Powerless Boy is reborn as Lustful Elf
Chapter 33: Last night with Lyriel

Chapter 33: Last night with Lyriel

Urell stepped closer, his boots silent against the polished wood floor, "Strange things are frowned upon in the elven world," he said, his voice softening but carrying a weight that made Alex pause, "They disrupt the order of things, The harmony."

"So I’ve heard," Alex replied, his smile fading as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "I’m ready to face whatever hardships come with it, Strange or not."

Urell studied him for a long moment, his silver eyes narrowing slightly as if searching for something beneath Alex’s words, Then, abruptly, he shifted, folding his arms across his chest, "I’m being tested tomorrow," he said, the change in subject so sudden it took Alex a heartbeat to catch up, "At the academy, For my ability."

Alex raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself, "Really?"

Urell nodded, a faint glimmer of pride breaking through his otherwise calm demeanor, "Every elf manifests one, sooner or later, A gift from the blood, Mine hasn’t shown itself yet, but tomorrow the assessment starts, They’ll see if it’s stirred," He paused, then added, "The record for the youngest to manifest is held by a boy named Bastian, I’m hoping to break it."

The living room stretched wide and warm around them, its high ceiling adorned with delicate carvings of twisting vines that seemed to shift in the flickering lanternlight

Alex leaned against the arm of the moss-green couch where he’d been dozing earlier, the cushions still rumpled beneath him, their soft fabric catching the faint glow

Across the room, Urell stood near the wide window, his silver hair glinting like a thread of moonlight against the darkening glass, The air held a trace of the evening outside, pine and distant blossoms, mingling with the teasing scent of roasted herbs drifting from the kitchen

Alex nodded toward Urell, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips, "I’m rooting for you," he said, his voice breaking the quiet, "Tomorrow, I mean, Breaking that record, it’d be something to see."

Urell’s lips curved into a grin, sharp and confident, the kind of expression that seemed too bold for his age, "I don’t need luck," he replied, his tone steady and sure, His silver eyes glinted with a quiet defiance, as if the very idea of chance was beneath him.

Alex laughed, the sound warm and unguarded, spilling into the stillness of the room, It bounced faintly off the carved walls, and in that moment, something clicked, He liked the boy, really liked him, There was a fire in Urell, a spark of determination wrapped in that elven grace, that reminded Alex of the kids back home who’d talk big and somehow always deliver, He crossed his arms, still grinning, and let the feeling settle into the space between them.

"Where’s Sylra?" he asked, glancing around the living room, She’d been perched on the other couch just moments ago, her book in hand, but now the spot was empty, the leather cover left behind on the cushion.

Urell tilted his head, his grin fading into something more thoughtful, He studied Alex for a beat, his gaze steady and unnervingly perceptive against the soft glow of the lanterns, "You and Sylra spend a lot of time together, don’t you?" he said, the words slow and deliberate, as if he’d been mulling them over in the quiet.

Alex blinked, caught off guard, His mouth opened, then closed, a faint heat creeping up the back of his neck, "Uh, well, yeah," he stammered, shifting his weight against the couch, The question hung in the air, simple but heavy, and he wondered if anyone else in the house had noticed the same thing, Did Lyriel’s sharp eyes catch it?

He cleared his throat, forcing a casual tone, "I mean, I’m new to all this," he said, gesturing vaguely at the room, the vine-carved walls, the shimmering light, the whole impossible elven world pressing in around him, "She’s been showing me the ropes, you know? Helping me figure it out."

Urell’s expression didn’t shift, but there was a flicker in his eyes, a hint of something Alex couldn’t quite pin down, The boy shrugged, a small, disinterested roll of his shoulders, as if the explanation was just noise to him, "Sure," he said, his tone flat, almost bored, He turned toward the spiraling staircase at the far end of the room, his boots silent against the polished wood floor, "See you at dinner," he tossed over his shoulder, then climbed the steps, his pale blue tunic catching the light as he vanished around the curve.

The night draped the room in stillness, the only sound the faint rustle of leaves beyond the half-open window

Alex lay sprawled across the wide bed, its silken sheets cool against his skin, his breath slow and steady in the depths of sleep, A sudden shift stirred the air, a subtle ripple, like a breath held too long, and his eyes fluttered open, the haze of dreams scattering, The room was dim, shadows pooling in the corners, but a sliver of moonlight slipped through the window, painting the floor in pale silver.

The door creaked, then swung wide, and Alex tensed, his heart jolting as a figure slipped inside, Lyriel moved on tiptoes, her steps silent against the polished wood, her presence filling the space with an unspoken weight, She wore nothing but a robe, its deep emerald fabric hanging loose and unfastened, the edges parting to reveal the curve of her collarbone and the smooth line of her skin beneath, Her brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the moonlight in a soft, glowing halo, each strand shimmering like molten copper in the faint gleam.

Alex exhaled sharply, his body easing as recognition settled in, He propped himself up on one elbow, the sheets sliding down his chest as he met her golden eyes, sharp and unreadable in the near-darkness, "It’s you," he said, his voice rough with sleep, a trace of relief softening the words, The tension melted from his shoulders.

The moonlight cast a faint, silver sheen across the room as Lyriel turned from the door, her fingers deftly sliding the lock into place with a soft, deliberate click

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