Fellen Deeps’ Sword.
Adrian shifted his gaze to the man aiming a sword at him. As their eyes met, he could see Mikhail’s crimson pupils trembling slightly. He must’ve just woken up—his mind still sluggish, struggling to register the situation.
To that dazed Mikhail, Adrian gave a short snort of laughter and offered a greeting.
“Quite the dramatic welcome, huh?”
Now that he thought about it, Mikhail’s eye level was a little higher than it had been during their days at Basamiel. It seemed he’d completely shed the youthful air typical of Academy students over the past few years. Was this the same Mikhail he’d seen standing on the battlefield in that dream? Adrian pondered silently.
Silvery hair, tousled and unkempt, slid down Mikhail’s smooth forehead. The moment his sharp, elegant eyes identified the figure before him, they subtly twisted. Judging by his aesthetic sensibilities as a dragon, Mikhail had turned into quite the striking figure—likely popular among the nobility now, with a mysterious allure that made him stand out.
While Adrian leisurely entertained these stray thoughts, Mikhail opened his mouth again.
“…Adrian?”
His low voice was clear, with no trace of drowsiness.
“How long are you going to keep calling me by that name?”
Let’s get this out of the way first.
Grumbling, Adrian reached up and pushed away the blade that was nearly brushing his neck. Ah—only then did Mikhail seem to snap out of it, immediately pulling back the sword in his hand. Even as he sheathed the weapon, he just stared blankly at the dragon, unable to process the fact that Adrian was inside his tent.
The tent was thick with the acrid smoke of incense. Having been asleep in the haze for a while, Mikhail frowned and rubbed at his temple with his index finger, as if the scent was giving him a headache.
“…This must be a dream.”
There was no way Adrian could be here.
After parting ways years ago, he hadn’t heard a single thing about the dragon. Then again, he’d been too preoccupied with quelling the monster outbreaks ravaging the continent to care. At any moment, the monsters could’ve razed every village, bringing humanity itself to the brink of extinction.
He thought swinging a sword on the battlefield would be enough to erase something like a first love from his Academy days.
Haa—
A long sigh slipped from between Mikhail’s lips. It wasn’t a good sign—these recurring dreams of Adrian. He brought his calloused palm, hardened from years of wielding a sword, to his forehead.
“……”
A sigh? Adrian simply stared at him quietly.
Still shirtless from sleep, Mikhail stood there with his hand to his forehead before suddenly turning his body in a sharp motion. He must’ve concluded he was just overly exhausted and having an unusually vivid dream. Then his eyes landed on the incense.
Why’s that out?
He relit the incense that had gone out while he slept, then laid back down on his cot. Just as he was about to let his eyelids fall and drift off—since it was still deep into the night and he figured he could sleep again easily—
“Trying to go back to sleep already?”
If only Adrian’s voice hadn’t cut through the air again.
Mikhail’s eyes flew open, wide and sharp.
With a start, he shot upright from the bed. The scene he’d just witnessed—wasn’t a dream? Through his slightly trembling vision, he could see Adrian floating lightly in the air, looking down at him. Still levitating, Adrian gestured toward the incense with a tilt of his chin.
“That thing’s probably lost its effect by now.”
The smoke, which had briefly faded, was beginning to fill the tent once more. Ignoring the incense entirely, Mikhail shouted at Adrian.
“Adrian! How the hell are you here…?!”
At the same time, he lunged forward and grabbed Adrian’s arm as he lay casually in the air. His palm met skin, slightly cooler than a normal person’s. As Mikhail tightened his grip slightly, Adrian’s body descended gently onto the bed.
But that wasn’t enough for Mikhail.
He brought his hand to Adrian’s forehead, fingers threading through the soft strands of golden-blond hair. Moving his index finger carefully aside, he discovered a faint, tiny mark on Adrian’s exposed skin. The moment he saw it, Mikhail’s finger gave a slight tremble.
