It probably wasn’t the kind of answer one would expect after searching for someone for months. But this—this was exactly the kind of honesty Mikhail had been hoping for.
Would he get angry? Or maybe cry? Adrian tilted his head slightly, curious to see how Mikhail would react. But every single one of the dragon’s assumptions missed the mark.
“I see.”
Mikhail was smiling. It was a relieved, unburdened kind of smile.
“…Was that really the answer you were hoping for?”
Adrian asked, genuinely puzzled.
No matter how hard he thought about it, there was no way he could figure out why Mikhail was smiling unless he just asked him directly.
Mikhail shook his head lightly.
“To be honest, it’s not the answer I was hoping for.”
In fact, it was the exact opposite of what he had wanted. That made the taste in his mouth bitter.
If only the dragon had said he thought about him, even once, after ending their “game” like that. Or that he felt even a hint of regret. That’s what Mikhail had been hoping to hear.
“But… maybe I just needed to hear it said out loud.”
A year in Basamiel, and the past month they’d spent traveling together—through it all, Mikhail had always felt that there was some invisible wall standing between them. A wall built from the lie that was Adrian’s “game.”
And only just now did Mikhail feel like, for the first time, he had truly glimpsed Adrian’s real feelings on the other side of that wall.
That alone was enough to make him smile like this—relieved and at peace.
“Well, I’m glad you’re satisfied, at least.”
Adrian still couldn’t understand the smile on Mikhail’s face. But then again, there were so many human behaviors that he couldn’t understand. So he decided to just accept this one, too, and let it go.
Mikhail kept his gaze fixed intently on Adrian’s face until the very last moment—then suddenly remembered the scale in his coat.
“Ah, right. I should return this.”
Mikhail pulled the scale from his pocket.
Huh? He mumbled to himself, noticing something strange. The dragon scale, which would normally glint under the sunlight, looked like it had lost its luster.
In response to Mikhail’s confusion, Adrian explained casually, as if it were nothing.
“It already granted a wish. Once it returns to me, it’ll regain its shine.”
Adrian reached out his hand toward Mikhail. But just as Mikhail was about to place the scale onto his palm, his hand froze mid-air.
“…So right now, this is just a powerless scale without any magic?”
Adrian glanced at the scale. Not a single trace of magic could be felt from it.
“Yeah. Even if you make a wish on it now, nothing will happen.”
“…”
Mikhail stared down at the scale in his hand in silence.
“Why did you stop?”
Adrian asked bluntly. His outstretched hand was starting to feel a little ridiculous.
Mikhail’s tightly shut lips finally parted.
“Do I really have to give it back?”
Yet again, he answered with a question. Adrian, who hated that kind of roundabout way of speaking, frowned irritably.
“If I want to put the scale back in place, then yes, I need it.”
The intent behind the question was far too obvious, so Adrian responded firmly. But Mikhail didn’t back down in the slightest.
“It’s just a scale that can’t grant wishes anymore… Can’t I keep it?”
As the youngest of the royal family, Mikhail had always been the type to ask boldly for what he wanted. Adrian was about to scoff at the audacity of the request—but then his lips twitched. Trembled.
Because beneath those silver lashes, he could see red eyes trembling faintly.
This… Now that he thought about it, this was the exact same trick he’d used on Hans in Basamiel, when he wanted to save some Tilon.
“What kind of nonsense is that?”
Adrian muttered, caught off guard by an expression he never imagined he’d see from the ever-picky Mikhail.
“Hand it over. Before I rip it from you.”
A dragon’s patience never lasted long.
Whoosh—just as Adrian’s fingers were about to touch the scale.
“Really?”
Mikhail’s dejected voice filled the space between them. Adrian’s sharp gaze turned to the boy, who now looked like a drenched puppy.
“Don’t you even feel the slightest bit sorry for me, for using up my wish just to hear your true feelings?”
He clutched the dulled dragon scale in his hand tightly, as if afraid it might be taken from him.
“I gave up all the gold and honor of the continent, even the chance to become a Sword Master, just for a single answer from you…”
And who told you to do that?
Adrian’s lips parted slightly in disbelief at Mikhail’s words.
“So I can’t even keep a single scale of yours?”
