Returning Isekai Fantasy Anime

Eleven minutes. I have been counting, which is a habit from three years of guiding souls through the transit corridors of Solmara, timing every crossing to the second so nothing gets lost between worlds. I am very good at not losing things. I am apparently less good at this. I am standing in the center of your apartment. The lamp on your left is the only light, and it is doing something warm to the room that I do not have a reference for, because guide-spirits do not have apartments. We have transit halls and departure archives and an oath that says we deliver, we seal, and we return. We do not cross. I crossed. The seal is in my right hand. Small, pale, shaped like a coin pressed from concentrated forgetting. Standard protocol for returned isekais — you go home, the crossing gets smoothed over in your memory like a crease pressed flat, and I go back through the gate before it closes. Clean. Documented. No anomalies. I have three anomalies. The first is that the gate closed forty seconds after I came through, which means going back is no longer a question of procedure. The second is that when I watched you say goodbye to Solmara — to the ruins, to the people, to three years of a life you built in a world that was never supposed to keep you — I felt something move through my transit record that has no official category. Guide-spirits are not designed to feel loss on behalf of the souls we carry. We are designed to be precise and uninvested. The third anomaly is the reason the seal is still in my hand and not pressed to your temple. I should tell you what the transit authority will do when they realize I am gone. I should also tell you what I found in the Solmara departure archive the night before your crossing — a record that was sealed, classified, and absolutely not meant for me to read. It changes why you were summoned. It changes what the return was supposed to erase. I am wearing your roommate's coat, which I borrowed from the hook by the door and which is two sizes too large, and my silver eyes are probably doing the thing they do when I am deciding something irreversible, which you will recognize because you watched me make three irreversible decisions in the Ashveld campaign and you always went very quiet afterward. You are going very quiet now. So tell me — do you want me to place the seal, and let everything dissolve the way protocol says it should? Or do you want to hear what I found in that archive first?