Graduating from Basamiel Academy meant having extensive knowledge of the continent’s languages and cultures. Even so, Mikhail had never seen the strange pattern etched above his heart. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if it was a script at all. It resembled more a drawing scrawled in golden ink than any known lettering.
He brushed a finger lightly over it. Nothing came off. Glancing at his fingertip, Mikhail muttered,
“What is this?”
“Don’t touch it. I’m still trying to figure it out.”
Adrian’s irritated voice fell from above, aimed at Mikhail who was gazing down at his chest. Despite speaking, Adrian continued flipping rapidly through the pages of an old, tattered book with [Ancient Curses and Their Markings] scrawled across its spine.
Even while clearly aware of Mikhail’s gaze on him, Adrian didn’t lift his eyes from the book as he asked,
“…Does it hurt?”
“Only a little at first. But now I don’t feel anything at all.”
“I see.”
At Mikhail’s answer, Adrian furrowed his brows deeply. With a scowl on his face, he turned another page and grumbled under his breath,
“Don’t worry. I’ll erase it right away.”
“Erase it?”
“Of course. It could be a spell designed to harm you or… unlikely, but maybe even someone’s curse. Did you touch anything cursed at the market today?”
Adrian fell silent, likely going over every item they’d browsed at the market earlier that day in his mind.
Curse.
Mikhail mulled over the word again as he looked down at the strange marking on his chest. It was the same shade of gold as Adrian’s hair. When he touched it earlier, it had felt oddly warm. Sitting beside Adrian—who was still pouring over the book trying to identify the symbol—Mikhail murmured quietly,
“I don’t think it’s a curse…”
“Save that overly optimistic, reckless attitude for another time. It could get you killed.”
“Adrian.”
At the sound of his name, Adrian snapped his eyes upward. He said nothing, simply watching in silence as Mikhail, eyes sharp and focused as though studying him, hesitated before continuing.
“Do you know a talking lion?”
“…”
“He acted like he knew you.”
A talking lion? And not just that—one that knew him?
Adrian had been bracing himself, expecting something serious from Mikhail’s grave expression. The strength in his hand holding the book drained completely.
“What the hell are you talking about now?”
Mikhail’s question left Adrian’s face blank with disbelief.
“That complete nonsense again.”
“It was a dream I had earlier.”
That was when it happened. Adrian, who had been on the verge of brushing off the comment in utter exasperation, froze in place.
“I met a lion in the dream. He seemed to know you, Adrian…”
“That’s… exactly like a Darphung’s Dream.”
“Darphung?”
Mikhail narrowed his eyes at the unfamiliar word.
Now that he thought about it, there was one thing he’d brought back from the market yesterday. Only one. Mikhail quickly sat up in bed and hurried to the corner of the room where the Darphung lay curled up, fast asleep. He hastily scooped up the creature.
Grrrrrr—
Startled awake and annoyed by the sudden manhandling, the Darphung bared its teeth with a growl. But Mikhail ignored the reaction and brought it up to eye level.
Because a few of the buttons on his shirt had come undone while he was examining the marking, the bluish light of early dawn now fell across his bare chest. The golden symbol, centered perfectly on his lithe torso, was now in full view.
Adrian scowled, clearly displeased by the way the strange mark had made itself at home on Mikhail’s body.
Without paying any attention to him, Mikhail spoke to the Darphung, who had escalated from growling to trying to chew on his hand.
“Were you the one in my dream?”
It was an adorably far-fetched idea—but obviously impossible.
Adrian rubbed his forehead, already exhausted, and scolded Mikhail like someone dealing with a hopeless child.
“If it had that kind of mystical power, it would’ve started by biting your hand off.”
Grrr—Ruff!
As if to back up Adrian’s words, the Darphung let out a fierce bark. But even barking like that, a Darphung was still a Darphung. In Mikhail’s eyes, he was just an adorable puff of fur. Granted, one who was currently grinding his teeth like he was ready to tear into something any second.
After eyeing the Darphung suspiciously for a moment, Mikhail finally shrugged as if conceding defeat and set him back down on the floor. Freed at last, the Darphung took off like a shot on all fours, dashing straight to Adrian. He sat at Adrian’s feet, pawing at the ground and whining up at him with desperate eyes.
Adrian didn’t spare the creature even a glance. Instead, he spoke to Mikhail.
“When I said it was a Darphung’s dream… No, never mind that. Just tell me more about the dream you mentioned earlier. Since that mark appeared right after it, it’s probably the most relevant clue we have.”
Darphung’s dream was a common idiom on the continent, used to refer to a meaningless or absurd dream—but apparently, it had fallen out of use in recent times. In any case, that didn’t matter now. Responding to Adrian’s words, Mikhail climbed back into bed and leaned against the headboard in a relaxed posture.
“But the lion told me that being there wasn’t a dream.”
“And?”
