Chapter 107: Isabelle, the Cute and Sexy Tour Guide

“Perhaps Shishi-no-su may have fucked the remaining common sense you have,” she interrupted me, suddenly dropping into vulgar territory that sounded absurd coming from such a small, frilly package. “But over here, if you really, REALLY want to have my body, you will have to work for millennia. And you might still not get it.”

“You sound smug about that, but aren’t you just mean?” I mumbled, as I watched her push out her tiny chest in pride, with her hands on hips, and her chin lifting defiantly.

Tsk. So cute.

“Well… since you begged me so much,” she began playing with her fingers, twirling a vine from her dress around one digit in a way that was distractingly bashful, “and you’re a god-touched too… and your looks aren’t half bad. I a-approve; I’ll share my queenly bed with your creepy self! But just this once okay?!”

Ah, no… I still don’t know how we are entering these topics…

I stared at her; the tiny, flushed, and proud fairy, clearly trying to look seductive while simultaneously looking like she might combust from embarrassment.

If I simply denied the mountain of allegations she’d just piled on me, I had the sudden, terrible feeling she’d burst into tears.

Those big violet eyes would fill with water, and her lip would tremble, then I’d spend the rest of eternity feeling like the world’s biggest asshole.

And I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.

“Isabelle!” Titania spun toward the secretary-looking fairy with dragonfly wings, her frilly green dress flaring out in a puff of cotton and petals. “Prepare our guest—”

“You mean captive?” Isabelle interrupted in a calm but edged voice, with dry amusement.

“—so we can know if he’s worthy of my bed!”

Isabelle’s adorable, little green eyebrows furrowed slightly, the only single fissure in her otherwise perfect composure. “I understand, Your Majesty… But will your queenly cunt be alright?”

“Kyaahhh! P-Pervert!” Titania shrieked, her tiny hands flying to cover her crotch as if the words had physically attacked her. And her face turned a violent shade of pink, with her butterfly wings flapping furiously. “Geeeeeeeeez! Why do you always get so uncouth, Isabelle?! When I’m older than you too!”

Ah, I think this fairy Queen is sensitive about being seen as small or little. Considering she’s the weakest fairy alive.

But on the other hand, their outburst was almost endearing in its absurdity: Titania hopping from foot to foot, her cheeks puffed out in a pout, and her violet eyes watering with indignation while Isabelle maintained that serene secretary smile.

The contrast between Titania’s explosive reaction and Isabelle’s unflappable calmness made the whole thing feel like a comedy skit.

***

Well, it was suddenly decided, without my say in it.

“You’re not leaving Fairylynch until you prove you’re worthy of m-my body!”

Titania jabbed a finger at me one last time, then she turned in a dramatic style.

She grabbed Tesa and Tera by their braids, gently, despite the motion, and the three of them—like gravity didn’t exist— lifted off in a shimmer of wings, AND carrying my box of Shishi-no-su souvenirs clutched between them like a prized trophy.

She shot me one last look over her shoulder—with a pout and a huff—before they all vanished into the glowing canopy above.

That left me alone with Isabelle.

She gestured politely toward a winding root path descending from the giant leaf platform. “This way, Sir. Benjamin Mark.”

As we walked, the initial awkwardness melted away surprisingly fast.

I mean, Isabelle was very sociable and friendly; quite warm without being overbearing, and quick with a soft laugh or a gentle explanation.

Her dragonfly wings folded neatly against her back as she chose to walk beside me instead of flying, possibly to match my human pace without complaint.

Every so often she’d point out something interesting, with her light and melodic voice.

I got many information from her, piece by piece, as we moved deeper into the fairy land called Fairylynch.

According to Isabelle, this place was partly in the physical plane and partly in the divine realm, in the sense that it could be reached as easily spiritually as it could be physically.

It hovered somewhere in the clouds above a great ocean, a liminal space where the boundaries between worlds thinned to threads.

And the air I was fruitlessly breathing, the thick and sweet stuff, tingling on my tongue, was actually fairy dust—pure, concentrated mana in particulate form (normally, magic couldn’t be perceived with the naked eyes).

Isabelle explained matter-of-factly that inhaling it, like I was doing, would kill most mortals within minutes if they weren’t high-level existences or otherwise protected.

