“There’s something in front of the door—it won’t open.”
“……”
Mikhail silently stared at Adrian, who was examining the door from different angles. For someone who’d been asleep just moments ago, he looked impeccably put-together. Only the back of his golden hair was slightly tousled.
After cracking the door open just a sliver to peek outside, Adrian nodded several times as if confirming what he’d expected… then shut the door again. Why is he closing it? The prince twisted his lips in irritation.
“Stop wasting time and move aside.”
What was the point of poking around the door? Wouldn’t it be better to just break it down?
At Mikhail’s cold tone, Adrian finally turned away from the door to look at the prince.
He’s annoyed.
Adrian, meeting Mikhail’s gaze, scratched his cheek lightly with his index finger and opened his mouth. He was the kind of dragon who confessed to his own wrongdoings without hesitation.
“To explain the cause first—it’s my fault.”
“What? What the hell did you do?”
“Well, thirty Kevish saplings were delivered to our door just now.”
At those words, Mikhail quickly turned his head to glance over at the window behind him. It was a spot he’d specifically designated as space for growing things—though Adrian had happily turned it into a cluttered shelf filled with random weeds. But no matter how hard he tried to imagine it, there definitely wasn’t enough room for thirty trees.
“…Can you even grow trees over there?”
“What? No.”
The dragon chuckled and kindly explained for the prince, who clearly knew nothing about plants.
“I’m going to plant them in the greenhouse. The fruit from a well-grown Kevish sapling is considered very high-grade…”
“I don’t care if it’s Kevish or Kavish or whatever.”
Mikhail snorted dismissively, cutting off the dragon before he could dive deeper into his eager explanation about the fruit. If it wasn’t going to be planted in the room, then it wasn’t his concern.
“So, they’re just trees, right? I’ll move them with magic.”
He figured a simple levitation spell would be enough to shift them aside and open the door.
Now that he’d confirmed the door wasn’t broken, the prince gave a half-hearted nod. Then he turned with a quick motion and began walking toward the door, his footsteps echoing with a certain finality. The sound made Adrian flinch, and he cried out in alarm.
“‘Just’ trees?!”
They cost 300 Tilon! Adrian desperately grabbed the prince’s arm with a thunk. If he took care of the Kevish saplings and harvested the fruit, he could make at least five thousand from them.
It wasn’t much if converted to gold, but for a dragon holed up in the academy, each and every Tilon was like a precious gem. 300 Tilon was the kind of money one had to work three months’ worth of Ordinas missions to earn.
But Mikhail didn’t show a shred of sympathy for Adrian’s plight.
“…Are you going to let go or not?”
Mikhail’s cold eyes dropped to his roommate’s hand, which was still gripping his arm. He’d just told him not to touch him without permission, but clearly this commoner had subpar learning capabilities. Instead of memorizing useless weed names all day in their room, he should try listening to other people for once.
Adrian immediately let go of his arm and raised his hands in innocence, as if he hadn’t done anything. Such a pain. The dragon grumbled silently as he spoke up again.
“What kind of magic were you going to use to move them?”
If it hadn’t been a game… no, that was going too far. But if he’d just gotten up earlier and quietly opened the door himself, this whole mess wouldn’t have happened. Though inwardly cursing up a storm, the dragon kept a smile on his face. Even after noticing the prince’s annoyed glare, he mustered up his most pitiful tone.
“Mikhail…”
Mikhail came to a sudden stop.
It was the most cringe-inducing voice he’d ever heard. Sure, Adrian had used a similar tone when bargaining with Hans, but this one was in a whole different league. This—this had to be a delivery error. Adrian was certain no other customer had ever ordered thirty trees from the general store at once, and yet here he was, feeling absurdly wronged that he had to practically beg the prince like this.
“What’s in front of the door right now are Kevish trees… Kevish… They’re extremely sensitive to vibration. You’ve heard of them, right? You talked about them with Kyle D’Baicia from the Ordinas Club.”
“…So what do you want me to do about it?”
