As the carriage passed through the gate at the entrance of the forest leading into Basamiel Academy, smooth cobblestone paved the way. Beyond that border, it was already considered city territory, but since dragons had little interest in human cities, Adrian shifted his posture from gazing out the window to sitting upright. And just like that, he found himself locking eyes with Mikhail’s crimson gaze.
“Come to think of it, I thought the Hedera Trading Company’s branch office was in the capital… So which city does your family live in now?”
The rhythmic sound of hooves filled the silence between them. The prince tilted his head slightly into that quiet.
Adrian recalled the family information form he had filled out to enter Basamiel and quickly replied. Hmm, what kind of expression do humans usually make when saying something like this?
“…Both my parents have passed away.”
The dragon lightly scratched his temple with an index finger and smiled faintly. Across from him, Mikhail visibly stiffened at the answer. The prince likely hadn’t expected that kind of response at all. Adrian looked straight at Mikhail and continued.
“My relatives do live in the capital, but managing the trading company isn’t really my thing, so I live alone in Isis.”
Whenever the dragon entered a game of amusement, there was always one rule he set first.
Make sure he had no family—none at all.
And the more superficial the relationships, the better. It was far easier to sever human connections from the outset.
During his first game, he hadn’t been thorough about setting these boundaries, and whenever he tried to do something, humans would hit him with things like, “Didn’t you say your family lives around here?” or “Didn’t you say you’ve been to this place before?”—always with those suspicious, prying eyes.
That failure stung so badly that ever since, he stuck to a backstory where no one from his family remained. However… in order to enter Basamiel Academy, a family name was required. Fortunately, he’d come across a human—recently deceased, at just the right time—who was a distant relative of the Hedera line. The dragon had simply assumed his name.
“…What?”
Mikhail’s red eyes trembled ever so slightly. Ha. Adrian gave an awkward chuckle and tucked a strand of blond hair behind his ear.
Raised like royalty within the palace, of course the prince wouldn’t have expected this kind of answer. But the world was overflowing with people from tragic, unexpected backgrounds. Mikhail still had a lot to learn.
“Well, this just got awkward, didn’t it?”
Adrian sneered inwardly at the prince, though his outward expression was one of faint melancholy.
“But what made you ask that all of a sudden?”
“…”
The prince had just been making small talk to pass the time and hadn’t expected such a blunt, heavy response. Flustered, he went silent for a moment. Adrian turned back to look out the window again.
The reason being without family was such a crucial condition for his games was simple—once the topic was brought up once, no one ever mentioned it again.
From that point on, Mikhail fell quiet, as if pondering something deeply. Adrian ignored the silence, feigning interest in the cityscape he couldn’t care less about.
And then it happened.
The coachman gave a brief command and pulled the reins, bringing the horses to a stop. The carriage slowed so smoothly—likely due to the royal family’s well-trained horses—that it was hard to tell it had stopped at all, finally halting in front of a shop.
Through the window, Adrian saw an elegant sign bearing a tailor’s name, suggesting this was a boutique run by a master craftsman specializing in fine suits.
Knock knock knock.
The coachman signaled from the front, notifying the passengers of their arrival. Mikhail folded the corner of the page he’d been reading and set the book down on the table with a quiet thump. Then he motioned to Adrian with a nod—his way of telling him to get off first. Adrian promptly exited the carriage and stretched his stiff limbs after the long ride.
Tap. As Mikhail stepped down, the coachman closed the door and addressed the prince.
“Shall I accompany you inside?”
“As if my permission ever mattered.”
The prince adjusted his slightly wrinkled attire from the ride and shot the coachman a sidelong glare. But the man didn’t drop his ever-pleasant smile as he bent into a deep bow.
“Of course not, Your Highness. Perish the thought. I would never.”
Mikhail turned his head sharply, as if amused by the coachman’s joke, and left him behind to approach Adrian.
“Good day, sirs. Lovely weather we’re having.”
A man in a sharp suit greeted the two young men. Judging by his attire and the work sleeves he wore over his arms, he was likely the tailor who would be crafting Adrian’s outfit today.
Several shop attendants had already stepped outside, standing politely with hands clasped as they awaited Mikhail and Adrian. Mikhail turned to the middle-aged man who had just greeted them and spoke.
“I sent in a rough request yesterday, so everything should be ready, right?”
“Of course. Shall we sit and talk comfortably?”
With a smile that gently wrinkled the corners of his eyes, the man stretched out both arms and led them into the shop. As the door opened, a clear chime rang—chalang.
