These Heroines Are So High Maintenance ch. 1-3 (Patreon)

Chapter 1

The night air had a bite to it that I hadn’t expected. Early-September in rural Wisconsin wasn’t exactly tropical, mind you, but the temp had dropped faster than usual once the sun went down. 

Still, that wasn’t a complaint. At least, not really. The cold kept me alert, and alert was exactly what I needed to be when standing in a cornfield at midnight waiting for interdimensional monsters to try and kill me.

Record scratch, freeze frame. Yep, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I got myself into this mess. Well, bear with me a bit longer. I’m getting there.

So—where were we? September. Cornfield. Wisconsin. Neglected farm plot with a cozy renovated house. We were just getting to my evening ritual. 

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, enjoying the satisfying crunch of dried cornstalks beneath my boots. My sword rested comfortably against my shoulder. The leather grip fit my palm like it was made for me, even though I’d scavenged it off a magically animated suit of armor and only owned the damn thing for a few months. 

My armor clinked softly as I moved. Yes, this was real, honest-to-god plate armor, not the cosplay stuff you’d find at conventions. We’re talking real protection designed, presumably on another world somewhere, to keep pointy monster bits from penetrating my squishy human parts.

That sounded… worse than I intended.

You could hardly blame me for being rough with words, though, since I bought fifty acres of farmland with my lottery winnings—primarily to self-isolate. Fighting extradimensional horrors definitely wasn’t part of the ol’ early retirement plan. At least no one would think to look for me here, which was the whole point of buying property in the ass-end of nowhere Wisconsin. Particularly out in Beaumont territory, a hop, skip, and a jump away from Wapa Lake.

Being suddenly rich was supposed to be awesome. Turns out it mostly meant discovering how many family members you didn’t know you had, all of whom desperately needed loans for sudden illnesses, emergency home repairs, and business ventures. Chill, laid back, low pressure dude like me just isn’t made to deal with that bullshit. So, yes, I fucked off and went no contact with most of them.

The full moon overhead lent the humble fields a sort of understated regality even given how blatantly and intentionally I let them go. I could see clear across to the tree line a hundred yards away. The stars above tonight positively crowded the sky. It was way more stars than I’d ever seen during my late shifts at W-Mart stocking shelves and enduring the existential dread that came with retail work. Behind me, about a quarter mile back, sat my farmhouse, bearing witness to my shenanigans.

I allowed myself a yawn. “Come on already,” I muttered, my breath fogging in the cool air. “There’s leftover pizza on the kitchen counter calling daddy’s name.”

As if the universe had been waiting for me to bitch a bit, the air about twenty feet in front of me began to waver like the space above hot asphalt. The distortion intensified, spreading outward until it formed a vertical tear in reality—a jagged line of pulsing purple energy that widened into an oval large enough for something big to step through.

“Finally,” I grinned, swinging my sword down into a ready position. There’s something deeply satisfying about a monster showing up right when you’re getting bored. It’s like ordering takeout and having it arrive the second your stomach growls.

The ground trembled as something massive pushed its way through the rift. First came a gnarled, moss-covered hand the size of a trash can lid, followed by a bulbous head with beady yellow eyes set deep in a craggy face. The creature had to duck and turn sideways to fit through the portal, its skin a mottled greenish-gray like that container of Thai food I’d forgotten about in the back of my fridge last month. As the monster straightened to its full height—at least nine feet tall—I got a better look at what I was facing.

“Troll,” I said, recognizing it from previous encounters. “And you’re a big boy, aren’t you?”

The troll responded with a roar that landed somewhere between a bear’s growl and a steel dumpster being dragged across a gravel driveway. It pounded its chest with fists the size of chubby toddlers in the fetal position, then charged across the field toward me, each footstep leaving small craters in the dry earth. The thing was a lot faster than it had any right to be at its size.

I stood my ground until the last possible moment, then rolled to the side. The troll’s momentum carried it past me, giving me the perfect opportunity to slash at its hamstring. I took that opportunity. My sword bit deep, drawing a spray of foul-smelling green fluid that was gross enough to momentarily make me consider the merits of death by troll rather than bleeding the thing any more.

The troll howled and spun with surprising agility for something shaped like a refrigerator fucked a bear-gorilla and had a beautiful son they were both very proud of. It swung a massive arm that I barely ducked under, close enough that I felt the wind ruffle my hair. I countered with an upward strike that opened a gash across the creature’s belly, but watching the wound begin closing almost immediately made me sigh internally.

“Regeneration,” I muttered, backing up to reassess my options. “Trolls suck butt.”

Trolls were tough customers—strong, fast for their size, and able to heal quicker than my stepmom’s hypochondriac corgi when you opened the porch door and jingled his leash.  Anyway, my best bet was to go for the troll’s head or heart, assuming this thing’s anatomy was similar to the others I’d faced. Or maybe I could just keep hacking away until it ran out of whatever magical bullshit fueled its healing factor.

The troll didn’t give me much time to workshop battle strategies. It charged again, this time feinting to the left before swinging from the right—a move I hadn’t seen from a troll before. The clever son of a gun caught me off guard, and a glancing blow sent me flying through the air. I hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from my lungs and probably rearrange a few internal organs.

“That smarts,” I wheezed, rolling to my feet with only minor groaning. “Could’ve been worse.”

The troll lumbered toward me, its posture suggesting it thought I was wounded enough to finish off—which was exactly what I wanted it to think. I slumped slightly and let the tip of my sword dip toward the ground like I could barely hold it up. When the troll was just a few feet away, I suddenly exploded into motion, diving between the creature’s legs like a baseball player sliding into home and slashing at its groin as I passed underneath.

The troll’s agonized bellow told me I’d struck a sensitive area. Turns out that no matter what dimension you’re from, getting slashed in the junk is universally unpleasant. Before it could turn around, I was on my feet and leaping onto its back, using the creature’s own belt as a foothold. I scrambled upward as the troll thrashed like a mechanical bull in lawsuit mode, somehow managing to grip a patch of coarse hair on its shoulder with one hand while bringing my sword around with the other. I drove the blade through the back of the creature’s neck with all my strength.

The blade emerged from the front of the troll’s throat in a spray of green that would’ve made the special effects team on a horror movie begin a slow clap. The monster went rigid, then began to teeter forward like a felled tree. I yanked my sword free and jumped clear just before the troll crashed face-first into the dirt.

For several seconds, I just stood there, sword at the ready, watching for any signs of movement or healing. When the troll remained motionless, I cautiously approached and nudged it with my boot. Nothing. But I knew better than to take chances with trolls. I’d seen too many movies where the monster gets back up for one final jump scare.

“Can’t be too careful with these things,” I muttered, gripping my sword with both hands.

With a single powerful swing, I severed the troll’s head from its body. The blade cut clean through the creature’s thick neck, sending the bulbous head rolling a few feet away. Not satisfied with just that, I knelt beside the body and drove my sword into the troll’s chest, carving out a section where I estimated the heart would be. A dark, pulsating organ about the size of a football came free, already beginning to crumble at the edges.

“First rule of troll-hunting,” I said, tossing the rapidly deteriorating organ aside. “Make absolutely sure they’re dead.” I hadn’t really come up with a second rule, but it would probably have to be something like ‘don’t talk about troll-hunting, because people will think you’re nuts.’

Already, the creature’s body was beginning to deteriorate, its greenish skin turning ashen gray. By morning, there would be nothing left but a dark stain on the ground that might be mistaken for an oil leak—something that happened with all the monsters I’d killed. 

As if on cue, a glowing blue rectangle appeared in the air in front of me—a translucent window of text that only I could see, floating there like the world’s most bizarre pop-up ad:

VICTORY! All monsters have been defeated. 

XP Gained! Level Up! Level 15 achieved. 

You have one new skill point and one new attribute point. Would you like to allocate them now? YES / NO

“Yes,” I said, feeling simultaneously ridiculous and badass for talking to an invisible window. The display changed, splitting into two sections:

ALLOCATE YOUR SKILL POINT: 

• Shield Proficiency I : (You gain the ability to wield shields with confidence and grace) 

• Journeyman Fishing I : (Enables the option to catch magical fish that, once eaten, provide temporary stat boosts)

ALLOCATE YOUR ATTRIBUTE POINT: 

• Strength: 17

• Dexterity: 15

• Constitution: 14

• Intelligence: 10

• Wisdom: 10

• Charisma: 9

“Are you kidding me?” I muttered to the empty field. “Fishing? What the hell am I going to do with that?”

I poked the air where “Shield Proficiency I” was displayed, feeling like I was picking the lesser of two useless freaking evils. I didn’t even have a shield at the moment, but that could always change. The text flashed once, then vanished with a tone.

Skill acquired: Shield Proficiency I 

Next, please select an attribute to increase:

“Strength,” I said without hesitation, pointing at the corresponding line. I thought about upping my lowest stat, Charisma—but when I’d boosted it and Intelligence in the past, I never felt much different. Maybe it was a gear check thing, but I didn’t have much in the way of magical gear to choose from out here, so the physical domain was always my go-to.

The moment I made my selection, a warm sensation flowed through my body. It started concentrating in my arms, then spread to my chest, and eventually filled my entire core. It wasn’t painful by any means. It was more like the pleasant endorphin-filled burn after a good workout than anything else, but compressed into a few intense seconds. When the feeling subsided, I lifted my sword with less effort than before, as if it had suddenly lost a bit of its weight.

Attribute increased: Strength (Now 18) 

Congratulations on reaching Level 15! 

New skill and attribute points have been allocated.

The floating blue window vanished. I rolled my shoulders, feeling the new power coursing through my muscles. I lifted my platemail up and glanced down at the bit of my abs I managed to reveal, where a six-pack that had taken shape over the past few months now looked like it had been chiseled from marble. I made a movie superhero look like a pee-pee piss-piss boy.

“Nice,” I said with a grin, letting my breastplate drop back into place. “Beats the hell out of stocking shelves at W-Mart.”

I turned toward the farmhouse, eager to get inside and check my stats more thoroughly on the larger interface I could summon at will. Plus, that pizza was calling my name. But before I’d taken three steps, another distortion appeared in the air.

I froze. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The rifts always closed after dispensing a single enemy, and they never appeared twice in the same night. It was like ordering one pizza and having two delivery guys show up. Something was definitely wrong. Also, I was way too focused on pizza.

“What the hell?” I muttered, drawing my sword again and falling into a fighting stance that I’d half-remembered from a YouTube video on medieval combat. I glanced back over my shoulder at the spot where the troll’s portal had been, confirming it had indeed closed completely before turning back to face this new threat.

The new rift had the same purple energy as before, but there was something different about it. The color seemed more vibrant, the edges more defined, like someone had cranked up the contrast on a TV. I tensed, expecting something even worse than the troll to emerge—maybe a dragon or a demon or some unholy combination of the two.

What stepped through the portal, however, was not a monster.

It was a woman.

She couldn’t have been more than five-foot-nothing, with a busty but petite physique partially covered by what I could only describe as a platemail bikini. Actual metal armor shaped into a halter top and bottoms that left her midriff, arms, and legs mostly exposed, like she walked out of a horny Skyrim mod. Despite wearing armor that protected maybe 30% of her vital organs, she moved with the confident grace of someone who knew how to handle herself in a fight.

I towered over her diminutive frame at six-foot-three, but something about her presence made her seem anything but small. It was like watching a Chihuahua that thought it was a Great Dane.

Her hair was blonde, flowing down her back in an impressively chunky braid that reached her waist and looked thicker than my arm. Two thinner braids framed her face, hanging down on either side of her high cheekbones like decorative curtains. A golden tiara with a pale blue gemstone sat atop her head, reflecting the starry sky and glittering with each little movement. Her jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, and her piercing blue eyes—the color of a great summer day—scanned the battlefield and landed quickly on yours truly, right in front of her.

What really caught my attention were her ears—delicate, pointed elven ears that peeked through her blonde hair like daggers. Their tips extended a good two inches beyond where human ears would end, giving her the unmistakable look of—well, someone who didn’t belong in rural Wisconsin, that’s for damn sure.

The woman stepped fully through the portal. It sealed itself behind her with a soft whoosh, like a door closing on another world. She looked around the field with an expression of mild disappointment, as if she’d booked a five-star hotel and been shown to a two-star room, then spotted the troll’s corpse and severed head. Her eyes widened, then narrowed as she looked up—way up—at me.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, her voice carrying a distinctly posh accent that sounded like it belonged on a BBC period drama. “You’ve done away with the beast already? Well, that’s rather convenient.”

I lowered my sword slightly but didn’t sheathe it. For all I knew, this could be some kind of sexy angler monster trap. “Uh, yeah. Not my first troll.”

The woman’s eyebrows rose like they were trying to escape her forehead. “Indeed?”

She minced daintily over to the troll’s corpse, somehow managing to avoid every puddle of goo despite wearing metal boots with heels that would’ve sent most people face-first into the dirt. She gave the body a delicate poke with her toe, then hopped back with a little “eep!” when it twitched in a post-mortem spasm.

“Ahem,” she said, smoothing her expression and fluffing her braid as if no one had witnessed her momentary lapse in dignity. “Good work. These beasts are such a nuisance. Dreadful things. Always regenerating and leaking foul-smelling fluids on one’s favorite boots.”