Mikhail muttered in a disgruntled tone in response to Adrian’s pleading voice.
“You need to very, very carefully, delicately, and gently levitate them—just enough to move them safely to the side.”
At those words, the prince turned away from the door and looked at Adrian with an incredulous expression.
“What, do I look like I’m from the Mage Association or something?”
He scoffed and raised three fingers, folding them down one by one in front of Adrian’s face as he explained.
“Let’s be honest—I can’t do ‘carefully,’ ‘delicately,’ or ‘gently.’”
“What?”
“…You saw it yourself, didn’t you? When I tried to catch that weird spirit.”
“When did I—? Weird spirit? What—ah.”
The spirit he was referring to was Tadpolie. Come to think of it, when they were catching Tadpolie, Mikhail’s control over his levitation spell had been downright terrible. Adrian, who had been wearing a desperate expression just a moment ago, instantly shifted his demeanor and grumbled in exasperation.
“And you call yourself someone aiming to be a Swordmaster? Don’t you do any mana training at all?”
“Hey, you can’t do it at all!”
Mana training was Mikhail’s sorest spot. No matter how hard he tried, his attempts to finely control mana always ended in failure. Even after seeking advice from several mages, no one had been able to explain the cause clearly—they all just trailed off.
Adrian stared at Mikhail’s indignant face for a moment, then let out a small sigh and roughly tousled his hair. As if coming to a decision, he reached out his hand toward the prince, now wearing a much more resolved expression.
“Fine. I’ll help you.”
“What?”
Mikhail blinked, confused by Adrian’s sudden declaration.
“I’ll help you with mana control.”
“…How exactly do you plan to help? I don’t need it.”
“Aha, so you’re finally giving up on that far-fetched dream of becoming a Swordmaster? Good for you. I told you before, setting the bar too high is just—”
Adrian meant it sincerely, but Mikhail’s face twisted in fury at those words.
“Cut the crap. I’m asking how you plan to help. You can’t even use mana.”
“I can’t use it, but I know how to handle it.”
“…And where did you learn that from?”
Commoners had very limited access to magic, let alone a full education in it.
Mikhail didn’t drop his suspicious glare. It’s not like Adrian had ever participated diligently in their basic magic theory classes—there was no way he was going to pull off a bold lie about being passionate about magic. Arms crossed, the prince stared Adrian down as if daring him to explain.
“Is that really important?”
Humans always asked that when someone claimed to know anything about magic. Adrian shrugged and made a sullen face. But Mikhail nodded, his expression dead serious.
“It is. When it comes to magic.”
“……”
The Gold Dragon—practically a living archive of magical history—tilted his head slightly as he looked back at the prince’s earnest expression.
“Who usually gives you advice about mana control?”
“…Mostly court mages or knights who help with Swordmaster training.”
“Well, that means you’ve been talking to people who aren’t really specialists in this kind of issue.”
“What? If court mages aren’t specialists, then who the hell is?”
Mikhail immediately dropped his serious look and furrowed his brow in disbelief.
But Adrian remained unfazed. Still leaning against the wall, he met the prince’s gaze with a lazy smile. After a short silence, he finally spoke.
“Did any of them tell you why?”
“……”
Mikhail’s red eyes suddenly sharpened. Why? He had assumed it was simply a matter of insufficient training. His gaze locked onto Adrian’s as he spoke, his voice low and weighty.
“Why is it, then?”
“I’m not telling you until I’ve confirmed it. I’ll let you know after I’ve tested it.”
Adrian shrugged lightly.
“……”
He said nothing further, simply watching Mikhail—seemingly giving him time to decide.
The prince didn’t take long. After a brief moment, he relaxed the arms he’d been defensively crossing and parted his tightly sealed lips.
“Fine. Do it. This confirmation or whatever.”
They’d start with that. If Adrian turned out to be bluffing without anything to back it up, he was ready to put him in his place. Still, if Adrian was right… then it was exactly what Mikhail had been hoping for.
Leaning against the wall, Adrian slowly pushed himself off and approached Mikhail with a sly grin.
