He shouldn’t have asked about Carlo in the first place—he hadn’t wanted to know secrets he was better off not knowing.
“It’s nothing.”
“Why stop mid-sentence? What about Carlo?”
“I just don’t think it’s that important right now.”
Since it wasn’t something he particularly wanted to know, Mikhail gave a slight shake of his head from side to side. But Adrian didn’t let him off the hook so easily.
“Let me decide whether it’s important.”
“……”
Adrian stared quietly at Mikhail, who was trying to invoke the right to remain silent right next to him. But since they were suspended midair, Mikhail had nowhere to turn, no way to avoid that gaze.
Under the quiet yet insistent pressure of Adrian’s stare, Mikhail held out for a while, then finally exhaled softly, conceding defeat. He knew that unless one of them gave up, this standoff could go on forever. Mikhail was the first to surrender in this battle of wills.
“The fact that the prophecy from Ordinas changed… Maybe it has something to do with Carlo and whatever happened after he came to this dungeon.”
Mikhail’s quiet voice echoed through the vast cavern. Changed? Adrian tilted his head slightly.
“What exactly changed?”
The dragon’s curiosity only deepened, given how plausible the theory sounded. Facing Adrian, Mikhail spoke again.
“…That’s what I want to know. Think carefully.”
The prince didn’t know every detail about the entirety of the dragon’s long life. All he could do was speculate—it likely had something to do with Carlo, since the two must have spent time together after clearing the dungeon.
Mikhail conjured up the image of the man—his distant ancestor—in his mind. In the royal palace where Mikhail had grown up, portraits of Carlo hung in various places. When he had studied history, Carlo, the founding king of the Rustavaran Kingdom, had always seemed like a distant, almost unreal figure.
But ever since he’d been with Adrian, he’d started to grasp, if only faintly, what might have been in Carlo’s heart. He couldn’t help but love Adrian.
Carlo had caused some kind of shift in Adrian’s heart. The Gold Dragon himself, now deep in thought just beside him, might not even be aware of it.
Mikhail bit the inside of his cheek hard. Carlo was already long dead. It felt petty, childish even, to keep comparing himself to a man who was no longer alive.
“No matter how much I think about it, I’ve got nothing.”
With his index finger to his lips, the dragon muttered while intently examining the mural. It looked like he was trying to find answers hidden in that ceiling painting.
His eyes locked with one of the human figures in the painting—one who appeared to be screaming and fleeing from black monsters. The figure wore a desperate expression, as if pleading for his life from the dragon floating above him.
But the figure in the painting merely opened its mouth, offering no answers in return.
***
Just like entering the dungeon’s depths, returning to camp was easy for the dragon.
As their hovering bodies touched back down on the ground, the golden mana particles that had surrounded them scattered and dissolved into the air. Flick, flick—Mikhail and Adrian casually brushed the remaining particles off themselves as they made their way toward the cluster of tents.
“…When we get back, just say you’re Adrian Heather and play along. They’ll probably start spinning wild theories on their own anyway.”
Right before stepping into the crowd, Mikhail said this.
Adrian, who had been striding alongside him, gave him a puzzled look.
“Don’t you think people will wonder why someone who’s no help at all in war showed up at the frontlines?”
It was the sort of question only a dragon—one who cared nothing for human affairs—would ask.
Anyone who had even remotely overheard the conversations earlier that day would never dare question Adrian’s identity. And if someone did, Mikhail could easily take care of it.
He turned to Adrian with a faint smile.
“Don’t worry about that. No one’s going to ask you anything.”
“…They’re just going to accept a random stranger with no clear background? What kind of battlefield is this?”
Adrian muttered in disbelief. This wasn’t child’s play.
Mikhail shook his head confidently.
“I promise.”
His smile carried layers of implication.
***
“…You weren’t exaggerating.”
Not a single person asked Adrian who he was or what his deal was.
He silently lamented the kingdom’s pathetic standards for security. Still, it was convenient not having to bother with explanations.
After returning from viewing the dungeon’s ceiling mural, Adrian was assigned his own tent at the base camp—right next to Mikhail’s.