She turned back to me with a bright smile and a theatrical flick of her wrist.

“Saves me the trouble, at any rate. I’d have had to burn these gloves afterward. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get troll ichor out of enchanted silk? Practically impossible.”

“Saves you...? Wait, who are you? And how did you come through that portal?” I asked, still not entirely convinced she wasn’t some kind of magical assassin sent to stab me with a dagger while I was distracted by her... very distracting everything.

“Oh, where are my manners?”

The woman swept into an elegant curtsy that somehow made the movement graceful even considering her revealing armor. “I am Elysia Silverleaf of the World of Antheria, Crown Princess of the Elfhaven Kingdom, Protector of the Sacred Grove, Wielder of the Starblade, and appointed First Maiden of the Hero’s Party.”

She straightened and flipped her braid over her shoulder with a practiced motion that sent it arcing through the air like a golden whip.

“You may address me as Princess Elysia. Or ‘Your Highness,’ if you’re feeling particularly reverent.”

She looked me up and down, her head tilting back to take in my full height like she was examining a particularly interesting tree. Her eyes lingered for a moment too long on my arms and chest in a way that made me suddenly very aware that I was quite sweaty underneath all the armor.

“My word, you are a large specimen. The human men of my realm do not grow to such... imposing sizes. Do all Earth males come in your dimensions, or are you considered excessive even by your world’s standards?”

I stared at her for a long moment, trying to process the fact that I was having a conversation with an elf princess in platemail lingerie in the middle of my cornfield at midnight. This was definitely not covered in the “What To Do With Your Lottery Winnings” VHS tape they made me watch.

“Right... I’m Josh. Josh Becker.” I managed, feeling like I should bow or something but settling for an awkward nod.

“Well met, Josh Becker,” Elysia said with a nod of her own that somehow managed to seem both gracious and condescending at the same time.

Then she looked around again, her perfect brow furrowing slightly. “This... this isn’t right. Where is the Tower of Convergence supposed to be? The prophecy clearly stated it would stand at the point of the Demon King’s crossing.”

“Tower of Convergence?” I echoed, feeling like I’d walked into a movie halfway through. “There’s no tower around here. Just my farmhouse back that way.”

I gestured over my shoulder toward the dark silhouette of my home against the starry sky.

Elysia’s frown deepened, creating a tiny crease between her eyebrows that somehow managed to be adorable. “How peculiar.”

She reached into a small pouch at her hip and pulled out what looked like a crystal that would’ve cost me a month’s salary in my pre-lottery days. It glowed blue as she muttered something under her breath, her eyes closed in concentration like she was trying to remember if she’d turned off the magical stove before leaving home. The crystal flashed brightly, then dimmed again. Elysia’s eyes flew open in shock.

“By the Silver-Bark Tree!” she gasped. “This can’t be correct.”

“What is it?” I asked, finding myself curious. It’s hard to maintain proper suspicion when faced with someone who looks like they stepped out of a fantasy art calendar.

“This here is my chrono crystal—all Antherian members of the Hero’s Party have one. It has many functions, but at the moment it should confirm my arrival coordinates in both space and time,” she explained, looking increasingly distressed as she tapped it with a long nail. “According to this, I’ve arrived approximately twenty years before Black Lazarus is due to attempt his crossing.”

She looked up at me, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“What year is it in your realm’s counting?”

“2025,” I replied, wondering if I should mention that we had a pandemic a few years back, just to give her the full Earth experience.

Elysia’s eyes grew impossibly wide. Her lower lip trembled. Then, to my surprise, she dramatically clutched her heart, let out a small “Oh!” of despair, and plopped down right there in the dirt like a marionette with cut strings.

“Twenty years!” she wailed, flopping backward onto the ground with the theatrical grace of someone who expected to be caught by an invisible fainting couch. “What am I supposed to do for twenty years?”

I watched, torn between amusement and concern, as the supposedly regal princess sprawled on her back, one arm flung across her forehead.

“Twenty years,” she repeated, her voice rising and falling in a perfect princess pout that belonged in a Disney movie. “Trapped on a primitive world with no proper bath houses—do you even have bath houses? No, don’t answer that, I can tell by your expression you don’t—no elven delicacies, no magical servants...”

She ticked off each missing luxury on her delicate fingers with increasing despair. “No enchanted wardrobes that dress you automatically, no singing birds to help me with my hair, no magical pedicures, no moonlight massages, no starlight facials, no fairy dust bubble baths...”

She suddenly sat up straight, brushing dirt from her armor with little disgusted flicks, then fixed me with an imperious stare. Her moment of despair seemed instantly forgotten, like it had never happened.

“You!” she declared, pointing a finger straight at my chest with the authority of someone who’d never been told ‘no’ in her life. “You shall provide me with shelter and sustenance until it is time for me to complete my mission. I hereby appoint you my royal... what’s the term? Ah yes, butler!”

I blinked, feeling like I’d just been hit with a conversational whiplash. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Elysia said, rising to her feet and brushing dirt from her armor with delicate, impatient flicks of her wrists. “I require lodging. You appear to have vanquished multiple creatures from the rifts, which means you have some modicum of skill and knowledge. Your dwelling is near the portal location so it will suffice, albeit barely. I assume you have multiple bedrooms? And servants, of course. I’ll need at least three.”

“Hold on,” I said, holding up a hand like a traffic cop. “You can’t just show up and demand to stay at my house. That’s not how things work here.”

Elysia tilted her head, looking like a monkey that’d been shown a card trick. “Why ever not? I am a princess and the First Maiden of the Hero’s Party. It is an honor for you to host me. People in my kingdom would sacrifice livestock for such a privilege.”

“That might work wherever you’re from, but this is Earth. Wisconsin, specifically. And on Earth, we don’t just take in random people who walk out of portals, princess or not.”

“Oh?” Elysia crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently, the metal boot making a little clink against the hard ground. “And what would you suggest I do instead? Sleep in this field? Among the troll remains? Perhaps fashion a little tent from leaves and sticks like some kind of forest goblin?” She started pouting.

I ran a hand through my hair, exasperated. I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it again. What was I really going to do, leave her out here? Hand her over to Area 51? Besides, it wasn’t like I didn’t have the space, the money, or the time to figure her situation out. Plus, I was curious about these portals and what she might know. Double-plus, saying no to those huge puppy-dog eyes felt like kicking a kitten.

“Fine,” I sighed, already mentally rearranging my life to accommodate a spoiled interdimensional princess. “You can stay tonight. We’ll figure out something more permanent tomorrow.”

Elysia’s face lit up with a triumphant smile that outshone the moon. “Excellent! I knew you’d see reason eventually. Most beings do, given enough time in my presence.”

“But,” I added firmly, holding up one finger, “my house, my rules. Got it?”

“We shall see,” Elysia replied with a glint in her eye that didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

“By the way,” I said, suddenly realizing something, “how are you speaking English? You’re from another dimension or whatever, right?”

Elysia’s expression brightened like I’d just asked the most interesting question in the world. “Ah! A sensible question at last. I possess the Gift of the Golden Tongue, a blessing bestowed upon all members of the Hero’s Party.”

“The Golden Tongue?” I repeated.

“It means my tongue is blessed,” she said with a hint of pride. “I can speak any language I encounter upon first hearing it. I can also do this—”

To my astonishment, Elysia pulled a small ribbon from her pouch, placed it in her mouth, and proceeded to twist, turn, and braid it using only her tongue. After a few seconds, she pulled out a perfectly braided ribbon, holding it up like a trophy.

“Impressed?” she asked, looking rather smug.

I swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how attractive she was and trying not to imagine other applications for that particular talent. “Do you just carry a ribbon around for that specific purpose?”

“Anyway,” she replied, changing the subject, “now, shall we proceed to your dwelling? I’m positively famished after my inter-dimensional journey. I don’t suppose you have any moonberry tarts?”

“Uh. No.”

As we walked back toward the farmhouse, I couldn’t help but notice how Elysia’s confident stride gradually gave way to a sluggish trudge the further we went.

“Is something wrong?” I asked after watching her drag her feet for several seconds. Each step was becoming more laborious than the last.

“Walking is such a tedious activity,” she complained with a performative sigh, her pace slowing to a near crawl. “In Elfhaven, I would have a mount. Or a teleportation scroll. Or servants to carry me.” She cast a sidelong glance at me that was about as subtle as a sawed off shotgun. “Sometimes three servants at once. One for each leg and one for my back. For particularly long journeys, we rotate them every hour so they don’t get tired.”

She stopped walking entirely, lifting one foot and examining her boot with a mournful expression. “I believe I’m developing a blister. Princesses don’t get blisters, Josh Becker. It’s simply not done. It’s against the natural order of things, like cats and dogs living together.”

I snorted. “Well, none of those servant-mount-scroll things here. Just good old-fashioned walking. One foot in front of the other. It’s how us primitive Earth folk get around short distances.”

“How utterly barbaric,” she muttered. Then she stopped abruptly, looking up at me with eyes that somehow grew to twice their normal size, her lower lip quivering just enough to be noticed. I had to respect it. It was like watching a masterclass in manipulation. “Perhaps you could carry me? You’re certainly large enough, and your muscles look quite capable.” She gave my bicep an experimental poke with one finger. “Yes, definitely adequate for princess transportation. You probably wouldn’t even notice my weight. I’ve been told I’m as light as a summer breeze.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “You want me to carry you?”

“It would be the gentlemanly thing to do,” Elysia said with a delicate shrug. “I am a princess, after all. In my realm, men dueled to the death for the honor of carrying my shopping parcels.”

“Yeah, I’m not carrying you,” I said firmly. “You’ve got two perfectly good legs. They brought you this far, they can take you the rest of the way.”

Elysia’s bottom lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout that would’ve made a toddler say “tone it down a bit, sweety.” 

“Please?” she added, her voice suddenly small and sweet, with just the right quaver of vulnerability. “My royal feet are extremely delicate. They’re insured for a thousand gold crowns each. Back home, I haven’t touched bare ground since my coronation. My subjects would weep to see their princess reduced to... walking.” She whispered the last word as if it were a shameful secret.

I tried to maintain my stern expression, but there was something about her ridiculous pout combined with those absurdly effective puppy-dog eyes that broke through my defenses at last. I sighed heavily, slumping my shoulders in defeat. I was pretty sure I’d just lost the first of many, many battles.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “But just this once. This is not setting a precedent.”

Elysia’s face immediately brightened. It was the most rapid recovery I’d ever witnessed, barring maybe the corgi I mentioned earlier. “Excellent!” She clapped her hands with childlike glee, then struck a regal pose with one hand extended and her chin tilted upward. “I prefer to be carried in the traditional bridal style, if you don’t mind. The Royal Elfhaven Etiquette Manual, Volume Twelve, clearly states that princesses shall be transported with one arm supporting the shoulders and one beneath the knees. It’s much more dignified than—”

Without waiting for her to finish her lecture, I bent down, grabbed her around the waist, and hoisted her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She let out an indignant squawk that escalated into a squeal loud enough to wake any neighbors I thankfully didn’t have.

“SIR JOSH! This is NOT what I meant! This is HIGHLY undignified!” she protested, smacking my back ineffectually with her tiny fists. “The Royal Elfhaven Etiquette Manual specifically prohibits princesses from being carried in any position where their posterior is higher than their tiara! This is a Class Three Etiquette Violation! Put me down this instant!”

“My house, my rules,” I replied with a smirk she couldn’t see. “Besides, I don’t have a copy of your etiquette manual. Must’ve misplaced it between ‘Books I Never Owned’ and ‘Things I Don’t Give a Shit About.’”

Elysia huffed dramatically but stopped struggling. “I suppose I should be grateful you’re carrying me at all,” she conceded with reluctance. “Though I shall have to add an addendum to the manual when I return. ‘Beware the transportation customs of Earth barbarians. They handle royalty like sacks of grain.’”

After a moment of sulking, she seemed to make herself comfortable, propping her chin on her hand as she bounced along on my shoulder. She even started swinging her feet slightly.

“So, why exactly does a human like you venture out alone to battle creatures from other realms?” she asked. “It seems an unusual hobby.”

I glanced back at her, considering how much to share. “It’s a long story.”

“We have a torturously long walk ahead of us,” Elysia countered. “And I require distraction from this dreadful exercise in dignity loss.”

I sighed. “Fair enough. It’s actually a very short walk, so here’s the short version. I won something called the lottery a few months back.”

“Lottery?”

“It’s a game of chance. I got lucky and won a lot of money. Like, a lot of money.”

Elysia’s eyes lit up. “Ah, touched by the hand of fortune! In my realm, we have the Celestial Alignment ceremony where the stars bestow wealth upon the chosen few. Some spend their entire lives hoping to be selected by the heavens.” She patted my shoulder sympathetically. “Your system seems even more arbitrary.”

“Yeah, well, my ‘celestial blessing’ brought every parasite and leech out of the woodwork,” I continued. “Family I hadn’t heard from in years suddenly needed ‘loans’. Friends I didn’t even know I had appeared with bullshit investment opportunities. My own brother tried to sue me for half of it, claiming we’d had some verbal agreement.”

