I sailed to the old man.
Downstairs. Under my roof. With his tea, his books, documents, maps, and studies. Stroking his gray chin, the old hermit cocked his head to the side. He mumbled questions. Those questions weren't addressed to me. Yes, he was so plunged under the piles of documents and papers around, spread onto the pitch-black ebony table in the open living room, that he didn't notice me.
There he was. The old man had his own bunker to use, but he always said he preferred to work outside in the open. He was glad enough to say the two kids under him were rather calm, mature littluns. There was no disturbance to hinder him as he worked. His endless research on whatever topics he pursued could go on seamlessly, wherever he studied.
That way, the old uncle could be part of the daily life of everyone at home, tranquil with the fact that, if he was always so busy with work, he at least was a present parent to the littluns.
He was this kind of old man: To wake him up from his piles of books and research, I had to repeat it thrice. "I've come to you, old advisor." Finally, he noticed his most beloved grandchild, standing right next to him, and briefly turned the senile-old-man mode on.
"Ho ho! My grandchild! How pleasant it is to see you! Ho ho ho! Come, come! Do sit with your old uncle! Here. Oh, but let me arrange that chair for you: The closer it is to mine the better! My son. I thought you would never come back to your old partner and had abandoned me!"
If not rambling, he spoke. The old man spoke loudly in his excitement, yet, he often said how despicable unnecessarily loud voices were. Senile was the perfect word to describe that side of his personality. Giving me a grin, I grinned back at him, and sat together with him.
"Tea? Why, of course, tea!"
A cup of tea was served to me whether I wanted it or not.
"Thanks, old man."
We exchanged a few words of small talk. It was great to hear my old uncle was doing quite all right and that his projects were advancing quite well. To reciprocate, the old man was glad to hear I was doing quite all right myself, and that I hadn't abandoned him for another better-qualified old advisor. "No way. I couldn't find your better no matter how long I looked. Plus, we're partners, remember?"
By now, I was quite good at it. I was quite good at "being a friend." All you had to do was act as if you were concerned about the other person's feelings. Easy-peasy.
My old man teared up, sniffled, and gave me, his beloved grandchild, a tight hug.
"Partners, right! That, we are!" The old man thrust and clenched his fist up, wearing a serious expression. "This old man would do well to remember. Partners. You do call me your advisor, do you not? Partners it is, then." The old man paused for a long time, sipped on his tea, and seized my eyes. "But alas! I only realize it as you, my grandchild, say this, but… But… These days, this old man is only rarely sought for help." That was a problem, according to the old man. He was my advisor, but I barely confided in any matter with which I required guidance from him anymore. Ever since Lady Elina offered us shelter in her father's capital, I barely required help from the old man.
That was true, but I reassured the old uncle by explaining to him how similar the engagement I had with Elina was to his example. If I didn't require his help and advice today, I certainly would tomorrow.
"How good it is to hear you say that, son."
"...But that isn't important anyway, old man."
"Importance, oooh… Hmm… what is 'importance'?" Before he could go on with a long speech about what Importance was and how it related to good work ethics, I shut him up.
My report was what was important. Only that. The detailed report on how my uniqueness as an irregular monster-type, the only member of my own unnatural species, was what was important.
After I explained as much to the old man, from his shelves, he produced lots of notes and sheets which he placed right in front of him on the table. The words with which the old advisor introduced me to all those papers were "My notes. You recall this old man needs to keep track of even the most mundane detail you deliver to me, do you not? There they are, my notes. Well, I am pleased that you have come to me. What about your report, son?"
I waited for him and his old bones to be properly seated on his chair. Once he was all set, I quickly dived into it. My report. What could this be about? Well, lots of things. Or rather, lots of details. Both mundane and important. Probably. I didn't really know. All I knew was that I had figured out a lot about "that unique monster-type," unearthing such and such discoveries about me or the System. Also, I knew I had an old man intent on knowing all there was to know about how my species functioned, all for the sake of… further development… or something.
At any rate, the old man knew that he had to be of use somehow. Otherwise, he wasn't part of the team. With that in mind, I believed he had his own homework to work on and shared my report.
A report it was, then. To start up with the mundane things, the old man was right. "Old man, as you theorized, I'm not either of these two types: Elemental-type monster or Physical-type." Elemental-types were more commonly known as Fairies. There was a country around the world populated by Fairyfolks. Fairyfolks were a rare people related to the Elves. Still, more often than not, when talking about Elemental-type, you meant to talk about actual fairies. Those weren't people. They were elementals either wild or tamed, used by people as weapons of magic, like pets of sorts.
Non-elemental-types were the physical-types. Basically people, demi-humans, or monsters. Organic. Made of flesh and bones. Animals that aren't made of anything but mana. Non-elemental.
The old man briefly taught me about this when he asked me to verify the idea.
"I'm neither of these types, as you said should be expected from a unique monster-type, and that's one thing to know." The old man was studious. Promptly, he jotted things down on his notebooks. I further explained that mana was everything I needed. That was in order to stay alive. Unlike mankind, I didn't need food, for instance.