“Your Highness.”
Mikhail’s dazed expression prompted a nearby officer to call out to him cautiously. But it seemed Mikhail didn’t hear—it was clear his mind was elsewhere. Understandable, given the mortifying confession he’d just heard. Still, he had to finalize the list by the end of the day. Left with no choice, the soldier called to him once more.
“Um… Your Highness?”
“Hm?”
“What should we do?”
Only then did Mikhail slowly turn his head to the side. The officer who had just loudly announced the list to the soldiers now stood waiting for the prince’s decision.
“…”
Mikhail furrowed his brows slightly in hesitation, his gaze drifting down to Adrian Heather, standing amidst the crowd. The reason the officer was seeking the prince’s input was simple: it was a battalion being dispatched to the site where black mana was pouring forth. Adrian wasn’t part of the regular force, so the approval of the battalion commander was required.
After a long moment of deliberation, Mikhail looked directly at Adrian, silently signaling that he wanted to speak with him in private. He had to find out firsthand why the dragon had suddenly pulled such a reckless stunt. As Mikhail moved, Adrian’s gaze followed him without missing a beat.
And then—
“I’ll be joining the conversation as well.”
One of the battalion commanders rose from his seat and followed. He wasn’t of royal blood, but the man held a high-ranking position in the Rustavaran military. Like Mikhail, he had authority over the troops, so he was fully entitled to hear their exchange.
It was clear his intention was to keep the prince from making a rash decision based on sentiment.
“…Fine.”
Mikhail gave a brief nod and descended from the platform with the commander in tow. Adrian stood tall, waiting for them below. The prince stared at him silently, clicking his tongue inwardly.
Those sparkling eyes… he’s clearly enjoying how flustered I am, isn’t he?
Adrian gave them both a polite bow.
“Good day.”
His soft brown eyes reflected the bright sunlight, radiating an energetic charm. The commander, who had only known the blond youth as the prince’s lover, responded with a stiff expression. He’d assumed Adrian was just lounging about in camp, using his connections. But seeing him up close now… he was more spirited than expected.
If this had been some frivolous stunt, the commander had come ready to shoot it down immediately—but Adrian seemed surprisingly sincere. After a moment of thought, the man asked:
“What exactly can you do?”
A fair question.
Standing right beside the commander, Mikhail folded his arms and observed Adrian’s expression closely. Whatever was said, it would be surface-level—he knew the dragon would get what he wanted, one way or another.
With a shameless face and a calm yet confident voice, Adrian replied:
“I studied medicinal herbs at Basamiel, even if only a little. I’ll be useful.”
It was the truth. Even if someone became suspicious and looked into it later, it wouldn’t be an issue. The moment the name “Basamiel” left Adrian’s lips, the commander’s expression shifted. Basamiel Academy was a prestigious institution in Rustavaran—there was no need to question the man’s qualifications any further.
“Hmm…”
Still, there were a few things that gave him pause. He decided to test Adrian’s resolve again, his face growing stern.
“So you’re not doing this just for fun?”
“No. Who would be stupid enough to risk their life for amusement?”
“Then why?”
“Exactly what I said earlier. I want to stay by Prince Mikhail’s side and protect him.”
A firm, unwavering answer.
It radiated the boldness unique to a young man in love. Pleased by the response, the commander gave a faint smile before turning to Mikhail.
“Well, the more support we have, the better. Do as you please.”
He was known to be a strict man who never allowed exceptions—but somehow, that brazen attitude had moved him. Mikhail, amused by the absurdity of the situation, kept a neutral expression as he nodded.
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Seemingly satisfied with the young battalion commander’s humility, the man let out a genial chuckle and left them to it, walking away in another direction.
“…”
As they stood facing each other, Mikhail didn’t speak for a while.
“Why? Not happy with it?”
The dragon tilted his head and asked first. He didn’t look the least bit like someone who’d just dropped a surprise announcement without any warning. Mikhail let out a short laugh, brushing a hand through his hair. The fact that he found even that expression adorable—he had to be going insane.
“…Of course not. It’s not that I’m unhappy.”
Mikhail muttered under his breath. Truthfully, he was pleased. The thought of uncovering the truth behind the black mana with Adrian at his side was something he even looked forward to.
“But I want to know the real reason you want to come.”
That was what mattered. The excuse Adrian had given earlier hadn’t sounded like his true intention.
“I may not be strong, but I want to stay by your side until the very end. Please, take me with you.”
Mikhail’s unwavering gaze fixed on Adrian. As if staring directly into the dragon’s face might let him see the truth buried deep in his heart.
The real reason? Adrian met Mikhail’s stare head-on, absorbing the weight of it before slowly parting his lips.
“If I were Adrian Heather, the one who spent time with you at Basamiel…”
The gentle timbre of Adrian’s voice conjured the image of Basamiel’s campus before their eyes. He had always sat on a bench in the courtyard, basking in the afternoon sun as he read. Mikhail would sometimes watch him from afar. Those were peaceful, warm days.
If he had truly been that Adrian—maybe he would’ve accepted Mikhail’s confession. Maybe he would’ve studied herbalism with all his heart, and volunteered for the army just to be of help to Mikhail.
Adrian’s golden eyes gleamed brightly.
“If I were him, I would never let you go off alone.”
“…”
But Mikhail didn’t agree with that answer right away. Twisting his lips, he asked:
“Don’t you think there’s a contradiction in what you just said?”
Hm? Adrian lifted his head at Mikhail’s tone, sensing something off.
“You did go to Basamiel with me. That was you. Not someone else.”
The dragon kept trying to separate Adrian Heather from himself. Mikhail bit down hard on his lower lip, staring him down.
“Whether you’re Adrian Heather or Luce Fennigan—that’s just a name.”
“…That’s true, but…”
He was right. Even though he’d always told himself a name was just a name, he seemed to be the one most fixated on that very shell.
“But still…”
Yet the dragon didn’t want to accept Mikhail’s words. That I truly wanted to go with him, from the bottom of my heart? Impossible. Admitting that would change too much.
“It’s impossible.”
A dragon desiring a mere human—how absurd.
Adrian slowly turned his head from side to side, his expression stiff.
“Adrian.”
Mikhail called out softly, sensing—for the first time—just how confused the dragon really was. He could see that Adrian was struggling to face the truth, and so he spoke again.
“Believe in the emotion you’re feeling right now.”
His voice was firm. When it came to emotions, Mikhail could claim at least a few decades more experience than a dragon. Even so, not even he fully understood the feeling that moved the human heart at decisive moments.
Humanity was the only race on the continent said to possess true emotion. But was that really the case? Sometimes, when Mikhail looked at Adrian, he couldn’t help but wonder.
“It’s one of the world’s great mysteries.”
“…A mystery.”
Adrian quietly echoed Mikhail’s words. It truly was a mystery.
“Is that so…”
He’d thought he was just mimicking the choice that Adrian Heather would have made if he were real. But just as Mikhail said, Adrian Heather and the dragon weren’t separate people. The dragon was Adrian Heather—and Adrian Heather was the dragon.
The desire to stay by Mikhail’s side until the very end… that’s my truth.
The dragon furrowed his brow ever so slightly, falling into deep thought. It was the moment he finally faced the emotion he’d tried to cast off as belonging to someone else.
What the hell am I?
Adrian’s eyes shimmered softly. They flickered like molten gold, as though someone had ground sunlight into dust and scattered it across his irises. The moment those radiant particles turned to Mikhail—they stilled.
