My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

I felt like this has all happened before in a time, in a place, not too long ago.

Mrs. Collins's accusations, questions, almost threw me off as to how similar they were to a certain trio of color-coded super sleuths' astute observations. In fact, forget similarities, this was teetering on plagiarism actually.

Blue claimed that I was handsome enough, Green indicated that I was witty enough, and finally Red kindly pointed out that I was as caring as can be with all three ultimately ending up at the same profound mystery as to why out of all the caring, witty and handsome men in the world, I managed to be the one lucky guy coming out of the raffle box.

Now here I was, as if I was stuck in a long endless loop of uncertainty and doubts with the same exact questions thrown to my face again and again.

I suppose this is what I get for dating way above my league. Put someone like me next to amazing individuals like Amanda and Irene… only natural people would start asking questions.

Everything's simply superficial, the building blocks of every human interaction since the dawn on this earth. Man, we truly do live in a society, don't we?

It's no biggie though… just simply means I gotta show both Mom and Dad here that I was truly more than what I seem at first impressions.

"Forget it, Mom," Amanda warned firmly, giving her mother a look that'd fit well on Sammy whenever our mom was up to her hijinks. "He came here to meet you two and have dinner… not to be interrogated like he's a prisoner of war."

"As if he wasn't already aware just what he was signing up for," Mrs. Collins scoffed. "My sweet little girl is having a fling with some boy… what kind of parent wouldn't bat an eye to that kind of information?"

"And without our knowledge at that," Mr. Collins muttered, wiping his lips with a napkin, holding a weighty stare towards me presumably for the intimidation factor. "If nothing's wrong, there's nothing to hide. But seeing as we're only just recently finding out…"

"I didn't tell you guys because this is exactly what I was afraid of," Their daughter wearily gave a sigh. "Do you think I want whatever guy I choose to date to think you guys are total maniacs or something?"

"I don't think you guys are maniacs," I blurted out in the midst of things and inadvertently placing myself in center focus. "A bit intimidating, a bit finicky, sure… but it's not like I'm gonna dine and dash just 'cause you start laying on a bit of pressure."

"Finicky?" Mr. Collins raised a brow at me.

"In the best way possible, of course," I quickly clarified. "My point is, your daughter means the absolute world to me, and if you all have to strip me bare first before you can believe me when I say that… then the choice it's pretty much a no-brainer, isn't it?"

Even that alone took quite a lot of me to spout, bravado-wise, especially in such a silent atmosphere where you could hear the faint hums of the fluorescent lights.

But that seemed to have done the trick somewhat. Amanda leaned back in her seat, mollified if a little mortified, and both parents began to eye me with a little more consideration than they had before.

"Means the world to you," The dad was the first to break the silence, stabbing his lamb with enough force to strike the plate beneath. "You've only just started dating. A bit of an overstatement, don't you think?"

"At least we know he's quite eager about it," His wife remarked to him, before addressing me with a sideways smile. "And that's never a bad thing…"

"Are you done yet?" Amanda impatiently, grumpily asked. "If you're not gonna listen, just say you aren't so I can finally stop bothering to ask."

"Alright, alright, no more personal questions," Mrs. Collins relented, before adding with an Amanda-like smirk, "For the time being, at least."

And so we wined and dined without any more noteworthy incident since. Both Mom and Dad continued to sneak in glances at me here and there throughout the rest of dinner though, as they sip, as they as they ate, as they talk, it was like they were assessing my every minute movement on top of my personality.

I did my best to pay no mind to it, joining in on discussions whenever I thought necessary, casually-not-so-casually filling their depleted glasses to the brim as soon as I saw they were empty, and generally doing all I could to show I've graduated the course of tableside manners.

But even then, that didn't seem to thaw the frigid ice wall between us three. There was no click, no understanding. They'd smile at me, they'd express their sincere thanks, yet alas in their eyes they still only saw the silhouette of a guest… some outside that did not at all belong.

Not yet, anyway…

Then when it finally came time to clear up our empty dishes, all filled and brimming at the waist, I continued to put my best foot forward.

"Let me just take these…" I declared, stacking stained plates and empty bowls as one. "...and I'll be back in a moment."

"Ah! No! Don't you dare take another plate, young man!"

Before I could even raise my head like an alarmed deer in the Savannah, Mrs. Collins came swooping in with lightning-fast reflexes, seizing the stack of dishes from my hands and taking them all for herself.

