An Unexpected Visitor

Jorgen and Elin strolled along the narrow streets of the old town.

"It's been quite a day," Elin stretched his arms. "In just over an hour, our partnership enters the next decade."

"What makes you think I'd collaborate with you for another ten years?" Jorgen remarked.

"That's called optimism. Can't you occasionally agree with someone else for a change, given your cantankerous nature?"

At this moment, Jorgen wasn't particularly concerned with Elin's words. Ten minutes earlier, he had bid farewell to Dalia with little exchange between them. In hindsight, he found this event not so much natural but inevitable, a consequence of their continued proximity. Almost immediately upon their lips touching, Dalia had reciprocated the kiss. Over the past few days, Jorgen had carried a psychological burden for concealing the truth about Mardias from her. Subconsciously, he had sought physical intimacy as a means to release this burden. However, this had resulted in a bittersweet outcome. While he was elated that this had happened, he quickly realized that it complicated the emotional weight Dalia bore. This was no fleeting comfort; he anticipated further developments. In time, he wouldn't be able to view her through the indirect identities of a deceased friend's widow, a chieftain's daughter-in-law, or an heir to the MI7. Then, all his deceptions would cause multiple times more personal anguish, leaving him in an ethical quagmire. Then, he would say, "My Dalia."

Jorgen's extensive experience at the MI7 had made him quite adept at understanding human psychology. Yet even after this almost instinctive self-analysis, he could still fully appreciate the beauty of the moment. He knew what he was going through, and he was eagerly looking forward to seeing her again. And he wouldn't just pretend that none of this had ever happened.

Of course, it was still useful to carefully heed Elin's words: confirming he hadn't seen the scene.

"Hey," Elin said, "you've got something on your lip, like lipstick."

"I don't know," Jorgen wiped it off with the back of his hand. "It's nothing unusual."

"Probably just sauce. I don't know why I thought it was lipstick."

Jorgen stayed silent.

"It's really weird," Elin said.

"There's nothing weird," Jorgen replied. "I think it actually is lipstick."

Elin stopped in his tracks. "What?"

"I kissed Dalia," Jorgen admitted, "so what you saw was probably lipstick."

Why did I just say that?

"You..." Elin frowned, looked up as if in thought. "You kissed her."

"Yes."

"Oh, all right. I get it. No wonder." Elin continued walking. After a moment, he stopped again. "Wait a minute, are you saying that was the first time you two kissed?"

Jorgen hadn't expected this reaction from Elin. He hesitated before saying, "Yes."

"That doesn't make sense. I thought you two had been together for a while." Elin's eyes filled with genuine confusion.

"It's not like that. Why would you think that?"

"The eyes, Jorgen, everything is in the eyes." Elin made a scissor gesture with two fingers, pointing to his own eyes. "I've been saying it since we got back from Darkshire. The way you both look at each other is just... weird. And haven't you noticed, no one dares to interrupt whenever you two are talking? Looking at you two, others get this idea: 'If I butt in, they'll hate me forever. I don't want to bear that guilt, so it's better to stay away.' That's how it's been all night. I'd guess at least 80% of the people in that room think you've been a couple for ages. Of course, I belong to the hypersensitive group; saying 80% think the same as me is a bit exaggerated."

"No matter what people think, don't broadcast it."

"Tsk tsk... this trick wasn't very pretty, my old friend," Elin squinted his eyes. "Intentionally keeping the lipstick for me to see and then pretending. That's not how you treat a friend. If you're going to play tricks like this, it's starting to feel like you're getting old..."

Elin was about to say something more but immediately stopped, raised his right hand, and said, "Alright, I was just joking. Don't glare at me with those terrifying eyes. If you keep getting hostile for no reason, we really won't be able to work together for the next ten years. Anyway, I'm genuinely happy you finally did it, Jorgen – congratulations, and a little bit of envy, of course."

Elin patted Jorgen's shoulder.

Jorgen stopped pondering why he had spontaneously confessed. Perhaps, with a friend, that's just how it goes.

"You said 'envy'?" he inquired.

"Uh, it's just a general... Because Dalia is a beautiful woman, my little envy is based on that, instinctual, not because she's Dalia, you know? You can't blame me just because it's a man's instinct..."

"We were supposed to talk about Mardias and Farad during this time. If we keep going like this, we won't discuss anything."

"Then let's not talk about it. Let's not think about it. I'm genuinely happy for you, and I don't want to consider anything else. You should do the same. I want you to think about her, Jorgen. I'm taking a different path, letting you have her in your thoughts. This is what you deserve... it's also what Dalia wants you to do. To hell with Farad and... anyway, just think about her."

