When we got back to the apartment, the first thing Eira did was head straight to the bedroom with the shopping bag.

  I flopped on the couch, exhausted beyond belief.

  Between the shopping trip, the public stares, and the mental trauma of standing in a sea of bras, I needed five naps and a brain scrub.

  I was half-dozing when I heard the bedroom door click shut.

  Curious — and terrified — I peeked over the back of the couch.

  The door was closed.Behind it, I could hear faint rustling.

  My brain — my treacherous, perverted, anime-addled brain — immediately conjured mental images of Eira trying to figure out how to put on a bra.

  I smmed my head into the couch cushion, groaning.

  "BAJRANG BALI," I whispered hoarsely. "Forgive me for my sins."

  Fifteen minutes ter, Eira emerged.

  Fully dressed.

  Pin grey sports bra under the loose T-shirt. Proper cotton shorts. Nothing fshy. Nothing scandalous.

  But somehow, she looked... different.More solid. More real.Less like a visiting spirit and more like someone carving out a pce here.

  I scrambled upright, trying to seem normal.

  "You, uh, feeling better?" I asked.

  She nodded. "It is... more stable."

  I coughed. "Good. Great. Stability. Very important."

  She came over, sitting neatly on the floor again, legs crossed.

  For a few seconds, we just sat there in companionable silence.Then curiosity itched too hard.

  "So... uh..." I rubbed the back of my neck. "You said you were an assassin, right? In your world?"

  "Yes," she said simply.

  "Cool. Cool." I nodded rapidly, like a bobblehead. "So... can you, like, do magic?"

  Her expression shifted slightly — almost... sad.

  "I cannot," she said quietly.

  I blinked. "What? Why?"

  She looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers like she was trying to summon something that refused to come.

  "I feel no connection," she said. "The World Tree Spirit... the source of life and magic in my realm... I cannot feel it here. It is like... being deaf to the wind."

  The way she said it — soft, lost — punched me right in the chest.

  I scooted a little closer.

  "Hey," I said, voice low. "You’re still strong. Even without magic. You’re still you."

  She looked at me — really looked — and something in her eyes softened.

  "Strength," she murmured. "Without spirit."

  "Exactly," I said, thumping my own chest. "Pure willpower, baby."

  She gave the tiniest ghost of a smile.

  Progress.

  Later, while setting up the salvaged PC Aman gave me, I decided to ask something that had been nagging at me.

  "So," I said casually, plugging in cables, "how old are you, anyway?"

  "Fifty-three," Eira said, deadpan.

  I almost dropped the monitor on my foot.

  "Fifty—?!" I choked.

  She frowned. "Is that unusual?"

  I sat down hard on the floor, ughing breathlessly.

  "No! I mean — yes! I mean —"I waved my hands."In my world, that's like retirement age. But in anime RPG logic? Elf girls are always older. Fifty-three? That's like... prime waifu age."

  She stared at me bnkly.

  "Never mind," I said quickly. "Earth jokes. Ignore me."

  While I wrestled with drivers and Wi-Fi settings, my phone buzzed nonstop.

  Aman, of course.

  AMAN: "How's my sister-in-w?"

  AMAN: "Bro, teach her the ways of Earth romance."

  AMAN: "DOES SHE CALL YOU 'MASTER' YET? ??"

  AMAN: "Tell her about Netflix and chill properly, coward."

  I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore it.

  Unfortunately, I was so focused on the setup that I didn’t notice Eira leaning over to peek at my phone.

  Dead silence.

  I gnced sideways.

  Eira was staring at the screen.

  At the barrage of very lewd jokes and suggestions.

  Her ears were tinged pink.

  Her expression — bnk, unreadable — betrayed nothing.

  But internally, I knew.

  She was judging all men as horny idiots across all universes.

  I fumbled to lock the phone and clear my throat.

  "Uh. He's an idiot. Ignore him. He's defective."

  She simply looked away, silent, and resumed studying the TV.

  I was never living this down.

  That night, we ate another round of Maggi, too tired to cook anything else.

  She retreated to my bedroom — ciming it again like a conqueror — while I crashed on the couch.

  As I drifted into sleep, I wondered — not for the first time —what exactly I'd gotten myself into.

  The next morning, I woke up early.

  Old boxing habits.

  I threw on my favorite sleeveless T-shirt, some loose shorts, ced up my battered shoes, and grabbed my duffel bag.

  I scribbled a quick note for Eira — Gone out. Back soon. Don’t kill anyone.

  And slipped out the door.

  What I didn’t know?

  Eira had woken up seconds after me.And, curious, she silently followed.

  I walked across the empty street, early morning mist curling around my ankles.

  Stopped in front of a squat, battered building.

  ANKUR BOXING GYM — peeling letters above the entrance.

  Inside, the familiar smells of sweat, leather, and dreams hit me like a drug.

  I dropped my bag, wrapped my hands, and stepped into the ring.

  Eira watched from across the street, hidden behind a tree, eyes wide.

  She saw me trade jabs with the coach.Duck. Weave.Throw body shots.Absorb hits.Move again.

  For two hours, I lost myself.

  No elves. No portals. No broken walls. No dead gaming setups.

  Just fists, focus, and the drumbeat of my own heart.

  When I finally stumbled back to the apartment, soaked in sweat, I didn’t even notice the extra shoes at the entrance.

  Or the door slightly ajar.

  I peeled off my shirt, kicked off my shoes, and staggered toward the bathroom, desperate for a shower.

  I shoved open the door — and froze.

  Eira stood there, mid-bath.

  Water cascading down her pale skin.

  Eyes calm.Expression neutral.

  We locked eyes.

  Time stopped.

  Somewhere, a cosmic judge pressed pause on my soul.

  I backpedaled so fast I slipped and nearly broke my neck.

  "I’M SORRY!" I screamed, smming the door shut.

  Inside, Eira calmly continued bathing like nothing had happened.

  Outside, I colpsed against the wall, praying to every deity known to man.

  Bajrang Bali. Vishnu. Shiva. Even Thor.PLEASE ERASE MY MEMORY.

  Later, after my second, much more cautious attempt at showering, we sat awkwardly at the tiny dining table.

  I ordered pizza from Zomato, desperate to fill the awkward silence.

  A pepperoni, a margherita, and some random garlic bread.

  When the food arrived, Eira eyed the pizza slice suspiciously.

  "This is... bread?" she asked.

  "Kinda," I said, trying not to ugh. "Bread, cheese, sauce, toppings. Earth’s holy meal."

  She took a cautious bite.

  Paused.

  Chewed slowly.

  Her eyes widened.

  Another bite.Bigger.Faster.

  I ughed as she devoured the slice like a warrior ciming a fallen enemy’s weapon.

  "This is..." she said between bites, "dangerous."

  "Yeah," I said, grinning. "It’ll destroy your body and your wallet."

  She nodded seriously. "I accept this risk."

  We sat there, munching pizza and garlic bread, feet brushing accidentally under the table.

  No magic.No battles.No cosmic missions.

  Just two weirdos, surviving together.

  Maybe that was enough.

  For now.