“Hey Mom, she got weird ears!” whispered the child in the back, but was it really a whisper if everyone in the bakery could hear him? Her mother glowed red with embarrassment, clasped a hand over her son’s mouth and sent humiliation-filled scolding his way in hushed bursts.

Nathan chuckled, clasping his tongs a few times while reaching for the chocolate croissants Ariella enjoyed. He eyed the center of attention herself, who was scarlet from the tips of her elven ears to her chin: Lyressa fey Suntear, otherwise known as the Vice Guild Master Silverhonor of Glory Guild. In her hands was a box of pastries and treats, and by the Lord, the lid couldn’t fit quite right with all the sweets she had.

Everyone here was either staring at her or trying to seem like they weren’t staring at her. The employees were no exception where Nathan heard them murmuring about their unexpected guest thanks to his rather keen ears. Cellphones out were taken out, thumbs speeding over the screens.

All this attention was clearly poison to her. Silverhonor was radioactively red and catatonic.

Poor thing, Nathan figured. Deciding to be the better man, he discreetly sped through the displays—while plucking pastries him and his family would enjoy—until he was beside her, waiting as the cashier rang up customers while occasionally looking their way. A sizable crowd gathered at the back wall, sitting or standing, waiting for their coffees while they too were on their phones, performing the same eye-dance as the rest of the busy bunch here.

“...You’re not used to this, are you?” Nathan asked softly with a smile matching his tone.

His voice startled Silverhonor and her elven ears pointed straight up; these things were expressive, sort of like Zenko and her fox ears and tail. Anxiously her iridescent eyes fluttered around, taken back by this seemingly random man speaking so casually to her. Because here, Nathan was a normal man today; he had the ability to almost completely suppress his natural aura. Unless a Slayer with intensely honed senses were to appear, he was completely invisible to the average high-ranker.

“Are you…” Silverhonor muttered, uncertain between looking at him or at her box of delicious-smelling pastries, “...are you speaking to me?”

Nathan nodded confidently. “You’re the celebrity here, ma’am. Who else am I talking to?”

“Ah—!” She meekly gasped, shaking her head a couple times out of sheepish humility. “Please do not refer to me so formally, but yes. I’m not used to this at all.”

“I can imagine.” How do you think I feel whenever I put on the helmet? “But you’ve been here for how long, now? A year, two years? You’ve done amazingly well for an outworlder who didn’t know our language initially. You’ll get used to the attention in due time.”

Silverhonor's bashfulness was washed away through his kind words and voice, but soon another emotion had taken its place: bewilderment, confusion, and some dashes of intrigue. Her elven ears swung down almost horizontal to her head as she visibly attempted to ascertain Nathan’s identity. “Thank you for your praise, but do I know you, sir?”

Nathan chuckled and gave a little shrug. “No, but I’m well-informed.”

“Well-informed…” she murmured before the line shrunk by a few bodies. “With all due respect, I am not sure if my heart will stop palpitating at the thought of going out into public. Everything always is so overwhelming. These eyes settling upon me like gnats and not to mention the atrocities I’ve seen on the internet!”

“On the internet?”

“Yes!” she quietly exclaimed. “There are so many accounts dedicated to me! I knew Slayers were extremely admired in your culture but I didn’t think I would be fetishized this much!”

“Oh.” Nathan glanced at her indignant elven ears, rigid like a sword. Combined that with pale skin and pretty eyes, plus the fact she was an outworlder, there was something inherently romantic about helping a charming foreigner adjust to new lands. That was the optimistic way of putting it. In a more vulgar interpretation, she was exotic—the perfect image of an outworlder most had: someone of another race not dissimilar to humans—so it made sense why her popularity was so staggering high.

How much did Archknell knew of this? He wasn't an idiot. Probably he knew to some extent her fame inside the virtual world but was ignorant how far some fans were willing to go with their adoration.

Because if he actually did know, the owners of a few certain accounts would be dead by the morning.

“—and Hidden keeps teasing me and reciting some of these posts verbatim!” Silverhonor said, and it seemed she’d been ranting while Nathan was spacing out.

Nathan joylessly laughed. “Right, right… I guess there are some things you won’t get used to.”

Silverhonor nodded with hard conviction. “Indeed! I—!” As she turned to him, her eyes widened an inch and she shamefully returned to her original position.

