This wasn’t some tale of outsiders swooping in to seize a dead man’s property.
In the elves’ society, where material needs were met and daily life was secure, the old elf’s potion shop wasn’t considered particularly valuable.
The elf messenger delivering the notice didn’t even know the old elf had died. His task was simply to hand the document to the shop’s owner.
Upon learning of the elder’s passing, he gave the notice to Riel.
The situation was straightforward: with the continent’s dangers growing, the elves decided to prepare in advance, strengthening the city’s defenses by renovating certain districts.
Unfortunately, the potion shop happened to fall within the planned redevelopment area.
Of course, that’s how it was framed. Human nobles often used similarly grand excuses when expanding their estates.
For the elves in the affected area, it wasn’t exactly misfortune—they’d receive compensation for relocating.
But to Riel, the shop, filled with memories of her grandfather, was utterly irreplaceable.
After delivering the message, the messenger left quickly, carrying several more notices for other nearby households.
Riel held the notice, curled up in the vine chair behind the counter, staring blankly. The resolve she’d barely mustered earlier had now completely faded, and she didn’t even notice the Puffshroom wandering around the shop.
Scout Puffshroom casually leafed through the old elf’s handwritten notes, filled with dense elven script detailing various potion recipes.
With Lin Jun’s [Elven Language LV6], he could only partially understand them. If Riel were brewing in front of him, he’d learn much faster.
As for the shop’s demolition, Lin Jun didn’t care at all. He had no sentimental attachment here, and studying potion recipes elsewhere wouldn’t be an issue.
However…
The old elf had treated Puffshrooms kindly during his life.
Many other potion shops, wary of distractions, either refused to open windows for Puffshrooms or restricted them to the counter, strictly barring them from brewing rooms.
Only the old elf always kept his windows open for Puffshrooms and never minded their presence during brewing. Even when Riel’s playful antics with them disrupted the process, he never truly got angry.
Not to mention, just recently, he’d helped Lin Jun raise [Elven Language] to LV6.
So, Lin Jun’s kinder side stirred, and he decided to give the little one a hand.
How to help?
Eliminating all the relevant elves and sending a Puffshroom army to occupy the area, crushing any opposition—that was obviously not an option.
[Magic Perception LV8]
The elf messenger hadn’t gone far, still lingering on the treeway across the street, having just finished his deliveries.
Puffshroom took flight, using its keen senses to follow him from a distance.
The messenger walked back along the wooden bridges connecting the treeways, feeling at ease after completing his task.
As he passed a larger platform, an elf giving a passionate speech atop a simple wooden box caught his attention, making him stop.
The elf, gesturing fervently, spoke with urgent enthusiasm to a small group of listeners.
Puffshroom landed on a distant branch, catching only fragments of the speech.
It seemed to be a call for elves to pay attention to the Mist and take action.
Frankly, the Mist plaguing the Western Isles was far from the elves, like warning inland folk about a tsunami. Lin Jun wondered if his [Elven Language LV6] had led to a misunderstanding.
He couldn’t listen further.
As the speaker’s fervor grew, two lightly armored elf rangers approached, swiftly grabbing him from both sides.
“You can’t do this! Elves need the truth! We must…” The rangers dragged him away, the process swift and silent, like a fleeting interruption.
The listeners scattered, and the messenger, with no reason to stay, continued on, arriving at the forester’s wooden office.
Passing a colleague handling another area, he entered, briefly reported the delivery completions, and casually mentioned the old elf’s death.
The forester nodded, acknowledging the report, and sent him off.
Once the door closed, the forester was alone.
He leaned back, stretching tiredly, rubbed his aching temples, and grumbled softly, “Using monitoring arrays, and these radicals… What’s wrong with our peaceful days? Can’t they just calm down?”
He didn’t notice the invisible Puffshroom in the room’s corner.
That night, the forester had a strange dream.
He was a child again, watching his father, a robust 700-year-old palace guard, perish in a sudden fire.
The blaze consumed the treehouse, reducing all cherished keepsakes to ashes, leaving him with endless regret.
Waking, the forester found the dream laughable and full of holes.
His father, a skilled guard, was alive and well—how could he die in a fire?
Yet, when a petition arrived, signed by residents and requesting to preserve the old elf’s potion shop, the description of Riel’s deep emotional bond with the shop resonated faintly with the regret from his dream.
The petition was prompted by Lin Jun’s subtle hints planted in the dreams of Riel’s neighbors.
It was exhausting work—battling in Inanna’s dreams while sowing dream seeds in the forester’s and neighbors’ minds. Even Lin Jun felt drained.
But it paid off.
The forester consulted several elf mages responsible for the monitoring array’s planning, asking if its position could be adjusted slightly.
Receiving confirmation that small changes were possible, he personally inspected the site and chose a new location among a few nearby giant trees.
Throughout, he never met Riel directly. Two days later, Riel received an official notice: her potion shop could stay.
Overwhelmed with joy, Riel visited each neighbor to thank them, offering potions as gratitude, which they gently declined.
Returning to the shop, she found Scout Puffshroom waiting, as if ready to observe her brewing.
“Flying Mushroom! I don’t have to leave! It’s wonderful!” Caught in her excitement, Riel lunged to hug the Puffshroom without thinking.
As always, resilient yet flexible mycelial tendrils politely held her back by her head and body, thwarting the embrace.
(End of Chapter)
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