[Western Fantasy] The black-skinned elf also wants to hug the rich woman’s lap today

The choice of gift was surprisingly not a difficult choice for O'Brien.

It's not that he has much experience in this area, it's just that unfortunately there are too few gifts that are within his budget. After all, he is a pauper, and now he is in danger of adding the adjective "super" in front of "pauper". O'Brien took out the money bag in his pocket, weighed it, and decided to return to Gabu City to make plans.

On the way back, the black-skinned elf finally failed to apologize to Sylvia. He is not very good at communicating with women, not to mention that he is the one who is at fault now, so he really doesn't have enough confidence to do so with nothing. O'Brien pulled his cloak higher and put on his wind mask again to cover up his inner anxiety and panic.

Sylvia still put on her priest's robe and held the white crystal staff in her hand. The hood was pulled up, covering most of her face, and she was thinking about something with her head down. The priest was uncharacteristically silent. Although the pastor always gave people a quiet impression, in O'Brien's impression, she always smiled and tilted her face slightly, listening to all kinds of noisy conversations around her. But the pastor is obviously worried now, and his attention is focused on himself.

Will it be something related to the team's departure or stay?

The elf watched the priest out of the corner of his eye. The tight feeling around the heart returned. It took a lot of effort for O'Brien to roll his Adam's apple and swallow a mouthful of saliva.

Nonsense, how could he not be nervous? This was about his meal money for a week.

But the priests and elves, who had their own concerns, didn't notice at all, and the "Glass Viper" team was surprisingly quiet. It wasn't just the two of them. The dwarf was huddled on his little gray donkey, holding a small parchment notepad and sketching something with a carbon stick. The team leader who used to be in high spirits after completing a mission seemed to have encountered some kind of problem. He didn't even have time to shave off the stubble that had just grown out when he got up in the morning. His previously shining brows were now frowning.

This solemn team was filled with a quiet and terrifying atmosphere that came from nowhere. It was not until they returned to the hotel where the team lived in Gabu City that they woke up from a dream.

"I'm going to work." Arnold was the first to speak. He finally raised his head and finished the improvisation in his notebook. He didn't even bother to go into the room to wash away the dust and hurried outside.

Aiwen knew that the dwarf was anxious to go to the Circumference Tower to submit information. After all, in their industry, time is money. He didn't care either. He was not the kind of unreasonable leader who strictly prohibited his subordinates from taking on private work. He waved his hand to show that he understood and yawned and went straight back to the room.

O'Brien looked aside at the priest. His intuition told him that now was a good time to apologize. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the two of them to be alone. They could have a good talk, and he could also think carefully about how to hold the rich woman's thigh, at least to keep her as a person. But there was always something missing or something extra in his heart, which fell heavily on the apex of his heart, and his mouth was sewn shut at the same time.

While he was thinking stiffly, Sylvia gathered her robe and returned to her room.

boom.

The door was shut decisively.

Oh well. O'Brien didn't even have the strength to shrug, so he could only go upstairs dejectedly and open his door.

After not returning home for many days, there was inevitably fine dust in the room. As the door opened, it floated lightly in the air, like flowing gold under the light.

O'Brien was exhausted both physically and mentally, and had no idea of ​​cleaning the room for the time being. He turned over the bed and found a small linen money bag under the pillow. He couldn't help but open it and counted the number of coins inside.

But the smell of money that he liked most in the past cannot comfort him now. He calculated carefully in his mind that this amount of money should be enough to buy a small apology gift.

Alas, reluctant to give up. But there is no way, this expense is necessary.

I can't catch a rich woman even if I'm reluctant to give up gold coins. The black-skinned elf gritted his teeth secretly.

When he simply cleaned up the room and was about to go out to buy gifts, he suddenly saw the magazine and the thick dictionary on the table.

ah. it's a pity. The mission came in such a hurry that he didn't have time to use it seriously.

O'Brien could not help but go to the window. A row of sparrows stood on a pole outside the window. One, two, three... wow, there is a pigeon. The elf opened the window and habitually grabbed a handful of millet grains and placed them on the table. The sparrows came in one after another, chirping and pecking, as if praising their kind-hearted elf.

The pigeon tilted its head, but still stood motionless on the railing. The small black eyes stared at this strange elf in confusion, hesitating whether to join the sparrow and compete for the hard-won rations.

O'Brien looked at it blankly, but he finally took out an extra handful and placed it near the window. The pigeon was stunned for a moment, fluttered its wings, and finally flew in, lowering its head to gnaw on the millet grains.

The flapping of the pigeon's wings caused a gust of wind in the room, and the magazines originally placed on the table by the window were flipping. Even the heavy dictionary had its cover lifted.