“How dreadful,” Elysia said, sounding genuinely sympathetic. “The burdens of sudden wealth are not unlike those of royalty. Everyone wants a piece of you.”

“So I disappeared,” I explained, adjusting her weight on my shoulder as I continued walking. “Changed my number, closed my accounts, moved everything to new ones, and bought this place between Wapa Lake and Millfield. No neighbors, no drama, just peace and quiet. It’s the one place no one would look for me.”

“Until the portals began appearing,” Elysia observed.

I nodded, ducking under a low-hanging tree branch. “First one opened about three months ago. I was outside at night, enjoying the stars, when this purple tear just appeared out of nowhere. Then this skeleton in a suit of armor steps through and tries to kill me.”

“A Reanimated Grunt,” Elysia guessed. Her voice was slightly bouncy from the rhythm of my stride. She squirmed a bit, trying to find a more comfortable position on my shoulder, but surprisingly didn’t complain further about her undignified transport. “Low-level fighters, usually. The Demon King must be sending monsters one at a time, hoping they’ll take territory, rendezvous with later arrivals, and lie in wait for his appearance.”

“Whatever it was, I managed to kill it with its own sword after finding out my rifle didn’t freaking work on it. After it died, the skeleton turned to dust, but the armor and sword remained. That’s how I got this gear,” I explained, and I tapped a pouch on my hip. “I got a hunting knife from a zombie archer the next night, but I broke his bow. And after that fight, this... interface appeared, with stats, levels, and skills, at first I thought I was having a psychotic break. Too much isolation, maybe?”

She shook her head, whipping her luxurious golden mane. “Not isolation. Not psychotic what-have-yous. It’s the System,” Elysia said, suddenly sounding much more alert. Her head popped up from behind my back so fast I’m surprised she didn’t give herself whiplash. “It manifested for you?” She smacked my shoulder excitedly. “Put me down! Put me down this instant! This changes everything!”

I stopped and carefully lowered her to the ground. Elysia lifted her chin to look at me. 

“Wait—that’s right! If you can actually see the System interface…” she began, her eyes wide enough to reflect the entire night sky. “No, I must ask this first: Are any other humans on your world able to perceive it?”

I shook my head. “Not as far as I know. I tried to show it to a delivery guy once who brought me some packages. He thought I was crazy and practically threw the boxes at me before running back to his truck.”

Elysia’s eyes widened further, which I wouldn’t have thought physically possible without some kind of magic. “Fascinating! In my realm, only those chosen by fate and bloodline for the Hero’s Party can perceive the System directly. It is the mark of one destined for greatness.”

She studied me with newfound interest, like she was seeing me for the first time.

“This means you must be destined to be the missing champion due to join my party for the battle ahead! The System has selected you as a Champion of Earthrealm! This explains everything! Why here, why now, why you of all people—it’s starting to make sense!”

“Whoa, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said, raising my hands. “All I know is that starting a few months back, every several days—lately every single night—a portal opens, something nasty comes through, and I kill it.” 

“Is that all you can share?” she asked.

“No, not really. I get experience points, I level up, I get stronger—all that shit. Recently they’ve gotten bigger and tougher, so I’m leveling almost every night, whereas before it was like once every few weeks. It’s all so weird, but it’s become kind of routine. Go out, kill monster, get slightly buffer, repeat.”

“There is no mere routine about it,” Elysia insisted, walking backward in front of me so she could maintain eye contact as I resumed walking. “You have been chosen, Josh Becker! The System does not manifest for just anyone. This is destiny! Fate! The universe has selected you!”

“You know,” I said, shaking my head at her enthusiasm, “with all the weird stuff that’s been happening around Wapa Lake since Countess Beaumont’s mom, Dracula, conquered southwestern Wisconsin a decade and some change back, I figured these portals were just another symptom of whatever supernatural mess she stirred up. The whole town’s been a hotbed for strange occurrences.”

Elysia stopped in her tracks so suddenly that I almost ran into her. Her eyes widened to a comical size. “Countess... Beaumont? A vampire noble has taken control of your region?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, half-vampire technically. The way people talk about it, it sounds like the original vampire demigod, Countess Dracula, took over Wapa Lake not far from here about seventeen years ago. About a decade back, her and her husband went MIA with all kinds of rumors, but their daughter rules their castle now.”

“How strange,” she gasped, eyes widening as she took it all in.

“It’s even stranger than that,” I confessed. “Technology in this region has more or less frozen because Anya—that’s Countess Beaumont—wants Wapa Lake and the surrounding areas, including here, to be exactly as her parents left it all when they return—whenever they return.”

Elysia paused and tapped her foot as she considered it. After chewing on the inside of her cheek, she spoke up with another more than fair question. “Do your generals and rulers do nothing to stop the Countess?”

I shrugged. “The federal government mostly leaves Countess Beaumont alone as long as she doesn’t expand the territory. It’s a whole thing.”

She looked at me with a scrunched up face, like she was trying to decide whether I was bullshitting her or not.

I went on. “So when portals started opening up on my property, it wasn’t THAT shocking.”

“Most fascinating,” Elysia murmured, studying me with interest. “Your realm is more complex than our seer predicted. This Countess may be an unexpected ally... or an additional complication.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully with one delicate finger. “I shall have to consult the ancient texts when I return. If I return. Twenty years is an awfully long time to be stranded...”

We reached the farmhouse right about then. The porch light cast a warm glow over the wooden steps, making the place look cozy and inviting. To me, anyway. Elysia was eyeing it like it had already wronged her somehow.

“Well,” I said, gesturing to the house with a flourish, “welcome to my home.”

Elysia wrinkled her nose. “It’s... quaint. In a primitive, rustic sort of way. I suppose it has a certain charm, like a particularly well-appointed peasant dwelling.”

I rolled my eyes as I unlocked the door. “Just wait until you try the pizza.”

I led Elysia through the back door into my kitchen. It was clean but pretty bare—functional appliances, basic dinnerware, and a pizza box on the counter with three glorious slices left inside. 

Elysia immediately zeroed in on the pizza box, her nose twitching like a rabbit’s. “What is that enticing aroma?”

“It’s pizza,” I replied, starting to remove my armor. The pauldrons came off first, followed by the chest plate. “Bread with tomato sauce, cheese, and pepperoni—that’s a kind of spiced meat sliced into little coins.”

Her eyes lit up more and more as I went on. “May I sample this... pizza?”

“Help yourself,” I said, gesturing to the box. “But first, tell me more about this Black Lazarus guy. Who is he, and what does he want with Earth?”

Elysia had already flipped open the pizza box and was examining its contents intensely. She poked at a slice gingerly, then picked it up and sniffed it. Finally, she took a small, tentative bite.

The transformation was immediate and almost hilarious. Her eyes bulged with disbelief. She froze mid-chew, then quickly devoured the rest of the bite like she was afraid someone might take it away from her. “By the Silver-Bark Tree!” she exclaimed, her voice taking on an awed quality. “This is... this is extraordinary!”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good,” I agreed, continuing to remove my armor. “So, Black Lazarus?”

Elysia took another huge bite, speaking through her mouthful in a way that completely contradicted her royal bearing. “Yes, yes, the Demon King. Mmph—is there more of this divine creation?”

“Just what’s in the box,” I said, hiding a smile as I hung my chest plate on the armor stand I’d built in the corner of the kitchen. “You were saying about the Demon King?”

Elysia swallowed her bite and reluctantly set the pizza down, though she kept glancing at it like it might grow legs and escape if she didn’t keep an eye on it. “Black Lazarus is a powerful mage with aspirations to become the Demon King in control of my realm,” she explained, switching to what I’d come to think of as her official princess business voice. “According to prophecy, he seeks to use your world as a weapon against mine, and from there, conquer all kingdoms of Antheria.” She picked up the pizza again, taking another bite. “What do you call this red sauce? It’s magnificent!”

“Tomato sauce,” I answered, amused by how severely pizza had derailed her. “So these monsters coming through the portals—”

“Are his scouts,” Elysia confirmed, licking sauce from her fingers in a way that was cuter than it was sexy. “Testing the boundaries between worlds, searching for weak points. The fact that they’ve found their way here suggests this location is important.” She held up the pizza slice with a disbelieving look on her face. “Who created this masterpiece? They must be a culinary genius!”

“It’s just delivery pizza,” I said with a chuckle. “Worst chain of the big three, too, but they’re all that deliver out here. So you’re saying my farm is going to be ground zero for some kind of interdimensional demon invasion?”

“Probably, yes,” Elysia nodded, still fixated on the pizza. “Though not for approximately twenty years, according to my chrono crystal.” She took another bite, closing her eyes in bliss. “Are there other varieties of this ‘pizza’?”

“Dozens,” I said, finally removing the last piece of my armor. I was down to my sweat-dampened t-shirt and jeans, which felt like being naked after wearing a suit of metal.

Elysia paused mid-bite as her eyes took in my newly revealed physique. For a moment, she seemed to forget about the pizza, which I took as quite the compliment given how she’d been worshipping it seconds earlier. “I see the System has been quite beneficial to your physical development,” she observed as her cheeks reddened slightly.

I felt my own face warming. “Yeah, leveling up has its perks.”

An awkward silence fell between us before Elysia cleared her throat and turned her attention to removing her own armor. “Would you assist me? The back clasps are rather difficult to reach.”

“Uh, sure,” I said, moving behind her. My large hands worked carefully to undo the complex fastenings of her armor. As each piece came off, Elysia set it aside with considerably less care than I had shown my own gear. Princess or not, she’d clearly never had to repair her own equipment. Then again, I’d never repaired mine either.

When the last piece of armor was removed, she stood in what amounted to a backless form-fitting silk undergarment on top—something between a sports bra and a halter top—and what could only be described as brief silk shorts at the bottom. The outfit revealed a lot more of her toned, pale body than I had been prepared to see.

“Much better,” she sighed, stretching like a cat. She caught me averting my eyes out of respect—and uncertainty—and smiled mischievously. “Does my form discomfort you, Josh Becker? I assure you, this is standard attire beneath feminine battle armor in my kingdom.”

“Nope, all good,” I managed, relaxing when it was clear she wouldn’t hold gawking a little against me. “Are you, uh, still hungry? There’s more food in the fridge.”

“Perhaps later,” Elysia said, moving to sit at my small kitchen table. She reached down to unbuckle her heavy combat boots, revealing delicate feet that seemed almost too small and cute to support even her tiny frame. “For now, I’d like to learn more about you, Sir Josh. Particularly how you’ve managed to survive these rifts for so long.”

I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and joined her at the table. “Like I said, they started small. Just one every few days at first. I’d go out, kill whatever came through, and go back to my uneventful life. But they’ve been getting more frequent and the things coming through have been getting tougher.”

“The barriers between realms are weakening,” Elysia said with a nod. “It will continue to worsen as Black Lazarus’s power grows.”

A blue icon began flashing in the corner of my vision—something that had started happening about a month ago, whenever I was in a “safe zone” as the system called it.

I focused on the icon, and a larger interface appeared before me—visible only to my eyes, I’d discovered. It showed my stats, inventory, and various other game-like elements that had become increasingly detailed as I leveled up.

PLAYER: Josh Becker 

LEVEL: 15 

CLASS: Undetermined

SKILLS: Weapon Proficiency: Swords III, Weapon Proficiency: Knives II Battlefield Awareness II, Armor Proficiency: Plate II, Muscular Recovery Boost I, Basic Regeneration II, Infection Resistance I, Shield Proficiency I

QUESTS: Survive the Night (Ongoing); The Princess Comes (New)

“What are you looking at?” Elysia asked, noticing my distant gaze.

“My status screen,” I replied. “It’s like... a window that shows me information about myself and my abilities. Huh. There’s a quest about you in there now.”

Her blue eyes went big. “About me? Now that is quite interesting,” Elysia said, leaning forward eagerly. “May I ask what level you’ve achieved?”

“Just hit level fifteen tonight,” I answered. 

“Level fifteen!” Elysia exclaimed, looking genuinely impressed. “With no formal training or party support? Most impressive, Josh Becker! From what I’ve heard, it takes most heroes of history at least a year into an arduous quest to reach level ten.”

I shrugged limply and tried to exude a chill “no big deal” vibe, but I was pretty pleased to get her praise. I never had any real baseline to compare my progress to until that moment. “I’ve just been figuring it out as I go,” I said.

“And what class did the System assign you?” she asked.

“It says ‘Undetermined’ still,” I admitted with a sigh. “I thought by now I’d get one for sure, but I guess I don’t know how it works.”

Elysia nodded thoughtfully. “That sometimes happens with those who have natural aptitude in multiple areas. Your class will manifest once your tendencies become more defined. When that happens, you will be able to allocate Attribute Points to Class Powers.”

That sounded interesting, but there was more time for that when it was relevant. I was more interested in the scantily clad babe herself. “What about you?” I asked, arching a brow. “What’s your... class?”

“I am a Spellblade,” Elysia said with pride, grinning wide. “It combines elements of arcane magic with martial prowess. It’s a rare class, even in Elfhaven.”

