The escort knight who had gone out to search for accommodations approached Mikhail and recommended moving by carriage. Though the place he found was supposedly the best lodging in the city, it still felt woefully inadequate for royalty. Mikhail sat inside the carriage, glanced at the building’s exterior, and subtly frowned. But since this was apparently the best option, he said nothing and accepted it without complaint.
When the two large carriages pulled up to the main gate, the doorman standing guard approached the front carriage and knocked on its side with a rough gesture. A knight seated inside opened the door and stepped out.
“Good day.”
The doorman greeted him, then gave him a slow, thorough once-over from head to toe. He didn’t look like the kind of mercenary a wealthy commoner might hire—he carried himself with a noble dignity and a cold sharpness that marked him as a real knight.
With a solemn expression, the knight gave a slight nod and asked, “Excuse me, may I ask you something?”
“Sure, don’t recognize your face—you’re not from around here, are you?”
The doorman glanced briefly at the carriage in the back and chuckled in a friendly manner. It was lavishly made, clearly expensive, yet bore no crest or emblem of a noble house. And there were four knights escorting it. A rather unusual group. Was this a secret meeting between nobles? A forbidden love affair, maybe? The doorman was nosy by nature and hopelessly obsessed with tragic noble romances.
When he craned his neck to get a better look at the carriage behind, the knight immediately cut in with another question.
“Do you happen to know when the road repairs are scheduled to begin?”
It worked. The doorman’s curiosity was quickly diverted. He tore his gaze away from the carriage and nodded vigorously.
“Ahh, you must be travelers trying to cross over the mid-mountain pass. There was a sudden landslide a few days ago, all the soil came crashing down. Still completely blocked, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Agh, for a rural town like this, a project that big takes ages. But if you take the path winding down the mountain, you can still get around. It’s getting dark soon, though—you’ll want to spend the night here.”
“We were told this is the best place to stay in town.”
“Oh, absolutely. The scenery is the best since we’re right at the base of the mountain. Even some of the highborn come here now and then to rest.”
“That should be sufficient. Thank you.”
The knight gave a polite nod, then turned on his heel with precise steps and headed toward the carriage carrying the prince. He reported the situation to Mikhail, who held the final say over their journey.
The most important thing for Mikhail was avoiding needless attention. Fortunately, it was the off-season, so they were able to rent the entire place. With his striking silver hair and blood-red eyes, Mikhail drew quiet but obvious glances from the staff who suspected, vaguely, that he might be royalty. Ignoring their stares, he stole a sidelong glance at Luce, who walked beside him with his hood pulled low over his black robe.
In the minds of the staff, one word flashed: elopement.
A man who appeared to be of royal blood, traveling all the way out here to the edges of nowhere with a companion doing everything possible to hide his identity beneath a dark cloak—it was a theory that made too much sense.
***
That night, Luce stood in the bathroom attached to his room, staring intently into the mirror.
“…It’s real.”
Just as Mikhail had said. Just like in the portrait. There was a small mole above his right temple.
Because he didn’t use wax or oil to fix his hair, a few strands usually fell naturally over that spot, making it easy to miss. Luce gently brushed the area with his fingers.
“How the hell did he know?”
Even I didn’t know that.
He studied his reflection like he was looking at a stranger. This was the same look he always maintained when going out for leisure, yet this was the first time in thousands of years he’d realized he had a mole there.
How could someone who had mastered every field of knowledge not know about a single dot on his own face? It was almost funny. But then again, he’d spent far more time buried in books than ever examining himself in a mirror.
Maybe it was time he started paying more attention to his own body.
Standing before the large mirror, Luce undid every button on his shirt. Then, with a casual shrug, he slipped off the top and examined his bare torso in the glass.
“Oh, there’s one here too.”
The dragon let out a soft murmur of surprise, amused. It was on the upper part of his right arm.
And not just there. Scattered across his chest were a few more moles he couldn’t believe he’d never noticed before.