“It really is you…”
He murmured in a voice laced with aching tenderness. Only then, with the faint chill of Adrian’s skin lingering on his fingertips, did he fully realize—Adrian was truly here, inside the tent.
Adrian, who had allowed Mikhail’s fingers to linger as they pleased, simply stared at him with a blank expression.
“If you’re done confirming, get your fingers off me.”
His tone was flat, indifferent. In the years since they’d last met, the difference in their physiques had become a little more apparent. Then again, the size of a body was nothing but a shell—easily adjustable at will for a dragon. In fact, when he indulged in earthly amusements over long periods, Adrian often modified his form to match the flow of time.
The dragon’s clear eyes calmly scanned Mikhail’s body from head to toe. Just as he suspected, the mana balance was a complete mess. Adrian distinctly remembered telling him to burn that incense only occasionally… and yet it was obvious Mikhail had been using it excessively. He recalled what Kyle had once said: “He’s growing impatient.”
Seriously, what a troublesome man.
Adrian’s brow furrowed in irritation.
“Judging by your condition, you’re still a long way from becoming a Swordmaster. Back then, you sounded so confident… Mana control turning out to be trickier than expected, huh?”
There was no mistaking the censure in his voice.
But Mikhail, as if the words hadn’t even registered, simply stared at him in silence before muttering quietly. To him, what mattered now wasn’t the scolding—but the sheer fact that Adrian had come here in person.
“You just show up like this—”
Just then, someone was standing outside the tent. Adrian was the first to sense the presence, giving Mikhail a subtle sideways glance. It was clear now that his earlier shout had carried outside.
Whoever it was must have known this tent belonged to a prince, as he didn’t barge in. Instead, he cleared his throat—ahem—then cautiously called out.
“Um… Is everything all right in there?”
Sounded like a sentry doing the rounds. At that voice, Mikhail’s head snapped toward the tent entrance. He was already trying to come up with a decent excuse to gloss over the situation.
But it was Adrian—still half-seated on the bed after being pulled down by Mikhail—who opened his mouth first.
“Ah—”
He had been about to say don’t worry about it.
But before the words could come out, Mikhail hurriedly clamped a hand over Adrian’s mouth. Most soldiers in the camp would recognize Mikhail’s voice instantly. If Adrian responded in his place, it would only make it seem like something truly strange was happening inside the tent.
Shh. With his hand still covering Adrian’s mouth, Mikhail leaned in and whispered very softly into his ear.
Let me handle it. Stay quiet.
Adrian glanced down at the hand muffling his mouth and slapped it aside with a sharp smack. It probably stung, but Mikhail didn’t so much as blink. He turned his head toward the entrance and spoke.
“There’s nothing wrong. You can carry on with your duties.”
His tone was clipped and precise.
The guard, reassured by Mikhail’s familiar voice, replied, “Understood, Your Highness. Rest well.” His footsteps soon shuffled away, fading gradually into the distance. The sound was still audible from inside the tent as it grew more distant.
Mikhail waited until the footsteps were completely gone before turning back toward Adrian. Adrian, still seated on the same bed, was staring quietly back at him. Even knowing full well that he was a dragon, the fact that his appearance hadn’t changed one bit despite the passing years felt strangely unnatural. No wonder he’d mistaken him for a dream.
Mikhail murmured softly.
“It’s okay now. You can talk. All right?”
Adrian, paying his cautious tone and gentle gaze no mind, stood up with a smooth motion. He hadn’t come here for chit-chat anyway.
What wouldn’t be all right?
The moment he stood, Adrian turned toward the incense on the nightstand—the one that had been bothering him since earlier—and crushed it with a sharp press of his hand. Unlike earlier when he’d merely snuffed it out upon entering, this time it shattered completely, rendered totally useless.
Mikhail watched him with a puzzled expression.
Adrian pointed toward the bed with his index finger. Dragons preferred to skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point.
“Good. Stay just like that—lie down on your stomach.”
…What?
That sudden and utterly bizarre command made one of Mikhail’s eyebrows twitch upward.