Snap. Something fell to the ground.

O'Brien leaned over and picked it up. This is... a photo?

He knew the photos. The Perimeter Tower invented many weird gadgets, some of which were so exquisite that even the nobles who had always been associated with the Holy See couldn't help but secretly rush to buy them.

Camera is one of them. Its principle seems to be to use certain magic circles and lenses to distort light to retain images. God knows how the people at the Perimeter Tower came up with this, but the camera was well-received once it was released, and everyone in the upper class was proud to take a photo.

This photo...should be a family photo.

A beautiful girl sat on the seat in front of her, with shoulder-length hair. Small strands of black hair were braided together with a sky blue ribbon, but the ribbon made it softer and smoother. The girl sat upright with her eyes lowered, not looking at the camera, but facing the direction of the camera with a quiet, error-free smile.

Standing behind her were men, women and a little boy. O'Brien guessed it was Sylvia's parents and younger brother. Both his father and brother were ordinary in appearance. His mother could barely be considered beautiful. She also had long black hair and a pair of black eyes, which were gentle and sad. But O'Brien felt that her eyes were ordinary and very similar. A pair of nondescript glass beads.

If the priest's eyes lit up...he couldn't help but think so. But after shaking his head, the photo seemed a bit private. He didn't want to look at it any more, so he just planned to put it back.

But the composition of this photo always made him feel weird. The pastor sat alone in the chair near the front, while the rest of her family stood behind. The mother cuddled up to her father, and the father put his hand on his son's shoulder, as if they had formed a family, and the pastor was the one who was excluded. . But it's obvious that their expressions are not one of rejection or disgust, but...awe?

Is it because this daughter has been fostered by the priest since she was a child?

The elf didn't want to speculate more, guessing that Sylvia only used this photo as a bookmark, and finally carefully stuffed the photo into the dictionary. I picked up my money bag and got ready to go out.

Although he has always kept an appropriate distance from women due to fear, he still roughly knows what women like. There is an old saying circulating on the mainland, "A woman is a dragon who likes to sit in caves filled with gems." He was convinced of this. Women's bloodline seems to be connected with that of dragons, and they are naturally resistant to the glittering beauty. Whether it is luxurious jewelry or brilliant diamonds, they can make them look beautiful unconsciously.

It was a pity that all his wealth could not afford to buy even a small white crystal stone that Sylvia inlaid on both ends of the staff. O'Brien decided not to humiliate himself, but to do what he could. So he wanted to give this young lady a bouquet of flowers.

Go out and turn left, away from the street. The elf walked deeper and deeper into the city. But he wasn't worried at all about getting lost among the maze-like walls. He has lived in this city for nearly a hundred years and is even familiar with the many hidden secret passages therein. It can be said that he knows this city as well as he knows his own left hand.

Turn right and finally turn left at the end of the alley, where a small flower shop quietly opens. The location here is obviously no longer in the business district of Gabu City. There have been no lively festivals recently, and there are not many customers in the flower shop.

The shop owner is an old orc lady, with reading glasses on the bridge of her nose, neatly wearing a white apron, and her long wolf tail wagging behind her. She was rolling up her sleeves and tying together a large bunch of white camellia. When she heard the bell ringing at the door, she slowly raised her head.

"Hey, you are so well covered on a hot day, young man." The old lady greeted in her thin voice, "Want to buy flowers?"

It had been a long time since he came to the flower shop, and O'Brien was a little nervous. He walked around in circles first, and was dazzled by the various flowers. Finally, he had to ask the shop owner for help.

"Mother-in-law." He asked in a low voice, his voice vague through the mask as if he was embarrassed, "Do you have any flowers? Bring them to apologize... for the girl."

"Yo!" The old lady was no longer sleepy now. She held her eyes and glanced at Obulin jokingly, only to realize that this was still a dark elf. This is rare! The gossip came out all of a sudden, and his face was filled with a smile that was just joining in the fun.

"For your girlfriend?" She took out a handful of red roses.

"No, no, no, no!" A large bouquet of bright red flowers came to O'Brien, giving him a rare start. "Don't be so enthusiastic, be quieter, be more elegant."

He looked around and saw the white camellia that the shopkeeper was tying just now, "I think that one is pretty good."

The old lady waved her hand without thinking, "This won't work. This has a special purpose." She moved closer to O'Brien, covering one side of her face with her hand, and muttered to him mysteriously, "Do you know what this is? ?This is the 'Undying Velvet Flower'."

"Our new city lord, yes, is the witch, and the 'Emperor Velvet Flower' is her symbol."