“Are you here to kill me?” I asked after I finished processing what he had said.

  “Only if you want me to,” replied Tobias.

  “I do not.”

  “Then we need to have a short discussion,” he said. “You are going to die in here.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “It is a fact.”

  “Why?”

  “You will never be released. Not for a century at least. Long enough for the people to forget about you. But you won’t make it that long. Someone will kill you. No matter how tight our security is, if Lust or Envy are determined to get to you, we won’t be able to stop them.”

  “Why can’t you release me?” I asked. “I could be useful to you.”

  “I agree,” he said, nodding. “And if the trial had been private, we probably would. But since you and your sins have been exposed to the world, if we work with you, there will be riots. Even just letting you live is a big risk. The people are unhappy, and I don’t doubt that Humility will be doing her best to rile them up. We’ll have a lot on our hands for the next few weeks because of you. I personally voted for your execution. It would be simpler, and for you a kinder fate than the end of your imprisonment will be.”

  “Well thanks,” I said sarcastically. “You can’t just, y’know, sneak me out the back? Fake my death?”

  “No,” said Tobias firmly.

  “Is there really no way that we can come to some kind of agreement?” I asked.

  “If you pray to Themis sincerely and the goddess herself tells us to release you, it’s possible,” he said.

  “That seems unlikely,” I said.

  “Yes. My purpose here is to offer you a choice. Your death in here will not be a pleasant one. Especially if Lust is the one who grants it to you. I doubt Envy or Humility would be kind either. You can take your chances with them, or, if you’d like, I can personally execute you. I promise it will be painless.”

  “You’re seriously just here to offer to kill me?” I asked. “No thanks. I’m not dying anytime soon.”

  “Then so be it,” he said, bowing his head. “I pray you live longer than I believe you will.”

  He did not wait for my response, immediately turning around to leave. Seconds later, the internal guard returned, and with him a heavy silence. I struggled to keep my face straight as I knelt down on the ground. The conversation with Tobias had given me an inspiration. He had recommended I pray to Themis, but Themis was not the only god I could pray to.

  God of Change, I thought. I don’t know your true name, or if you even have one, so forgive me for my rudeness, but I have a request. I would like to change my class. As the incarnation of Pride, I-

  I did not have a chance to finish my prayer, because a System notification interrupted me.

Would you like to change your class?

[Yes]

[No]

  .

  .

  .

  A bowl of lukewarm soup sat on a low table in a luxury suite just north of the cathedral. Ji-Soo sat, curled up in a ball on the couch, staring at it blankly. Behind her somewhere, there was an ‘assistant’. Or at least, that’s what the church called her.

  Allegedly, she had been assigned to Ji-Soo to take care of her personal needs as a ‘thank you’ to the dragon slayer, but Ji-Soo knew that the ‘assistant’s’ real purpose was to monitor her and prevent her from committing suicide. Within an hour of her arrival, the entire suite had been completely cleared of any object that could possibly be considered dangerous. Writing utensils, candlesticks, and most of the room’s decorations had mysteriously vanished by her hands. Not that it would have mattered if Ji-Soo really tried. Anyone powerful enough to stop a determined Ji-Soo had better things to be doing than standing around all day waiting for Ji-Soo to do something.

  Ji-Soo felt a little bad for the woman, whoever she was. Her job was probably the most boring one in the world. There was nothing for her to do, except occasionally force-feed the despondent ex-spearwoman. The rest of the time, she just stood around. Or maybe she was sitting. Or laying down. Or hanging from the ceiling like a bat. Ji-Soo never bothered to turn her head to find out.

  “Ji-Soo,” called the assistant.

  Ji-Soo did not respond.

  “Ji-Soo,” said the woman again, louder this time.

  There was still no response, so she strode over to the couch and shook Ji-Soo’s shoulder.

  “Ji-Soo!”

  “...not hungry…” mumbled Ji-Soo.

  “There’s a visitor here to see you.”

  Ji-Soo tensed up.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “Is- is it Grandfather?” she asked.

  “No, it’s-”

  “Then tell them to go away.” Ji-Soo breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I tried to tell him that you weren’t taking visitors, but he was very insistent. I think you should let him in. It could be-”

  “Don’t care,” said Ji-Soo. “Just ignore him then.”

  “I think it would be good for you to speak with him,” said the assistant. “He’s-”

  “Don’t care,” said Ji-Soo.

  “...I’m going to go let him in now,” said the assistant after a frustrated pause.

  “No,” said Ji-Soo weakly.

  “Then come tell him to go away yourself,” said the assistant angrily.

  Ji-Soo listened to the woman stomp away and considered running after her to stop her, but decided against it. Whoever it was probably wouldn’t be gotten rid of easily, and it was more comfortable to tell them to leave from the couch than standing in the doorway. A few moments later, the footsteps of the assistant returned, accompanied by another pair. From the cadence, they belonged to a tall man– taller than her grandfather, at least– and from the volume, they were likely rather thin, and didn’t have much in the way of fat.

  Her guesses were proven to be correct when the owner of the footsteps stepped around the couch and revealed himself. While not the tallest person she had ever met, she could count on one hand the number she had met who were taller. Ji-Soo was herself considered tall, but she doubted she would even come up to this man’s chin. And while his clothes were loose-fitting, and hid his form, his narrow face and thin wrists belied his general lack of body mass.