I nodded, not entirely sure what that meant in practical terms, but kind of impressed nonetheless since it sounded cool. “Sounds powerful.”

“It is,” she agreed. “Though I prefer to avoid combat when possible. Such a tedious business, fighting.” She yawned delicately. “Speaking of which, I find myself rather fatigued after my inter-dimensional journey. Might I trouble you for a place to rest?”

“Sure,” I said, rising from the table. “I’ve got spare bedrooms upstairs. You can take your pick.”

I led her upstairs, pointing out the bathroom along the way. When we reached the first spare bedroom—a simple room with a queen-sized bed, dresser, and not much else—Elysia walked in and turned in a slow circle, examining it.

“This is... marginally acceptable,” she declared. “Though it could use some decorative touches and objects of convenience, such as tapestries, a footwashing tub, or even a masseuse. I suppose taking your room is out of the question, assuming it’s bigger?”

“Definitely. And…a masseuse? As in, a person? I’ll put one on the shopping list,” I said dryly. “I guess that wraps things up. Let me know if you need help figuring out the shower or toilet.”

“I don’t need to shower unless I desire it,” she said, swishing her hand. “Magic keeps my body fragrant, clean and pure. “And I saw your chamber pot when we passed it by—I can work out the mechanics, I assure you.”

“Rad. Let me get you something to sleep in and wear around the house tomorrow morning.”

I returned a few minutes later with a t-shirt and sweatpants, handing them to Elysia, who was now sitting cross-legged on the bed.

“These will have to do for now,” I said. “We can get you proper clothes soon.”

Elysia held up the t-shirt, which had the logo of a beer brand on it. “How interesting,” she said, but didn’t sound entirely disapproving. She examined the sweatpants with considerably less enthusiasm. “What are these bulky garments?”

“Sweatpants,” I explained. “They’re comfortable. For sleeping.”

Elysia wrinkled her nose. “I think not,” she said, setting them aside but keeping hold of the t-shirt. “The entirety of me could get lost in a single pantleg. This will suffice. In Elfhaven, we sleep and lounge in minimal attire to allow the body to breathe.”

“Right,” I said, trying to process that more with my ears than my dick but failing. “Whatever works for you.”

She held the t-shirt up against her body, and I couldn’t help but smirk at how hilariously massive it looked compared to her petite frame. The shirt that fit me comfortably would be practically a dress on her.

“Your garments are sized for giants,” she observed with a small laugh. “Is everything in your realm oversized, or is it just you?”

“Bit of both,” I admitted with a smile. “Well, I’ll let you get some rest.”

I turned to leave, but Elysia’s voice stopped me at the door.

“Josh,” she said. Her voice had taken on the tone of someone who was about to make a begrudging concession. I turned back to find her looking at me with genuine gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you. For the shelter and for... well, for not leaving me out there to fend for myself. It was hospitable of you, and sure evidence that you are who I believe you to be.”

For a moment, our eyes met, and I felt something inside me that I hadn’t felt in a long time. There was something almost magnetic about her in that moment of vulnerability.

“Don’t mention it,” I said softly. “Get some rest, Princess. Something tells me we’ve got a lot to figure out tomorrow.”

She nodded and smiled for just a moment, but quickly neutralized her expression. “Goodnight, Josh Becker.”

“Sleep tight, Princess,” I replied, closing the door behind me.

As I walked to my own bedroom, I couldn’t help but shake my head at the absurdity of it all. Several months ago, my biggest concern had been making rent and dealing with my asshole manager at W-Mart. Then I’d won the lottery, bought this remote property to escape my toxic family, and somehow ended up in the middle of an interdimensional conflict.

And now there was an elven princess from another realm sleeping in my spare bedroom, wearing nothing but my oversized t-shirt and some skimpy fantasy world undies.

“Life’s gotten weird,” I muttered to myself. I showered first and then collapsed onto my own bed seconds after toweling off and putting on my own improvised PJs. But as I drifted off to sleep, I realized something surprising: for the first time in a long time, I was actually looking forward to tomorrow.

Chapter 2

I woke to overzealous birds chirping outside my window like they were getting graded on their tweet volume. For a blissful moment, I just lay there enjoying the peaceful morning. My brain was still in that foggy halfway home between dreams and reality at that point, but then memories of the previous night came in like a wave.

Portal. Troll. Bonus portal. Bratty blonde elven princess in a platemail bikini.

Right. And here we are.

I sat up and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. Just past eight in the morning. Not an ungodly hour, but not exactly sleeping in either, at least not for me. I stretched, feeling some looseness in my muscles from last night’s monster mash. The troll tussle. The beastie battle, if you will.

Scanning over myself, the System-enhanced healing had already taken care of most of the would-be bruises, but I could still feel the ghost of where the troll had caught me with that glancing blow. 

After pulling on a fresh t-shirt and jeans, I padded down the hallway barefoot, pausing briefly outside the guest room where Elysia was sleeping. I pressed my ear against the door, hearing nothing but silence from within. Part of me thought it’d be hilarious if she was snoring like crazy, but there was none of that. 

I wondered if I should wake her, but there really was no immediate need. When I gave her the tour, she’d mentioned needing eight hours of rest at minimum and it had only been about seven since we’d turned in. Best to let Sleeping Beauty claim that beauty sleep quota. I doubted the fate of multiple dimensions hinged on her getting up before nine.

Then again, the fact that it hinged on her at all was kind of alarming.

Downstairs in the kitchen, I set about making breakfast. If the princess’s reaction to delivery pizza was any indication, Earth food was going to blow her mind. I decided on pancakes—simple enough that even my bachelor pad tried and true cooking skills could handle them, but fancy enough to impress someone who’d probably never seen ‘I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter Spray’.

I mixed the batter from scratch, using a recipe I’d memorized from countless Sunday mornings as a kid with my stepmom. On a whim, I folded in some blueberries I had in the freezer. Soon, the kitchen filled with the comforting smell of cooking pancakes and freshly brewed coffee. It was actually nice. I didn’t usually pull out all the stops for myself, but I had a guest. A part of me questioned why I felt so eager to impress the pointy-eared brat, but come on—we all know why.

I’d just finished stacking the last golden-brown pancake on a plate when I heard movement upstairs. There was a slight creak of a floorboard, then what sounded suspiciously like someone stubbing their toe and cursing in a language that definitely wasn’t English.

“Elysia?” I called up. “Breakfast is ready if you want to come down.”

A muffled groan was the only response, followed by what sounded like a pillow hitting a wall with considerable force.

“Not a morning person,” I muttered to myself. “At least we have that in common.”

After a few minutes with no sign of Her Royal Highness, I decided to check on her. Maybe she’d gotten lost in the cavernous expanse of my modest three-bedroom farmhouse. I made up a plate with a stack of pancakes, drizzled with real maple syrup and topped with a pat of melting butter. I grabbed a fork, a napkin, and headed upstairs.

I hesitated for a moment in front of her door, momentarily questioning all my life decisions. But then I knocked softly. “Elysia? You awake in there?”

“Enter, my subject,” came a groggy yet imperious voice from within. So help me, I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes. I pushed the door open and nearly dropped the plate at the sight that greeted me.

In about two seconds I went from eye-rolling to jaw-dropping. Elysia was sprawled across the bed carelessly. To be clear, the borrowed t-shirt had ridden up to expose her silk undergarments, her smooth pale legs, and a taut stomach that showed clear signs of defined muscle beneath creamy skin. Her perfectly golden hair was down now, tousled in a way that was way sexier than it really should be. It was an effortless look that still probably took stylists hours to achieve before a photoshoot, made all the more intriguing by her sharp ears. She was propped up on pillows with a remote control clutched in one delicate hand like a scepter. She was watching the TV that sat on the dresser opposite the bed with the volume low.

I hadn’t even considered that she’d figure out how to use the television. I’d shown her where the bathroom was last night, but nothing else. 

On the screen, Bugs Bunny was outsmarting Elmer Fudd, not exactly a novel scene in TV history. The rabbit’s Brooklyn accent filled the silence between us as he delivered another perfectly timed “What’s up, Doc?”

“Good morning,” I managed, trying to keep my eyes on her face and not on the expanse of leg, crotch, and tummy currently on display. It was like actively trying not to think about a busty pink gamer-girl unicorn elf. “I brought breakfast.”

Elysia’s eyes flicked from the TV to me, then to the plate in my hands. Her expression shifted from one face to the next as she caught up to just what was going on. “Excellent. You may serve me in bed.” She gestured vaguely at the nightstand like a queen instructing a peasant. “I require sustenance after my journey.”

“Right,” I said, fighting back another eye roll that would have probably sprained my sockets. I set the plate down, but instead of leaving, I leaned against the wall to watch her reaction to the cartoon. “I see you figured out the TV.”

“Is that what you call this magical viewing window?” Elysia asked, her eyes drawn back to the screen where Bugs was now dressed as a woman, leading a confused Elmer on a wild chase. “It’s quite remarkable. What manner of scrying allows you to see these bizarre little people?”

“They’re not real people,” I explained. “They’re animated drawings—cartoons. Made for entertainment.”

Elysia’s eyes widened in awe, her lips parting slightly. “You mean someone created these beings wholecloth? For mere amusement?” She shook her head in disbelief, biting her lip as she tried to process it. “We have nothing like this in Elfhaven. Our entertainment consists primarily of musical performances, dramatic readings, games of skill and luck, and combat exhibitions.” She tilted her head. “Why does the rabbit speak? And why does the bald man not simply use his dwarven rifle effectively? What a buffoon he is!”

I chuckled. “That’s kind of the whole point. Bugs, the bunny, always outsmarting Elmer, the man with the gun—that’s the whole joke.”

“Fascinating,” Elysia murmured, genuinely entranced by the talking rabbit’s antics. After watching for another moment, she seemed to remember the food. She picked up the plate and stared at the pancakes with open curiosity, then frowned at the fork like it was some alien artifact. “I am unfamiliar with this manner of eating utensil.”

I raised an eyebrow. “It’s a fork. You use it to—”

Elysia cut me off by opening her mouth wide and pointing to it while eyeing me expectantly.

“You can’t be fucking serious,” I said flatly.

Elysia just kept her mouth open. Her eyes said what her open mouth couldn’t: I am absolutely serious.

With a sigh from deep enough inside me to start in my toes, I took the plate and fork from her hands. “Fine. One bite. I’m just going to show you how this works. See?”

I cut off a piece of pancake, making sure to get some syrup and butter on it, and deliberately piled it high. I wasn’t about to be her personal servant, but I also wanted her first taste of pancakes to be a good one. I shoved the heaping forkful into her open mouth, watching with mildly sadistic satisfaction as her eyes bulged slightly at the unexpectedly large amount.

For a moment, Elysia seemed to gag as she struggled to close her mouth around the massive bite. Her cheeks chipmunked comically, but then her expression changed as she began to chew. Her eyes widened with delight. She made a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a squeal. It was the kind of noise you typically needed to subscribe to an OnlyFans to hear.

“By the Silver-Bark Tree!” she exclaimed after finally swallowing. With her next squeal, her voice reached a pitch that probably had dogs in the next county perking up their ears and wincing. “What divine creation is this? The sweet amber liquid, the soft yet substantive cake, the tiny blue gems of flavor exploding in my mouth! What culinary madness is—” She cut herself off as she snatched the plate back from my hands. “Give me that!”

Any pretense of regal dining etiquette vanished faster than a cooler full of Milwaukee’s Best at a frat party. Elysia began shoveling pancakes into her mouth at an alarming rate. Syrup dripped down her chin as she alternated between laughing at the cartoon antics on the TV and making curious noises around mouthfuls of pancake that for some reason had Josh Jr. reacting in my jeans in his own mysterious ways.

“These are called pancakes,” I said, unable to keep from chuckling at her open delight. “The amber liquid is maple syrup. The blue things are blueberries.”

“Pan-cakes,” Elysia repeated through a mouthful. “Cakes of the pan. Magnificent!” She suddenly burst out laughing at something on the screen, nearly choking on her food. She pointed excitedly at the TV with her fork. “The rabbit is wearing female attire yet again! And the bald man truly cannot tell the difference! Such brazen foolishness!”

I was much more entertained by watching Elysia than the cartoon on TV. There was something bizarrely charming about watching this supposedly regal princess sitting cross-legged on my guest bed, wearing my oversized t-shirt while simultaneously devouring pancakes and laughing uncontrollably at Looney Tunes. I mean, it was probably mainly because she was so hot it was actually almost offensive, but I wasn’t ready to admit that to myself.

“I was thinking,” I said when she’d calmed down slightly, “we should probably get you some clothes of your own if you’re sticking around for a bit. Even if you move on—”

“There will be no moving on,” she cut me off in a severe tone before shoving another bite of pancake in her mouth.

I ignored that and finished my thought. “Anyway, I might be able to find an express delivery service from the city, at least for some basics. Or we could drive into town later to get you stuff ourselves, but you can’t go in dressed like this.”

“Drive?” Elysia asked, licking syrup from her fingers in a way that was far more distracting than it had any right to be, especially after seeing what she could do using her tongue with that ribbon last night.

