My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Chapter 358: Something Wicked This Way Knocks

Y’know what I realized about myself, living with myself these past twenty-four years of life? When it comes to times of leisure, I seriously hopelessly suck at wasting time.

My shift ended at two in the afternoon, and the digitized hands on my phone just only recently blipped to three, but deep inside me, it felt more like a five or six... and yet the bright afternoon sky outside the living-room window burnt away those beliefs to a crisp.

With Ash always gone, and Adalia more often than not snoozing off in her favorite spot on the couch, home life has been very, very quiet as of late.

Today did not stray one bit from that status-quo, when I got back home... Adalia was already fast asleep, and Ash was nowhere to be seen. The only indications of her presence being the kitchen pantries stock afresh with every food and commodities you could ever ask for, everywhere look it was just items galore... I’m actually concerned she might have bought out the entire grocery store.

Probably with Sera now still, hanging out, chilling... whatever the hell an Elf and a Fey get up to these days. Which leaves me in the company of silence, just resting sideways on a sofa, feet in the air, waiting, wasting, phone inches from glazed eyes... y’know, spending time in leisure.

Now I’m a faithful, loyal advocate to peace and serenity, but sometimes, just sometimes, y’know, when the blinds are closed and the doors are locked, getting down and dirty with loud and rowdy wasn’t so bad either.

Ria usually would be there to fill in that empty air, but since she’s seemingly taken an indeterminable leave of absence from that role, I guess Sammy would be a good temporary replacement for now... just for now.

.....

In all honesty, I really was looking forward to seeing her again. The first few days of me settling into city life just didn’t feel right with her blasting her songs first thing in the morning... or that incessant ear-rupturing, head-pounding knocking on the bathroom door I had to endure whenever I apparently was inside ‘forever’.

I ask you, what kind of forever is five minutes long? Hell, she takes fifteen minutes if she has first dibs for chrissakes! But do you hear me complaining? Noooo...

Tsk, sisters...

Of course, most people including me would prefer not having to stuff your pillows into your ears trying to catch a few more winks, or being able to go into the toilet anytime as one pleases, but it’s like I said.

Loud and rowdy...

But before that, there was still the mystifying matter of Amelia’s matters. Within the span of tonight, I’d be staring down again at that cold, intimidating inky black scowl of hers.

Then later after, meeting with Sera at the park, to unravel an even more enigmatic mystery that continues to elude me. The night was just simply rife with intrigue and mysticism, wasn’t it? Makes the utter drawl of the afternoon right now that much more unbearable.

Moments like these, I find myself falling back to a recently acquired habit of mine I’m a little bit ashamed to admit. When I’m not trying to bend silverware, or floating salt-shakers from across the table... I’ll be doing, watching that instead.

See, if you can look past the overtly bombastic intro, the quick cuts and the high-octane energy in every second of every millisecond, if you can look past all that... then Tyler’s vlogs were actually not that bad.

I’ve been keeping up with his antics these past few days, even catching the tail-end of a live stream at one point, I dunno man... the guy just grows on you for some reason.

So there I was, in the middle of watching his latest published venture, emotionally invested in his attempts to pick up chicks using only his own made-up form of sign language when it happened... a diversion from the dullness.

A loud hard knock on the front door.

I could practically hear the urgency from the force of it, the franticness from the speed of each rap on the wood – it had me scrambling to my feet in an instant, spurring forward to the door only to abruptly stop myself within inches of the handle.

Call me paranoid, overly cautious, whatever... but knocks like those don’t sound right until I know for sure who was on the other side, especially knowing just what’s lurking out there.

Then, as if knowing I was only half a step away, it got even louder, rowdier... ear-rupturing, head-pounding knocks in the pounding rhythm of uncanny familiarity.

Eventually, the knocking grew very weary of me... as it so often would so many times before.

“I think you mistook your front door for the bathroom,” came a derisive whine from the otherside. “You don’t actually have to leave it to let me in, y’know?”

“Sammy?” I spoke, dumbfounded.

“Hey, big bro ~ !” She said, that whine, like a flip of a switch, turning pretty and nice. “I’m here ~ !”

Suffice it to say, I wasn’t so hesitant after that. I flung open the door fast enough, strong enough that the poor thing probably pulled a few hinges loose. Over and over, there was another knock sounding in my head, pummeling with both fists hard and violently, those now bloodied fists belonged to a question – and that question was why.

Why was she here? Why was she standing there? Why all of a sudden was I staring at my more abrasive, more conceited, more pretty feminine self? And I can’t stress that last part enough.

