The Paranoid Elf Queen Turned Me Into Her Sister

Volume 4 – The Truth of Ruglian – Prologue

Whenever arriving in a new environment, living beings would often feel out of place, leading them to change some of their daily habits.

After finishing her bath, Yimi sat on the freshly tidied sofa, her damp hair draped over her shoulders, her little white feet bare and soft, emitting a sweet fragrance. She held in her hands a book she had casually picked up from the second-floor library—a title that piqued her interest. As she read, the gentle sunshine outside streamed through the window, and the warm seasonal breeze caressed her cheeks, slightly drying her long hair.

It seemed… there wasn’t anything particularly bad or uncomfortable about this place.

She withdrew her gaze from the window and looked toward the elegant figure inside the room. The golden-haired girl had taken on a rather unusual appearance—she’d tied a white kitchen apron around her waist, holding a broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other. She looked just like a housewife doing chores.

For some reason, this scene gave Yimi a strange feeling—like an older sister who took care of the home, struggling to raise a younger sister diligently studying.

“Lift your feet a little.”

Teresa was sweeping under the sofa. Yimi obediently sat cross-legged, freeing up the space beneath her feet.

This villa was so big—just how long would it take to sweep the whole place? Yimi offered to help, but Teresa had turned her down in disdain. In her eyes, Yimi’s help would only make things worse. This lady likely never did any fieldwork growing up, only knew how to play around.

Though Yimi was a bit indignant, she couldn’t argue when she saw how deft Teresa’s movements were.

What she couldn’t figure out was—wasn’t Teresa also a noble lady? And not just any noble lady, but the dignified second daughter of the Elf Empress. So why did she know how to do all this?

There was still quite some time left in the holiday. On one hand, Yimi was curious about what Teresa’s teammates were like; on the other hand, she was relieved that there was still time to enjoy this solitude. Once more people returned, things would become lively—and Teresa would probably be overwhelmed.

She took a sip of light tea and glanced at Teresa who was diligently working, silently thinking.

“You mentioned before that one of your roommates is a Moon Elf?”

“Mm, she’s the Moon Elf Princess. Usually doesn’t talk much, but she’s a kind-hearted girl.” Teresa said it in a tone like she was evaluating a junior, but that was indeed the truth.

Ever since Teresa had recovered part of her memory, her perspective on things had shifted.

For example, after all, she was someone over a hundred years old—her view of Astrid had changed from peer to junior.

Thinking back, it was a bit embarrassing. At first, she’d even had some ambiguous interactions with Astrid. Now, recalling that, it felt like an old cow chewing young grass—a bit shameful.

She glanced at the snowy-white and tender little girl on the sofa. That baby-fat face was full of concentration, completely absorbed in her book. Her golden lashes fluttered like butterfly wings, and under the sunlight, her fluffy honey-colored hair spilled down like a blanket, covering the jade-like legs that peeked from beneath.

I had worried she wouldn’t be able to adapt to life here—but clearly, I’d worried for nothing.

Divine Children generally had a strong thirst for knowledge. Once they found a book that interested them, time would slip by unnoticed.

By dusk, Yimi put down the book and rubbed her little belly. At the same time, Teresa had more or less finished cleaning up.

“Hey, what’s for dinner?” She sprawled lazily on the soft sofa like a child needing care, looking bored and unmotivated.

“That’s how you ask? Have you never lived at Coleman Academy before?” Teresa put away the broom and dustpan, marveling at how good Elven physiques were. After sweeping all afternoon, her waist wasn’t sore and her legs weren’t tired.

“Before was before.” Back then no one took care of her—she was free-range. Now that someone did, she was domesticated. Not the same.

“Cafeteria it is.”

“You don’t cook?”

“After all this time, you think there’s any food left in this house?” Teresa chuckled. “Besides, I’m not the one who usually does the cooking.”

