My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

The once debilitating feeling of nervousness was something I was slowly becoming desensitized to.

At the beginning, yeah, absolutely—Mr. Collins was a terrifying entity to behold and face. But after like the three million billion times he's put me on the spot, I'm just really, really tired.

Still alarmed, still feeling bubbles and butterflies in the pit of my stomach, but just less and less with everytime it happens… much like horror movies and their endless deluge of sequels… sooner or later, the scary man just stops being as scary as before.

So yeah, while him putting me on a pinch was still a pinch, and as much reluctant as I was to comply…  if bugging Irene for a little while might just finally put an end to this long grueling murder of my psyche here, then…

"Here," I plopped my phone on the table, and in a loose sway of thin chain Amanda's gift slid right beneath it in a rattling stop and propping my phone at an angle like a makeshift stand. "Calling now… got her on speaker too, so we can hear all the juicy details together."

Mr. Collins swayed in a graceless attempt at leaning closer, the wrinkles around his eyes growing more pronounced as he peered over at the name painting his tight expression in a white glow.

"Irene…?" He muttered, wrinkles forming even more. "I know that name, I do… I've heard it before. Who—?"

But then a crackle, a buzzing static cut off the rest of his inquiry, and I could feel my heels dig deep into the floor—oh, boy…

With just a split-second of silence, the timer ticking up and up on my phone display, I knew I've annoyed, I've inconvenienced. She gets quiet exactly like this when she's annoyed.

Then faintly, the silence fizzled out, and a squeaky disgruntled voice took its place, "You couldn't have sent a message instead? I had three juniors finally busy with work, and now they're too distracted giggling in my office because of you."

"Yeah, no, can't text," I quickly said. "There's someone with me here that wants to—"

"Hello?! Hello?! Who is this? Can you hear me?!" Mr. Collins blared, so loudly, so crassly, I had half a mind to just fling my phone out the window right there and then. "Sorry to disturb you! Really,  my apologies! But you see, I got some questions here that I really hope you'll be able to answer for me once and for all."

Again, just silence, the deafening stillness of utter confusion, before the speakers feebly rouse to life once more, "...what?"

Same, Irene, same.

"Nevermind, nevermind," He swept aside her bewilderment. "I'll get to the point—have you or have you not recently given a certain little handsome someone a shiny red necklace? And if so, what's he to you?"

"Okay, who is this? And where is the owner of the phone you're currently using? It'd be wiser of you to answer me first."

It has been quite a long while since I've heard her be this stern. I could vividly picture it, feel it even… her irritation manifesting from radio waves and electric signals… and it seems I wasn't the only one either.

Just like before, in the midst of his drunken stupor, Mr. Collins seemed to having a moment of clarity, and then slowly, incredulously, his lips parted in the softest whisper, "D-Detective Madison? Is—Is that you?"

"Hm, so you know me," Irene huffed, her voice as dry and barren as a merciless dessert plain. "I still don't know you."

"Jeremy. It's Jeremy Collins, remember? You were assigned to my daughter's case, Amanda—um, you helped bring her back to us."

"Collins. Mr. Collins. Okay, yes, I remember you now. I also distinctly remember giving you my phone number too. May I ask what exactly you are doing calling me with a phone that's not yours?"

Right, of course these two would know each other. The connection completely went over my head. The distraught father, the diligent detective, it makes sense they'd crossed paths way back when. Question is though, does this make the situation any better, or does it just make it even more awkward than it already was?

So far… well… I still can't really tell.

Mr. Collins cleared his throat, sitting in his seat a little more appropriately as if it'd excuse the sheer absurdity of his actions.

"The phone belongs to my daughter's boyfriend."

"Yes, I know it does. Your reason—now."

"It's to my understanding you've given him a gift," He explained, his voice wavering slightly against her calm intensity. "The sentimental kind too, from what I'm presuming. I can understand you two meeting and knowing each other through circumstance… but close enough to be giving out presents like these? I'm just wondering if—"

"Wondering if he and I are having sex behind your daughter's back?" Irene interjected, and I had to sacrifice a few years of my life maintaining a blank expression. "Oh, you've gone quiet. Good. So you finally realized how ridiculous you sound?"

"Wh—I'm not accusing anyone of…! Detective, I'm just making sure that—"

"Mr. Collins, if you can't trust your own daughter's judgment, then I don't know what to tell you," overpowering and dominating, Irene was subduing the imposing Mr. Collins. "And if you have to resort to calling every girl to ever exist to solve a minor dispute such as this, you're either very stupid, or just very, very drunk. For your daughter's sake, I sincerely hope it's the latter."

Honestly, I couldn't fault Mr. Collins one bit for being at a complete loss for words. He looked as if he just got slapped firmly back into sobriety. He wanted answers, he wanted clarification, but instead, he got something even better…

He got Irene'd.

"He is drunk," I spoke up in Mr. Collins' stead, still partway through processing the verbal beating he just received. "But more importantly, he's a dad, and I'm the outsider boyfriend. It's in his instinct to be distrustful. In any case, he seems to trust you more than me… mind giving him some peace of mind?"

Irene heaved another annoyed breath, but when she responded, her once-sharp tone had turned blunt. "And he's this suspicious, why? Because he noticed your necklace, you couldn't just admit to him it's just a stupid necklace?"

Reading between the lines, getting a grasp of the bigger picture. That was always her specialty, to know how one thing leads to another, how one answer means something else, and so with that in mind, I answered, "No."

Another sigh, another pause, fizzling...

"Mr. Collins, you're right to be reserved, you're right to be hesitant, I've met you, I've spoken to you, if nothing else, I at least know you wish only the best for your daughter…"

"You're going to tell me I can trust him?" Mr. Collins, swaying, wheezing, unfocused eyes staring intently at me.

"Yes, I am," Irene said. "Because I'm confident in saying that there is nobody else out there that really cares about your daughter as much as you do."

"I doubt that…"

"Yes, I'm sure you do," She said dryly. "Fine, don't trust him. Trust your daughter instead. You trust her, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"Smarter than you, sharper than you in every way imaginable, that's what you told me, didn't you? And if so, then trust that your daughter just sees something special in him, something that makes her so sure, something that just sets him apart from everyone else… something that you yourself just can't see. And if you do trust her like you say you do, then trust that she's right."

At her words, Mr. Collins' gaze continued to linger heavier upon me, growing more furrowed, more dubious.

"So far, I suppose I can understand where you're coming from, detective…" He slowly said. "But… how do you know for sure?"

"Because I see it too," Irene said simply, wearily, and with a tone that has all sense of patience. "Now, will that be all? I'd like to get back to more important business if that's alright with you."

"Wait, wait, wait, hold on a moment, one moment!" Mr Collins exclaimed, too well aware of the limits he was pushing by the precarious look on his face. "Detective, you still never answered—why would you give him a gift, then? A necklace, one like this? What is it even supposed to mean?"

Came back full circle, didn't we? The first question, and now the last. Mr. Collins was intent on never fully letting this go, it seems… and I suppose Irene herself thought just as much, giving another long audible sigh.

"That necklace is a magical piece of me I've extracted inside a vial. It contains my essence inside, that little swirly red stuff. I gave it to him because I want a piece of me together with him wherever he goes. Because, you see, I really love him that much."

There was another moment of unnerving silence, and Mr. Collins had both eyes like hawks on me again. I blinked, I swallowed… then having no clue what to do next… I shrugged.

Mr. Collins shook his head. "Detective, that's just the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Yes, exactly," Irene agreed, ending the call finally, with a faintest hint of a smile. "Good night."