Eros was deep in thought when a tall shadow suddenly fell across his book. He blinked and looked up to find his father standing behind him, with that vaguely familiar woman following closely in his wake.

  Seeing Eros looking at her, the woman offered a faint smile and curtsied gracefully. "Greetings, Prince Eros."

  Duke Alaric looked a bit sheepish. He gestured toward the woman as he introduced her. "This is Lady Florica. You’ve met before—she is the mother of your fifth sister."

  Eros nodded. No wonder she looked familiar.

  However, despite her being the mother of his half-sister, they rarely crossed paths. Mistresses held a low social status and were never permitted to dine at the master’s table. Furthermore, while his mother, Estelle, never openly complained about his father’s "extracurricular" activities, Alaric wasn't stupid enough to let his mistresses flaunt themselves in front of his legal wife every day.

  They lived in a separate wing of the estate, quite far from Eros’s own quarters. The Ducal Manor was vast; Eros hadn’t even finished exploring the whole place yet.

  Duke Alaric looked at his son with curiosity. "What are you reading so intently?"

  Eros closed the book, revealing the gold-embossed title on the dark cover: The Chronicles of the Mist Sea.

  The Duke’s eyebrows shot up. "I didn’t realize you were interested in such grim things."

  Eros shook his head. "I was originally looking for records of the Elven race. I stumbled upon the Foggy Sea by chance and became curious, so I decided to take a look."

  Alaric looked puzzled. "The Elves haven't set foot on the Croatian Continent for tens of thousands of years. Why on earth are you looking for them?"

  Eros felt a jolt of pleasant surprise. His father seemed to know something! He immediately pressed for more. "Father, do you know about the Elves?"

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  "Of course," Alaric replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Our ancestors actually intermarried with the Elven race back in the day. So, strictly speaking, we have a portion of Elven blood in our veins."

  "However," he continued, "it’s been far too long. After generations of dilution, that bloodline has likely thinned to the point of being negligible."

  Wait, just like that? I know now?

  Eros was stunned. He had expected to go through a series of grueling trials and epic quests, perhaps uncovering fragmented clues in forgotten ruins to piece together the lost history of the supernatural.

  But no. It turned out his own family was the biggest clue all along.

  He didn't hesitate to push further. "So... do the Elves have abilities that differ from normal humans? For example, can they use magic, or something similar?"

  "I don't know what this 'magic' you speak of is," Alaric replied, "but the Elves were indeed... different."

  Eros’s eyes lit up with anticipation. "For example?"

  The Duke stroked his chin thoughtfully. "For example... the women of the Elven race were all exceptionally beautiful."

  Eros felt a sudden pang of "heart failure." Right. I should have known better than to expect anything profound from this legendary old man.

  Duke Alaric laughed and patted Eros on the head. Then, his smile vanished, replaced by an uncharacteristic gravity.

  "I know what you're really asking, Eros," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "But this is dangerous. There is a great risk in simply knowing these things."

  He looked into his son’s eyes, his expression solemn. "But since you have already developed an interest in these 'things,' as a child of the North family, I won't hide the truth from you forever. Just... not today. We need to be prepared. When you come of age at eighteen, we will tell you everything."

  Without another word, Duke Alaric turned and departed, clearly heading off to prepare for something important. (And possibly to finish what he started with Lady Florica).

  Lady Florica smiled at Eros again, curtsied, and followed the Duke.

  Eros remained frozen in thought, forgetting to even return the gesture. He was genuinely rattled now. Knowledge itself carries risk? That sounded suspiciously like a Lovecraftian setting.

  Did I really get reincarnated into a world with Cthulhu-esque horrors? No way...

  After worrying for a moment, Eros decided to stop overthinking.

  Whatever. It was a good thing to finally touch the hem of the supernatural. After all these years, he would finally get to see the true face of this world—he just had to wait until he was eighteen!

  As for whether the truth was good or bad... he’d find out when he got there.

  Relax, Eros. Relax.