For some reason when it came to the game of life, she struck gold when it came to genes, while I mostly had to settle for silver and bronze... seriously the disparity between our appearance – I wouldn’t be surprised if you considered the adopted one.

Sammy took after the light shade of brown of mom’s hair, as well adopting the way she styled it, wore it – still since childhood, with that short, sleek ponytail braid and draped over a shoulder. The bright blues of my dad’s eyes shimmered in hers, so deceptively charming and gentle, still mirroring dad’s only with none of the sincerity.

The next second after, a multitude of other questions came to give a go at battering down the squishy fleshy door of my brain – good ol’ when, where, and who.

When the hell did she get so tall? Where was the little girl I had to peer down slightly to see? Who the hell was this not-so-little girl before me now staring back at me almost at eye level?

She had my sister’s voice, she had my sister’s face, her fashion sense – still with a deep fondness for the light whites and blues, as opposed to my dark blacks and greys – donning a pure white frilly shirt, with a long flowing blue summer skirt.

What a difference an almost full year could make.

And it seems I wasn’t the only one who was asking silent questions.

Sammy was ogling me.

Sammy never ogles me.

In fact, any second longer than three surely meant an epic career-ruining insult was about to be flung my way and I should be bracing for cover or be whipped by the sharpness of her wit and tongue.

But no, there was nothing belligerent about her stare right then... they were just that – a stare.

A widening one too.

“Why aren’t you ugly?” She asked. So sudden and so abrupt, I thought I imagined it... until she said it again, this time really demanding an answer. “Why aren’t you ugly?”

I was caught so off-guard, I could only snark my way to answer. “Why aren’t you?”

Ah, insults. If you aren’t trying to pull the plugs on each other’s life support by the time you’re both old... can you really even call yourself siblings?

“Nice... costume...”

Sammy blinked, slowly raised a hand upwards, glimmering pink on her nails, then out of nowhere started pulling loose strands out of my hair.

“It’s your hair, you styled it,” She said, then as if realizing what she just said, pulled her hand back. “You styled it? Since when do you – ?”

“Sammy,” I cut her off, ending the surprise reunion short in favor of knowing why the reunion now. “What are you doing here? You aren’t supposed to be here for another four days, y’know? You texted me yesterday saying that too.”

“Yeah, I know,” She puckered in her lips, digging in her shoes against the porch. “Um, surprise?”

“I’m supposed to be picking you up from the station.”

“Yes... I suppose you were...”

“You didn’t text me you were coming,” I raised my phone to my eyes, took a moment to scroll around. “Mom didn’t, not Dad either...”

There was a travel bag by her feet, swelling so hard, stretching out the material, I’m surprised the zipper wasn’t already ricocheting all over the driveway.

“Do they even know you’re here right now?”

Over the top of my phone, her gaze was no longer meeting mine, and she still wasn’t saying anything, which adversely meant that she was saying everything.

“Sammy, how did you even get here?”

After a while, Sammy sighed. “The same way I did if my friends ever asked me how I got here so quickly,” She looked at me, wiggling her fingers mystically in the air. “Magic.”

Magic. Incomprehensible, inconceivable magic. Just outside my door not even mere minutes ago. How does this girl do it?

“I thought you hate anything to do with – ”

“Magic is convenient, alright?” She snapped, slanting her brows irritably. “Why waste money on a bus or a train when I can just whizz myself here like Mom did?”

“You can do that?”

She snorted. “Can’t you?”

Perhaps I shouldn’t answer that.

“And?” I nudged my head at her. “You got at best ten, fifteen minutes, before Dad or Mom notices that the house has gone far too quiet all of a sudden. What are you going to say to them then?”

She shrugged again. “That I’m here now.”

“Which brings me back to the original question,” I lowered my voice, letting her know that big brother was being serious. “Sammy, what are you doing here?”

Sammy never liked when I got too serious. Being put on the spot was not something she was very good at handling. It’s the only semblance of control I got left over her... and it seems even almost a year apart... some things just never change.

“Firstly...” She spoke, quietly, submissively, losing the show of loftiness in her eyes. “Can you let me in, please? I can’t actually teleport as good as Mom... I might pass out if I stand too long, I think.”

Then as a demonstration, she suddenly began to wobble, nearly stumbling, only stopping by shoving a hand on my chest like I’m sort of pillar to lean on.

“Also can you make me coffee?” She asked, softening her voice, batting her eyes. “I miss your coffee, y’know?”

Not even five minutes in, and already she’s getting me to do things for her like some sort of indentured servant.

Welp, I suppose it’s time to play big brother again. It seems the afternoon wouldn’t be as dull as I thought, after all.