Right, Nathan was still a stranger she'd met moments ago. He chuckled, playfully clicking his tongs together. “I’m glad you think I’m a good listener; my wife says the same thing. You know…” He thought back to the time he'd first met Lyressa as Kosmos, “...when you first arrived to this world, you barely had the confidence to look at anyone but Archknell. You’ve grown a lot since then, Silverhonor.”

“You speak as though you know me personally,” she replied, wary. “I thought you said we’ve never met before.”

“That’s correct.” Nathan laid a hand over his heart. “I never met you before.”

“...I don’t follow.”

“You’ll figure it out someday. Maybe Archknell will tell you, maybe he won’t.” The cashier rang up the last customer until it was their turn. Taking advantage of her confusion, then, he skipped ahead and left her baffled, paying for his pastries with a cocky little smirk on his face.

***

“...Is this true?” Silverhonor dejectedly asked and Nathan almost couldn’t hear her. In her hands was a small teacup steaming a faint white. It was the same tea and tea-set Archknell would use for honored guests; it had survived the Disaster alongside Glory Guild Headquarters, though the usual comfy atmosphere inside his office had died with him.

Nathan and Monarch flashed a message through looks alone as though confirming the subject of the matter. As Kosmos, he answered confidently, “Yes. Mystic is working with the eight-fourteens.”

Even a relatively recent outworlder like Silverhonor knew the weight of that sin; working with the International Agency was no different than ratting on your brothers in a life of crime. Nathan had only second-hand accounts to compile Mystic’s image; he was haughty and ambitious and self-entitled, but hearing the confirmation from Celestial War Empress, Nathan was ambivalent between surprise and apathy.

But his personal feelings didn’t matter—Mystic had to be dealt with preemptively.

“There are a few avenues of action, one of which we’re in the process of doing,” Monarch said, leaning forward in her seat. She pressed a finger against the table for emphasis. “We’re spreading rumors.”

“So I’ve heard…” Silverhonor glanced at the closed door—the late Guild Master had enchanted his office with an innate communication bubble whenever the door was closed and a few switches were flipped. No one was going to hear them. “My people have been speaking about it in the [Channels]. I assume it was your doing?”

“Yes, and we’re making sure the word spreads around the circles. Whatever contacts Mystic has within our community will sever ties with him regardless of the rumor’s validity. But that alone won’t dissuade him. He has ways, favors to cash in, vulnerable people to exploit. A more lasting solution is why we’re here, and we need you.”

Silverhonor’s ears drooped down and grew whiter. The request was working through her and slowly the pieces were getting put together. “Please correct me if I’m mistaken, but you want me to request an investigation into Mystic’s insubordination?”

Everybody was well-informed of Mystic’s combative actions he’d taken during the Disaster. He continuously undermined Silverhonor’s command and often acting against her orders directly after Archknell’s sacrifice. These things were cause for punishments and fines, but on the theatre of an multiversal war…

Monarch answered the question, “With the Ordo Systemic Occupational Administration.”

“I suspect there’s something else to it.”

“The ORO and the eight-fourteens have linked up with OSOA: any investigation related to the Disaster will automatically be considered for the international stage under the reasoning that any offenses committed then was an offense committed against the world itself. It generally means more harassment and scrutiny.”

Silverhonor put down her teacup, her thin fingers still wrapped around the handle. “You’re asking me to potentially designate Mystic as an Apocalyptic. His actions could warrant it.”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Monarch shook her head, unconvinced. “I doubt it. The punishment is not the arrest but the investigation—it’s meant to impede Mystic and Senior Agent Murke.”

“Won’t Murke dismiss the case once it’s brought to him? A man of his clout—or so I assume since I have never met him before—could, as you say, use his favors and influence to do so.”

The Royal turned to Nathan.

From his [Inventory], he withdrew a sizable note with written instructions and slid it across the table. “You won’t be speaking with Murke; you’ll be contacting Agent Rayner directly. While she hates us high-rankers like Murke, she hates him even more. She’ll be happy to throw a wrench into his plans.”

Silverhonor skimmed through the note's contents, frowning. “…Why do I have to do this?”

“Because you’re his Acting Guild Master. You have the authority to report him and make the relevant claims,” Nathan answered before tapping twice on the table authoritatively. “Make sure you follow the instructions. We’re using Rayner as much as she’s using us; if you reveal any weakness or accidentally divulge any sensitive information, she will exploit it.”

