I was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, scrolling through second-hand computer listings and wondering how many kidneys a man could legally sell, when I heard soft footsteps behind me.

  Eira.

  I turned — and immediately noticed it.She was still wearing that battle armor.Dark leather, metal ptes, heavy boots — the whole "I might kill you in three seconds" look. She carried it like it weighed nothing, but just looking at it made my back hurt.

  "Uh," I said, waving vaguely at her outfit. "Don’t you feel... I dunno... uncomfortable in that thing?"

  She blinked at me, expression unreadable. "This is battlewear."

  "Right. Cool. Awesome. But you’re not exactly fighting orcs or dragons here." I tapped the broken monitor beside me. "Unless you count the death of my gaming setup."

  She looked down at herself, like it hadn’t even occurred to her.

  I pushed on, desperate to seem normal when nothing was."Maybe you should change into something comfy. And, uh... take a bath? You know... soap... water... peace."

  Her eyebrows creased slightly. "Bath?"

  "Yeah!" I said, jumping to my feet. "Bath. Wash away the blood, sweat, interdimensional portal dust. Very popur around here."

  She eyed me like I was suggesting bck magic. "In this small dwelling?"

  "Bro, it’s not a pace," I muttered. "But it’s got the essentials. Come on. I’ll show you."

  I led her to the tiny bathroom — wedged between my bedroom and the kitchen.Cracked tiles. A wobbly showerhead. Soap so tiny it could qualify as an endangered species.Luxury.

  "This," I said dramatically, "is the cleansing chamber."

  Eira stepped in like it was enemy territory. Her sharp eyes darted over the sink, the mirror, the ancient geyser heater that groaned like a dying cow.

  "Here’s the shower," I expined. "Turn this knob — hot water. That one — cold water. Stand under it. Soap up. Rinse. Feel like a new person."

  She gnced at the tap handles with deep suspicion.

  I grabbed the soap from the holder and offered it solemnly."This is soap. Use it to banish dirt and existential dread."

  She poked it once, then stared at her own dusty, armored hands.

  "And this," I said, pointing to the toilet, "is where you... relieve yourself."

  Her gaze hardened."You sit?"

  "YES," I said, hands up. "Unless you want to start a chemical disaster."

  A beat of silence.

  Then — and I swear this on Hanumanji — Eira snorted. A real, tiny, almost-human snort of amusement.

  Progress.

  "Alright," I said proudly. "You ready to try?"

  She nodded once.

  "Cool. I’ll just, uh, be outside if you—"

  I turned to leave — and then I heard the soft clink of metal.

  I looked back instinctively —and my brain immediately blue-screened.

  Eira was stripping.

  Like, not shyly. Not awkwardly.Effortless, professional stripping.Armor coming off in smooth, efficient motions. Leather straps sliding away. Chest pte hitting the floor with a dull thud.

  And underneath it — pale skin, toned muscles, faint scars mapping her body like forgotten stories.I caught one glimpse —and almost colpsed on the spot.

  Pure panic exploded inside me.

  "BAJRANG BALI, BACHAA LO!" I yelped, spinning around so hard I nearly twisted my neck.

  I pressed myself against the wall, hands over my eyes, heart smming against my ribs like a caged animal.

  Why is she doing this in front of me?!Why no warning?!Why Bajrang Bali whyyyy!

  Behind me, I heard the shower squeak and sputter, water hissing out.

  I dared not look back.One more glimpse and my soul would leave my body permanently.

  At that exact moment, because the universe has a brutal sense of humor, my phone buzzed violently in my pocket.

  Still half-blind with embarrassment, I fumbled it out and answered without checking the screen.

  "YO, KARAN, WHAT THE HELL, BRO!" shouted Aman — my best friend, professional dumbass, and Valorant teammate.

  "You disappeared mid-match st night! Bro, you rage-quit? Did you smash your keyboard again?"

  I opened my mouth.

  And everything that happened since st night came bursting out like a kid crying to his mom after getting punched in school.

  "I didn’t rage-quit!" I snapped. "A PORTAL EXPLODED IN MY ROOM! An ELF fell through my WALL! She’s an ASSASSIN! She DESTROYED my gaming setup! Took over my BED! She’s showering RIGHT NOW! NAKED! I’M PRAYING TO BAJRANG BALI FOR MERCY!"

  There was dead silence on the other end.

  Then:"Bro..." Aman said slowly. "You need therapy."

  "I need a new LIFE!" I cried.

  Aman burst out ughing so hard he started choking.

  "You’re living a full Isekai anime, man!" he howled. "Hot elf girl! Magical portals! Destroyed gaming dreams! This is some next-level manga shit!"

  "This is HELL," I moaned.

  "But is she hot tho?"

  "I’M NOT DISCUSSING HER HOTNESS WHEN I’M INVOKING HANUMANJI, YOU IDIOT."

  He was still cackling when I hung up on him.

  I slumped against the wall, covering my burning face.

  From the bathroom, the faint smell of soap and steam drifted out.Somewhere above the door, my tiny Hanuman poster watched me with eternal, calm patience.

  "Bajrang Bali, bas rehne do yaar," I muttered. "Mujhse nahi hoga."

  (Just... have mercy, bro. I can't handle this.)

  I prayed harder than I ever had before — and not even for miracles.Just for survival.

  Because living with an elf assassin?

  Was already proving way harder than any boss fight I’d ever faced.