My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

With the gradual fade of Amanda's footsteps, I once again was left on my own to fend for myself against the bullets and bombs of extreme paternal love. Even while completely intoxicated, and barely being able to hold his own head upright, Mr. Collins refused to allow any of that to hamper his investigation of me.

On the other hand though, Amanda seemed to be on the solid belief that I'll have nothing to worry about here going forth. No unanswerable questions, no pressing ultimatums… if she really thinks drunk is better than sober… welp, not like I got any choice but to put my faith in her now.

Slowly and respectfully, I took my seat back right across from him, his glazed eyes closely trailing my every move and openly disapproving every second of it.

"So," I spoke first. "Where were we again?"

"You had sex yet, young man?"

Wine. Not even once.

"Not with Amanda, obviously," He further clarified with a loud drawl and piercing eyes. "It better not have been with her, I swear… but I mean others, other people… have you done it with other people?"

"Don't think that's relevant," I said.

"No, it's very relevant," He said with a low growl that rivaled Sera's. "Means you've fallen in love before, means you did have someone else other than Amanda, it means—"

"I might have a one-night stand?" I suggested.

For once since this entire night had begun, I managed to somehow make him laugh at something said. Only expect, not in the way I had hoped… this mocking wheezy chortle…

"You don't look the type in the slightest," He said, his laughter dying with the slow shake of his head. "Admit it, you're not a virgin, are you?"

Sorry, wasn't this supposed to be easier? Didn't Amanda devise this scenario for the sole purpose of lightening my load? So why does it feel like it only got even heavier?

"All due respect, Mr. Collins, but—"

"And if you aren't a virgin, then that means you had a girl before, you already had someone special," He mused on, lost in his own world devoid of any sense of reality. "But since you got your hands on Amanda, something must have happened with this other girl, something must have gone wrong. Question is, did something go wrong with her or did something go wrong with you?"

Deductive skills like those, despite also being deeply inebriated—I swear he could pass off as an ace detective. But alas, he can't be any more off the mark with his assumption here.

"You think I'm speaking nonsense, aren't you?" He narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously. "Wrong, am I? Sinless, are you?"

"Apparently so," I said. "So far, you're just going off on guesses and speculation for reasons to find me untrustworthy."

"Because you are! All young men are! We're all depraved, sinful beings—you included. And my sweet, sweet Amanda deserves much, much better than anything this world can offer!"

And for quite some time there, Mr. Collins went off on a tangent about how lucky and blessed he is to have such a wonderful person as a daughter. In deep fondness, in a whispered melancholy, and then a howling lament, he rambled on and on without an actual end in sight.

"And then you came along! You got your meaty hooks on her! Have her wrapped up around your finger!" He glared at me with trembling fists. "And now you're all that she ever talks about! All that she thinks about! Now, every time I talk to her, you're all I ever hear about! Like you're that great, that magnificent of a person! But are you? Are you really?!"

Is this… is this really the same man that had me backed up into a corner two glasses of wine ago? The methodical way he went about his questions, the cold, calculated efficacy of it all—next to this? What even was this? A temper tantrum?

"But you're right!" He continued to howl to the light of the bulb above us. "I'm just guessing, I'm just biased! I wanna distrust you but you've given me no reason to! And I hate it! I can't believe it! You—You're polite, you're modest , you're brave, you're patient! At least, patient enough to deal with the bullshit  I'm putting you under! I've not managed to find a single fault about you!"

"And that's a bad thing, why?" I asked.

"Because no one's that perfect!" He exclaimed, his eyes wide in a frantic stare. "Not even you! Not even me! Not even anyone! You have a fault. Y-You have a flaw! Somewhere, I know you do!"

I made sure not to say anything, he continued to grumble and groan, the alcohol doing all the talking, stripping him all his reasons. He already hit the nail on the head with Ash once, rather not remind him of that leverage he still has on me.

"But you seem like you don't…" He slurred, the ferocity in his voice waning. "And if you really don't have anything like that, if you're really as perfect as she says… then maybe… then maybe I wouldn't mind if it's you that's with her."

Then, just as things were seemingly beginning to die down, and his overwhelming disapproval of me was starting to dwindle, something caught his attention, his focus, and sluggishly, he dropped his gaze away from mine.

Smacking damp lips, batting bleary eyes, he spoke, "Nice necklace."

My insides gave a jolt.

"Thanks."

"It's nice," He observed a little closer. "Who gave that to you?"

"Oh," as casually as I could, I played innocent, fiddling with the vial around my neck between nervous fingers. "A friend did."

"A special friend?" He asked, and at that same exact instance, I saw the gears turning inside his dull, empty stare, with the realization spurring new life within those once languid eyes. "Was it that Ash person? Did she give that to you?"

"No, no, it was…" I bit my hard on my inner lip. "It was someone else."

"It's not Amanda," He shook his head, slowly regaining his sense of focus. "Because I know she gave you her lucky ring. She showed it to me two days ago on a call. She was nervous, she'd thought maybe you wouldn't like it."

Not good. This was really not good. I'd like him better rambling, please go back to rambling. Stop focusing.

"So it's not that Ash person, it's not Amanda, it's someone else you said," He blinked again, and that drunkard lamenting his woes just moments ago completely disappeared. "Someone else special?"

Quiet, silent. Any excuses off the top of my head didn't offer any valid way out of here. It was easy to lie, easy to wriggle myself free with deception. But just the topic with Ash, I just simply couldn't bring myself to.

My only hope now was that maybe if I don't say anything, I wouldn't be incriminating myself with anything. That's how it usually works in interrogation…

But alas, it seems with Mr. Collins… silence was just as much a confession as a plea of guilt.

"Enough questions, I'll stop asking. Let's just save us both the hassle, and head directly to the source of the matter."

"The source?" I asked, genuinely confused here. "What?"

"The person who gave you that necklace," He said, pointing a finger squarely at it. "Call them."

Panic time. Alarm time. I ignored it, still holding out hope, still keeping my cool, and despite the blaring siren of mayday echoing in my head, I managed to let out a little amused snort.

"What for?"

"Because I get the sense that whoever it was that gave you a necklace as nice as that one must think of you as someone very special to them," He explained his reasoning. "And I just want to know how special, is all…"

I swallowed, gulping down only the dryness of my throat. "You sure you're not just grasping at straws again looking for flaws? This seems a bit drastic, even for you."

And to my absolute surprise, he nodded at that, agreeing with me wholeheartedly.

"True," He said. "But if it answers the question, if it erases all doubt I have about you, and if you have nothing to hide… then really, what do you even have to lose?"

Y'know, I just noticed his head was still swaying unsteadily, that his words were still slurred and slow sounding. I was mistaken, that drunkard was still her after all, still rambling away, still spouting all kinds of nonsense, yet somehow making more sense now than he ever had before.

Like I mentioned before, this old dog here has the making of a bonafide super sleuth.

"Well?" He hiccuped. "Are you going to call them or what?"

Oh, Irene… I hope you're asleep now. I sincerely hope you're far away from your phone in the faraway realm of dreamland.

But knowing you, I know you aren't, I know you're awake, I know you're probably slaving away at paperwork until far into the dead of night… and more importantly, I know if I'm the one that's ringing you, well…

In advance, I'm really sorry about this.