FVN Chapter 47
Chapter 47
"Tchik!"
"Ah!"
Elodie jumped at the sudden voice.
Clutching her wildly pounding heart, she whipped her head around. But before she could locate the source, the voice seeped into her mind once more.
[How old are you?]
The fire spoke.
Yes, the fire inside the stove.
And now it was not only offering unsolicited advice but also interrogating her about her age.
[I asked how old you are.]
"Five."
[Baby, come back in ten years.]
The flames stirred.
A great flare erupted, its size growing in an instant.
Even if fire tried to take on a muscular form, it would still just be hotter, not stronger.
Elodie instinctively took a step back from the searing heat, and before she could react, the fire casually tossed the entire beaker into its body.
"What—why did you eat that?!"
[You couldn’t use it anyway. You need to melt the ingredients separately. Tossing them all together just turns them into a useless mess. Medicine requires precision, you know.]
"...Really?"
[Of course. The direction and number of times you stir can determine the final result.]
Now that she thought about it, the book had mentioned something about that.
Elodie groaned and squinted at the text again.
"So, you know how to make everything written in here?"
[I could make them blindfolded. No, probably with my feet, too.]
Wait—feet?
So it could, like, walk around too?
"You're pretty competent, huh?"
Elodie smirked, a scheming glint in her eyes.
[No need to state the obvious.]
"But what are you? How can fire talk?"
[I am Inferno, the Spirit of Fire. By divine decree, I have always existed in this place.]
The fire spirit crossed its arms—if fire could cross its arms—and puffed up proudly.
"Then you can help me, right?"
No, forget can—he had to help her.
"I'm the heir of the Ratson lineage, you know?"
Inferno sighed as he gazed at the tiny harvest mouse dashing around the temple like it was some grand playground.
[Aren’t you leaving?]
"Nope."
[You’re Maximilian’s daughter, right? If you were lucky enough to break the curse, you should be nestled safely in your parents' arms, playing with toys until you’re actually old enough to be here. What’s your problem?]
What’s my problem?
If she simply went along with the flow of fate, she might lose her family all over again.
She met his gaze with unwavering, pitch-black eyes—clear, determined, unshaken.
"You're just okay with this?"
The question came out of nowhere.
"You’ve always existed here, right? We’re at the 23rd generation now, so maybe nearly a thousand years have passed. And you’re fine with the Ratsons just disappearing?"
[...Why wouldn’t I be?]
"You said you remember when the first book was placed here."
It wasn’t just memory.
Inferno had witnessed it all firsthand.
From the first Lord Raphael to the 23rd Lord Maximilian.
For centuries, he had known nothing but the Ratson family.
Even if it was simply the result of his divine duty.
He had never once considered another lineage taking their place.
And yet.
[It’s the way of the world. Everything that begins must also come to an end.]
A flame, bound to one place, had no choice but to accept the passage of time.
Inferno’s words were harsh, but his voice carried a warmth that betrayed them.
Elodie caught that hesitation.
She could feel it.
"If the Ratson family had simply declined over time and lost their influence, I wouldn’t have interfered. But this isn’t that."
Her voice was quiet, but firm.
"My bloodline, my people—they're on the brink of extinction because of someone else’s deliberate, malicious scheme. And you expect me to do nothing?"
[...Are you really five?]
"I am."
[You don’t sound like it.]
There was no point in pretending to be a helpless child against a spirit who wanted her gone.
Elodie made no attempt to hide her true self.
"I’m going to learn every single thing written in these books."
Inferno scoffed, amused.
[Maximilian himself didn’t master even a fraction of them. His talent was mediocre to begin with—and turning into a rat in his prime certainly didn’t help.]
"......."
[And you, his daughter, think you can? What are you, Raphael reborn?]
Not reincarnated. But time had been turned back.
Elodie narrowed her eyes.
Even if her father lacked natural talent, so what?
To her, he was never insignificant.
Because he was the only one who had left behind a foundation—something for his daughter to hold onto, even in his absence.
And the spirit, who had watched over him all this time, should have known that better than anyone.
"You keep calling my father ‘Maxi.’"
She smirked.
"As if it’s second nature."
The fire crackled sharply, as if it had been caught off guard.