Though, to me it felt actually invigorating, like breathing pure carbohydrate.

And the place was every bit as wonderful as I thought—no, even more than I expected.

Fairylynch unfolded around us like a living fantasy dream.

Small houses tucked into extremely large trees; except these trees made Verdant Spire’s look like seedlings.

In Verdant Spire, the trees interlocked to form houses, or sometimes homes hung suspended in branches like bee hives.

Here, the trees themselves were colossal.

I mean, the smallest I could find were as large as skyscrapers, with their trunks so wide that entire neighborhoods nestled in hollows carved into the bark.

Massive roots rose from the ground like rolling hills, their bark smooth and warm under my foot, and veined with glowing sap that pulsed in gentle rhythm.

We currently walked along one such root now, so broad enough to be a highway, and moss cushioning our steps like a high-class carpet.

Shockingly, the plants moved when Isabelle greeted them. Surreal.

A cluster of glowing lilies turned their “heads” toward her as we passed, their petals opening wider in gentle welcome. And a vine dangling overhead reached down to brush her shoulder affectionately, like a cat seeking pets.

“ѪфѪ” She murmured something soft in a lilting tongue I didn’t understand, and the vine retreated with a contented rustle.

Made me wonder why that was the case; Sakura also said “suki” the other day, and I almost didn’t understand it.

{Answer: Master is a god-touched AND a half spirit, so Master can understand all languages, except ancient tongue. Though, in due time, I assure Master, it will be comprehensible.}

[Don’t really mind, though. I already feel like I’m cheating the system of languages.]

Actually, I thought Isabelle was a crazy person at first—talking to plants like they were old friends—but after the third or fourth time it happened, I realized that they were actually responding to her.

The whole realm was literally alive in a way I never quite imagined. Everything seemed to move, and everything pay attention.

We went from place to place, doing a wonderful, and jaw-dropping, tour.

Different from Verdant Spire, these fairies didn’t do collectivism.

They even had a currency here called Titanian Coin; a small, iridescent discs stamped with Titania’s crowned and smiling silhouette on one side and a blooming flower on the other.

How obnoxiously classic.

We passed magic stores where delicate wands of crystal and sparkling wood floated behind glass displays, bustling with contained power.

There were magic staffs leaning against walls like elegant canes, with their tips glowing softly.

There were also enchanted jewelry, rings that shifted colors with ambiance, and necklaces that seemed to whisper something soft—actually, that was creepy.

They all hung from branches that had been turned into racks.

Bakeries wafted scents of sweet pastries and floral breads; tiny ovens glowed inside hollowed tree trunks, fairy bakers fluttering between trays with trays balanced on wings.

One shop sold weapons; not brutal warrior blades, of course, but sophisticated and stylish things. Well, they could still kill someone, so:

According to the administrator, they were daggers of frozen moonlight, some bows strung with demon spider-silk that sang when drawn, with arrows tipped with starlight…

The poetry.

Also, everything —apart from the forest itself—were small-scale yet grand, clearly built for these small winged beings who could flit between levels.

I could see bridges of woven vines connected tree-homes high above; floating platforms drifted lazily, carrying clusters of chatting fairies.

Waterfalls like liquid light cascaded from higher branches, pooling in crystalline basins where fairies played.

But… one major thing kept nagging at me.

“Uh, Miss Isabelle?” I called as we moved along another root path, this one curving upward toward a marketplace buzzing with activity.

Like I said, unlike the other fairies, she walked with me, not flying in the air. Her dragonfly wings stayed folded, with the iridescent membranes catching the light in subtle rainbows.

“Just call me Isabelle, Sir. Mark.” She flashed me a cute smile—her small and endearing lips curving just enough to show a hint of perfect white teeth—and I almost forgot about jail-time situation from taboo.

“Th-then call me just Benjamin, now.”

“Understood. Mr. Benjamin.”

“No! Drop the Mr!”

She laughed a soft, bell-like sound that made her twin buns bounce slightly, and I felt my tension ease a fraction.

After she laughed her fill, I decided to ask her…

Why the hell were everyone children?! Where are the adults?!

“Adults?” She tilted her head, cute, violet eyes blinking in genuine confusion. “Could it be, Benjamin, that you truly think we are children?”

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