And then—
Whoosh—The dragon, who had been staring intently at the mirror, suddenly jerked his head up. He’d sensed something unusual. And as if to confirm that instinct, drrrk—the entire building began to tremble subtly.
“Hm?” This sensation…
It was familiar. Identical to the earthquake he’d felt back at Basamiel Academy.
What began as a gentle tremor grew increasingly violent, as though whatever was causing it was eager to announce its presence more clearly. The heavy mirror began to rock side to side. Craack!—The ground around the inn shook, and they could hear several trees crashing down behind the mountain slope just beyond the lodging.
“At this strength… it’s enough to trigger a landslide.”
Muttering to himself, Luce flung the door open. He wanted to see it for himself.
At the same time, the door to the room across the hall also opened. This earthquake must have reminded Mikhail of the gate buried beneath Basamiel. But the moment Mikhail opened his door, his eyes widened in shock.
He stared at the dragon stepping out from the opposite room, giving him a quick scan from head to toe before speaking.
“…What… what are you doing?”
His voice was clearly flustered. Luce tilted his head slightly, as if to say, Is there something wrong? Surely Mikhail had come out because of the tremor too, hadn’t he? With a blank expression, the dragon answered,
“Me? I was going to step out and check because of the quake.”
“Like that?”
Mikhail narrowed his eyes, clearly displeased. He looked pointedly at the dragon’s bare torso, his tone sharp. Even if it wasn’t his own body, walking around shirtless was far too inappropriate.
As they spoke, footsteps began to echo through the hall—the knights, having felt the quake themselves, were approaching to check on the prince’s safety. Luce, more sensitive than most, detected them coming and snapped his head toward the source. Mikhail noticed a moment later, grimacing as he waved his arm irritably.
The dragon’s current form was Adrian’s body. There was no way Mikhail was going to let anyone catch sight of that.
The knights had just begun to call out, “Your Highness, the earthquake—” when they froze mid-step at Mikhail’s firm gesture. He stepped forward, clearly into view, raising a palm behind him in a clear signal to Luce: Do not come out.
“We’re fine. Return to your duties.”
“Yes, then please rest well.”
The knights, reassured that nothing was amiss, nodded and gave a slight bow before backing away. “Right, right,” Mikhail muttered, quickly shooing them off.
Once the hall had cleared, Mikhail turned back to the dragon, sighing quietly enough for only him to hear.
Following Mikhail’s gaze, Luce looked down at his bare chest and finally seemed to understand.
“Ah… I should’ve thrown on the robe, huh?”
He’d finally remembered Mikhail’s earlier advice to cover his face. Seems he’d forgotten already. Luce gave a small nod to himself, then spun around and strode back into the room to snatch up the black robe.
“…A shirt would be better first.”
Mikhail added dryly, barely holding back his exasperation. But at that, Luce’s eyes suddenly lit up, as if something had come to mind. He walked briskly over to Mikhail, then leaned in close, holding his face near the prince’s.
“Did you know there’s a mole on the inside of this ear, too?”
“Ugh—” Caught off guard, Mikhail instinctively recoiled, only to bump against the doorway, leaving him no room to escape. His eyes darted frantically as Luce hovered far too close.
“Wh-What? Wait, hold on, why are you—”
Stammering, Mikhail reached out to push the dragon away, but the moment his palm touched Luce’s soft, bare skin, his hand twitched and instantly withdrew. Luce, unfazed, continued speaking as though nothing had happened.
“See? The color’s faint, but… it’s definitely there.”
He pointed a long finger to a small spot inside his ear, his voice tinged with excitement as if he’d just made the discovery of the century.
The familiar scent of the dragon’s borrowed body clouded Mikhail’s senses. Summoning all his willpower, Mikhail tried to focus solely on the tip of that finger.
“Y-Yes. You’re right. I didn’t… I didn’t know either.”
“See? I knew you didn’t know this one either.”
Only after that declaration did Luce finally lean back, looking pleased.
…And Mikhail’s face had turned bright red.
