C1 Return That Elf Girl to Me!

Dawn City, the capital of the Gorse Empire, was a vision of beauty without opulence, elegance without aloofness.

Third Prince Doyle Seurat meandered down Miesus Avenue, a traveler from Earth now at home in this otherworldly realm.

Merely minutes ago, a messenger from Royal Father had summoned him to Oasis Palace with an urgency that couldn't be ignored. Doyle knew the reason all too well: a political marriage designed to mend the frayed ties between the royal house and the noble families.

His intended was none other than Melanie Aurora, the Great Elder's daughter. The thought of a marriage of convenience made Doyle bristle with resistance. Marriage wasn't a matter to be taken lightly. The beauty of the bride, her virtues, her culinary prowess, and the passion she might bring to their private moments—all were considerations not to be overlooked.

Could a prince's marriage be anything but deliberate? To wed an unsuitable wife would be a disservice to the empire!

His resolve had been as steadfast as the Maginot Line, yet upon meeting Melanie, it crumbled like ancient ruins. Her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, her crimson eyes sparkled with mirth, and her features were as exquisitely chiseled as a sculpture. Every sway of her body sent Doyle's heart into a flutter, and her smile effortlessly captured his heart.

With a sense of duty, Doyle silently acquiesced to his father's wishes, ready to trade his marital freedom for the good of the empire. Today, he was certain Royal Father would "coerce" him into this union.

But what was an engagement, after all? He would agree to it! Surely, Royal Father had his best interests at heart. What father would steer his son wrong?

With a serene face and a heart buoyant with laughter, Doyle entered the Oasis Palace, anticipation for the impending conversation filling him with excitement.

To marry an elven prodigy and ascend to life's pinnacle—that was the destiny of a transmigrator.

In the emperor's study, he found Royal Father Herant Seurat, a figure of elegance with his tall stature and fair complexion. At Doyle's arrival, Herant inclined his head and commanded coolly, "Sit."

His voice, tinged with the rasp of a sleepless night, was as cold as the dawn air.

"Father, you shoulder so many burdens. Please take care of yourself," Doyle remarked gently.

A cryptic smile played on the emperor's lips as he acknowledged his son's concern with a nod.

Before them, two cups of tea steamed invitingly, their aroma enveloping the room in a comforting mist.

Doyle's lips curved in anticipation of the conversation to come, as Herant pushed a cup towards him and inquired softly, "Do you know why I've summoned you?"

Accepting the cup, Doyle sipped thoughtfully, his posture the picture of composed gravity. "My marriage," he ventured.

Herant's gaze drifted to the verdant view beyond the window, his mind clearly elsewhere. "To wear the crown is to bear its burden. As royalty, sacrifices must be made, including the freedom to choose one's spouse."

Doyle's heart leapt with secret joy, though he maintained a visage of calm tinged with sorrow—the stoic mask of a Sagittarius.

"I've arranged this marriage for the stability of our empire. I hope you understand," Herant intoned gravely.

A filial smile broke through Doyle's facade. Marrying a beautiful and graceful elven maiden? Let such sacrifices come with fervor!

"Do you resent my decision?" Herant's voice was heavy with concern.

Standing tall, Doyle replied with noble conviction, "Royal Father, I understand your plight and am ready to make this sacrifice."

Herant's smile was one of relief. His son had matured at last, embracing a duty he had once so adamantly opposed.

Then, with a voice that struck like thunder, Herant dropped the bombshell. "Since Melanie is not to your liking, I won't insist. I've arranged a new match for you with Princess Franny Agares of the Agares Kingdom of God."

Doyle's world spun. The teacup slipped from his grasp, shattering unnoticed.

A replacement? The princess of the Devil Clan, with her monstrous horns?

"Oh, Moon God, return my elven beauty!" he inwardly pleaded, his dreams of a fairy-tale union dashed. How could he, an elven prince, be wed to a princess of the Devil Clan?

Before he could voice his shock, Herant clapped him on the shoulder, pride resonating in his voice, "My son, your willingness to sacrifice for our people fills me with pride."

Doyle was speechless. The Devil Clan, with their goat-like horns? Who in their right mind would...?

He reminisced about the coconut goats from a popular game he used to play before his transmigration, his belly full of complaints that he choked back.

He had been fond of Monster Girls, very fond indeed.

On a desolate, rainy night, he opened the pink anime app and found a comic featuring Ganyu.

The allure of the Coconut Goat quickened his hand move.

But just as he was on the cusp of unleashing his white magic, a thunderclap boomed, causing his right hand to twitch. Suddenly, the flirtatious Coconut Goat morphed into a beautiful sheep batting her eyelashes at him.

He was so shocked that he couldn't continue.

From that moment on, he developed a phobia of Monster Girls.

He vowed to himself that he would never, ever have anything to do with Monster Girls again!

He had witnessed Melanie's beauty, but the appearance of the Princess of the Devil Clan was unknown to him. The idea of gambling on a bride was preposterous!

He resolved to speak sensibly to his father.

"Royal Father, I am ready to sacrifice for our nation and our people, but surely the feelings of the Great Elder and Melanie must be taken into account."

"An offensive annulment of an engagement could breed resentment from the other party, like with.... Ultimately, it's detrimental to the cohesion of our people. Please reconsider."

"My child, there's no need for concern. The Great Elder and I have deliberated over this decision. He suggested a peaceful dissolution of the engagement, which will not offend his honor," Herant assured him with a warm smile. "It heartens me that you consider the unity of the elves."

Doyle was at a loss for words. 'Hold off on the satisfaction, please. I have no desire to marry the Princess of the Devil Clan.'

He racked his brain for a long while but couldn't muster a single argument against it.

At last, under his father's imposing yet benevolent gaze, he gave in.

If it had to be the Devil Clan, so be it. Who he married didn't seem to matter. Love would grow with time, what difference did it make?

With his father's hopeful eyes upon him, he inhaled deeply and ventured a quiet question,

"Is this Princess of the Devil Clan you speak of... beautiful?"