Chapter 46
“Sol…inor?”
“…”
“Is it true? The scent matches Solinor.”
‘Yes, this child definitely said he was Aiorin’s husband, Solinor.’
‘This guy?’
Beside them, Wendy wasn’t just teasing—she was dropping verbal bombs like an arsonist.
Solinor could feel his blood boil as he replayed Wendy’s flippant words.
‘That wretched, traitorous spirit! He doesn’t care if someone’s dirty laundry gets aired, does he?’
Muriela’s body quivered—not just her teeth this time, but her fists too.
Yet Solinor, trapped in Muriela’s body, couldn’t punch a spirit without a physical form.
Sure, seeing how Zephyr returned from Wendy all bruised and beaten hinted that spirits could physically interact.
But that wasn’t an option for Solinor.
For a spirit to exert physical force, it had to temporarily materialize in the physical realm.
During that state, a spirit could theoretically be hit—but given that a spirit’s form was composed of pure energy and air, the damage would likely be negligible.
Not that Muriela, newly anointed as a Spirit Mage, or Solinor, sharing her mind, knew any of this.
They were too busy seething over a sense of betrayal, grinding Muriela’s precious teeth in the process.
For context, Muriela had already lost her baby teeth and replaced them with permanent ones.
Solinor’s actions were practically one of the worst things a grandfather could do to his granddaughter.
“Come on, just be honest. Are you really Solinor?”
“…Yes, Aiorin. I am Solinor.”
Faced with Aiorin’s direct questioning, Solinor sighed deeply and confessed.
‘Well, there goes my dignity. Goodbye, self-respect. After bawling my eyes out in my wife’s arms, there’s no way I can maintain the image of a respectable patriarch.’
A man—no, not even a young man, but essentially a grizzled old man—crying uncontrollably in his wife’s embrace.
In the patriarchal culture of the Northern Continent, such a sight was the height of humiliation.
Naturally, Solinor feared Aiorin’s reaction to his disgraceful behavior.
“Phew. At least it wasn’t an affair. That’s a relief.”
But instead of scorn, Aiorin surprised him by muttering something incomprehensible before wrapping Muriela tightly in her arms.
‘An affair? What on earth is she talking about? Now that I think about it, she did mention something about infidelity earlier.’
Solinor wanted to ask what she meant, but Aiorin was hugging him so tightly that he couldn’t speak.
All he could do was gasp for air as she held him close, her face buried in Muriela’s small frame.
He even spotted tears forming in her eyes—though he couldn’t understand why.
Still, if he didn’t escape soon, he might suffocate to death.
Solinor struggled, managing to wheeze out, “A-Aio…rin. C-can’t…breathe.”
“Oh! I completely forgot how small your body is now.”
Realizing what she had done, Aiorin quickly let go, leaving Muriela gasping for air on the bed.
She knelt beside her granddaughter, looking at her with concern.
Concern that might have been more helpful if she hadn’t nearly crushed her earlier.
“Hah…hah…”
Solinor focused on drawing in life-saving breaths.
Only after oxygen flooded his tiny lungs did he regain some composure.
But even then, Solinor couldn’t lift his head.
After the pitiful display earlier, how could he possibly face his wife?
Yet, Aiorin seemed entirely unbothered by his turmoil.
“Solinor. It’s been so long. I’m glad you’re here.”
Her voice was soft and gentle, leaving Solinor utterly flabbergasted. He couldn’t even think of a reply.
In all the years he had spent with Aiorin—half a lifetime—he had never heard her speak in such a tone.
Aiorin, who had always been playful and mischievous, never showing any hint of seriousness, not even at his deathbed.
“Solinor, why aren’t you saying anything?”
“Well… I just… it’s too embarrassing to look at you after crying like that earlier.”
Solinor decided to use the straightforward approach he excelled at.
Earlier, when he tried to hide the truth, it didn’t work out well.
And in his philosophy, being straightforward was always the best way to communicate.
Whether he was lacking, had made a mistake, or encountered a problem, telling the truth from the start would leave the other person with nothing to say later.
“Why couldn’t you do this?” or “Why is it so terrible?”
“Well, I told you from the start it would be like this.”
“Oh… that’s true.”
When executed properly, the conversation would flow like this.
And Solinor was a master of this method.
Though calling it mastery might be an exaggeration—it wasn’t about skillful wordplay but simply smashing straight into the issue because intricate verbal gymnastics gave him a headache.
However, Aiorin looked at him with the awkward gaze of someone who didn’t understand what he was talking about.
After staring at Muriela’s face for a long time, she finally asked a question.
It seemed she couldn’t figure out the answer herself.
“…But why?”
“Hmm? Well, it’s not supposed to be like that.”
“Why not?”
“Huh?”
Hearing her counterargument left Solinor speechless.
‘Now that I think about it, why can’t men cry?’
At that moment, decades of ingrained masculine ideals from the Northern Continent began to waver.
He had always been taught that men shouldn’t cry, starting from childhood.
But no one ever explained why.
And while women were supposedly allowed to cry, no one had ever explained the reason behind that either.
In the end, it was a matter of, “This is how things are done in our region!”—a cultural expectation imposed by the Northern Continent.
However, culture or not, Aiorin was an elf.
Solinor didn’t fully understand, but in elven society, there wasn’t much that was strictly enforced.
As long as someone’s actions didn’t harm others, they were free to do as they pleased.
“Uh, well. You’re right. Why can’t men cry?”
“If it’s because you’re extremely distressed, then I’d be worried. But if not, it’s no big deal.”
Elves, after all, were highly skilled Spirit Mages and masters of forest living.
Unless the situation was extraordinary, they could survive perfectly fine on their own.
As a result, their culture naturally leaned toward individualism.
In elven villages deep in the forest, crime wasn’t an issue, so there was rarely a need for collective power.
But for Solinor, who came from the collectivist human society, this wasn’t an easy concept to grasp.
Despite spending years together as adventurers and later as king and queen, the cultural differences between them were stark.
“Really? But doesn’t it look a bit strange?”
“What’s strange? I’d actually like it if you were free from those kinds of constraints. Of course, you still have to treat me well, though. Hehe.”
This kind of free relationship wasn’t unique to Aiorin.
Her parents, as well as other elves, all lived the same way.
Laugh when they wanted to laugh.
Cry when they wanted to cry.
And unless someone needed their help, they didn’t interfere in others’ lives.
In human society, minding one’s own business might seem strange.
But in elven society, interfering with others was considered unusual.
That said, in rare cases of a runaway minor, the entire village would mobilize to help.
Elves had small populations, and children were precious, so their problems were never seen as someone else’s responsibility.
This was why, when the young Aiorin ran away from home, her village had been thrown into chaos.
So why hadn’t they caught her for decades?
One reason was that elves hadn’t ventured out of the forest for so long that they didn’t know the geography of the outside world.
Another was that they didn’t see the outside world as a real threat to Aiorin’s survival.
Spirit Mages were incredibly adept at sensing danger.
As long as she didn’t act recklessly, she could always escape in time.
But if it wasn’t dangerous, why forbid them from leaving?
It was because, in the past, elves who ventured out as children sometimes came back corrupted.
They would return saying, “Human culture is amazing! Oh no, I’ve wasted half my elven life!”
After Aiorin’s initial escape, the elven villagers never let their guard down again.
They placed spirits around to prevent any children from leaving unnoticed.
Because of this, Aiorin’s second attempt to run away had failed repeatedly over decades.
It was the ultimate case of reaping what one sows.
The reunited couple’s conversation continued for quite some time after that.
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