Jorgen hoped he could easily do what Elin suggested, letting Dalia occupy his thoughts. If it were another woman, he didn't know how it would go, but with Dalia, it was evidently impossible. Simplifying his mind too much was also irresponsible for what had happened between them. There were too many things to consider, too many... but he still appreciated Elin's suggestion.

"Thank you, Elin."

"It's such a strange night. Jorgen kisses Dalia and thanks me!" Elin yawned. "Unbelievable. I need to get home and sleep, then see if I'll take it as a dream tomorrow. So, I'll..."

Just then, both of them heard a series of light but hurried footsteps approaching. They turned around and saw a little girl running towards them. She stopped in front of them, breathing heavily, and then looked up at them. Despite the dirt on her face and hands and the patched-up dress, she didn't look like a beggar - her eyes didn't hold the distant and arid hope of one. Under the dust, her hair showed a faint golden shade.

"Who are you, little one?" Elin asked. "Out this late. I'm not a bad person, but I can't guarantee the same for my companion here."

The little girl looked at Jorgen, then back to Elin. She was less than half his height.

"Excuse me," she said, "Are you Elin Tias?"

"Yes... I am. How do you know?"

"I heard him call you that," she pointed at Jorgen.

Jorgen glanced towards the direction the girl had come from, but there was no one around. He signaled to Elin to stay alert.

"Have you always been in Stormwind?" the little girl asked.

Elin, struggling to understand her vague words, thought for a moment. "Yes, I'm usually around here."

"So you're Elin Tias, the big cheese merchant of Stormwind."

"Cheese? What cheese? I haven't..."

"I'm Elaine, nine years old," the little girl continued, disregarding Elin's denial. "I'm your daughter."

Jorgen looked at Elin. Elin widened his eyes, shook his head at Jorgen, then abruptly coughed to the side a few times, before saying, "This kind of joke isn't funny, little girl. Who put you up to this? Tell us, or this big brother is going to throw you in the dungeon."

"But Mommy said so. Mommy said my daddy's name is Elin Tias, and he's the big cheese merchant in Stormwind."

"Alright, I'm going to show this little girl what happens when she makes fun of grown-ups..."

"Wait," Jorgen interrupted Elin and then asked the little girl who called herself Elaine, "What's your mom's name?"

"Grenna."

Jorgen turned to Elin. "Any recognition?"

"Stand still right here," Elin said to the little girl and then pulled Jorgen aside. "What did she say her mom's name was?"

"You didn't hear?"

"Say it again."

"Grenna. Does that ring a bell?"

Elin vigorously rubbed his chin with his right hand, deep in thought. "I've never heard of her."

"But I have," Jorgen said, "When you were on stage reciting the names of those fifteen women, one of them was named 'Grenna.'"

"...really?"

"That's right. Also, just to remind you, she claimed to be nine years old. I believe she's telling the truth. This could help jog your memory."

"Why is your memory so good? So, Jorgen, where was I nine years ago?"

"...That's not for me to say."

"I think it's best to go back and ask again."

They returned to Elaine. The little girl hadn't moved an inch, just as Elin had instructed. She was nervously rubbing her hands together.

"Hey, Elaine," Elin crouched down. "Listen carefully: My name is Elin Tias, and I live in Stormwind, but I've never sold cheese. I have a much greater profession, one that you wouldn't understand just yet. But as long as you remember that it's not selling cheese, you're on the right track. So, it seems you've mistaken me, I'm afraid."

"But Mommy said that you told her this. Mommy said, as soon as you enter Stormwind, you can see the big sign that says 'Tias Cheese Shop.' You told her all that."

"Get your mom to come here. I want to confront her and then have her take you home."

"But Mommy didn't come. Uncle Panzi brought me to Stormwind."

"Then get this... Uncle Panzi..."

"Elin," Jorgen said, "Whatever is happening, it's midnight now. We can't linger with a little girl like this."

"What do you suggest, then?"

"Elaine," Jorgen said, "Is this Uncle Panzi you mentioned nearby? Can we call him out?"

The little girl shook her head. "Uncle Panzi doesn't know I left the house. He said if I ran out on my own again, he'd break one of my legs."

"We've gotten involved in someone else's family issue, Jorgen, believe me."

"For now, let's take her to the church or the guardhouse's lounge. Let her have a good night's sleep, and we can sort things out tomorrow."

"No way. Look how talkative this little girl is. If we take her to those places, by tomorrow morning, the whole city will probably think I really have a nine-year-old daughter."

"Avoidance is not the solution..."

"I'm not avoiding, for heaven's sake." Elin paused, looked at the ground, and then back at Elaine. "What was I saying earlier, that tonight is strange? Well, it seems it's gotten stranger than I thought. As far as I can see, there's only one place for her to go... Maybe I should get your opinion on this, Jorgen."