"You've shown us just how much of a good boy you can be already. There's no need to exert yourself, alright?" She said to me with all the gentle warmth of a loving mother. "Sit down, take a breather. Just what kind of parents would we be if we let our daughter's lovely boyfriend do all the work for us? Isn't that right, honey?"

But Mr. Collins was already halfway across the kitchen, hauling an entire tray of empty glasses towards the sink.

"Amanda, your soap is nearly finished and you have no spare," He called out over the running cascade of water. "What did I say about always having two in reserve?"

"Grocery shopping's only tomorrow, Dad," Amanda begrudgingly explained. "I'll be sure to get three soaps when I do. Happy?"

Mrs. Collins fondly shook her head at the two of them before whisking off with the plates. "We'll be done in a second," and with those parting words, it was just us two left sitting alone at a now extremely empty table.

A brief moment of silence… of respite, if nothing else.

Amanda was looking like she had just wormed her way through the trenches of a war-torn battlefield, looking gaunt, exhausted, sliding both hands across her face and hair in a vain attempt to clear her stress.

"Well then," She muttered out, turning towards me with a weak smile. "How was, uh… what did you think?"

There were only two ways to interpret that question, and I get this strange feeling she wasn't inquiring about the food.

"If I tell you your parents are lovely people would that make you feel any better?" I asked.

"Actually I'd just think you're lying to me which would in turn just make me feel even worse."

I smiled at that, reaching down under the table and giving her hand an assuring squeeze. "They're lovely people, Amanda. I mean it."

"I know you do," She said, squeezing back. "But being lovely doesn't mean they can't also be stubborn. You were so nice, so sweet, but for some reason… they're still not warming up to you."

Oh? Seems like I wasn't the only one that sensed that sentiment.

"It's only been one dinner," I told her. "No such thing as love at first sight, right? Give us some time."

"I'm just worried, I suppose," Amanda said, pondering out loud. "I want them to like you, I really do. But I also know they really, really want the best for me, doesn't matter what it is. And if they don't think you'll cut it…"

"Well, if we're talking about what's best for you…" I thinned my lips, putting myself in the shoes of a loving, doting parent. "If you lay out my vices and virtues on a table, it's not as if they're wrong for thinking that I might not be—"

"Shut up," She interrupted, staring, scowling as if daring me to finish that sentence. "You're what I want. I don't care if there really is someone better than you out there. You're what's best for me. I love you to bits, more than I can ever express, don't you dare suggest I might be mistaken for it."

Didn't need another word to convince me otherwise. The look in her eyes was enough to drive me halfway across the world from ever touching that line of thinking ever again.

Who knew true love could be so… frightening?

"Sweet pea, where are your car keys?"

The both of us jerked, the both of us raised our eyes forward, and staring right back at us, Mr. Collins loomed on the other side of the table, looking as suave and sophisticated as ever.

"My keys?" Amanda blinked at him. "What do you need them for?"

"I'm afraid I cannot consider the night finish until I have a glass of my favorite brand in hand," He stoically explained. "There's a bottle in the fridge, I noticed. Nearly finished, sadly," then slowly, he whirled around at me. "I do wonder why that is…"

None of us could come up with a good enough explanation for the mystery. Amanda just silently sat in place, slowly and gradually sinking into her turtleneck, while I just tried not to look too guilty.

Thankfully, he dropped the question not long after, reverting to his first. "So… keys, sweet pea?"

"The dresser. By the door," Amanda pointed out to him. "Why not just use yours?"

"Because knowing you, you haven't filled up your gas lately, have you?" Another tense stare followed, and Amanda turtled even deeper into her sweater with a little blush this time. Mr. Collins could only shake his head.

"I'll stop by a gas station along the way, get it filled… you can consider it your Christmas gift this year."

"Hehe, right," Amanda hung her head. "Thanks, Dad…"

"Don't mention it, sweetheart."

At once, he began to shuffle away, strutting the strut of a man who knows what he's worth, every action seamless, every movement elegant, he even tossed the keys in the air as he scooped it up, didn't even need a second glance to swipe it back as it fell.

Indeed, Mr. Collins was smooth as hell.

"Oh, one more thing," then unlike everything else prior, he crudely jerked to a stop by the door, turning around slowly, rigidly… with that same silhouette of a stranger reflecting in his stare towards me. "I'd like you to come along with me. Is that alright?"

Did I say smooth?

Scary seems about right, right now…