Sir Norgrid, now known as Norumaru Perosonu, stood in front of the full-length mirror by the door. He tugged on the lapels of his ill-fitting suit—a modern replacement for his once gleaming, battle-scarred armor. The knight’s broad shoulders strained against the fabric, the red tie hanging slightly askew around his thick neck like a noose he’d reluctantly accepted.

"Thou hast this wretched thing tied around thy neck willingly?" Sir Norgrid questioned, glancing back at Hiroshi, who was still wrapped in blankets on the futon. He adjusted his tie again with a frown. “’Tis a foolish custom, but I shall endure it as I do all of thine people’s oddities.”

The knight picked up a briefcase you had given him—a tool he still didn’t fully understand but carried out of respect. Then, with the weight of a man heading into battle, Norgrid strode toward the door, each step deliberate and measured as though he were about to face an enemy commander rather than attend his job as a low-level office worker. He paused at the threshold, his gauntleted hand—no, not gauntleted anymore—his hand, calloused and strong, rested on the doorknob.

“Mayhap this day shall bring honor to this new realm,” he muttered under his breath, his voice a low rumble.

The moment he left, you reminisce about when you wished for a powerful knight from another world—a warrior who could take down monsters, like in your favorite anime.

(In the past)

"Thou wishest for me to discard my armor?" Norgrid’s deep voice echoed, incredulous. "Wouldst thou strip a lion of its mane, or a dragon of its scales?"

The knight had reluctantly agreed, though his scowl never faded. When you presented him with modern clothes—slacks, a white shirt, and a tie—Norgrid had stared at them as if they were strange rag. Still, after much convincing and an awkward demonstration of how to wear a tie, he began to shed his armor.

(Back in the present)

Sir Norgrid suddenly came back, his visor glinting with the sunlight. "I require thy aid with the carriage," he said from the door.