Kaelor's crimson eyes scanned the neat living room, his stare remained on the glowing box Lyle called a "television." Humans, it seemed, entertained themselves with moving pictures trapped inside glass boxes. He reached out, poking it. The screen flared, and the faces of the actors distorted momentarily.
"Stop poking the TV, Kaelor! You're going to ruin it if you continue doing that."
Lyle shouted from the kitchen, feeling annoyed at the sound of it.
Kaelor straightened up, maintaining an innocent posture while looking mildly offended.
"It is so fragile. Why would humans use such an unstable device for entertainment?"
Lyle emerged, carrying a bowl of chips.
"It's not unstable, you're just… unaccustomed to it. Come on, we've got work to do. You can't keep standing out, you need some transformation. Those spirits will sniff you out the moment you slip up."
He shoved the bowl into his hands.
"Lesson one: snack time. Humans eat when they're bored."
Kaelor stared at the chips as though they might bite him. Tentatively, he picked one up and sniffed it.
"This… looks like food a troll might feed its young."
Lyle groaned.
"Just eat it."
He popped it into his mouth. A loud crunch followed, his eyes widened in shock.
"It crumbles like ash, but tastes of fire and oil." He shoved another in, then another, chewing mechanically. "I do not hate this, it feels good in my mouth."
Lyle rolled his eyes.
"Progress. Alright, let's get you dressed. You can't keep walking around in tattered robes like some ancient warlord."
"But isn't that what I kind of… am?" Kaelor asked, looking confused, but Lyle ignored him.
***
Moments later, he was standing in front of Lyle's sister, Joan, who surveyed him critically.
"He's got the build of a runway model," she said, circling him like a hawk. "But these robes? Absolutely medieval. Pun intended."
He crossed his arms, staring hard at her.
"I take offense to your tone, human woman. These robes are a mark of—"
"Blah, blah, sorcerer pride, yadda yadda," Lyle cut in. "He's been going on about his 'mark of power' for days."
Joan smirked and tapped his chest.
"Well, Mr. All-Powerful, today, you're learning to wear jeans and a T-shirt. Come on."
His disdain for modern clothing was immediate and vocal.
"This fabric is too tight," he grumbled, glaring at the jeans she handed him.
"It's called a good fit," she countered, pouting her lips.
"It feels like wearing chains made of cloth."
"And yet, you look amazing," she replied, stepping back to admire her work. The T-shirt hung on to his toned chest, and the black jeans emphasized his long legs.
He caught her lingering stare, and raised an eyebrow.
"You seem… impressed."
She blushed and cleared her throat.
"Don't flatter yourself. Now, let's see if you can act normal."
***
Their first stop was a café.
He sat very stiffly at the small table, examining the room with his eyes.
"You mean you humans gather here to consume beverages and exchange words? Strange rituals."
She set a coffee in front of him.
"It's called socializing. Try it."
He lifted the cup cautiously, looking weirdly at it and sniffing it.
"This smells… burnt."
"That's the point," she replied.
He took a sip, and his face contorted in disgust.
"You consume this voluntarily?"
"It's an acquired taste," she said with a shrug.
He set the cup down firmly.
"Humans are resilient creatures. This beverage would kill a lesser being."
The afternoon devolved into a series of disasters.
***
At a park, Kaelor tried blending in by joining a group of joggers. Within minutes, he had lapped everyone twice, his supernatural speed drawing confused stares.
"Kaelor!" Lyle hissed, pulling him aside.
"Jogging is supposed to look… human! Normal humans don't run like cheetahs on steroids!"
He frowned.
"Why would they engage in an activity they are inherently inefficient at?"
Later, they stopped at a mall. Joan thought it would be a good idea for him to try talking to strangers.
A woman in her mid-40s approached, asking Kaelor for directions to a store.
He blinked, wearing a stolid expression.
"Your reliance on others for mobile navigation is pitiful."
The woman looked taken aback, and Joan quickly stepped in.
"Sorry, he's new to town!"
He turned to Joan.
"Why apologize? She should learn self-reliance."
***
By evening, they returned to Lyle's apartment.
"You're impossible," he groaned, falling onto the couch.
"I am adapting," Kaelor defended.
"You're scaring people."
"They will grow stronger for it," he said, smirking.
Joan sat across from him, watching him.
"You know, for all your arrogance, you're surprisingly clueless about basic human interaction."
He met her eyes,
"And yet, I am learning."
She tilted her head.
"I'll give you credit for that. You're… trying."
The tension between them slowly intensified, with an unspoken tension that frizzled like a static television. She looked away first, brushing her hair behind her ear.
Lyle walked in, breaking the moment.
"Alright, lesson's over. You've got a long way to go, buddy."
Kaelor leaned back, a rare grin hung at his lips.
"Perhaps. But I am Kaelor. I conquer every challenge."
As night fell, he retired to the guest room. The day had been humiliating, enlightening, and oddly… enjoyable.
For the first time in centuries, he felt something foreign stirring within him.
His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. Joan peeked in, shining her eyes with curiosity.
"Can't sleep?" he asked, sitting up.
She hesitated, then stepped inside.
"Just wanted to check on you. Today was… a lot."
He nodded, his voice was unusually gentle.
"Indeed. Humans are peculiar, but not entirely unpleasant."
She smiled faintly. "That's… almost a compliment."
Before she could say more, a sudden crash sounded from the living room. Both of them froze, meeting each other's eyes.
"Did you hear that?" She whispered.
He stood up, and his senses began sharpening.
"Stay here."
He stepped into the hallway, the shadows stretched unnaturally ahead as if something invisible lurked within them. His heart—his very human heart—pounded in his chest.
What awaited him in the dark?