“Tada, didn’t keep you waiting too long, did I? I told you I’d come.”
At the sudden, low voice from across the carriage, Mikhail lifted his head. Around the dragon’s playfully smiling face, golden particles of mana shimmered and danced. It was as if mana was spilling directly from Luce Fennigan’s eyes.
Mikhail’s gaze, which had been fixed on his book, now locked onto the dragon. For an ordinary human—no, even for royalty—it was a rare sight to witness in a lifetime. Luce grinned as he met Mikhail’s dazed stare. He figured he deserved at least some praise for patiently waiting without being summoned again.
And then—Just as their eyes locked, one of Luce’s eyebrows arched ever so slightly.
“Hmm.”
A fleeting murmur slipped from between the dragon’s perfectly shaped lips. His golden eyes were fixed on the passing scenery outside the carriage window, where the landscape blurred by at high speed.
“But… have I been gone too long?”
Still gazing out the window, Luce raised a hand and gently massaged his temple with his fingers.
“……?”
What does he mean? A puzzled look crossed Mikhail’s face. His finely textured silver hair swayed faintly with the motion.
“Do you know how many men are guarding this carriage right now?”
The man who asked the question looked exactly like Adrian Heather from the Academy—except for one crucial difference: his golden eyes glowed with an unnatural brilliance. He was smiling, but only his lips were curved, a cold and unsettling grin.
“I believe… four.”
Despite the dragon’s intimidating presence, Mikhail answered slowly and without a hint of intimidation. He had brought four guards in total. They were likely riding a bit ahead and behind the carriage at regular intervals.
“Really?”
Upon hearing the answer, the dragon rested one arm casually on the windowsill and looked outside with a nonchalant expression.
“Then we might have a bit of a problem.”
Mikhail couldn’t help but question that remark.
“What do you mean by that…?”
“Curious?”
The dragon tilted his face sideways, resting it on his propped-up arm by the window.
“If that’s your wish, I’ll answer.”
“…Don’t bother.”
Mikhail turned his head sharply at Luce’s anticlimactic reply.
“Aha, so you’re not that curious.”
Haha, the dragon let out a soft chuckle, golden eyes glinting with mischief.
Though bound by a contract with a human, a dragon still had a duty to uphold the promise. But—What if the prince who made the wish were to die? Then, by necessity, the contract couldn’t be fulfilled, could it?
In that instant, the dragon’s golden eyes gleamed with a sharp flash.
Ssssshhhk—! Something sharp sliced through the wind, headed straight for the carriage. Without moving his body, Luce merely tilted his head slightly to the side.
Thwack!
An arrow pierced through the window where the dragon had been resting. At the same time, Mikhail lunged forward. With a powerful grip, he pulled the dragon down to the floor of the carriage. Honestly, this guy seemed to forget far too often just what kind of magnificent being he was traveling with. Luce gave Mikhail an irritated look, but still allowed himself to be dragged down to the floor.
He flicked his eyes up to confirm: the arrow was embedded halfway into the carriage wall. An assassination attempt? But there were no clear signs this was a royal carriage. It could’ve just been local bandits in the area.
“Are you alright?!”
Mikhail’s voice was urgent with concern. Oh, I’m perfectly fine, thought the dragon, staring back into the prince’s worried eyes. For a brief moment, Mikhail had clearly mistaken him for Adrian.
Calmly, Luce began speaking. He had known it from the moment he arrived inside the carriage via teleportation spell.
“Right now, this carriage is completely surrounded by a force much larger than your four-man escort.”
The prince didn’t even flinch at the dragon’s words. Whether it was because he trusted his guards or simply hadn’t yet grown out of that royal arrogance—either was likely. Or perhaps he was doubting the truth of what had just been said. Luce couldn’t have cared less which of the three it was.
“If you want to change your wish right now, I could grant it in the blink of an eye. What do you say?”
Mikhail shot him a look that clearly said, ‘Not this again.’
“No, thank you.”
After making sure the dragon was unharmed with his own two eyes, Mikhail slowly pushed himself upright. The two horses leading the carriage thrashed violently.