For someone who couldn’t even wield a sword, it was a rather well-appointed setup. Adrian expressionlessly pulled aside the flap of his tent.
Inside, a guest was already waiting, and greeted Adrian with delight.
“You’re back!”
“Yeah.”
Since Adrian neither trained in swordsmanship nor practiced magic, he often wandered aimlessly around the camp before eventually returning to his tent. And every so often, if the timing was off, he’d run into the boy who was tidying up the tent.
Adrian, used to the sight of the boy by now, gave him a simple nod and lifted one arm. The boy quickly rushed over and took the thick overcoat Adrian had been wearing.
“I’ll go hang this up.”
“Alright.”
“……”
But today felt a little different.
There were two visitors.
For a tent with barely anything in it, having two guests felt oddly excessive. Adrian glanced at the boy and then at Mikhail, who was watching them both with a sharp gaze from the other side of the tent. Mikhail, however, showed no intention of greeting him.
“…Is there anything else you need?”
With two people crammed into such a small tent, the space felt a bit noisy.
“Not really.”
Adrian gave the boy a slight nod, though his expression was lukewarm at best, then turned toward Mikhail, who still hadn’t said a word and continued to stand there stubbornly.
“Mikhail, what brings you here?”
At the same time, Adrian noticed the boy’s ears perk up slightly while folding the coat. Still got something left to do? Adrian casually looked around the tent. Judging by how neat and tidy everything was, it didn’t seem like the boy had anything left on his to-do list.
Apparently, Mikhail thought the same. He gestured with his chin toward the boy, who was now pointlessly fussing over a perfectly made bed.
“What are you doing? If you’re finished, get out.”
His tone was ice-cold, practically dripping with frost. Not the kind of tone one should use on a child. The boy immediately straightened up, clearly startled by Mikhail’s sharp words.
“Y-Yes, sir! I’ll take my leave, then. If you need anything else, please just call me!”
He hurriedly gathered his things and, after blurting out his goodbye in a rush, darted out of the tent.
Mikhail’s crimson eyes remained fixed on the boy’s retreating back until it disappeared from view. Only then did he turn to Adrian, who was now seated at the table.
As always, even this shabby little tent felt like a theater stage when Adrian was in it.
“Isn’t it annoying?”
Mikhail’s voice was impossibly gentle—so much so that it was hard to believe he was the same person who had barked at the boy moments ago. With a sigh-laced murmur, he added,
“That kid seems pretty attached to you.”
“Kane?”
Is that true? Adrian furrowed his brow, trying to recall the things Kane had done for him.
The boy he had run into in Mikhail’s tent had introduced himself as Kane. Mikhail raised one eyebrow slightly when Adrian spoke the name aloud. He hadn’t expected Adrian to know it.
“…If there’s anything you don’t like about him, let me know. I can assign you a properly trained attendant from the capital.”
“Hmm.”
Adrian didn’t have particularly strong feelings either way.
Kane had volunteered to serve him, saying he wanted to repay the favor of having his life saved. Since Adrian had to stay by Mikhail’s side in the guise of a human anyway, having an extra pair of hands around was convenient. So he had agreed.
Ever since then, Kane would always appear out of nowhere when Adrian returned to his tent, helping him take off his coat or tidying up the space without ever being asked. He even had the awareness to gather and organize the books Adrian left scattered around. All things considered, Kane was a pretty decent attendant.
“He does his job well enough. Not as polished as one from the capital, probably, but he’s convenient.”
“Is that so?”
“Why are you asking me about this, anyway?”
Adrian tilted his head, only now catching on to how oddly persistent Mikhail was being. His motives were suspicious.
Mikhail must’ve sensed the doubt, because his gaze shifted evasively elsewhere.
“Kane used to be your attendant, didn’t he?”
The fact that Adrian had met him for the first time in Mikhail’s tent said it all.
Mikhail responded to Adrian’s question with a nonchalant tone.
“You think I’ve got the time to remember every attendant’s name?”
“……”
The dragon, who had been so idle lately that he had remembered the name of an attendant, pursed his lips in a small pout.
