Even in my darkest moments, I can’t say that I ever fancied the idea of dying. Not even when I fell in love with the most beautiful woman, only to find out she batted for the other team. However, I’m pretty sure that a whole host of people would be interested in the endeavor—seeing me dead, that is.

When four figures with heavy armor to their teeth, all around six and a half feet tall, stormed inside the jail cell as I was eating some freshly made tagliatelle al ragù in my underwear—gentle courtesy of Flaminia... the ragù and the tagliatelle, not the underwear—I almost choked. By the way, Clodia is the one who coordinated the wardrobe.

Anyway, as I’m sitting at the small table with a chair I had Drusillus sneak into my cell, much like a Lady and the Tramp situation but without a Lady, the four men stand to attention, creating a resounding clangor with their armored boots. Then, they unsheathe their broadswords and hold them in front of themselves, distancing from each other and forming two lines.

Soon after that comes another figure, slightly shorter but still quite intimidating. Unlike the silvery and golden armor of the others, this one’s armor is green and gold.

Pretty, I think to myself as I slowly recline in the chair, my hands crossed on my chest. If this is it, I’m not going down without a fight.

I hear a low growl from the green-armored figure as it turns around before taking out its sword, clearly frustrated and, with a blazing-fast movement, slashing at the cell bars.

The figure then kicks the door open and looks at me.

“Hello,” I say, not feeling any particular animosity... but still some hunger. I hunch forward and rapidly put the remaining tagliatelle in my mouth as the green-armored figure stares at me from behind its inscrutable helmet.

I see the figure tremble as it puts the sword away and brings its hands to the helmet, methodically removing it.

What emerges from underneath the helmet is a breathtaking woman with features sharper than Amelia, Clodia’s girlfriend, and hair more rich in color than Flaminia’s—a bright purple. Her eyes, too, have the same vivid hue.

“Joey Luciani?” She speaks with her lips curling slightly in disgust.

Not a friend.

“Yes?”

“By order of the Crown and my authority as [Princess], you are free to go.”

She steps aside and holds the remains of the jail cell open. I stare at the woman, picking up my small glass of wine and drinking from it.

“How do I know this is not a trap?” I say, taking out some Altamura bread and using it to spoon the ragù sauce from the plate.

“What?” The self-proclaimed [Princess], clearly not expecting me not to run out of the cell immediately, frowns and hesitates.

“How do I know this is not a trick? Can you get me [Captain] Drusillus? I trust him more than some armored strangers.”

That’s when the purple-haired beauty starts trembling again.

“You don’t believe me?!”

“They jailed me because I kicked down an office door,” I say, munching on the bread. “Damn, Flaminia made a mean ragù this time. Maybe I should have actually given her a chance.”

“Human, are you getting out or not?!”

“Get me the [Captain],” I say evenly. “I don’t trust no stranger after I almost got jailed for a year because of a technicality or whatever.”

The [Princess] now swings inside the cell. By the time she had kicked the table, I had already taken the plate and the glass in my hands.

“Are you deaf?!” She screams into my face. “I came here to free you! The [Princess] of Lucerna came here to save you!”

“Yeah, doesn’t that sound ridiculous to you too, [Princess]?” I say, eating the last bit of bread and licking my fingers. I finish the wine and get up, releasing a small burp. “Oops, pardon me. Now, get me the [Captain] and back the fuck up. In whatever order you prefer, Your Majesty.”

All the armored guards suddenly turn toward the cell and move their swords to the side.

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“At rest!” She barks, looking at them angrily. She looks like a fool but is also confused by my actions.

“Human,” the [Princess] fumes, clenching her armor’s gauntlets, “do you really want to exchange your idiotic crime with an offense to the Crown?”

I’m about to spit some more fire when I decide to bite my response back.

“Alright, can you at least prove your identity to me?” I say, showing a stressed smile.

She nods, equally displeased. The [Princess] takes out a truth-stone and holds it by her side.

“I am [Princess] Laurealia, here to free Joey Luciani and deliver the Royal pardon for his crimes.”

The stone flashes green repeatedly.

“Well, [Princess], nice to meet you, then,” I say and give her my special wink-with-tongue-click. “The name’s Luciani. Joey Luciani.”

...

I am currently witnessing [Captain] Drusillus on his metaphorical tip-toes, sweating bullets as he receives documents from the [Princess] and, from my understanding, the Royal Guard.

“Joey Luciani is free to go,” the [Captain] declares and sighs, glancing at the two [Clerks] who are now running away with the documents.