“Yeah, in my truck,” I explained as I tried to focus on the conversation and not the finger-licking goodness. “It’s a vehicle—a machine that moves people around. Like a carriage, but without horses or whatever you got in your world. It’s powered by—you know what, it doesn’t matter. It’s like a big metal box that goes vroom.”

Elysia just shrugged. “Whatever you think is best, Sir Josh,” she said absently just before her attention was drawn back to the TV where Wile E. Coyote was now plummeting off a cliff. After the crash, she asked, “How is he still alive?”

A few minutes later, she’d demolished the entire stack of pancakes. She handed the empty plate to me, then looked at me with surprising seriousness.

“I need you to leave the room for a moment,” she announced.

“Why?” I asked, confused by the abrupt shift.

Elysia looked slightly embarrassed, and I could spot a blush creeping up her cheeks in real time. “I need to... express my appreciation for the meal in a manner that would be undignified in company.”

“You... what?”

“I need to belch,” she admitted, fluttering her eyelashes shyly. “Rather badly. And while I’m not typically concerned with human etiquette, it seems gauche to do so directly in your face in such a small room.”

I fought back a laugh and nodded, smirking to myself. “Alright. I’ll step out. Let me know when you’re done expressing your appreciation.”

I closed the door behind me and leaned against the wall in the hallway with the empty plate in hand, grinning like an idiot. A few seconds later, I heard an impressive, sustained high-pitched belch from within the room. It was immediately followed by a delicate, prim, sing-song: “You may return now, Sir Josh.”

When I re-entered the room, I froze in the doorway. My brain temporarily lost connection with the rest of my body, you see, because in the brief time I’d been gone, Elysia had removed my t-shirt and was now standing in the middle of the room wearing only her silken undergarments—the same ones she’d worn beneath her armor the night before. And she was stretching.

Not casual, reach-for-the-sky stretching, but full-on, Olympic gymnast, contortionist-level stretching. She had one leg extended straight up, her knee nearly touching her ear as her body formed an almost perfect vertical split. All this while she remained standing on one leg like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Uh,” I said eloquently. My vocabulary was reduced to caveman grunts.

“Welcome back, Sir Josh,” Elysia said casually, as if there was nothing unusual about the situation. “I always perform my morning flexibility routine after breaking my fast.”

I knew I should probably look away or at least say something, anything at all, but I found myself rooted to the spot, watching as she flowed from one impressive pose to another with ease. Her lithe, tight body moved in a supernaturally fluid way, with  muscles flexing subtly beneath her pale skin.

“Is everyone in your world so... comfortable with displaying their bodies to their butler?” I finally managed to ask. “Not that I’m your butler.”

Elysia paused mid-stretch, her leg still impossibly high, suddenly seeming to realize the effect she was having. A blush crept up her cheeks and spread to the tips of her pointed ears. “Oh! I apologize. I didn’t think...” She lowered her leg, looking genuinely embarrassed. “Among the royal court, I’m accustomed to stretching like this in the presence of courtiers and eunuchs. I suppose I didn’t consider that you are...” She trailed off suddenly as her blush only got more pronounced.

“That I’m what?” I prompted, unable to help myself.

“Well, the direct opposite of a eunuch,” she said, glancing briefly but pointedly downward before meeting my eyes again.

That was an odd way to phrase things. Whether or not one was a eunuch always seemed like a binary thing to me, with the only variable being if you had one, two, or the exceedingly rare but apparently possible three nuts. “And what exactly constitutes the opposite of a eunuch?” I asked.

“I suppose it’s not so much the largeness of your—well, I mean, not that I know for a fact, but I suspect—” She stopped herself, clearing her throat. “Never mind.”

An awkward silence fell between us. Elysia decided to resume her stretching, though with noticeably more modest movements now. It didn’t matter. Even the modest stretches were hot.

“You know,” I said in an attempt to change the subject to something else, “you’ve got a really impressive physique.”

Elysia barely glanced at me as she bent forward, touching her palms flat to the floor with her legs straight, a move that would have sent me to the emergency room if I’d attempted it before monsters started showing up almost every night. “Of course you admire my beauty and grace,” she said matter-of-factly. “I am an elf of natural elegance, a well-schooled princess, and a warrior trained since childhood. Even among my kind, I am renowned for my beauty and grace. The bards of Elfhaven have composed seventeen sonnets about my lower back dimples alone.”

“I’m sure they have,” I said dryly as she turned and bent over to show them off. My penis twitched once in my pants like a trapped eagle in a burlap sack that hadn’t yet accepted its fate. But I decided to turn the tables for a moment, just to test something. “You might be pretty, but it’s kind of offset by how tiny you are.”

Elysia stopped mid-stretch, slowly straightening up to stare at me as if I’d just suggested we cook and eat her pet unicorn—which she probably had at some point, for all I knew. “Excuse me? Are you criticizing my stature?” Her voice had dropped about twenty degrees in temperature.

“Not criticizing, per se,” I said, feigning casualness while mentally kicking myself for poking the proverbial bear. “Just pointing out that where I’m from, female models tend to be on the taller side. You’re not that. I could literally seat your ass right on my shoulder, I bet.”

The look she gave me could have melted steel beams. Jesus, if they had her on board one of those planes on 9-11, there wouldn’t be so many truthers out there to this day.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean anything by it. If it matters, I personally prefer shorter women. Fun-sized, more cuddly and all that.”

Elysia’s expression immediately softened, and her posture relaxed like I’d hit some kind of reset button. “Well, that’s certainly wise of you,” she said, tossing her hair back with renewed confidence. “Daintiness is the essence of femininity, after all. And just because I’m small doesn’t mean I’m not imposing.” She raised her chin proudly, which would have been quite regal if she wasn’t half naked. “It is more impressive to be small and strong than to be large and strong. Anyone can be powerful with size. It takes true skill to be mighty without it.”

“Can’t fault you there,” I agreed, marveling at how quickly she could bounce back from offense to self-assurance. It was like emotional whiplash watching her moods shift. And that was more or less what I’d suspected would be the case, and what I hoped to test by bringing this topic up.

This princess was really interesting. She was charming, for sure, and beautiful, without a doubt. She wasn’t dumb, but she was spoiled, and she seemed easily manipulated, too. She really would be helpless in this world if I abandoned her. I decided then and there that I’d at least keep her around as long as she wanted me. At the moment, that sounded like it was going to be a long time since she was convinced I was supposed to be her party member or whatever, but if half of ‘till death do us part’ marriages ended in divorce, I figured party members could call it quits on a dime too.

Elysia had moved on to a new set of stretches that involved her arms more than her legs, giving me a momentary reprieve from the more distracting poses—until I realized just how much her boobs were affected by the new motion. “These ‘pan-cakes,’” she said, “did you purchase them from a local merchant? Or perhaps summon them through some Earth magic?”

“No, I made them,” I replied. “From scratch, except for the syrup and butter. The blueberries were from my freezer.”

Elysia paused, looking genuinely impressed, her eyebrows lifting toward her hairline. “You prepared them yourself? You possess culinary abilities?” She breathed it out in a disbelieving rasp.

“Yeah, I’m pretty active in the kitchen,” I said with a modest shrug, inwardly adding ‘from this day forward’ to the sentence. “I’ve been living on my own for a while after all. If you count microwaveable and canned food, I’m pretty much a master chef. Not sure how good this diet is for my long term health, though.”

“I don’t know what these ‘canned’ or ‘microwaveable’ foods are,” Elysia said, “but you need not worry about longevity and health concerns.” She straightened up from her stretch, fixing me with a serious look. “People like us with access to the System are blessed with extended lifespans and superior health. In twenty years when we face the Demon King Black Lazarus together, you will likely look only a few years older at most. My other companions and I will not age even a day since we come from longer-lived peoples to begin with.”

I blinked, processing this new information like a computer with a super-loaded task manager on 1990s RAM. Apparently, I now had a super-long lifespan. And double-apparently, it was now my job to fight Black Lazarus alongside her. There was a lot to unpack there, but I decided to make like Elsa from Frozen and let it go for now. 

“Good to know,” I croaked, filing that away for later consideration. “Anyway, I should probably head back downstairs. I’ve got dishes to wash and—”

“Wait! Don’t go!” Elysia cried out with a sudden urgency that startled me. She reached out as if to physically stop me from leaving, though she was across the room.

“What’s wrong now?” I asked with an arched brow. “Is Black Lazarus hiding in my kitchen?”

“I...” Elysia seemed to be thinking rapidly, maybe searching for a reason to keep me there. Her eyes darted around the room before settling back on me. “My feet! They’re terribly sore from all that walking last night.”

I raised an eyebrow high enough to disappear into my hairline. “It was a pretty short walk. And I carried you most of the way. Over my shoulder.”

“Yes, but...” She pouted dramatically, jutting out her lower lip, “Portal travel is very taxing on one’s extremities. It’s a common side effect. The magical energies compress the... foot... bones. And stretch the... toe... also bones.”

“Uh-huh,” I said skeptically, not believing a word of this bullshit. “Hey, if you don’t want to be left alone, just say so.”

She furrowed her brows. “How dare you call me out so shamelessly?!”

I chuckled. “So what do you want me to do about those royal piggies? Run you a bath to soak them?”

“No,” Elysia said with a grin. Her expression brightened now that she realized I was humoring her after all. “A foot massage would be most helpful, Sir Josh, royal butler. It’s standard medical treatment for… Post-Portal-Travel Sore Foot Syndrome.”

“Ah, the ol’ PPTSFS,” I chuckled. But I hesitated, weighing my options. On the one hand, it was a bullshit excuse to keep me around and lord over me some more—and to get my hands on her, too, which was an intriguing little choice on her part. 

On the other hand, I was also starting to realize that I didn’t actually mind catering to her anyway. I’d been alone for long enough that any female company beyond hooking up with random mildly unhinged pizza delivery girls was a welcome change. 

Now, Josh Becker ain’t no simp, mind you, but I had been a bit touch-starved these last few months, and to be given any kind of female attention, let alone such positive and possibly flirty attention as Elysia was giving me, was practically an irresistible siren song. 

There was also something refreshing about her complete lack of shame. She wanted what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask for it—or make up fake medical conditions to get it. A part of me wished all my exes were like that. Fuck yes, just tell me what you want. I’m not a mind reader, so spell it out for me. Well, that’s what Elysia was apparently born to do.

“Fine,” I sighed, giving in with all the resistance of wet tissue paper. “Sit on the bed.”

Elysia practically bounced onto the mattress with impish glee, arranging herself so she was propped up against the pillows like a queen on her throne. She extended her legs toward me, wiggling her toes in anticipation.

I sat cautiously at the foot of the bed and took one of her tiny feet in my large hands. Her skin was surprisingly soft, her foot small enough that I could almost completely envelop it in my grip. I was never a feet guy, but she had a frickin’ cute pair of feet. I began to knead an arch gently, watching her reaction.

“Mmmmm,” Elysia moaned as her eyes closed in pleasure,  and her head tilted back against the pillows. “Ohhhhh yes, right there.”

I swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how intimate this was—her nearly naked on the bed, moaning as I massaged her foot, while rays of sunlight leaked through the window curtains, highlighting her frankly insane body and the lustrous shine of her golden hair. I adjusted my position slightly, trying to conceal a growing problem of my own.

“Ahhhhh,” she sighed as I worked my thumb into a particularly tense spot. “By the Silver-Bark Tree, that’s divine. Your hands should be registered as magical items of exceeding rarity. That fingers alone can elicit such pleasure in a body as perfect as mine is—nyah!—remarkable.”

I had to privately smirk at that remark.

After a few minutes of this treatment, Elysia had completely abandoned any pretense of watching the TV or doing anything at all other than luxuriate in my touch. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back, and there was an expression of pure ecstasy on her face that made me proud of myself. And horny. Her closed eyes also gave me the opportunity to look at her more openly, which I did. My eyes traced the graceful curve of her narrow neck, the rise and fall of her impressive chest with each breath, and the taut plane of her stomach.

“You know,” Elysia sighed dreamily with eyes still closed, “you are the best butler I’ve ever had.”

“Is that so?” I asked, my hands pausing momentarily. “I never really agreed to be called your butler, you know.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, apparently not noticing my pause. “Whatever you are, you’re amazing. You can cook, massage, fight for me while I watch regally nearby—and you’re quite soothing for the eyes, if a little overlarge.”

“Thanks... I think,” I said, resuming the massage. I almost focused on the term “overlarge” too long when I realized that she’d basically just called me hot in the middle of that statement. Nice.

Elysia opened one eye, regarding me like a spoiled cat waiting for a treat. After a moment of confusion, I realized she was waiting for me to return a compliment or something like that. I considered saying something about her beauty, but that seemed too easy. When I called her pretty earlier, she just reacted like I’d stated something obvious.

“Thanks. You’re good company,” I said instead.

Both of Elysia’s eyes shot open, and to my alarm, they began to fill with globby tears. I immediately stopped the massage, jerking my hands back out of instinct.

“Did I say something wrong?” I asked in bewilderment.

Elysia sat up, drawing her knees to her chest like she was trying to make herself smaller. “No one has ever said that to me before,” she whimpered quietly as a tear spilled down her cheek.

