My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World



Rudy finally emerged back from the office just as everyone else was done clearing the crumbs off their jeans, and for the rest of the afternoon, he was uncharacteristically quiet. 

Michael watched him with his head tucked down the hood of a car for hours. Eventually, it was dusk, and the evening light showed him still tinkering away over there engulfed in the darkest shadows. 

There were still two hours left of Michael's shift, but he had already long cleared all his work for the day. And though he was told, and even encouraged many times over to simply clock out the innumerable instances he was seen loitering about, he usually opted instead to spend his remaining time helping his coworkers clear any remaining tasks at hand. 

After reflecting on all that has happened, and all that he has heard, Michael decided once again to lend another helping hand. 

When Michael reached Rudy, he found the young man ruminating in complete silence. The car's hood propped over his slumped head, a small wrench barely holding on within loose fingers, he didn't even seem to notice he wasn't alone anymore. 

"So Jamie thinks it's you?" 

The wrench slipped from his grip with a clatter, clank before disappearing into the inner workings of the car with a resounding slam. Rudy looked about, the shock on his face momentary, as it reverted back to something less than his usual cheery demeanor. 

"Ah, well, I mean…" Rudy muttered briskly, diving an arm into the sea of metal and tubes in search of his missing tool. "Not like he doesn't have every right to…"

He plopped the wrench into a toolbox by his feet upon retrieval, kicking and flipping the cover shut with a foot, drowning out a long, heavy sigh as he slammed the car hood closed. 

Rudy then looked up at Michael, hesitation and doubt shifting one after the other.

"I don't think… I don't know if I've ever told you this before, but…" 

"I've heard," Michael interrupted. "Matt told me all about it earlier." 

"Oh," Rudy's expression was still. "So you know. Great. Means you don't really need me to tell you why I'm the primary suspect here." 

"What did Jamie say?" 

"What else would he say? Told me to fess up if I was hiding anything. Said he was willing to put this all behind us if I just told the truth." 

"And what did you say?" 

"What else?" Rudy repeated wearily. "I said I didn't do it." 

"Does he believe you?" 

That's when the young man gave pause - a lump in his neck visibly swallowing, the look in his gaze far and distant in more ways than one.

"I like to think he does," he answered quietly. "Though I won't blame him one bit if he doesn't." 

Michael felt eyes on the both of them; further in the shop, deep in their own busywork, Matt and Charles were taking turns making glances at them, both sharing the same peculiar gaze. 

"The odd one out, that's me," Rudy said, noticing them too. "They won't say it, they're too nice to say it. But I know they think it's me too…" 

Somehow, he mustered a hint of a smile. Michael saw it… as empty as the look in his eyes. 

"Trust me, once this whole ordeal is over and done with, you won't find a happier face than mine. I mean, I get the distrust, not holding it against anyone, but… man, you know… after all we've been through, all the things we did, and everything I've done… a little faith would be nice…" 

"Matt doesn't think it's you," Michael said.

"But he wouldn't be surprised if it were, right?"

Michael went quiet, and Rudy shook his head. Still with that smile, those empty eyes.

"Hate to ask, don't deserve to, but…" Rudy faltered for a moment. "You… you believe me, right, Michael?" 

Michael blinked.

"No." 

Rudy stiffly swayed in place, as if a hefty breeze had blown his balance unsteady. His expression tightened, eyes darting, searching Michael's thoroughly and gradually turning more incredulous. 

"You… you also think it's me?" Rudy asked slowly. "That… I'm the one stealing all the parts around here?" 

"Yes." 

"I… I didn't think you'd… I thought…" His face fell. "And here I was thinking I was finally trusted again." 

"It's not about trust," Michael said. "I do trust you, and I do trust you've sincerely reformed yourself. But I also do believe you are the one that has been stealing everything."

Rudy looked up again, his stare a strained mix of confusion and annoyance. "Michael, this is my Uncle's shop! He took me in, he gave me this job - he gave me a chance when no one else would! Why on earth would I ever want to - ?"

"Desperation, perhaps?" Michael speculated. "Maybe you've made a mistake. Maybe this was the only way you could think of to fix that mistake."

"What? Huh? What the hell are you even saying?" 

"Matt's old, and a surplus of money is not anything that would make him content," more and more the bewilderment swelled on Rudy's expression as Michael spoke on. "Charles is always the last to arrive and the first to leave. To him, this is simply his job. Like me, he does not see it as anything more beyond that. As such, there's no reason to suspect either of them."

"Oh!" Rudy's eyes grew wide, and it was the first time Michael saw disdain peering from within them. "So… because of my history… because of what I used to do, what I used to be… ah, it's only logical that it has to be me, is that it? Once a crook always a crook?! So much for second chances, I guess!" 

Their conversation was no longer a private one. Rudy's shouts reverberated throughout the premises, and both Matt and Charles were witness to his outburst. 

"Wrong," Michael calmly but firmly said. "I told you, Rudy. I do genuinely believe you've changed your ways. My accusing you has nothing to do with your past. In fact, I would have suspected you even without it. As I have." 

"What?" Rudy sputtered out in blind confusion and anger.

"You're young, you're eager, and more importantly, you're remorseful," Michael explained. "Someone like you, believing they owe their life and more, they are prone to making mistakes. Just as I've suspected you of doing. Perhaps you had good intentions, and I believe you still do. You steal to undo your mistakes, not for any gain. You haven't lapsed. You're trying to fix things, aren't you?" 

"Michael, I have absolutely no fucking clue what you're even talking about right now," Rudy exclaimed, mouth hanging open, his rage smothered by confusion. "W-What? How do you…? Where do you even come up with that?"

"I was young once," Michael simply said. "And I've made my share of mistakes too." 

"Well, I'm sorry but you've got me all wrong," Rudy hastily picked up his toolbox and began to storm away. "Seriously gonna blame me for a story you made up in your head… gimme a break…" 

Suddenly, Rudy felt his next step stopped short. His body jerked. Turning to the side, he saw Michael's hand firmly locked around his wrist. 

"What now?" He snapped impatiently. "I've had my fill of being blamed and accused of shit I didn't do for one day. And honestly, Michael, I don't really wanna talk to you anymore." 

"You helped me get this job, Rudy," Michael said as plainly as he could. "Without you, I wouldn't be here. I haven't forgotten, and I still haven't thanked you for it." 

"Wanna thank me?" twisting, yanking, Rudy heaved between attempts at prying himself loose. "Leave me alone." 

"You don't have to do this alone," he said. "Let me help you, please." 

For a moment, the slightest, briefest second, Rudy met Michael's eyes, and past the rage and the distress, he caught a glint of something else, a hidden agony, a hidden pain… or so Michael hoped he did.

Maybe it was just as Rudy suggested -  it being all in his head.

Maybe he was the one in the wrong…

"I didn't do it, Michael," Rudy said for the final time, that second, that look, as if never existing. "Let go." 

Maybe he had made a mistake.

At once, Michael loosened his hold, and wasting no time, Rudy strode off. Thunderous steps growing distance, growing quiet, until there was only silence.