Mikhail sat on the bed, silently gazing at Adrian. It still felt like a dream, having Adrian inside his own tent.
“We’ve done this before at Basamiel, remember?”
Adrian casually pointed at the bed again with his index finger as he replied.
After checking Mikhail’s condition for himself, it became clear that the suspicion he’d had upon hearing Kyle’s words had been spot on. The mana Mikhail was born with and the dragon’s mana inside him weren’t properly blending together.
“That incense may have been enough when you were younger, but now that your internal mana has matured, it’ll get harder and harder to control it.”
“…So?”
“What do you mean, ‘so’? I’m going to help you. Now lie down.”
Adrian intended to finish his task quickly and return to his lair. There was no need for Mikhail to be in a rush. Ordinas had already decided his fate. Mikhail was destined to become a Hero, and as such, would naturally become a Swordmaster in due time—even if he didn’t push himself.
“…”
He’s helping me? Mikhail echoed Adrian’s words under his breath, as though repeating them to himself. After a moment of quiet, his eyes lowered, Mikhail suddenly asked,
“Do you know how many years it’s been since we last saw each other?”
Even in the dark, his crimson eyes seemed to blaze, not with the raw energy of their Basamiel days, but like the honed edge of a finely tempered blade.
“…How long has it been?” Adrian tilted his head and asked back. He could tell some time had passed, but as a dragon, he wasn’t exactly sure how much.
“Three years.”
And so what?
How many years had passed wasn’t all that important. There wasn’t much to add to that. Only silence lingered in the tent cloaked in darkness.
Adrian stared at Mikhail intently before blinking slowly, once, then again, and a few more times.
“…Are you upset?”
His clenched jaw screamed irritation. His eyes, long and narrow like a cat’s, were coldly slanted. But still, Mikhail remained the same.
“My mood, huh?”
Only then did Mikhail seem to realize his own feelings.
“The person who shows up after years apart has zero interest in me, and is only obsessed with turning me into a Swordmaster to fulfill this Hero prophecy…”
Tch. Mikhail let out a short, derisive scoff.
“Yeah, I guess I’m not in a great mood.”
“…”
So fussy.
Adrian stared at Mikhail, expressionless. From his perspective, it felt a little unfair. He didn’t mean any harm. Not a bit.
“You complain when I offer to make you a Swordmaster. You complain when I offer to help fix your wrecked mana circulation. Is that really something to get mad about?”
“Why did you come here?”
Mikhail cut him off abruptly. Despite being the one to say it, he suddenly seemed curious about Adrian’s expression, lifting his head sharply. But the tent was still dark, and he couldn’t see Adrian’s face clearly.
With a short sigh, Mikhail got up from the bed. There was a candlestick on the nightstand.
Fshhh— A spark flared from his fingertip, lighting the candle. The small flame cast a warm glow, illuminating the tent in golden light.
Adrian’s face became clearly visible—sharp, elegant nose and jawline, golden eyes brighter than the flame itself, and perfectly styled waves of blonde hair. Still unreadable. Still Adrian.
“Kyle told me.”
At the sudden mention of Kyle, Mikhail’s eyes turned sharp.
“Kyle? Kyle D’Baicia?”
Adrian, unbothered, was about to explain. It had been years, after all—of course Mikhail might have forgotten him.
“The sunbae who was with us back in Basamiel. The one researching Ordinas.”
“I know who he is. What about Kyle?”
His voice was icy. Mikhail was clearly still angry. Whether Adrian noticed or not, he spoke without holding anything back.
“He got hurt, so I brought him back to the lair to treat him. That’s when I heard things—about the state of the continent and… other stuff.”
“What? You took him to your lair?”
“I couldn’t just leave him bleeding out on the street.”
“…”
Fair point, but still.
Mikhail bit down hard on his lower lip in frustration. Adrian had taken Kyle to a place Mikhail himself had never even been allowed to set foot in—his lair. It felt like losing a battle that hadn’t even started.
Three years ago, when they parted ways, Mikhail had made himself a promise: he’d become a Swordmaster as soon as possible and stand tall before Adrian again. He was going to crush Adrian’s arrogant claim that he’d never reach the Swordmaster level on his own—and then make a grand confession.
But now, he couldn’t help but regret that choice just a little. Because if he kept dragging his feet, someone else might slip into Adrian’s heart before he ever had the chance. Mikhail stared at the floor for a moment, then murmured softly,
“…You always seemed to follow Kyle around back in Basamiel. Is that your type or something?”
“What ‘type’?”
Adrian let out a small laugh and answered dryly.
He’d never really developed preferences when it came to humans. Liked or disliked—it all felt the same to him.
“You know what kind of ‘type’ I’m talking about.”
“Then you should also know by now—I’d never go for a guy like that.”
Mikhail froze, teeth still pressed against his lip. His bad mood melted away with that single reply. Yeah… of course not.
Adrian watched the shift in Mikhail’s expression in silence, then gave a casual shrug before continuing.
“Anyway, Kyle told me about you. Just a brief update, but from what he said, it was obvious you were dealing with mana control issues. So I figured I’d drop by.”
“Because you were worried?”
“…What?”
“Did you come because you were worried about me?”
Mikhail’s clear voice rang through Adrian’s head like a bell.
“…”
Adrian didn’t say anything for a long while. The silence between them was finally broken by his short, derisive scoff.
“…Worried? Me, worried about you?”
It was such a ridiculous question. Him, worried about Mikhail? Absolutely not—or at least that’s what Adrian intended to say, as he began lifting his head.
“…”
Mikhail was smiling. Wide and bright, staring right at him. When was the last time he smiled like that?
It wasn’t the same bittersweet grin he’d worn while making wishes. This one… was different. It was like he was the happiest person in the world. Over something so small—this was enough to make him smile like that?
Adrian’s slightly parted lips slowly closed again. Whatever the real reason was for his visit, it clearly didn’t matter. If it made this idiot that happy, then there was no point explaining. He’d just let him believe whatever he wanted.
“If your curiosity’s satisfied, lie down already.”
Adrian waved his hand in an irritable tone. Only then did Mikhail finally relax, slowly settling down onto the bed. With his shirt already off, the candlelight danced across the sharp lines of his back muscles.
But beneath that, his insides were unstable—his innate mana and the dragon’s mana clashing and refusing to blend.
Adrian placed his palm directly on Mikhail’s bare back and asked,
“You had an easier path, yet you deliberately chose the hard one.”
It made no sense to him.
Adrian’s fingers began to slowly trace across Mikhail’s back, as if mapping the flow of his mana.
“…”
Mikhail tightly gripped the blanket, eyes squeezed shut, trying his best to ignore the sensation of Adrian’s touch.
“If you’d just made that your wish from the start—asked me to fix this—you could’ve solved everything so easily. I told you, even back at Basamiel. And I kept saying it after that too.”
His palm felt the hardened muscles of a body shaped by long, relentless training. Adrian poured mana generously into his back. Slowly, Mikhail’s stagnant mana began to stir. A thermal reaction flared up as the opposing energies collided. It had been dormant for too long—it needed to be stirred like this for a while. Adrian stayed focused, guiding the flow of mana with careful, deliberate movements.
“I never…”
Mikhail murmured into his pillow.
“I never once thought this was the hard path.”
Becoming a Swordmaster. Becoming someone special to him. He never thought any of it would be easy—but not once did he believe it was impossible.
Adrian’s gaze slid to the side, toward Mikhail’s profile. His cheek and ear were flushed red.
A bit too much for just a mana reaction.
Cuz that’s not from mana reaction I fear