Elinia stood in front of me—so serious that even the air itself seemed to grow heavier.

  “Zen,” she said quietly. “If you tell the truth…

  if you tell everything, without games…

  I’ll help you.”

  I blinked.

  “Help?..”

  “Yes.

  Move the books. Cover the tracks. Arrange the transfer.

  For a princess, that’s not a problem.”

  She leaned a little closer.

  “And if anyone dares to… look into you,

  or touch you, or blackmail you…”

  Her voice turned icy.

  “…they’ll disappear faster than they realize what they’ve done.”

  I understood:

  She wasn’t joking.

  I sighed.

  If I said nothing—she would keep digging.

  If I said too much—I could put the Forest in danger.

  I chose a half-truth.

  “Alright.

  I’ll tell you.”

  She straightened, not taking her eyes off me.

  “When I was little…” I began slowly,

  “I got lost in the forest.

  Very far from home.

  I… wouldn’t have survived.

  But the elves found me.”

  Elinia listened tensely.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “They… taught me.

  Not everything—but a lot.

  They gave me a communication orb when I left.

  They said that if they ever needed help…

  I should answer.”

  I took a breath.

  “Everything I know…

  everything I can do…

  much of it is thanks to them.

  And yes…

  they consider me…

  a trusted human.”

  Elinia put her hands on her hips, as if thinking:

  Alright. Now this at least sounds like the truth.

  She was about to ask something, but—

  SHHH—H…

  The air trembled.

  From the corner of the room—the one where the shadow was just a bit denser than it should be—

  a figure stepped out.

  Silent.

  Silvery.

  Moving as if it were part of the darkness itself.

  The Gray Shadow.

  Elinia flinched—barely noticeably.

  Not from fear—from surprise.

  And I… went cold.

  “Student,” came the quiet voice.

  Even. Calm. Heavy.

  “You… talked too much.”

  I understood: he had heard everything.

  “We warned you,” he continued,

  “what would happen if you said too much.”

  I instinctively put on the heroic face of a student caught breaking the rules,

  trying very hard to look repentant.

  “I… I’m at fault,” I said, looking at him.

  “I didn’t mean any harm.”

  The Gray Shadow didn’t blink.

  “We hope,” he said softly,

  “that your tongue won’t run ahead of your thoughts.”

  He stepped closer.

  Elinia instinctively tensed; wind magic wavered around her—

  but the Gray Shadow didn’t even turn his head.

  He extended a hand.

  “The books.”

  I obeyed.

  Handed over the notebooks—biology, geography, the notes.

  He accepted them carefully, almost… respectfully.

  “This knowledge will be preserved,” he said.

  “And delivered where it needs to go.”

  He looked at me once more—

  the look an adult gives a child who almost did something foolish.

  “Take care of yourself, student.”

  And he vanished.

  Soundlessly.

  As if he had dissolved into the air.

  The room became quieter than it should have been.

  Elinia stood motionless, like a statue.

  Then slowly turned to me.

  “Zen…”

  Her voice was muffled.

  “What just happened…

  that was… it… who… what was that, exactly?..”

  I sighed—tired.

  “That, Elinia…”

  “was the very same ‘shopkeeper.’”

  She blinked.

  “Please…”

  “please never lie to me that badly again.”

  I shrugged awkwardly.

  “I tried.”

  “You’re terrible at lying,” she said.

  But without anger now.

  More… with concern.

  “And, Zen…” she exhaled,

  “you’re tangled up in something very… very dangerous.”

  I sat down on the bed.

  “Yes.

  I am.”

  Elinia stepped closer and said quietly:

  “And now… so am I.”