“This farce is complete, then,” [Princess] Laurealia snaps to attention and raises her helmet above her head.

“Hey,” I say before she can cover her face. “Sorry for being mean back there. Being in prison doesn’t put you in the best of moods, you know? Thank you for... whatever this is.”

The [Princess] nods briefly and covers her head before marching out with the other armored Elves.

That’s when my [Dangersense] flares.

However, it’s too late.

[Captain] Drusillus has just delivered the most devastating neck slap of all time, launching me right to the floor.

“You idiotic Human!” He roars as the [Princess] is out of earshot. “You did what in the cell?!”

“Ouch, Drusillus, what the—”

But the Steel Titan just lifts me up by the collar of my shift with one hand—yes, I got dressed before walking out of the cells.

“You talked rot to the Princess!” He screams right in my face.

Now, excuse me, but I’m veritably terrified. [Captain] Drusillus is the silent type, and when the silent type gets angry, it’s scary.

“At least she didn’t flog me for being in my underwear when she came down there,” I try to say in my defense. “I didn’t know she—”

“What did you say?!”

...

Greeting [Princesses] in your underwear is apparently a breach of etiquette. However, the Elven [Princess] didn’t seem too bothered, if you ask me. If anything, I wonder what must have been her expression behind the helmet before she took it off.

God, was she gawking? I smile to myself, bringing my hand to the tender part of my head that [Captain] Drusillus smacked after hearing about the underwear.

I can’t be too mad at the man—that was indeed not prudent at all.

Old man, I say in my head, when does this new teenage angst go away?

Go take care of your business, Joey Luciani. There are many surprises awaiting you.

Huh?

...

“Your application for citizenship,” says a perturbed Marcella in front of the rest of the girls who will be a part of the merger.

“I don’t understand,” I frown, looking at the document, “I never requested citizenship. Wasn’t it supposed to be just residency?”

“Royals can grant citizenship,” Lucinda replies, as bothered as me.

I explained to them what had happened, and they almost thought I had escaped from prison. With some convincing and Marcella appearing with this document, however, everything calmed down.

“So, we can start,” Camilla smiles widely, rapping her knuckles on the table.

“I guess I can request to open a business now, and there’s no way the [Mayor] can say no, right?” I nod, looking at the document.

“The [Mayor] is not going to be happy to see you, Joey,” Clodia mutters from the side.

“Heh, his problem, not mine,” I smile, looking at the documents her mother gave me.

“But how did this happen?” I ask them. “The ‘Crown’ got involved? What does that even mean?”

“Excuse me,” I hear Tiberius’s timid voice coming from the door. “Joey, you have a visitor. He says it’s urgent. It’s—”

...

“Stan,” I say, looking at the giant Elf.

“You must be happy to be out of that jail cell,” the homeless man with the gigantic dog at his side smiles at me warmly.

“Well, I was getting used to it,” I laugh, “but I’m happy I can go back to my apartment—that’s for sure.”

We exchange a few glances.

“So...” I let my words trail.

“I will keep you company as you receive your business application. Let’s walk to the Town Hall,” Stan says cryptically. “The [Mayor] should have already drafted all the documents.”

...

I look at the stairs that bring up to the Town Hall, feeling a sensation of deja vu coursing through my entire being.

This is it: this is where it all changes.

My heart thuds loudly in my chest, the feeling of uncertainty filling the air.

“What you want to do, Joey, will not be easy. Not even with a business license. You overcame one of the many hurdles that will bar your path,” the old Elf tells me.

A subtle feeling of anxiety pervades my body, and it gets more and more amplified when I think about the words of Magister Mulligan. He lambasted me when I almost accepted to sell my soul or whatever ‘believing’ means to the Gods of this world.

I am not ready yet... am I?

I look at the stairs, and they seem to multiply in front of me, each becoming a colossus, a steep cliff to climb.

I was about to throw it all away the moment I felt I could escape my responsibilities... maybe that’s part of the reason I was so comfortable in jail. It felt... free. Not having any choices is incredibly freeing.

But I can’t go on like that. I can’t expect people to keep rescuing me, to keep doing what I should be doing myself.

“Joey, after you are done, there’s something I need to tell you,” Stan tells me ominously.

I turn to the tall man and smile, “I’ll be happy to listen, Stanimal, to all you have to say and... help. Listen and help.”

“Would you like me to come with you to the [Mayor]’s office to make sure he doesn’t create any problems?”

I look at Stan and then at the Town Hall. A faint smile appears on my face.

“Nah, Stanimal. It’s okay. Thank you. This is something that I have to do by myself.”