“I understand.” The half-elf read over the note one last time before laying it beside her steaming teacup. Miserable was not a strong enough word to describe her. Nathan vividly recalled the (visually) young woman as bright and unreserved, where despite her tendency for turning scarlet in the ears, she tried and worked and struggled. She did her best to overcome her impediments placed by her amnesia and foreign nature. Here, none of her usual ambition was seen in her dull iridescent eyes. Instead it was withered down and decayed into the gray bags hanging underneath them.

Nathan did not need to turn his head to see Monarch’s disappointment.

She bowed her head tersely and sat up. “I’ll message you later today, Silverhonor, for a progress update.”

Before she could approach the door, Nathan was already at her side. “Wait a moment,” he told her in a whisper. “I have a question for personal business.”

Monarch stood back and eyed him from helmet-to-greaves before sighing. “What is it?”

“Operator,” Nathan said. Every Baptist was accounted for except for him. He’d gone dark after the death of his mother and sister-in-law and it caused a great deal of concern for his friends. This was the bare minimum Nathan could do for his future team. “You know where he is, don’t you?”

“I do,” she admitted with surprising honesty—while honor was a core tenet of her philosophy, she wasn’t above lying. “Operator specifically requested me to keep his whereabouts a secret.”

If Monarch confessed because he was Kosmos, as Nathan suspected, then he said nothing and let his head tilt a couple inches lower.

Unwilling to argue here, the Royal licked her lips and looked away. “Who’s going to visit him? He’s in a sensitive state.”

“Empress and Queen.”

“I’ll send you his location.” Monarch glanced back at the Acting Guild Master who hadn’t moved from her seat, staring absently into her lukewarm tea. “Are you staying?”

That wasn’t a question. “I am.”

“Alright. My [Private Messages] are open to you if something comes up. Take care, Kosmos.” Monarch took one last look at Silverhonor, sighed, then left. Once the door was ajar, briefly the bubble stretched and popped but was immediately regenerated when the door was shut. Now the world’s strongest was left as the sole company of a lost elf.

Once he was sure the bubble was stable, he looked over his shoulder and saw little reaction from Silverhonor. Underneath his helmet, he frowned and felt an urge to rub his lips. “Monarch was expecting you to negotiate.”

“Was she?” Silverhonor replied coldly. Normally she’d be terrified at the thought of being stuck in a room with Kosmos. Even with Archknell present. How many times had they all met together, the three of them? and of them, how many times did she hide behind Archknell while he did most of the talking?

“What was I supposed to negotiate for?” she asked.

“For your own benefit.” Nathan retook his seat directly across from her. “Whatever immediate problems you have right now, you could’ve negotiated for Monarch’s help in resolving them.”

“Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Because it was a test.”

“Does everything have to be a test?” Silverhonor’s cracked lips were meagerly made smooth by the tea. “Even Fenrir and Conquest are playing games with me; I am exhausted by these trials.”

“You are the Acting Guild Master, this is your burden to bear.”

“If this is my burden, then let me negotiate with you personally, Kosmos.” Silverhonor’s eyes drifted to his, and for the first time she made unrelenting eye contact. “Could you return my memories to me?”

Nathan gulped. “We don’t know how.”

“Could you return me to my homeworld?”

“We can’t.”

“Then resurrect Louis.”

“We can’t do that either.”

“Take Glory Guild away from me, Kosmos.”

“I won’t.”

“Then what am I supposed to ask for if everything I truly desperately desire has become a golden apple dangling enticingly on an unreachable branch?” Silverhonor observed her wavering reflection upon the surface of her half-drunken tea. “I never belonged to this world, I don’t know where I belong, and I don’t belong here.”

She weakly gestured to the office during the last part.

“Kosmos, I’ve gained experience as expected of me. I took command of a Fabel Guild where a large fraction disliked me for assuming a high position while unqualified and they were correct. I stayed quiet when Mystic relentlessly harassed me time and time again. I relied on my close friends where they were the ones leading Glory and not the Acting Guild Master—nothing so different when they aided me when I had been the Vice.

“How can I do this alone? How am I supposed to cope with this responsibility when the man I depended on since my arrival here has sacrificed himself and abandoned me and forced a castle into my hands? I’m not a native, I know very little about your world, and I will be tested and used by Slayers like Monarch but less benevolent. How, Kosmos? How am I supposed to lead Glory?”

