Chapter 5: Romance in the Midnight

My Bride from the Elf’s Forest

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.

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Chapter 5: Romance in the Midnight

The sun dipped low beyond the golden canopy of Eldaria’s forest, casting amber light over the spirit tree. The duel was over. The whispers had faded. The crowd dispersed slowly, still murmuring about Elira’s brilliance and Shin’en’s unexpected defeat.

But Yuta… Yuta stood there, eyes fixed on Elira.

She approached him, her steps soft, but her presence brighter than any light Yuta had ever seen. He wanted to speak, but words stuck somewhere in his throat. He was not the hero of this story—she was.

Elira smiled gently. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Yuta chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like what?”

“Like I just saved your life.”

“Well… you did.”

She took his hand. “Then use that life wisely.”

They walked in silence for a while, hands brushing. The forest seemed to exhale slowly, the leaves swaying gently with the wind, as if even nature itself celebrated their bond.

Yuta stopped under a glowing blossom. “Elira… I’m just a human. You’re... everything else. Sometimes I wonder… can this really last?”

Elira looked into his eyes, her voice quiet but firm. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

“Then trust what we have. Trust this feeling.”

—

As the last golden light vanished from the Eldarian sky, the once-eager celebration had quietly dissolved in the tension of the duel. The music had never played, and the feast lay untouched. The spirit tree stood tall and glowing—but the joy it was meant to witness had been postponed by pride and challenge.

Harunari, standing tall with his staff, observed the subdued faces of his people. The air still buzzed faintly with the memory of Elira’s victory, but the spirit of festivity had slipped away.

He raised his hand, his voice warm and resonant, “My people, today was meant for joy, for welcoming a new bond under the watch of the spirit tree. But fate chose a different path for this moment.”

Murmurs stirred again among the elves.

Harunari continued, his voice now firmer, “But a bond that is strong does not fade with delay. Let us honor this union properly—tomorrow, under the full moon, when our realm is most alive. The celebration will happen then—stronger, brighter, with music and laughter to echo through the trees!”

Cheers erupted.

“Yes!”

“Long live Elira and Yuta!”

“Under the moonlight we celebrate!”

Even Elira smiled softly, her grip tightening gently on Yuta’s hand. Yuta blinked, unsure if this was all a dream. The pain of almost losing this moment now made the promise of tomorrow all the more precious.

As the crowd slowly dispersed, lanterns flickering to life in the treetop homes, Harunari leaned toward Yuta and said quietly, “Tomorrow, the forest will dance for you both. Rest well tonight. For joy is patient—it waits for those who deserve it.”

And with that, the trees returned to silence, holding their breath for the full moon night that was to come.

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The moon had climbed halfway into the sky by the time Yuta and Elira returned to her cottage. Nestled between two ancient trees and blanketed in the quiet breath of the forest, the small wooden home glowed with soft lantern light. A warm silence followed them inside—a silence filled not with awkwardness, but with an unspoken understanding, a delicate anticipation.

Dinner was quiet. The air still carried the echoes of the duel, of tension unraveled and respect earned. They ate together, sharing glances more than words. Yuta often found himself caught in Elira’s gaze—and every time, she looked away with a faint smile, as though reading something in him that he himself did not yet understand.

Later, when the dishes had been washed and the lanterns dimmed, Elira brought out a soft blanket and made herself a bed on the ground near the hearth.

“No, Elira,” Yuta said, standing by the edge of the only bed. “You should sleep on the bed. It’s your home. I’ll sleep there.”

But Elira crossed her arms and gave him a teasing look. “I may be small, but I’m strong—and very stubborn. This is how it will be.”

Yuta opened his mouth to protest again, but she was already lying down, wrapping the blanket around her and turning her back to him. He sighed and climbed into the bed, defeated—but smiling.

The night passed slowly.

Yuta lay on the bed; eyes wide open, staring at the wooden ceiling. Thoughts of Elira swirled through his mind like drifting snowflakes. Her strength during the duel. Her cleverness. Her courage. And the way she looked at him afterward—like he mattered.

On the ground, Elira wasn’t sleeping either. Her heart refused to rest. She thought of Yuta's quiet bravery, his innocence, his humanity. He was different from anyone she had ever known—clumsy in her world, yet somehow more honest than most elves.

Midnight arrived in silence.

Yuta turned over, hoping sleep would finally come, and glanced toward the hearth. But there, in the moonlight spilling through the open window, he found Elira—already looking at him.

For a heartbeat, neither moved. Their eyes locked across the room, like invisible threads tying them together. No words were spoken, and yet an entire conversation passed between them—one of wonder, of shyness, of feelings not yet named but deeply understood.

Yuta sat up slowly. “You’re awake.”

Elira smiled softly. “So are you.”

He laughed quietly. “I was… thinking.”

“So was I,” she whispered.

A pause.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked.

She hesitated. “About how strange everything has become. And how… right it feels, somehow.”

Yuta’s heart skipped. He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. He just watched her—watched her eyes, her smile, the way the moonlight traced her face.

Elira sat up as well, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Do you think this is real, Yuta? You and me. All of it.”

He nodded. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Another silence. A beautiful, peaceful silence.

Elira stood up and came to sit at the foot of his bed. Their hands were close, almost touching. The air between them shimmered with emotion. Neither reached out—but neither pulled away either.

“I’m glad you came to Eldaria,” she said.

“I’m glad I found you,” he replied.

Tomorrow will be filled with celebration. But tonight was theirs.

—

The cottage was quiet—soft moonlight spilled through the wooden window frames, bathing the room in a silvery glow. Outside, the forest rustled with the whisper of leaves, but inside, time seemed to have slowed to a heartbeat.

Yuta and Elira sat close—closer than they had ever been before. The space between them disappeared gradually, drawn together by an invisible pull they couldn’t explain. Their breaths mingled, soft and warm, and their noses were just about to touch.

Their eyes locked—no words, just silent emotions, speaking louder than any language could. Elira’s eyes shimmered with the reflection of the moon, full of questions, hope, and something even deeper.

But then, everything changed.

Yuta’s gaze dropped for a second. He glanced at his hand—burnt, blackened, marked by his past. A cold shiver ran down his spine as it reminded him of something much worse… his face. The scars that shaped him, that haunted him.

His heart, which had been racing moments before, now pounded with hesitation and fear. He gently pulled away, turning his face toward the wall, ashamed to be seen.

Elira blinked, confused. “Yuta?” she whispered, concern blooming on her face like an early spring flower. She reached out and placed her delicate hand on his shoulder.

“I…” Yuta’s voice cracked gently. “I don’t want this… Not now. We’re not married, Elira.”

His words were gentle but firm—filled with a mix of restraint, respect, and sorrow.

Elira’s hand slipped from his shoulder. Her expression softened with sadness, but also understanding. Without a word, she quietly walked back to her bed, lay down, and turned her back toward him.

Yuta sat still for a moment longer, staring at the moonlight on the floor. Then, with a heavy heart, he lay down as well, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what might have been.

The night that had almost become a memory of romance faded into silence.

Perhaps… the time wasn’t right.

Not yet.

But someday.

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To be continued… Next- The Truth is Revealed

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