My Grim Reaper Class: I can kill anything.

Liaraen took a breath.

Nathan looked at her calmly.

She began to speak.

"Nathan."

"Yes?"

"You brought me here."

"Yes."

"From Greywall. Crossing two kingdoms. Through Veil settlements. Through a dungeon. Through the Arren River. Through the border. To the central valley. To this mansion. To this room."

"Yes."

"Without charging."

"Yes."

"Refusing five thousand gold coins my uncle offered you last night."

"Yes."

"And without any external reason forcing you to do so beyond an initial commitment that apparently evolved into something different."

"Yes."

She paused.

She held the green sword between both hands, in front of her chest, with the calm of someone using the sword as support for what was coming next.

And then she spoke.

With a clear voice.

With a firm posture.

With her pale green eyes fixed on him without any aristocratic reflection of restraint.

"Nathan Voss. Considering that you brought me here, and considering that apparently I now have no living parents, no locatable sister, no habitable house, and no formal legal guardian recognized by the elven tribunal, and considering that elven aristocratic instruction establishes that when a person escorts and protects a member of a major house during a lineage crisis, that person assumes continued responsibility for the escorted member’s well-being until that member can reassume responsibility for themselves—now I am your responsibility."

Silence.

Nathan smiled.

With his usual cynical smile.

With the small nod of someone who’d received information and was processing it without drama.

*Good.*

*Understood.*

*She’s my responsibility. Until...*

*Wait.*

*Wait a moment.*

*Wait one specific moment.*

Nathan stood still.

And inside, in the compartment of his brain that had developed over twenty-eight days of travel to process Liaraen’s surprising declarations without showing external reaction, a sequence different from the previous ones activated.

*....*

*....*

*What?*

*Me?*

*Why?*

*At what point during the journey was this established exactly?*

*Was there a formal meeting I wasn’t summoned to?*

*Did I sign something without realizing it?*

*Wait.*

*Wait wait wait.*

*She has uncles. I met them last night. We had dinner with them. They are direct living relatives. Lord Erenn Vaelith and Lady Marell Vaelith. Apparently they are the logical responsible parties here. They are elves. They are a collateral house. They are family. I am an F-Rank human Hunter who’s known her for just over a month.*

*Me.*

*Apparently.*

*I am.*

*Her guardian.*

*Apparently.*

Externally, Nathan maintained his cynical smile.

Externally, he maintained his calm.

Externally, he nodded once with the aristocratic approximation he’d developed during the journey.

And with a specifically controlled voice:

"Sprout."

"Yes?"

"Why?"

Liaraen paused to process the question for a moment.

"Why what?"

"Why me?"

"I already explained."

"Explain it to me again."

"Nathan."

"Sprout. With all the sincerity I’m capable of applying right now. I’m a twenty-two-year-old human Hunter with days of experience in the Class. Without resources. Without property. Without infrastructure to host a second daughter of a major elven house. Without elven cultural knowledge beyond what you’ve taught me. Without diplomatic authority. Without any structural element suggesting that I am the appropriate choice to assume the continued guardianship of a major elven house’s daughter."

"Understood."

"So why?"

Liaraen looked at him.

With her firm posture maintained.

With the sword still in both hands.

And with a clear voice.

"Nathan. I’m going to give you the reasons."

"Go ahead."

"One. My uncles are direct relatives, but they are a collateral house. They’re going to take care of me out of blood obligation, and I’m going to be comfortable with them, and I’m going to be treated with respect. But House Vaelith has its own internal dynamics, its own interests, its own tensions with the elven tribunal over the succession of House Sael’thoryn. If I stay under the formal guardianship of the Vaelith, House Sael’thoryn effectively passes to indirect Vaelith control. And that could weaken my future position when I decide to claim the leadership of my own house."

"Understood."

"Two. I specifically need to be outside Aelthoren for the coming months. If I stay here, the elven tribunal is going to automatically activate formal guardianship procedures, and that’s going to reduce my autonomy during a period I honestly need specifically to process everything that happened and to find my sister. If I’m outside Aelthoren under informal external guardianship, the automatic procedures don’t activate."

"Understood."

"Three..."

Liaraen looked at Nathan and then blushed shyly.

"I trust you. More than I trust any currently living person I know. And that trust wasn’t built by chance. It was built over days of continuous coexistence during which you specifically demonstrated, on multiple occasions, that you were going to prioritize my well-being over your own needs. That gives me specific information about you that no other possible candidate would provide me."

"Understood."

"Four. Apparently if I go with you to Greywall, I’ll learn more about the human world in which I’m apparently going to have to operate diplomatically over the next centuries if I’m going to lead House Sael’thoryn. Elven aristocratic isolation has been one of the house’s structural weaknesses for generations, and apparently if I’m going to correct that weakness, I have to start by experiencing the human world personally."

"Understood."

"Five. Apparently I’m soon going to be eighteen, in approximately ten months, considering the real time spent in the box and the time elapsed since getting out. And when I turn eighteen, the elven major transition occurs and from then on I’m legally autonomous. Apparently ten months is a reasonable period for you to assume informal guardianship before I can reassume responsibility for myself."

Nathan looked at her for a full moment.

*She thought it through completely.*

*Every point has logic.*

*Apparently she was processing it for hours.*

*Probably since Ferren gave the news on the esplanade.*

*Good.*

*This was the decision Kalen warned me about.*

*And Kalen said I had to accept it without questioning it.*

Nathan sighed.

A long sigh.

The sigh of someone who had honestly arrived in Aelthoren thinking he was going to deliver Liaraen to her parents, collect a modest reward, accept a diplomatic dinner, and return quietly to Greywall to continue his career as a Hunter.

And who was leaving Aelthoren with the continued informal guardianship of a daughter of an elven house who had decided, on her own, that he was the best option available.

Nathan smiled.

With the smile he’d learned to reserve for moments when his life took absurd turns and he’d decided to accept absurdity as a way of life.

"Acceptable, Sprout."

Liaraen looked at him.

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"You accept?"

I accept."

"Nathan."

"Yes?"

"I appreciate the acceptance."

"And I appreciate the trust."

"Acceptable."

"Acceptable."

Silence.

Then Nathan added, with his usual cynical tone:

"Sprout."

"Yes?"

"What are we going to tell your uncles? That I’m your father now?"

Liaraen lowered the sword slightly. She paused to process the question for a moment.

Then she spoke with restored confidence.

"I’ll handle it."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Sprout."

"Yes?"

"They’re going to have specifically strong opinions about this."

"Understood."

"They’re going to want me to pass a full diplomatic examination before accepting informal guardianship."

"I can’t help you with that—I’m bad at exams."

"They’re going to say specific things about humans and responsibility and state marriages and a whole series of elven aristocratic concepts I barely understand."

"Understood."

"And you’re going to handle all of that?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Nathan."

"Yes?"

"With the elven aristocracy I learned over a hundred and sixteen years. The one you apparently enjoy watching so much."

Nathan paused to process that for a second.

Then he laughed.

"Alright, Sprout."

"Alright."

And with the bright green sword in her right hand, with the firm posture of the new heir of House Sael’thoryn, with Nathan beside her wearing his maintained cynical smile, Liaraen turned and began walking toward the secret chamber’s exit.

Toward the fourth-level hallway.

Toward the spiral staircase.

Toward the descent.

Toward the Vaelith mansion.

Toward the conversation she was going to have with her uncles.

And Nathan followed her.

With the smile still on his face.

And with the specific feeling, deep down, that apparently this was the morning when his life was going to specifically change again.