She was right in a way. Silverhonor was—had been—incredibly reliant on Archknell for guidance. Since her taking of the role Vice Guild Master, she was assisted by him and her confidants while someone like Kashan acted independently if needed. At the end of the day, she was merely a growing woman attempting to navigate the big and scary world, like a highschool graduate stepping onto a college campus for the first time.

So how was she supposed to manage a guild as big as Glory?

Would Alexander, once he woke up, fall into despair like her?

“I don’t know,” Nathan answered earnestly, dropping the professionalism in his voice and began speaking as someone else. Slowly as not to startle her, his fingers curled around the rim of his helmet and popped it off.

Silverhonor audibly gasped and pearl-clutched. A little light was bolstered in her eyes, triggered by recognition. “You’re…” she began as she had a good look at him, “…you’re the man from the bakery.”

Nathan smiled and nodded, patting his helmet. “My daughter really loves those chocolate croissants.”

“How…? I couldn’t detect any semblance of power from you.”

“I could suppress it. It’s a skill I taught myself whenever I wanna be in plainclothes,” he explained. “Because as you can probably tell already, Nathan and Kosmos are two very different men and I do my best to keep them separated as much as possible.”

“Then why…?” Silverhonor shook her head in disbelief. “Why did you reveal yourself to me?”

“Because you need advice from me and not Kosmos. Look, Lyressa, I understand. Really, I genuinely understand.” He flipped his helmet around so he could gaze into the front. On the scratched surface, his reflection was distorted. “When I founded Angels Guild with Sera and Kashan, I didn’t know what I was doing either. When I made international headlines, I really had no freaking idea what I was getting myself into.

“But I was blessed: I had two of the most dependable people in the world by my side. But you don’t have that. You’re lost, your friends are carrying the weight on your shoulders and you hate that, you’re starting off with the most disadvantages and with the most problems out of the Big Four. In your shoes, yeah, I’d be wondering the same thing.

“In fact, seeing your face right now, we’re both asking the same question: why did Louis pick you as his Vice?”

Somberly, Lyressa stared at Louis’s desk, messy and disorganized. Memories seemed to flash before her eyes each time she blinked. Distantly she spoke, “He said he wanted the best for me. These challenges were for my development as a Slayer.”

Was that what he said? When I asked Louis… “He told me he wanted to prepare you.”

“For what? As his successor?”

“He never elaborated, but a part of me is thinking otherwise. While I can’t claim to know him better, I think he wanted you to be ready for whatever challenges lie ahead of you as Silverhonor. That’s why he picked you instead of Mystic, because this is the path with the most obstacles and not the path of succession.”

“But the path I’m on now seems impossible to take.”

“Perhaps so, but the Louis I knew would never want you to be tied down to Glory Guild.”

“I will not abandon his guild,” she told Nathan sternly.

“But you don’t want to destroy it. You are more aware than anyone that your place here is poison,” Nathan retorted. “One-half resents you for your inexperience, the other half has lost faith because of your inability to take leadership during the Disaster. Glory Guild is due to have a complete structural overhaul and you are the foundation. Can you rebuild Glory on cracked foundations?”

Lyressa bit her lip, unable to combat his claims, not after telling him her anxieties.

“What you should do…” Nathan scooted forward, serious, “…is speak with your closest allies about the future of Glory and consider if stepping down is the best course of action. As Kosmos, I don’t believe you have the ability to reverse course. Not even I could do it if I was wearing your shoes. But as Nathan, I understand if you don’t want to leave. So let me make the question clear for you to understand…

“Do you want to stay as Guild Master and attempt to carry on Louis’s legacy and repay him for everything he had done, or do you want to try to preserve Glory and go your own way as Louis might’ve anticipated and see what life has in store for you then? Don’t answer now but you need to think about it. Until that time comes, do your best and don’t be afraid of asking for help from your friends.” Nathan stood up, signaling his time to leave. “You got it?”

Lyressa had a slow nod in response, sluggish from deep contemplation. “Yes, I understand. Thank you for staying back, Kosmos. Everything has gained better clarity.”

“You’re welcome. Please take care of yourself. This is hard times but we’re never alone.” So I hope Operator understands that.