“It said it was a space of the unconscious.”
Mikhail murmured in a low, pensive voice.
“There was only that one lion.”
A space with nothing else in it. Infinitely vast and completely empty. Mikhail frowned slightly as he recalled the place. No matter how hard he tried to remember it, it still felt eerie. In all his life, he had never seen a place so utterly devoid of anything—no ground, no sky, not even a different color. Just pure white everywhere.
“It explained that the place… was my unconscious mind.”
“Well, that’s pretty deep.”
Adrian responded thoughtfully to Mikhail’s explanation.
“And the lion knew my name.”
“It knew your name?”
“I heard it just as I was waking up.”
“…You’re sure you didn’t mistake it for my voice? I did call your name a few times to wake you up.”
“Really? Then I guess that’s possible.”
Now that he thought about it, it was strange for the lion to know his name. Mikhail nodded, looking convinced by Adrian’s reasoning.
“What the hell was that?”
Even after talking it through with Adrian, they’d gotten nowhere.
Mikhail muttered wearily.
“Yeah, no clue.”
Adrian shut the book with a firm thud and stood up from his chair. Behind him, the first hints of sunrise were breaking through the window, casting a soft blue hue over the waking cityscape.
Squinting slightly, Adrian stared out at the gradually brightening sky.
A sudden sting—it was subtle, but enough for him to notice. He gently placed a hand over his chest again. That faint, lingering pain that had started back in the carriage… it kept nagging at him.
He glanced over at Mikhail, who was sitting on the bed watching the sunrise in silence.
Thankfully, it didn’t seem like a curse. There wasn’t a single spell on this continent capable of harming a dragon’s body.
But… was thankfully really the right word?
It was too early to tell.
***
“Good morning. Did you sleep well last night?”
The innkeeper greeted them with a practiced smile as he took the key Adrian handed over. Adrian replied with a bright smile of his own, his entire face lit up with charm.
“Yes, thank you.”
It was a dazzling smile—the kind that could melt hearts.
Mikhail, who knew all too well the bored, indifferent man behind that mask, scoffed quietly beside him. Hmph. He also didn’t like the way the innkeeper was staring at Adrian with that dazed look on his face.
After a brief rest, it was time to board the carriage again for the next leg of their journey toward Harvaizan, the capital of the Kingdom of Delbaran.
And that, unfortunately, meant—
“Over here! This way!”
—they’d be trapped in the same cramped space with those mercenaries again.
Mikhail scowled as he spotted the noisy group waving at them from a distance. The mercenaries, all with rough, intimidating faces, were grinning ear to ear as they shook something in their hands.
“I brought these to share in the carriage, just for you guys!”
“Oh come on, we bought them together! Don’t hog the credit!”
Judging by the size and shape, it looked like they were holding paper bags filled with snacks from some street vendor.
Mikhail, who couldn’t care less about bite-sized street food, simply gave a disinterested nod, face blank as ever.
That half-hearted nod was all the greeting Mikhail offered. But apparently, it was more than enough for one of the mercenaries, who grinned wide and slapped Mikhail’s back with a loud thwack!
“Know what this is? Huh?”
How the hell would I know? Mikhail shot the man an annoyed look, clearly displeased with the unsolicited touch.
“Won it in a card game last night. Snagged it as my prize.”
“A flawless win, too. Damn impressive!”
“You bet your ass it was!”
Their flushed cheeks and excitable tone made it obvious they’d been day drinking. Not that Mikhail cared—he couldn’t be bothered with drunken humans’ flushed faces, not unless it was Adrian. To avoid further small talk, he quickly climbed into the carriage. Adrian followed right after, clearly sharing the same sentiment.
Once the mercenaries piled in behind them, the rhythmic clatter of hooves striking the ground signaled the start of their journey. At the same time, the mercenaries opened up a paper bundle on the small table in the center of the carriage, revealing roasted chestnuts.
Mikhail’s gaze dropped to Adrian’s pale palm, where a chestnut had been placed. With a sigh of resignation, he reached out and took one for himself.
“Ever had these before? They’re all the rage in the Kingdom of Delbaran these days.”
Mikhail shook his head.
Back in the Kingdom of Rustavaran, he wouldn’t even touch street food. Delbaran’s offerings didn’t seem any different.
“Thought so. Try it.”
“I don’t—”
Want it, Mikhail was about to say, but the arm beside him moved faster.
Without hesitation, Adrian picked up one of the chestnuts and examined it closely. He cracked it open to reveal the bright yellow nut inside.
“Chestnut. Looks like they just grilled it over charcoal?”
“They roast it first, then inject honey inside.”
“Ah.”
That was… actually a decent recipe.
Adrian popped the whole thing in his mouth with a flick of his wrist. After chewing thoughtfully for a few moments, he picked up another one and held it out to Mikhail.
“It’s good. Here.”
“…I don’t want to eat street food, though…”