“Then who?” Just as she asked, Yimi glanced at the pink cat slippers on her feet and remembered Teresa had mentioned a very responsible but often slow cat-eared maid.

“Let’s go. I’m done here.” Teresa untied her apron and hung it behind the kitchen door.

“Going to eat?”

“That’s on the way. I still have to see someone.”

“Who?”

“You wouldn’t know them even if I told you.” At the entrance, she slipped on her black over-the-knee student socks and student shoes—promptly greeted by Yimi’s silent yet slightly shocked expression.

“Staring at me like that is rude, you know. Unless I activate my domain, I do wear shoes when going outside.” Teresa immediately saw through what Yimi was surprised by, and offered a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Hand in hand, Teresa and Yimi walked out of Crown Manor, heading straight for the north side of campus.

Yimi found it strange. The northern area of Coleman Academy was where faculty and high-level administrators worked. Students rarely went there—worried they’d bump into their class advisor or main instructors and get a lecture.

Who exactly was Teresa going to see?

Office halls lined both sides of the road, but Teresa didn’t turn. She walked straight ahead.

Yimi hesitated to speak. She wanted to remind Teresa that the path ahead was a dead end—just a wall. Go any further and they’d walk right into it.

Then she thought—Teresa clearly knew more than she did. Was there something off about that wall?

At the end of the alley, Teresa placed a hand on the wall and silently recited something. When she opened her eyes again, her hand had passed into the wall.

Yimi stared, shocked.

“Don’t be afraid.” Teresa said gently, still holding her hand, and pulled her into the wall.

Inside the wall stood a sky-piercing tower, floating crystal lamps lighting the space. Yimi was visibly shaken.

The air smelled familiar. Yimi raised her eyes, scanning the surroundings. The hooded figures drifting through the tower gave her a strangely comforting feeling.

“No need to hide yourself here.” Teresa nudged Yimi. “Everyone here is one of us.”

“You mean?”

“Lady Teresa.” A black-robed figure carrying preservation tools noticed Teresa’s arrival and approached with a bow. His gaze lingered briefly on Yimi—knowing Teresa wouldn’t bring irrelevant people into the Tower of Sages, he understood at once and regarded Yimi with more respect.

“And this is?”

Before the man could ask, Teresa casually removed Yimi’s disguise, rubbing her head to reassure her.

Seeing her pointed Elf ears, the man clearly had guessed and bowed to Yimi.

“May I ask how to address you, my lady?”

“........My name is Yimi.” It was the first time someone addressed her as “my lady,” and she wasn’t quite used to it.

“Lady Yimi, a pleasure.” The man removed his hood, revealing a handsome face and silver hair. “My name is Kashu, originally from Veil City. I look forward to working with you.”

Although Yimi had already guessed that the staff maintaining this tower were Elves, it still surprised her to hear it confirmed.

The fact that Teresa could remove her disguise so casually meant that everyone here was Elven.

Veil City.

Yimi remembered—it was once a settlement of the Moon Elves. In the course of history, it had since changed hands.

Kashu’s mention of being from Veil City—now under Demon Race control—was also his way of expressing allegiance.

They no longer considered the current Elf Forest their home. They hadn’t forgotten that their roots lay with the ancient Sacred Tree of the Elves.

“Lady Teresa, is Lady Yimi your sister?”

“No. In terms of bloodline, Yimi is my tribeswoman. Go back a few generations, and maybe we’d find a shared ancestor.” Teresa explained.

Even among Gold Elves, there were distinctions between royalty and subjects. It was the same with Moon Elves. Still, they all bore the surname Galnorin.

Now that she thought about it...

“This is good news. That means we now know of two surviving Gold Elves.” Kashu sounded genuinely excited, the faintest smile breaking through his usual cold demeanor.

Teresa glanced silently at Yimi.

According to Yimi, she had suddenly appeared at Coleman Academy. But the highest authorities at the Academy had been completely unaware of it.

Perhaps she had intentionally concealed her identity—but there were too many suspicious details.