In sync with them, the carriage rocked wildly from side to side. At this rate, he’d end up smacking his skull on the ceiling before any bandit could get a sword into him.
Tch— Just as he stumbled trying to rise in the swaying carriage, the dragon’s hand snapped out, grabbing Mikhail’s arm and pulling him firmly upright. Those long, pale fingers held a strength far beyond what their elegant appearance suggested.
“And what exactly are you planning to do out there?”
Luce didn’t ask out of concern for the prince’s life—he was genuinely curious. If you bring knights as escorts, then you ought to use them as such.
“I won’t die out there, so don’t trouble yourself.”
Mikhail snapped irritably as he yanked his arm free from the dragon’s grasp. It’s not like you care whether I die, right? Hell, if he did die, that would probably mean the dragon wouldn’t have to grant the wish anymore. That’d be a win for him.
But Luce already knew—Mikhail wasn’t the kind of fragile human who would die from a petty little ambush like this. The two stared at each other in silence for a moment.
—We’ve found the archer!
—Over there!
Shouts rang out from outside, followed by the clash of steel. It seemed the knights had already made contact with the enemy. This wasn’t just a long-range threat anymore—this was a full-blown attack. Either someone had cut the reins connecting the horses to the carriage for safety, or they’d simply snapped in the chaos. Regardless, the carriage had finally stopped its violent rocking.
Sching—meeting the dragon’s calm gaze, Mikhail unsheathed his sword.
“I’ll be stepping out for a bit.”
“Suit yourself.”
The prince addressed the dragon. Luce replied with his usual disinterested tone.
“Still, if you change your mind, just say the word. I’m pretty lenient when it comes to wish-related whims.”
At that, Mikhail, sword in hand, turned and slammed his foot into the carriage door.
BANG!
A loud crash echoed as the door flew open. It was less an exit and more an act of taking his frustration out on something. But the dragon, unbothered by such trivial emotions, called out to the prince’s retreating back without giving up.
“…Even if you whisper it, I’ll hear you—so don’t worry!”
From behind, Luce caught the unmistakable sound of royal lips spitting curses. One of his eyebrows lifted in amusement.
Didn’t I just say I could hear even the smallest murmur?
Ah well. He settled back comfortably into the plush sofa of the carriage. The arrow embedded in the wall beside him radiated menace, but resting against it was a being so far beyond human that it now looked more like an artistic prop highlighting his beauty.
***
Luce had remained seated comfortably until the carriage door opened again. The one who stepped in was Mikhail.
“So? Did you manage to capture all five of them?”
Mikhail turned his gaze toward the dragon, who spoke as if he had been watching the events unfold from inside the carriage. His eyes landed on the arrow still stuck in the wall. Luce, meanwhile, sat with one leg elegantly crossed, utterly unbothered.
“…Let’s just say I did.”
After a short pause, Mikhail answered casually, as if it had all been no big deal, and turned back toward the door. He gestured for one of the knights to approach and pointed at the arrow inside the carriage.
“Take that with you as well.”
“Yes, sir.”
The knight, who had to crouch and squeeze himself into the small space, gave a polite, “Pardon me,” before pulling out a short dagger. He swiftly sliced off the arrow’s shaft, and the head dropped cleanly into his large, outstretched palm. The metal tip gleamed sharply—definitely not the kind of arrow peasants would use for hunting. This was something high-grade.
“Mikhail.”
Hm? At the sudden call of his name, Mikhail turned to Luce. The dragon tapped his cheek lightly with a finger. When the prince tilted his head in confusion, Luce slowly extended a hand.
Mikhail watched the approaching hand warily, but didn’t move away. He trusted that the dragon wouldn’t harm him. Luce gave him a faint smile and gently ran a finger across the prince’s pale cheek. Then, he extended his finger toward Mikhail, revealing a smear of red.
Blood stained the dragon’s index finger.
Mikhail wiped the spot where the finger had passed with his own palm. The dragon’s touch was cold—perhaps unsurprisingly.
