…Who was that?
Flick. As if he had never smiled in the first place, his expression hardened, and he brushed past Adrian in a swift motion.
“Wait—” Adrian reached out to stop him.
“Your Highness.”
But the man coldly ignored him and, in a calm voice, called for Mikhail as he stepped into the room. Adrian could only stand still, his outstretched hand slowly lowering, staring helplessly after him.
He was perfect. Not just a temporary shell worn for a moment of play—he truly had the body of a human, one born by borrowing the shape of a man.
Lacking the power of a dragon, his hair and eyes were both plain brown. Aside from the absence of that subtle aura exuded by those not of this world, he looked eerily similar to Adrian himself. A servant bowed and asked politely as Adrian came to a sudden halt.
“Did you perhaps leave something inside, sir?”
Adrian tilted his gaze toward the prince’s door, now slowly closing. Through the narrowing gap, he felt Mikhail’s eyes on him. Not on the guest—Mikhail was still watching him.
Now that he thought about it, Mikhail hadn’t responded to the greeting either.
“…….”
That strange standoff between Adrian and Mikhail ended with the closing of the door, which severed the narrow sliver through which their eyes had met.
Adrian turned and strode briskly down the hallway, long legs moving with purpose. There was a faint glint of gold in his eyes as he walked.
***
A short while later, the door opened and closed again with a quiet thud, echoing faintly down the corridor.
Footsteps—measured and composed—followed after the one who had left the room. The man with dark brown hair walking ahead paused for a moment before resuming his stride with a neutral expression. Apparently in good spirits, he even hummed a short tune, Hmm-hmm.
Then it happened.
A hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar, slam! pinning him hard against the wall. His back hit the surface with a solid thud.
“Oww—owww,” the man exaggerated with a theatrical groan, eyes flicking up. Filling his vision were eyes like those of a furious beast—brilliant, blazing gold.
The man pressed against the wall, his collar still clenched in a tight grip, let out a soft laugh and muttered:
“Bit aggressive for a greeting, don’t you think?”
Adrian raised one eyebrow at that.
“…You.”
No matter how he looked at him, this man was definitely not just an ordinary human.
Adrian tightened his grip on the man’s collar. The man’s breath caught, and he let out a strained grunt, face twisting in discomfort. Adrian, completely indifferent to his pain, focused solely on getting the answers he wanted.
“Who are you? Do you know me?”
Their faces were so close they were nearly touching. Seeing him up close only made it clearer just how much this man resembled him. Despite the question, the man only kept chuckling, even while choking and coughing under the pressure.
That only irritated Adrian more.
Thud! He slammed the man against the wall again. It had to feel like his skull would split open from the impact. The man, who had been laughing in an unsettling way, let out a soft grunt, Hhhk, and went silent. His face had turned bright red from the chokehold.
He should be grateful this was all he was getting. Adrian curled one side of his lip into a twisted sneer and muttered,
“Don’t want to answer? Then I’ll make you feel like talking.”
“Keck—khf. Adr… Adrian.”
Now that he thought about it, Mikhail had called him that earlier too.
The moment his name came out of the man’s mouth, Adrian froze in place. When had he ever used that name?
As strength drained from Adrian’s choking grip, the man quickly ducked his head and slipped free from the cruel grasp. Haa, haa— Harsh breaths echoed through the dim corridor of the royal castle. The man turned his head slightly, checking his neck in the reflection of a polished decorative ornament nearby. His brows drew together in displeasure as he grumbled,
“It’s my wedding day. If I show up to the ceremony with bruises on my neck, what will the people of the kingdom think of Mikhail?”
A light bruise—easily hidden by raising his collar or with a quick healing spell.
Adrian let out a cold, derisive laugh at the man’s dramatics.
“Don’t worry. There’s no way someone like you is marrying Mikhail.”
Because I’ll never let that happen.
Adrian sneered with certainty, voice dripping with mockery.
