finished packing her things, and vaulted smoothly onto the horse's back.
Yuhran slung his backpack over his shoulder, took her hand, and climbed up behind her.
"Hiiih—!"
The horse reared its head and let out a long neigh. Miliarde tightened the reins.
"What's so surprising about that? I'm an elf. Not just horses—I've ridden dragons too."
"Really?" Yuhran asked in surprise.
In his mind, dragon riders were usually burly warriors.
Elves didn't quite fit that image.
Miliarde glanced back at him.
"Of course it's true. But that was over a hundred years ago. If you get the chance, you'll see it for yourself."
"Enough talking—hold on tight. We're setting off now."
Left with no choice, Yuhran wrapped his arms around her waist.
Miliarde shifted slightly, brows knitting faintly—clearly not quite used to it.
But with such limited space on horseback, she could only let it be.
Anyway, at this pace, barring any accidents, they would reach the royal capital in about half a year…
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