The entire building was dedicated to the high-end tailor shop. The first floor was a reception space filled with mannequins showcasing various suit styles, while the second and third floors appeared to be used as workrooms. From a record player nestled against one wall, elegant classical music played softly.
As though he’d been here many times before, Mikhail walked with confidence and seated himself at the head of the reception table with a thunk, perfectly at ease. As if they’d anticipated that very seat for him, several fabric sample books, buttons, cufflinks, and other accessories necessary for tailoring were already neatly arranged there. There were so many varieties that even though they were organized, the table was nearly overflowing.
As Adrian sat next to him, a nearby staff member deftly poured hot tea into their cups without so much as a clink of porcelain. The strong aroma of tea rose from the cup as Adrian lifted it to his lips, and the mature tailor gestured stylishly, sliding a few fabric swatches toward him. Conscious of the coachman standing upright behind the sofa, the dragon thought to himself, Overprotective. Way too overprotective, as he slurped the tea—hff-.
“Allow me to recommend some fabrics that would suit you well. Could you lift your sleeve briefly? You can see how each color looks against your skin.”
Starting with the fabrics, Adrian went on to select every component necessary for the tailored outfit. The middle-aged tailor presented only top-quality materials, and Adrian, sitting back comfortably on the sofa, gave crisp responses like, “This one,” or “No, this doesn’t suit me.”
Pleased by such a decisive client with clear preferences, the tailor even brought out buttons and ties from drawers he didn’t usually open. He nodded with satisfaction multiple times, as if he could already envision the finished garment before him.
Though he had operated this tailor shop for decades, never had he encountered clients as flawless as these. Of course, he also harbored a quiet desire to make a suit for the prince—who was simply sipping tea and watching from his seat—but even tailoring for the blond young man alone felt like a great personal achievement.
He signaled the assistants, who had been standing dazedly nearby, to take the blond client’s measurements with precision, not allowing a single millimeter of error.
“How long will it take?”
It was the first thing Mikhail had said since entering the shop, placing his teacup down with a click after Adrian and the tailor had made numerous decisions. The tailor, who had been double-checking the measurements taken by his assistants, raised his head and briskly walked over to the table at the prince’s question.
“If we finish the measurements today, I can have it sent to Basamiel by tomorrow morning.”
His answer was confident, as if he knew even the slightest delay might make the prince reconsider his purchase. Mikhail gave a slight nod, satisfied—that meant they needed to finish the measurements quickly. After reviewing what had been taken so far, the tailor coiled the measuring tape in one hand and declared,
“Yes, we now have all the measurements for both His Highness and Lord Heather’s outfits. You’ll need a fitting, and if there are any issues, we’ll make the necessary adjustments. I’ll send someone over tomorrow morning.”
Adrian nodded, running a hand through his slightly tousled hair to smooth it out. To finish a suit in a single day—either they were using magic, or human tailoring skills had progressed immensely while dragons were asleep.
“You don’t need anything?”
At Adrian’s question, Mikhail curled his lips and replied, “Of course not,” as he stood.
The moment the prince rose, the coachman—who had been waiting behind the sofa—stepped forward and held out his coat draped over one arm. Mikhail accepted the assistance naturally, slipping on the coat. It was a comfort he’d almost forgotten while managing things himself at the Academy.
On the table where they had been seated lay a silver tray. Most high-end shops like this operated under the custom where clients simply left their payment there on the way out. And the more luxurious the shop, the more customary it was to leave a little more than the quoted price—it was considered good form.
Just as Mikhail reached out to the coachman for his wallet to handle the payment, his hand froze mid-air.
He had an idea.
After a brief pause, the prince turned to one of the staff standing nearby and called them over.
“Would it be alright to charge the cost to the capital?”
A custom-tailored suit from a luxury shop like this would easily equal five months of an average commoner’s living expenses. But there was someone in the capital who would quite happily foot the bill for such an extravagant outfit. The staff member respectfully responded, “Of course, sir.”
“Good. Since I’m fulfilling my royal duties, I should receive the proper support.”
With a sly smile, the prince jotted down a familiar address, the corners of his crimson eyes narrowing with satisfaction.
What is he even talking about? Adrian shrugged, not bothering to try and make sense of Mikhail’s words.
I wonder if Adrian had done this tailoring stuff in any of his previous games before, tho I only remember him as mercenary, swordsman, and mage.
Also thank you for the translation