If this wasn’t the result of someone cursing Mikhail, then it was clear the bastard had pulled some kind of trick to push this political marriage forward. Had Mikhail’s partner been just an ordinary human, Adrian wouldn’t have bothered to interfere this deeply.
But if the groom-to-be was someone like him—someone who seemed to have a connection to Adrian himself—there was no way he could leave this alone.
Puppet magic, maybe? Or perhaps the handiwork of someone who held a grudge against him? Judging by how easily the man was overwhelmed by physical force, he wasn’t all that strong. If Adrian dissected everything down to the finest detail, he’d be able to uncover whoever was behind this.
Adrian narrowed his eyes and moved in closer, searching for anything suspicious.
The man, who had been putting on a pitiful expression while checking his neck in the reflective surface of the ornament, suddenly lifted his head with a sharp flick.
“Someone like me, huh?”
“Yes. Who else here could I possibly mean besides you.”
Adrian looked down at him with an icy stare—a level of intimidation that would’ve made any ordinary human shrink in submission. But the man simply adjusted his clothes with unshaken composure and spoke again.
“Ahh, so that’s how you see it. As expected, you never stray from my predictions.”
“……”
“I am you, Adrian.”
What the hell was he talking about?
Adrian tilted his head slightly, keeping his expression calm. Reacting to such drivel would be giving the man exactly what he wanted.
“I exist because you do.”
The man’s brown eyes trembled with fury. Adrian’s eyes widened ever so slightly.
“Do you know why I went into that room earlier? I just heard from Mikhail. Once again, you chose to run away.”
I figured as much… but still—it was so damn predictable.
The man murmured with a tone of disappointment, slowly shaking his head side to side.
“But when you saw me, you changed your mind right away. Thought I wasn’t a suitable match for Mikhail, didn’t you?”
Heh. He pointed at himself with a crooked smirk.
“Me. Unsuitable.”
The pathetic man who had just been whining and pinned against the wall was nowhere to be found. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them with a single stride. Adrian instinctively stepped back, his gaze fixed on the man.
“I’m not like you, Adrian. I’ll never run away.”
Then the man stepped forward again.
It was something Adrian had heard before. Strangely, Mikhail’s bright silver hair and fiery red eyes came to mind—unbidden and vivid. Why? Adrian frowned, his instincts forcing him to take another reluctant step backward.
“Do you still not understand why Mikhail has to marry me?”
The man took another long stride forward. Before Adrian realized it, the man was standing right in front of him—close enough to touch, while Adrian remained speechless.
“This is what Mikhail wanted, you idiot.”
The man snapped his finger out, pointing at Adrian. It felt like being caught in a trap with no way out. And yet Adrian knew—there should be nothing alive on this continent capable of putting him in a trap like this.
Whoosh— A light breeze brushed through Adrian’s hair. Where…?
As he shifted his foot, a few small rocks tumbled away beneath his heel. Overhead, the sky stretched vast and high, surrounded by dense forest—and before him stood the man, staring him down.
The cliff. The place I fell from…
The man’s finger tapped Adrian lightly on the chest—poke—and then, with the gentlest push, nudged him backward.
Adrian couldn’t react in time. He felt his body tipping back, falling in slow motion.
“You’ll probably never understand,” the man murmured, his voice fading from somewhere above the cliff’s edge.
As Adrian plummeted downward, falling perfectly upright, he thought to himself:
This can’t be real. This place…
And then—he woke up.
“…As I thought.”
Adrian rubbed his forehead with his palm, feeling the soft covers of the bed beneath him. Dragons didn’t usually dream. So then—what was that brutally vivid sensation he’d just felt?
Sting. A sharp pain pricked at his chest, like something had sliced into him. The same pain he’d felt back in the carriage.
He reached to check the aching spot—but froze.
Right beside him, Mikhail lay asleep, his brow furrowed, body glistening with cold sweat. His eyes were tightly shut, his face twisted in discomfort. From between the slightly parted collar of his nightshirt, a faint golden light was shining through.
Adrian leaned in closer.
Etched just above Mikhail’s bare chest… was a golden mark.
What is this?