“That you’re good company?” I asked. I was still confused and slightly panicked by the out-of-nowhere waterworks. “I find that hard to believe. You’re literally a princess. People probably fall all over themselves to hang out with you.”

She shook her head, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Growing up in the royal court, I had few true friends. Most other children in the castle were kept away from me because I was the princess. The few companions I was allowed were children of nobles who only wanted proximity to the throne.” Her voice grew bitter as she continued. “I heard them once, talking when they thought I couldn’t hear. They said I was terrible company—demanding, spoiled, temperamental, lazy, and selfish.”

I felt a pang of sympathy hit me right in the chest. For all her brattiness, there was something vulnerable about her in this moment that tugged at me. Never mind the fact that I was pretty sure most of the nobles’ complaints were probably based on kernels of truth, I was also equally sure that they were results of her upbringing, too. Maybe… I could fix her.

“You must have had some friends,” I said as I took her foot back and she relaxed her posture again.

She shrugged limply, cocking her head and sighing. “The only people who have enjoyed being with me my whole life were the other two members of the Hero’s Party,” she continued, sniffling slightly. “My only true friends.”

“Tell me about them,” I prompted gently, genuinely curious now.

Elysia smiled. “No need. You’ll meet them yourself one day, but they’re in my realm for now.” She looked up at me, blinking away the last of her tears. “That’s all I wish to say on the matter. You’re all I have today.”

“Fair enough,” I said, not wanting to push and risk another mood swing. I stood up, angling my body carefully just in case Josh 2: Erectile Boogaloo was still at half mast. “I should take your dish and do some washing in the kitchen.”

“Wait,” Elysia called as I reached for the empty plate. “May I ask for one more favor?”

“Sure,” I said. “Within reason.” I was expecting another request for a massage or some other service.

“I’d like to accompany you,” she said, sliding off the bed. “I’m enjoying your company too.” A shy smile flitted across her face, there and gone so quickly I almost missed it. 

“Oh, of course,” I said, arching a brow. “Why would you even need to ask to follow me downstairs?”

“Well, my feet are a bit sensitive now after being rubbed so thoroughly.” She looked up at me, back to full puppy-dog eyes once again. “Could I perhaps ride on your back?”

I stared at her for a moment, taking in the absurdity of the request. An otherworldly warrior princess was asking to be carried piggyback through my house because her feet were too sensitive after a massage she’d manipulated me into giving her in the first place.

I sighed deeply enough to pretend I wasn’t stoked. “Fine.”

Elysia’s face lit up with a smile so genuine it momentarily took my breath away, like the sun breaking through clouds after a storm. She grabbed my t-shirt from where she’d discarded it, pulling it over her head before standing on the bed so she could more easily reach my height.

“Ready!” she announced cheerfully, bouncing on the mattress in warning.

I turned my back to her, bracing myself for impact. She hopped onto me with surprising agility. Her slender arms wrapped around my neck, and her bare legs secured themselves around my waist. Her slight weight was barely noticeable at this point given all the points I put into strength thus far. 

And yeah, her very soft boobs felt pretty nice.

“Onward, noble steed!” she proclaimed regally, pointing toward the door.

“Call me a steed again and I’m dumping you on the floor,” I warned.

“No, please don’t!”

As I carried the elven princess downstairs, she rested her chin on my shoulder, and I had to laugh a little under my breath at how quickly my life had changed. Twenty-four hours ago, I’d been alone in this house. Now, I was quite possibly roommates for life with Galadriel’s hotter, tinier cousin.

Life had definitely gotten weird. But weird, it turned out, was a lot better than boring.

Chapter 3

Gently, I set Elysia down in the kitchen. Her feet touched the floor with a delicate tap, then took the initiative to hop onto the barstool at the kitchen counter—all by herself. Small victories.

“So what’s next?” she asked while watching me clean up our breakfast dishes. From the stool, her legs dangled several inches off the floor.

“Well, you can’t keep wearing my t-shirt,” I said, giving her a once-over. The shirt hung on her like a circus tent, the hem reaching past her knees. “We need to get you some proper clothes, and I’m not in the mood for online shopping.”

With her legs swinging back and forth, she asked, “Can’t you order the serfs attached to your land to buy them? Surely the Champion of Earthrealm has minions for such mundane tasks.”

I shook my head. “Surfs are for beaches, Princess. I could order some online, but delivery takes time out in the boonies. Even with express shipping, it would be tomorrow at the earliest if we’re lucky. I think our best bet is to drive into town and buy you some things.”

Elysia’s eyes lit up like sapphires. “A journey to a human settlement? How fascinating!” Her expression suddenly darkened. “But what about my ears? Won’t your people be alarmed by my elven heritage? I’ve heard humans can be quite xenophobic toward fairer species.”

I hadn’t thought about that. Those pointed ears were a dead giveaway that she wasn’t from around here—or from Earth at all. True, Wapa Lake had monsters next door to Millfield, but we weren’t in Wapa Lake, nor was she the sort of thing that goes bump in the night that people knew existed around there. I leaned against the counter and considered the problem.

“Good point. We’ll need to hide your ears somehow.”

The options ran through my mind. A wig wouldn’t work. Makeup wouldn’t hide the shape. Then it hit me.

“I’ve got an idea, but first, let’s find you something to wear besides my shirt.”

I led Elysia to my bedroom closet and started rifling through clothes. “Let’s see what I’ve got that might remotely fit you.”

“I doubt anything will,” Elysia said while sprawled dramatically across my bed with her arms stretched wide. “You’re built like an ogre gladiator, while I possess the delicate proportions of elven royalty.”

“Thanks for the comparison to an ogre,” I muttered. “I was actually hoping maybe the pizza girl I hooked up with last month might have left something behind, but no luck.”

“Hmm?” she said, her voice half an octave higher than usual. “You brought another woman to this dwelling?”

I looked over at her and cocked a brow and decided to tease her. “Yeah. Guess that’ll be awkward now with you here.”

She visibly tried not to pout, clearly not loving the idea of her butler spoiling another woman in any way. It probably wasn’t based on attraction so much as her own desire for attention, but I still relished the idea of making her jealous. “Hmph. Well, that will be impossible henceforth, I regret to inform you,” she said.

I chuckled. “I don’t know. I can be pretty charming when you get a couple beers in me.”

From the drawer, I pulled the smallest t-shirt I owned and a pair of athletic shorts with a drawstring. “Try these on. They’ll be huge, but at least they’ll stay up with the drawstring.”

The clothes were taken by Elysia and, without any warning or hesitation, she pulled my t-shirt over her head in one fluid motion. 

“A little warning next time,” I grunted. And then, under my breath, I added, “I can only afford to  get so erect.”

“Oh, please,” Elysia said with amusement in her voice. “I simply cannot adapt to how prudish you can be at the sight of your own party member’s body. My chambermaids were much less bashful than you.”

“Well, I have one too many extra limbs to be a chambermaid by most metrics,” I said, still taking in the sights nonetheless.

Her eyes briefly flitted downward. “That indeed appears to be true,” Elysia conceded in a sultrier tone than expected as she finished dressing. “In any case, I am now decent by your standards.”

Low standards, to be sure. Elysia was engulfed in my clothes. The t-shirt hung down to her knees, with sleeves well past her elbows, halfway to her wrists. Despite being cinched as tight as possible with the drawstring, the shorts still sagged around her waist. 

“How do I look?” she asked as she struck a regal pose.

Laughter that I’d tried to keep inside burst from me uncontrollably. “You look absolutely ridiculous,” I said between chuckles. “But it’ll have to do until we get you real clothes.”

Elysia tried to look offended, puffing up like an angry kitten, but couldn’t maintain it. She beamed at me in the end. “I suppose the great House of Silverleaf has endured worse indignities. Though not many.”

“Now for your ears,” I said, leading her to the bathroom. “Maybe we can style your hair to cover them.”

For the next fifteen minutes, we tried various hairstyles in the bathroom mirror, with increasingly frustrating results. Every attempt to cover her pointed ears ended up looking suspicious or failed to conceal them entirely.

“This is hopeless,” I finally declared, pushing back from another failed attempt at an ear-concealing braid. “Let me think... wait, I’ve got an idea.”

I disappeared back into my bedroom and returned with a blue baseball cap emblazoned with the Milwaukee Brewers logo. “Try this.”

Elysia looked at the cap with an expression of disgust. “Peasant headgear? I think not.”

“It’s this or we don’t go,” I said firmly, holding my ground. “You can’t exactly walk around town with elf ears on display unless you want to end up in a government lab somewhere. It’s bad enough that you’re literally uncannily good-looking in a way that no human can possibly be.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Elysia took the cap and placed it on her head reluctantly. The moment it was on, she leaned toward the mirror, adjusting it to different angles, playing with how her hair fell around it.

“Hmm,” she murmured while turning her head side to side. “It’s actually... rakishly charming.” She took a deep breath in and smiled as her nose twitched slightly. “And it carries your scent. Quite pleasant, actually. Earthy, with notes of pine and masculine exertion.”

I blinked a few times, not quite sure how to respond to that particular observation. “Glad you approve. Not sure where you’re picking up the pine hints in my BO, but the cap completely hides your ears, at least, so we should be good to go.”

“Excellent,” she said, smirking smugly as she checked herself out in the mirror.

“Before we leave,” I said as we headed back downstairs, “we need to talk about how to behave around humans.”

Elysia rolled her eyes so dramatically I was worried they might fall out of her head. “I’ve interacted with countless species across many lands, including some with tentacles where their faces should be. I’m sure I can handle your simple human customs.”

“Maybe,” I agreed, “but there are some specific things to avoid. No calling me your servant. No demands or imperious commands. No mentioning other realms, elves, or your royal status. And try to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ when asking for things.”

Elysia frowned as her delicate brows knitted together. “These rules seem unnecessarily restrictive.”

“They’re not unnecessary. They’re how people behave here,” I explained as patiently as I could. “Just try to follow my lead, okay?”

“Very well,” Elysia said with a reluctant nod. “I shall endeavor to blend in with your commoners. Though it goes against my very nature to pretend I am not superior in every way.”

I demonstrated how to ask for things politely, and Elysia practiced with such exaggerated formality that I couldn’t tell if she was mocking me or genuinely trying.

“Would you be so graciously inclined, if it pleases you greatly, to pass the salt, good sir?” she asked with an elaborate curtsy that would have looked more appropriate in Queen Victoria’s court.

I sighed. “Maybe a little less... like that. But it’s a start.”

After a quick use of the bathroom, after which Elysia asked many questions about indoor plumbing, we were finally ready to leave. I led her out to where my truck was parked.

Elysia circled the vehicle suspiciously, poking the tires with her finger like they might bite her and peering through the windows with her nose pressed against the glass.

“Is it alive?” she asked, jumping back when I unlocked it with my key fob, causing the lights to flash.

“No, it’s a machine,” I explained. 

“Much more impressive than my royal carriages,” Elysia declared while still eyeing it with a mix of suspicion and fascination. “Though less ornate. Where are the gold filigrees and gem-encrusted handles?”

“Not really a thing on pickup trucks,” I said, opening the passenger door for her.

Elysia stood looking up at the seat, which was clearly too high for her to climb into easily. Without asking, I put my hands on her waist and lifted her up. She weighed practically nothing to my enhanced strength, and I found myself momentarily surprised at the narrowness of her waist in my large hands. My fingers practically went all the way around.

“Thank you,” she said, sounding genuinely appreciative as she settled into the seat. “Most considerate of you, Sir Josh Becker.”

I closed her door and walked around to the driver’s side, sliding in behind the wheel. After a series of eeps and shocked gasps at the various sounds my vehicle made when starting up, she settled down. The drive to town started with Elysia discovering every feature of the truck’s interior like she was on a scavenger hunt. She pressed all the buttons, adjusted the air vents in every possible direction, and nearly jumped out of her skin when I turned on the radio.

“Music from nowhere!” she exclaimed with eyes wide enough to match those weird toy dolls from the ‘90s. “How magnificent!”

“It’s coming from speakers—those little grates there,” I explained, pointing them out. “The sound is transmitted through radio waves—um, invisible energy that carries the music through the air.”

Elysia nodded as if this made perfect sense, though I was sure she had no idea what I was talking about.

As we pulled out onto the main road, Elysia clutched the dashboard dramatically. Her knuckles turned white. “By the Silver-Bark Tree! Such speed!”

I glanced at the speedometer. “We’re still way under the speed limit.”

“I knew that,” Elysia interrupted, straightening in her seat, looking slightly embarrassed. “I was merely... testing your reaction.”

The road to town was a straight shot through cornfields and farmland, the kind of monotonous scenery that makes you question your life choices when you drive through it often enough. After about ten minutes, I pointed ahead to a collection of buildings on the horizon.

“That’s Millfield up ahead. It’s a small town, but they should have everything we need.”

Elysia suddenly looked nervous as she fidgeted with the hem of her oversized shirt. “Will they detect that I’m not human? I’ve heard some mortals have surprising powers of perception.”

“No one’s going to think you’re an elf,” I assured her. “At worst, they’ll think you’re ‘from out of town,’ which is technically true. Just try not to mention your royal lineage or other dimensions, and you’ll be fine.”