  His hair and eyes were the same color, a bright gold that seemed to trap the light of the room inside it, and his ears were roughly the shape and size of a chef’s knife. His face carried a look of pity and sorrow that somehow made Ji-Soo feel worse than she already felt.

  “Go away,” she said.

  “Hello, Ji-Soo,” said the elf. “My name is Anatoly.”

  “Go away,” she repeated.

  “I heard about your situation, and having lived many years, and experienced many things, I thought I would be best suited to helping you.”

  “Go away.”

  “I know how you’re feeling right now,” he continued. “You made a mistake, and it cost a friend her life. You blame yourself. You can’t live with yourself. But you can’t die either, because she sacrificed herself for you, and you don’t want to waste her final efforts.”

  “Go away,” said Ji-Soo.

  “I’ve been in the same place as you,” he said. “I felt what you’re feeling now. I had my family to pull me out of it. Without them, I doubt I would be alive today. However, I don’t believe that your family is suited to the task, so I will be taking on that role for you.”

  Tears streamed down Ji-Soo’s cheek, but she did not respond.

  “I know that right now, you don’t think that you deserve to be healed, or recover, but that way of thinking is destructive. You’ll only end up hurting yourself more, and Ingrid wouldn’t want that.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” cried Ji-Soo.

  “I promise, I do,” replied Anatoly.

  “No, you don’t! I- I killed her! I killed her! It’s all my fault! She was my only friend, and now- now she’s dead and it’s all my fault! How can I live normally after that?”

  “With great effort,” he said. “Recovery is not easy, but the alternative is worse. Ingrid would not want you to wallow in your grief and throw away your life for your guilt.”

  “If she knew what I did-”

  “Then she would still want you to live on,” said Anatoly.

  “No!”

  “Yes.”

  Anatoly stepped forward crouched down so that his head was nearly level with hers.

  “You are not a terrible person,” he said. “You are not one who is undeserving of life. You are not unforgivable. And you are not alone. Not only am I here, but you have other friends. The rest of your part has been asking about you. Even Lucille, who you only knew for a month. They’re all worried about you.”

  “Why did it have to be her?” sobbed Ji-Soo. “Why wasn’t it me?”

  “And what if it was? Then it would be Ingrid here crying.”

  “No,” she said. “She- she’s stronger than that. She wouldn’t be like this.”

  “Then be like her.”

  “I can’t!” Ji-Soo wailed.

  “You can, and I will help you,” said Anatoly. “You are strong. And I don’t just mean physically. Without a strong mind, you would not have been able to achieve what you have. You will be able to recover. You will get through this.”

  “How?”

  “I will show you. I run a small bookstore, and lately I have been feeling the need for an assistant. I’d like you to fulfill that role. In my experience the best way to heal and recover is to have something else to focus on. Having a job will be good for you.”

  Ji-soo did not answer, and continued crying into her sleeves.

  “May I give you a hug?” asked Anatoly.

  She did not respond, so he slowly raised his arms and began wrapping them around her. The positioning was awkward, as she was still curled up and hugging her knees, but the elf’s arms were long enough that he was still able to hold her firmly. For a minute, they stayed in that position, until Ji-Soo slowly stretched out her legs and turned to face the elf, reciprocating his embrace. She sobbed on his shoulder for a quarter of an hour before falling asleep, at which point, he carried her to her bed.

  “Would you like some tea, my lord?” whispered the assistant as Anatoly exited Ji-Soo’s room.

  “Yes, that would be lovely,” he said. “And no need for formalities. As long as you tell me your name, you can just call me Anatoly.”

  “It’s Amber, my- I mean Anatoly,” she said. “I’ll prepare the tea right away then.”

  The assistant tiptoed away to make the tea while Anatoly slowly walked back to the now-vacant couch.

  Amber returned a few minutes later with two cups, handed one to the elf and started sipping her own. They two drank in silence until their cups were empty, and then the assistant spoke.

  “This is the best she’s slept in three days,” she said. “Every day, while she’s awake, she’s quiet as a corpse, but the second she dozes off…”

  “Yes, she’s had a rough time,” said Anatoly. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

  “It’s no trouble at all,” said Amber, shaking her head. “I’m just following orders. And I hardly have to do anything anyway.”

  “Still, your presence was a help to her, even if it didn’t feel like it.”

  “Thank you.”

  There was an awkward silence until Amber spoke again.

  “Will working at your bookstore really help? Will she actually recover?”

  “Having a job will at least keep her alive, and it will put her in a healthy environment,” replied Anatoly. “How much she recovers though, is up to her. I cannot promise anything, other than to try my best to help her.”

  “...”

  “I lied earlier,” said Amber. “When I said this job was no trouble. I don’t have to do much, but watching her be like that all day and not being able to do anything about it… I don’t even know her well, but it still hurts. If you can help her get better, I’ll be very grateful.”

  “Rest assured, I will make every effort to assist her,” said Anatoly. “She will not be lacking in support.”

  “Thank you.”

  The two sat on the couch for a little while longer, idly chatting until Amber too began to yawn, and Anatoly sent her to get some rest, promising to keep an eye on Ji-Soo while she slept. However, his promise ended up being for naught, for Amber woke up before Ji-Soo did. Ji-Soo stayed in her bed for nearly a full day, finally waking at sunrise to the smell of bacon and golden face filled of warmth.