“Kashu, I came here to see Elder Diderlay.”

“I see. Elder Diderlay is present. I’ll fetch him. The Headmaster has been stressed these days—but knowing you’ve recovered another Gold Elf will surely lift his spirits.”

“There’s something else I need your help with.” Teresa withdrew her gaze from Yimi.

“Whatever you need, Your Highness.”

“You might not believe it, but this girl is already a student at Coleman Academy.”

“What?” Kashu froze. All this time they’d been searching for Gold Elves, and one had been right in front of them.

The irony was unreal.

“So, I’d like to know—who approved her enrollment? When did she join the Academy? I want to check the records.”

“Of course, no problem.” Kashu looked at Yimi, then back at Teresa, clearly wanting to ask something else.

Teresa understood. “You want to know whether Yimi has any memories of the past—and if she knows the current location of the Sacred Tree of the Elves, right?”

“Regretfully, she says she has no memories from before. For as long as she can remember, she’s always been a student here.”

“I understand.” Kashu nodded.

He led them to the central guest table of the tower and then left.

Along the way, they encountered many black-robed Elves. Each bowed respectfully upon seeing Teresa and Yimi.

Seated under the crystal chandelier at the tower’s center, Teresa was calm as ever. Perhaps due to the unfamiliar setting, Yimi appeared a bit shy and awkward.

The aroma of tea wafted from fine porcelain cups. The golden surface of the tea reflected the chandelier’s light. Just as Yimi’s nervousness peaked, a figure emerged from the shadows—his footsteps slow and deliberate.

Startled, Yimi lost grip of her teacup. The liquid spilled.

But before it could hit the floor, both tea and cup froze midair—as if time itself had stopped. A moment later, everything rewound, tea flowing backward into the cup in a physically impossible way. The cup returned to her hands, placed perfectly before her as if nothing had happened.

“The tea is still hot. Please be careful when holding it.” A warm and kind voice spoke as the footsteps approached.

A silver-haired young man, handsome and clean, emerged with a gentle smile. His words were full of care—like an elder speaking to a junior.

Perhaps it was shyness—or something else—but Yimi instinctively leaned closer to Teresa upon seeing Diderlay.

“Elder Diderlay.”

“Even during this rare holiday, you still think of an old relic like me—what an honor.” Diderlay chuckled, leaning on his cane as he took a seat. He looked kindly at the timid Yimi.

“So this is Lady Yimi? A pleasure. I am Diderlay Oleniman, one of the Moon Elf elders.”

“As for me, I imagine Lady Teresa has already told you much. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Diderlay’s words were filled with kindness and courtesy. His gaze toward Yimi was gentle and fatherly—yet Yimi still felt strangely uncomfortable.

“So, I take it Your Highness sought me out now because you remembered something?”

“Mm.” Teresa didn’t deny it. “I have recalled some things.”

“I see. And this timing—is it because you thought now would be best to tell me?” Diderlay was clearly pleased.

If Teresa hadn’t planned to share her memories, she wouldn’t have gone out of her way to visit the Tower of Sages.

“Elder Diderlay, how much do you know about the origins of the Demon Race?” Teresa asked after a pause.

“Hmm? The Demon Race?” Diderlay seemed puzzled by the question and fell into thought. “There are many theories. Among the Elves, we believe the Demon Race came from another world. However, some have pointed out linguistic similarities between Demonic and Elvish. That remains a mystery—and while the two might be related, we have no solid evidence.”

“Is it possible... that the Demon Race were once Elves?”

“..........Oh?” Diderlay straightened slightly, his expression growing more hesitant. “That’s an interesting idea. But what makes you think so?”

Teresa then shared what she had remembered—about the connection between resentment and the existence of the Demon Race.

“..........Is that so?” Diderlay seemed to have trouble accepting it.

But such a reaction was expected. The idea that the Demon Race had once been beings of light had long existed—but was widely dismissed as nonsense.