“I shall practice looking completely normal and not at all like royalty from another dimension,” Elysia declared, arranging her face into what she clearly thought was a normal expression but which looked more like someone fighting back the urge to sneeze while trying to smile.

As we approached the town limits, Elysia grew quieter with her anxiety showing in the way she chewed on her lower lip. Without warning, she reached over and grabbed my hand where it rested on the gear shift. Her small hand felt warm against mine, and I was surprised by how natural the gesture felt.

“It will be fine,” I said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before returning mine to the steering wheel. “Just follow my lead.”

Millfield’s main street was exactly what you’d expect from a small Midwestern town—a few blocks of brick storefronts, angle parking, and American flags hanging from lampposts, and that’s about it. We drove past the post office, a hardware store, a small grocery, and the town’s only restaurant, Dot’s Diner.

Elysia pressed her face against the window like an excited child on their first road trip, pointing at everything. “What are those magnificent light orbs?” she asked, indicating a traffic light.

“Traffic signals,” I explained. “They tell drivers when to stop and when to go.”

“And those flat gray paths alongside the road?”

“Sidewalks. For walking. On the side of the road.”

“Fascinating!” she exclaimed. “Your realm has such clever conveniences!”

As we cruised slowly down Main Street, I noticed several townspeople noticing us. Mrs. Peterson from the post office waved at me cautiously. The elderly men who perpetually occupied the bench outside the barber shop paused their conversation to stare. I waved awkwardly, suddenly aware of how odd we must look—me, the reclusive lottery winner who never brought anyone to town, with a tiny woman wearing oversized men’s clothes and my baseball cap.

“Why are they all staring?” Elysia whispered as she shrank back from the window.

“Small town,” I explained. “Everyone knows everyone, and they all notice newcomers. Plus, I don’t usually bring people with me, but I’m too terrified to drive you two hours to a bigger place.”

“Am I the first female you’ve brought to your village?” Elysia asked with a weirdly suspicious hiss in her voice. “You’d better say yes.”

“Kind of,” I admitted. “I usually bring them back to my place rather than take them here.” The silence immediately following that felt somehow violent. 

We parked outside Mae’s Boutique, the town’s only clothing store. As before, I had to help Elysia out of the truck, my hands easily spanning her waist again as I lifted her down.

“Thank you,” she said while straightening her cap carefully. She took a deep breath, squaring her tiny shoulders like a soldier preparing for battle. “I am prepared to encounter your human shopkeepers.”

The bell above the door jingled as we entered. Mae’s Boutique was a small but well-stocked store with clothing for men, women, and children. Mae Wilson, the elderly proprietor, looked up from the counter and did a double-take when she saw me.

“Well now, Josh Becker!” she exclaimed, coming around the counter with the speed of someone half her age. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d bring a lady friend to town!”

I felt myself blushing. “She’s not my—I mean, we’re not—”

“I am his new roommate,” Elysia interjected, beaming smugly at being called my “lady friend,” probably relishing how annoyed it made me.

Mae’s eyebrows shot up toward her hairline. “Roommate? Well, isn’t that modern.” She turned to Elysia with a warm smile that didn’t do much to hide her curiosity. “And what’s your name, dear?”

“I am Pri—” Elysia caught herself with her eyes widening slightly. “I am Elysia.”

“Lovely name,” Mae said. “What can I help you with today?”

“Elysia needs... well, everything,” I explained. “She’s staying with me for a while, and her luggage was lost.”

“Oh, you poor thing!” Mae exclaimed. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. We’ll get you fixed up in no time.”

Before I could say anything else, Elysia had wandered off, drawn to a display of colorful fabrics like a mosquito to a fat guy in a Hawaiian shirt. She stretched a pair of leggings between her hands, fascinated by their elasticity.

“Is this some form of rubber? How marvelous!” she exclaimed.

Mae watched with amusement. “She’s not from around here, is she?”

“You could say that,” I agreed, keeping my voice low. “She’s from... overseas. Very different culture.”

Elysia had moved on to feeling different fabrics, rubbing them between her fingers with great concentration. “This blend is quite remarkable,” she declared. “Superior to elven silk—” She caught herself with eyes darting to me in panic. “I mean, uh, foreign silk!”

“Let me show you our women’s section,” Mae said, leading Elysia toward the back of the store. “We should start with some basics—jeans, tops, underwear...”

To my surprise, Elysia walked right past the practical clothing and made a beeline for the sleepwear section. She immediately began selecting the skimpiest, silkiest pajama sets in sight.

“These are perfect,” she declared while holding up a lavender camisole and shorts set that left very little to the imagination.

“Don’t you want to look at some regular clothes first?” I suggested. “You know, for going out in public?”

Elysia shook her head firmly. “If I must endure a prolonged stay in this savage world, I shall do so in comfort and beauty,” she insisted. “Comfort is the highest priority for displaced roy—for people like me!”

“Royalty?” Mae asked with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s a joke,” I said quickly. “She, uh, comes from money. Always jokes about being treated like a princess.”

“I see,” Mae said, clearly not entirely convinced. She turned to help Elysia find the right sizes. “My goodness, you’re tiny! I’m not sure I have much that will fit you properly.”

Elysia straightened proudly with her chin lifting. “Daintiness is the essence of femininity,” she declared. Pretty sure she used that line on me at least once already, and I was starting to suspect I was going to need to get used to hearing it regularly for the next twenty years.

Soon, Elysia had accumulated a pile of pajamas, nightgowns, and loungewear, all in silky fabrics and most of them more appropriate for a honeymoon than everyday wear. Mae directed her to the dressing room with an armful of items.

Not five minutes later, I heard Elysia’s voice ring out, “Josh Becker! I require your assistance immediately!”

Mae gave me a knowing wink as I reluctantly approached the dressing room. “She’s a demanding little minx, isn’t she?”

“You have no idea,” I muttered.

I knocked on the dressing room door. “What’s wrong?”

“This contraption has defeated me,” Elysia called back. “Enter and assist!”

I hesitantly pushed the door open to find Elysia standing there in just her silk undergarments, holding a twisted nightgown in her hands. She was completely unconcerned about her state of undress, as usual.

This time, she didn’t comment at first when I deliberately looked away out of habit. But she seemed to take notice when I started peeking a bit more obviously. “Honestly, you can look. If it’s you, I don’t mind.”

“Too tempting,” I pointed out. “Not the best idea, trust me.”

“I’m wearing more than I do in the royal baths,” she said matter-of-factly. “Now help me with this. The arm holes have somehow merged with the neck hole.”

I controlled my gaze as much as possible while helping untangle the nightgown. As I held it out for her to step into, my fingers accidentally brushed against the smooth skin of her naked back.

“Apologies,” I muttered.

“For what?” Elysia asked, sounding genuinely confused.

I didn’t answer, I just took internal notes about her reaction. I focused on helping her straighten the garment without any further skin contact for now. It was nearly impossible in the small space, and we ended up in several almost-compromising positions before the nightgown was properly in place.

“There,” I said, stepping back quickly. “All fixed.”

Elysia admired herself in the mirror. “Quite lovely,” she declared. “The fabric is acceptable.”

I took the opportunity to escape the dressing room. After trying on several more items, Elysia emerged with a stack of approved pajamas and nightwear. “These will do,” she announced. “Now I require appropriate undergarments.”

Before I could protest, Mae was leading us to the very limited lingerie section. “We don’t have a huge selection, but I’m sure we can find something suitable,” she said.

Elysia was enchanted by the variety available. She held up increasingly revealing items, examining them with open curiosity like a scientist studying specimens from an alien world.

“Josh Becker!” she called loudly while holding up a lacy red bra. “Would this contraption be suitable for daily wear?”

I was acutely aware of the other shoppers turning to stare. “Maybe pick something more… not that,” I suggested quietly.

Elysia moved through the selection, picking up and examining everything. She suddenly held up a pair of crotchless panties with her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Josh Becker, this garment appears defective,” she announced at full volume, drawing even more stares. “It’s missing the central portion!”

I felt my face burn as an elderly couple nearby turned to look in shock. “Those are... uh... special occasion undergarments,” I managed to say in a strained whisper.

“What occasion would necessitate a hole in one’s underwear?” Elysia asked, genuinely perplexed.

“I’ll explain later,” I hissed, taking the garment from her hand and putting it back on the rack.

Elysia continued browsing, holding up various skimpy items for inspection. “Which of these do you prefer?” she asked innocently. “Since you will be the one seeing me in them most often.”

The elderly couple nearby gasped audibly. The woman clutched her husband’s arm, and they quickly moved to another section of the store.

“We’re roommates!” I called after them desperately. “Just roommates!”

This somehow made the situation worse, as the couple hurried away with scandalized expressions.

After selecting several sets of underwear (all thankfully with the “central portion” intact), Elysia announced that she wanted to wear her new pajamas immediately.

“I can’t bear these oversized garments a moment longer,” she declared. “The cloth chafes my sensitive skin.”

I paid for a silky lavender camisole and shorts set while Elysia changed in the dressing room. When she emerged, I found myself staring a bit too long. The pajamas fit her perfectly, highlighting her petite but athletic frame. With my baseball cap still perched on her head, she looked adorably incongruous—ready for both bed and a ball game.

“Much better,” she declared while twirling in place. “These garments are worthy of my station.”

“You can’t wear pajamas in public,” I pointed out.

“Why not?” Elysia challenged. “They cover all the necessary areas.”

“It’s just not... customary,” I explained lamely.

Elysia shrugged. “How limiting! Earth customs are so restrictive!”

While Elysia was distracted by a display of fuzzy slippers, I quickly selected some practical items—jeans that seemed to be in her size, t-shirts, a light jacket, and weather-appropriate clothes. I also grabbed a sturdy leather jacket and boots that could work as makeshift armor for fighting monsters in the event that he platemail bikini getup wasn’t an option at some point.

Mae rang these up separately, leaning in to whisper, “Smart man. She’ll thank you later.”

When Elysia questioned the extra bags, I explained they were “monster-fighting fashion.”

“Just in case you want to help me in the fields someday,” I added.

She seemed doubtful, but accepted my explanation. “I suppose a warrior princess should have appropriate battle attire, even if it lacks proper ornamentation.”

By now it was early afternoon, and my stomach was growling loud enough to be heard in the next county. “How about some lunch?” I suggested. “There’s a diner across the street.”

Elysia’s eyes lit up. “More Earth food? Yes, please!” she said, actually remembering to use “please” without prompting.

We made our way to Dot’s Diner next. The diner was busy with the lunch crowd, and conversations noticeably quieted as we entered, like someone had hit the mute button on the room.

Dot, the diner owner and namesake, seated us at the bar counter with raised eyebrows. “Haven’t seen you in town for a while, Josh,” she said, handing us menus. “And I don’t believe I’ve met your friend.”

“This is Elysia,” I said. “She’s staying with me for a bit.”

“How nice,” Dot said with the smile of someone who would be spreading this gossip within minutes. “Special today is meatloaf with mashed potatoes.”

Elysia was enchanted by the laminated menus and spinning stools. “Your eating establishment has rotating seating!” she exclaimed. “How clever!”

“She’s not from around here,” I said to Dot, who nodded as if this explained everything.

After Dot left to get our drinks, I helped Elysia navigate the menu. She settled on a cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate milkshake, while I ordered the same.

When the food arrived, Elysia stared at it with wide eyes. She picked up the burger with both hands, studying it from all angles before taking a tentative bite.

Her eyes widened impossibly further. “By the Silver-Bark Tree!” she exclaimed loudly enough that several diners turned to look. She quickly lowered her voice. “This is magnificent! Far superior to even royal fern salads!”

She devoured the burger with surprising speed for someone so small, then moved on to the fries, dipping each one meticulously in ketchup before eating it. When she got to the milkshake, she took a long pull through the straw with her eyes closing in bliss, then abandoned the straw entirely to chug it.

When she opened her eyes, I was looking at her with amusement. “What?” she asked.

“You’ve got a...” I gestured to my own upper lip.

Elysia touched her lip, finding the milkshake mustache. Before she could reach for a napkin, I had reflexively reached across the counter, wiping it away with my thumb.

Our eyes met briefly, both looking away quickly.

The moment was interrupted by the arrival of a tall man in a sheriff’s uniform. “Afternoon, Josh,” he said. “Don’t usually see you in town.”

“Sheriff Miller,” I nodded in greeting. “Just doing some shopping.”

The sheriff’s eyes moved to Elysia. “Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. New in town?”

“I am Princess Elysia of—” she began.

“She’s my cousin from overseas,” I quickly interrupted. “Visiting for a while.”

Sheriff Miller looked skeptical but didn’t press for the details. “Interesting. Got some unusual reports lately if you have a minute. I hear there’s been people seeing strange purple lights in the fields near your property when they drive by at night.”

I tensed, realizing he meant the portals. “Is that right? I haven’t noticed anything.”

“Keep an eye out, would you?” the sheriff said. “Might be nothing, might be kids with fireworks or laser pens, but better safe than sorry.”

“Will do,” I agreed.

After the sheriff moved on, Elysia looked guilty. “I nearly revealed my identity,” she whispered. “This deception is challenging.”

“You did fine,” I assured her. “Just remember, you’re my cousin from overseas, visiting for a while.”