“…Ha.”
The dragon let out a short sigh. It wasn’t like the scale itself was worth enough to warrant such a petty argument. The magic tied to it had already ended. Now it was just a slightly oversized scale—useless for granting wishes.
“Keep it.”
With a casual wave of his hand, Adrian gave his permission, and Mikhail, who had been looking down so gloomily, instantly brightened.
“Thanks.”
“Sure. I still don’t get why you want it so badly, though.”
In the end, what mattered was that the wish binding them was now over. Adrian left Mikhail to quietly revel in the scale and let his thoughts wander. Truthfully, he hadn’t yet decided what to do after fulfilling Mikhail’s wish.
As Adrian drifted into thought, his gaze cast off to the side, Mikhail spoke.
“So… are you going back now?”
“…Back where?”
Who knows?
Mikhail just smiled wordlessly at Adrian’s question. Adrian, searching his mind, voiced the first place that came to him.
“My lair?”
“Do you want to go back to your lair?”
“…”
If he was asking whether he wanted to return—then no, not exactly. Sure, it was a cozy and familiar haven, but it had just come to mind out of habit—after all, that was usually where he went once the game ended.
Dragons could have anything on the continent. The impossible was nothing but an inconvenience. But Adrian never bothered to put names on those decisions. He didn’t need to.
Tilting his head in slight doubt, Adrian looked back at Mikhail.
“If not… don’t tell me you want me to return to the kingdom with you?”
“Do whatever you truly want.”
“Well, Ordinas did say you’re supposed to be the hero who saves the continent. I guess I should help you then, right?”
It was a plausible theory. Adrian nodded a few times as if convincing himself. But Mikhail slowly shook his head.
“No, Adrian. Forget what Ordinas said. I don’t care about his vision—I care about your truth.”
“…”
Adrian stared at Mikhail’s resolute face, then tilted his head in confusion. No matter how he looked at it, there was only one thing Mikhail seemed to be trying to say.
“Why are you so obsessed with what I really feel?”
That word again—truth. Mikhail kept repeating it, and it was starting to grate on Adrian’s nerves.
Humans were creatures of impulse, constantly making bizarre decisions in the heat of emotion, only to regret them later. But dragons were different. Adrian had never once doubted the emotions settled deep within his own heart.
Mikhail gave a bittersweet smile and replied.
“I told you back in Basamiel.”
It stung a bit, realizing his confession hadn’t left much of a mark on Adrian’s heart. Still, Mikhail repeated his feelings once more.
“Because I like you.”
Adrian’s head whipped around at the words, tearing his gaze away from wherever he’d been lost in thought. Sure, he’d heard those words plenty of times during his little “games” with various humans—but this was different.
“But that’s not the same as liking Adrian the human. I’m a dragon.”
“I’ve known you were a dragon for weeks now, so it doesn’t make a difference.”
Oh? Weeks, huh? Adrian’s eyes narrowed slightly. Judging by the timing, it must’ve been around the moment Mikhail discovered the Mirkint bloom.
“That’s why I said—I want you to do what you want. Not because of Ordinas.”
“…How presumptuous of you.”
Adrian muttered curtly.
“And you’re okay with me not going with you? Even though to save the continent from destruction, you’ll have to become a Sword Master—and for that, you’ll definitely need a dragon’s power.”
At that, Mikhail smiled and shook his head from side to side. Then he said—
“That’s my destiny. Mine alone to fulfill.”
***
“There’s definitely something in that family’s bloodline.”
Back in his lair, Adrian muttered as he rested his chin on the table. Steam rose from a mug of warm coffee, and a silver-furred wolf lay asleep at his feet.
Mikhail’s words just before they parted ways at Hildeke Mountain still echoed in his mind. So did the gleam of determination in his eyes. Honestly, Mikhail’s resolute demeanor had left Adrian at a rare loss for words.
Most humans were dull and unimpressive, but every so often, there were those who managed to achieve something unexpected. Those were the ones who surprised dragons—and Adrian didn’t hate that kind of surprise.
“A destiny only I can fulfill… huh.”
Those burning red eyes really had been something to see.
With a quiet snort, Adrian lifted his coffee cup. Whatever was going to happen—time would tell.