As we finished our lunch, I noticed Elysia’s energy flagging. She became increasingly slouched in her bar stool with her eyelids drooping like she’d just pulled an all-nighter.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m exhausted from all this human interaction,” she complained. “It’s terribly taxing. We should return to our dwelling immediately.”

“Sure,” I agreed with a smirk. To be honest, I found her sudden onset theatrical exhaustion oddly endearing. “Let me pay, and we’ll head back, alright?”

She yawned so big her eyes teared up as she nodded at me. “Okay.”

I realized with mild surprise that I was genuinely enjoying taking care of her. Despite her imperious demands and the trouble she caused, there was something satisfying about showing her my world.

Outside the diner, Elysia moved with exaggerated lethargy, sighing dramatically with each step. “Why must your vehicle be parked so far away?” she whined.

“It’s directly across the street,” I pointed out.

“As you know by now, Sir Josh, my royal feet weren’t designed for excessive walking,” Elysia insisted. “In my homeland, I would be carried by servants or teleported. It is reasonable to expect similar treatment here when possible, I should think.”

When we reached the truck, she looked up at me with sleepy and expectant eyes. I lifted her easily into the passenger seat. She immediately curled up with a wide yawn. “Wake me when we arrive at your dwelling,” she murmured, eyes already closing.

As I pulled away from the curb, I glanced at the sleepy elf princess beside me. Her baseball cap had tilted to one side, with a strand of blonde hair falling across her face. I found myself smiling despite myself.

What had I gotten myself into? An interdimensional princess, portals spewing monsters into my fields, an apparent destiny as a champion in some cosmic battle twenty years in the future... it was all completely fucking insane.

Even so, as Elysia’s breathing deepened into sleep with her small body curled trustingly beside me, I realized I wasn’t nearly as bothered by these developments as I probably should’ve been.

***

I pulled into the long driveway and cut the engine, replacing the truck’s rumble with silence. That alone was a rare commodity in my newly monster-infested, princess-occupied life. I glanced over at Elysia, who was still curled up in the passenger seat with her breathing deep and even. The baseball cap had shifted during her nap, exposing one pointed ear. Carefully, I reached over and adjusted it back into place, though there was no one around to see.

“Hey,” I said softly, giving her shoulder a gentle shake. “We’re home.”

Elysia responded with a tiny sound somewhere between a whimper and a growl. Instead of waking, she curled more tightly into the seat while her face scrunched up with indignation. Even half-asleep, this woman could masterfully convey “how dare you” with nothing but her facial muscles.

“Alright, princess,” I sighed. “Have it your way.”

I got out of the truck and walked around to the passenger side. Opening the door carefully so she wouldn’t tumble out, I slid one arm under her knees and the other behind her shoulders. From the seat I lifted her with unsettling ease—yes, my System-enhanced strength was improving, but elves must weigh very little, I realized.

Her body was warm against my chest as her head automatically nuzzled into my shoulder. I carried her toward the house. It felt natural to carry her like this.

“Mmmmm,” she murmured in her sleep with a small smile. “Strong, handsome champion...”

My ears burned hot. I managed to unlock and open the front door without jostling her too much, then carried her into the living room. I briefly considered taking her upstairs to her bedroom but opted instead to set her gently on the couch. She immediately curled into the cushions, still soundly asleep with one hand tucked under her cheek.

I stood watching her for a moment, struck by how different she looked without her standard imperious expression. The fierce warrior princess, the supposed champion from another realm, now looked like little more than a tiny, sleepy woman in silky pajamas and a baseball cap.

With a shake of my head, I settled into my recliner a few feet from her on the couch and picked up the remote. I turned on the TV, keeping the volume low, and switched to a local news channel. The afternoon newscaster was reporting on crop yields and weather patterns with minimal enthusiasm—normal, everyday concerns that felt surreal compared to my current reality.

“And local corn production is up three percent this year,” droned the newscaster, a middle-aged man with little in the way of charisma. “Farmers attribute this to the new irrigation methods introduced last spring...”

After about fifteen minutes of mind-numbing agricultural updates, I felt my own eyelids growing heavy. Last night’s monster fight and the afternoon’s princess-wrangling had taken more out of me than I’d realized. I made my way to the kitchen to brew some coffee while moving quietly to avoid waking Elysia.

I took my time with the French press, measuring the freshly ground beans and heating the water to the perfect temperature. The ritual was soothing, a small slice of normalcy. For a few minutes, I wasn’t a lottery winner hiding from parasitic relatives or an interdimensional monster-slayer—I was just a guy making coffee.

As I pressed the plunger down on the French press, a warm presence pushed against my back. Without a sound, Elysia had slipped into the kitchen and mashed herself against me. Her head maneuvered itself under my raised arm to tuck between my bicep and torso.

“What are you making?” she asked with her voice still scratchy from sleep. She sounded so cute just then that I almost lost it.

But my surprise won out in the end. I almost jumped at the feeling of her breasts pushed against me. “Jesus! Are you familiar with the concept of personal space?”

Elysia didn’t budge an inch while remaining firmly tucked against my side. It wasn’t that I wasn’t a fan of being sleepily embraced by the prettiest chick I’d ever met—far from it. In fact, I was normally pretty smooth around the ladies, but there was so much about this new dynamic that had me walking on eggshells.

For one thing, twenty years was a long time, and that’s how long our impromptu-made commitment to each other seemed destined to be. Also, hooking up with a pizza delivery babe at the end of her shift, ideally one you never had to see again—that was one thing. Trying not to give overly aggressive, rapey vibes to the pretty foreign elf princess who you knew precious little about was something totally different. In the end, I figured it was safer to keep my distance. If she felt my cudgel of a cock pressing into her during one of these moments, I had no idea just how badly that’d ruin things.

But she didn’t seem interested in heeding my warnings about personal space in the least. She yawned, then spoke. “Your scent is strangely soothing,” she said matter-of-factly. “I wish to remain near to you. It is my right.”

Her statement came across casually, as if admitting to being attracted to someone’s scent was a perfectly normal reason to physically cling to them.

“I’m making coffee,” I explained, continuing the pour despite my uninvited attachment. “It’s a beverage made from roasted coffee beans.”

With open interest, Elysia watched as I completed the process. “We have nothing like this in Elfhaven,” she said. “Our stimulants are primarily herbal or magical in nature.”

“Well, this is herb-adjacent at best, and definitely not magical,” I said, pouring the dark liquid into a mug. “Though some might disagree. There are different types of coffee drinks. This is just black coffee—plain and simple. Then there are lattes, which have steamed milk; café au lait, which is half coffee and half hot milk; mochas, which add chocolate; cappuccinos, which have espresso, steamed milk, and foam...”

I trailed off, realizing I was rambling, but Elysia appeared genuinely interested if a bit sleepy, still nestled under my arm.

“Would you like to try it?” I asked, offering my mug.

“Certainly,” she replied, taking the mug with both hands.

She took a small sip and immediately sprayed it across the counter as her face contorted in disgust. “This is VILE!” she exclaimed. “How can you willingly consume such bitterness? Is this some form of Earth punishment ritual?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her overdramatic reaction. “It’s an acquired taste,” I admitted. “Here, let me make you something milder.”

I prepared a café au lait, adding a generous spoonful of sugar and a drizzle of honey before handing it to her. All the while, she maintained her position tucked against my side, moving with me.

Elysia accepted the new mug cautiously. She took a tentative sip, and her eyes widened. A moan escaped her lips that was frankly obscene, causing me to shift uncomfortably.

“By the Silver-Bark Tree,” she breathed. “This is... this is... there are no words in your primitive mortal language to describe this magnificence.”

She took another sip, making that same inappropriate sound with her eyes closed. I cleared my throat.

“Why don’t you take your mug and go sit on the sofa?” I suggested. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

Elysia opened her eyes all the way to glare at me. “Will you sit with me and not in that chair?” she asked, scowling in the direction of my recliner.

I raised an eyebrow. “What did my recliner ever do to you?”

“It’s an abomination,” she declared with absolute conviction. “We should throw it away. Or burn it in a heap. I am a creature of comfort and relaxation, and I enjoy being physically close to you. Therefore, obstacles to that end are unacceptable.”

I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee while shaking my head. “Again, personal space is a thing here on Earth. People don’t typically press themselves against each other without invitation.”

At this suggestion, Elysia’s eyes narrowed. She muttered something under her breath in a language I didn’t know, then made a subtle gesture with her fingers.

Instantly, the surface of my coffee erupted in blue flame, like someone had poured gasoline on it and tossed a match.

“What the hell!” I exclaimed, holding the flaming mug away from myself.

Elysia pouted cutely while batting her eyelashes. “Oh no, your beverage appears to be aflame.”

“Put it out!” I demanded.

Elysia’s pout intensified with her lower lip protruding dramatically. I sighed and tried to blow out the flames myself. It took several attempts before the fire finally extinguished, leaving my coffee smelling distinctly of sulfur.

“I guess I’d better sit next to you for now,” I conceded, setting the ruined coffee aside. “But you’re a brat, you know that? And honestly a bit childish. It’s hard to imagine you being a legendary hero or whatever you’re supposed to be.”

Rather than being offended, Elysia beamed at me with a smile bright enough to power a small city. In one fluid motion, she set her coffee on the counter and hopped onto my back, wrapping her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck.

“Onward, handsome steed!” she commanded, pointing toward the living room.

I rolled my eyes but found myself carrying her anyway. When we reached the sofa, she slid off my back and plopped down, patting the spot next to her invitingly.

“Sit here,” she suggested, scooting to make room. “We can watch more of your magical TV.”

I sat down next to her, and immediately she nestled against my side, fitting herself neatly under my arm like she belonged there.

This is going to cause problems sooner or later, I thought grimly. And I’m not sure what to do about it.

With great reluctance, I stretched out on the couch and reached for the remote. “Hey, have you ever seen video games?” I asked, switching inputs on the TV. I turned the console on beneath the TV stand. “I’ve got a Super Pretendo. Let me show you.”

Elysia looked suspicious at my sudden change of subject but was quickly distracted by the colorful title screen of Super Plumber Cousins that appeared on the TV.

“What manner of entertainment is this?” she asked while leaning forward with interest.

“It’s a game,” I explained, thankful for the distraction. “You control that little guy on the screen to run and jump through the level.”

I demonstrated the controls, showing her how to make the character move, jump, and collect coins. Elysia watched with cautious interest, though she seemed more interested in pressing herself against my side than in the game itself.

“Would you like to try?” I offered, holding out the controller.

She took it hesitantly with her fingers awkwardly positioned on the buttons. Her first attempt ended quickly with her character falling into a pit, which prompted a surprisingly vulgar-sounding elvish curse.

An hour later, the scene had transformed entirely. Elysia sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV, hunched over the controller, utterly engrossed in the game. Her earlier desire to be physically close to me seemed abandoned, thank God, as she navigated her character through increasingly complex levels with her competitive nature fully awakened.

“Die, turtle beast!” she shouted while mashing buttons furiously. “Your shell shall adorn my royal chambers, you slut!”

My eyes bulged unexpectedly at that. “Why is the turtle a slut?”

She looked at me bashfully out of her side-eye gaze, then back at the screen as she continued to play. “No reason.” Then there was a pause. “Josh, who was that girl you brought to your home, again?”

“Huh?” I asked. “The pizza delivery girl? I don’t remember her name. Her boss doesn’t let her deliver outside Wapa Lake much anymore, though, so I haven’t heard from her in weeks.”

“Ah. That’s good. I mean—oh.”

I watched Elysia from the couch, and I found myself unable to suppress a fond smile. Her intensity was both amusing and endearing—the way she bit her lower lip in concentration, the little victory dance she did when she completed a level, the creative elvish profanity when she failed. She was undeniably bratty and spoiled, but there was something genuinely endearing about her enthusiasm.

My adulative grin disappeared instantly when, after getting a game over, Elysia casually rose from the floor, restarted the game, and without a word of warning, sat directly in my lap to continue playing.

I froze as my body went rigid. She settled herself comfortably with her back to my chest, completely oblivious to the perilous situation she’d created. Worse, her perky pajama-clad bottom kept wiggling and squirming as she played. Each movement was bringing me closer to complete mortification.

Just as her movements were about to make my predicament impossible to miss, my phone rang from the kitchen. With the reflexes of a man escaping a burning building, I practically launched Elysia onto the couch beside me and bolted for the kitchen.

“Hello?” I answered breathlessly, not even checking the caller ID.

“Sorry, uh, wrong number,” said a weirdly familiar female voice before hanging up. Hmm. Where have I heard that voice before?

In any case, it came at the right time. I closed my eyes and let out a long breath of relief. Wrong number or divine intervention—I wasn’t picky.

When I turned back toward the living room, my relief evaporated. Elysia sat on the couch with the controller set aside, game paused, arms crossed over her chest, and a thunderous expression on her face.

“I am dainty and delicate and deserve to be treated as such,” she declared coldly. “The manner in which I was discarded like refuse was supremely brutish and insulting.”

This was it. The point of no return, one way or another. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for a conversation I definitely didn’t want to start. “I think we need to have a serious talk.”