Dawn broke. We decided to head straight for the Rebels’ base.
The first meeting had already been a disaster, and we had no trump card that could overturn that impression. So the professional negotiator would step in as quickly as possible—even a single day sooner mattered.
As we gathered our things and left the inn, I stole glances at Varen.
Last night, I hadn’t gone back to the room, but Varen hadn’t come looking for me. I didn’t know whether he’d sensed I was nearby and left me alone because of that, or whether he’d needed time to himself.
Fortunately, even after Morpha’s harsh words, Varen had recovered his mental composure in just ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ a day. His blue eyes shone with resolve, as if determined to do better from here on out.
The one who hadn’t recovered was me. I hadn’t gotten drunk even after finishing an entire bottle, and I’d agonized until sunrise without reaching a conclusion.
The task Morpha had set before me was far too difficult.
If they’d told me to do something I’d never done before, I could have handled it easily. But trying to suppress behavior that had become ingrained like a habit only made my nerves stand on edge.
Keeping my distance from Varen felt like pain that scraped straight down to the bone.
“Ceryl, come here. I’ll carry the—”
“No, it’s fine. I’m okay. I’ll handle it myself.”
I smiled as I subtly avoided Varen’s hand reaching for my shoulder. Every time I naturally stood close to him, Morpha would glare at me with their eyes glowing faintly.
Plenty of people found my relationship with Varen curious, but none had opposed it with such open hostility. It felt like our every move was being monitored—like I’d suddenly acquired a stiff, overbearing sister-in-law.
“...If it gets heavy, tell me. A bag like that is no more than a feather to me.”
“Yeah, thanks. Let’s get going.”
Thankfully, even though Varen noticed me avoiding his touch, he didn’t say anything.
He seemed to be focusing on acting properly as a Dravergh, rather than indulging himself around me.
***
Guided by Morpha, we reached the forest. The scenery all looked the same, but the spot we arrived at was exactly where we’d parted ways with Noance.
Varen pulled out the coin Noance had given him. When he gently infused it with mana, the coin began to tremble. Then, as if drawn by a magnet, it slid across Varen’s palm, pointing toward a specific direction.
We followed the coin as it moved like a compass needle, walking deeper into the forest. With both Varen and Morpha in grim moods, no one dared to raise their voice. Still, Kallen occasionally whispered things like, “Ugh, forests are so boring,” breaking the silence.
After walking for about an hour, we gradually began to sense signs of people. The sound of footsteps—easily over a hundred—buzzed in my ears.
This wasn’t a harbor with ships coming and going, nor a bustling commercial district. That many people moving about in the depths of the mountains meant there was a Rebel stronghold nearby.
The place where the Rebels stayed was concealed by perfect concealment magic. Without a travel-pass coin like this, we never would have found it.
It was hidden behind a magical veil, but there were no physical walls or gates protecting it. They frequently relocated the base to evade the king’s surveillance.
There was no main gate, but the thickest tree seemed to serve as an entrance. Noance, who’d already sensed our approach, was waiting to greet us.
“You came pretty fast. I thought it’d take longer.”
Leaning against the tree, he crossed his arms casually and tilted his head. Then his cold gaze fixed on the uninvited guests—specifically Kallen and Margon.
Despite his small frame, the heavy pressure in Noance’s eyes made Kallen flinch and hide behind me. Margon, though already briefed about Noance, instinctively placed a hand on his sword hilt. Tension crackled through the air.
That was when Morpha stepped forward with a pleasant smile. To inspire trust, they’d taken the form of a tall man in his thirties.
“My apologies for the late introduction. I am Morpha Elysion, the Dravergh’s representative.”
At their courteous yet firm voice, Noance’s attention shifted to Morpha.
Morpha offered another polite smile and inclined their head slightly.
“I’ve heard that Varen incurred a debt to you. This is a gift prepared by the Dravergh. It’s modest, but would you accept it?”
From a backpack imbued with spatial magic, Morpha produced a rectangular box and handed it over.
Noance looked between Morpha and the gift with suspicion. But the moment he opened the lid, his pupils trembled ever so slightly.
“This is....”
“Aurelion, vintage year twenty-three. A liquor brewed from golden crystal flowers that bloom only at dawn. The first sip is sweet like honey, but it finishes with a faint bitterness.”
“...Is it real?”
“Ha. Dragons do not deal in counterfeits.”
At Morpha’s explanation, my eyebrow twitched.
I’d expected something extraordinary—who knew it would just be alcohol? Was currying favor with expensive liquor a universal technique across worlds?
Noance carefully lifted the bottle. Golden liquid sloshed inside the transparent crystal glass. Even without opening it, a faint sweetness drifted from the bottle.
A royal seal marked the spot where the cap met the neck.
Noance looked at the gift with clear satisfaction. Morpha returned the smile and added,
“It’s supplied exclusively to the royal palace from the Marena region.”
“I know it well. They say King Laskar spends all day drunk on this stuff.”
Only then did I grasp the true meaning of the gift.
Liquor supplied solely to the palace couldn’t be obtained on the open market. Even on the black market, most bottles were crude imitations that only mimicked the scent.
By offering this, Morpha was flaunting their connections and intelligence network.
Smiling contentedly, Noance closed the box with the bottle inside and tucked it under his arm. He jerked his chin, signaling us to follow.
Having fastened the first button successfully, Morpha shot Varen a look. The two men strode ahead with squared shoulders, and the rest of us followed.
Kallen, who’d been trembling right behind me, scanned the surroundings with anxious eyes. These were Rebels, yet ordinary-looking people went about their work, occasionally casting curious glances our way.
Kallen whispered against my back.
“C-Ceryl... They are safe, right? They won’t suddenly try to kill us, or do some weird experiments...?”
“Relax, Kallen. Even if something like that happens, there are two dragons here. They won’t take us easily.”
When Morpha enlarged their body to match Varen’s build, it felt like two walking doors moving ahead of us.
And right behind them stood a swordsman as big as a grizzly bear, guarding us with a hardened expression.
Walking protected between three robust men, I felt a renewed sense of security in our group. I puffed out my chest as much as I could, trying not to look like an easy mark.
The tent Noance led us to was located at the very back. Four guards surrounded it. It wasn’t hard to guess what kind of important figure was inside.
Noance entered first. As I moved to follow, Morpha turned around with a spin and raised a palm toward me.
“It would be better if you waited here.”
The friendly tone they’d used with the Rebels was gone. Their barren voice stopped the three humans in place.
Varen stepped forward with an awkward expression.
“Morpha, Ceryl should come with—”
“No. This is not a place for humans. Remember, Varen, that you and I are here as representatives of the dragons.”
Morpha’s face hardened, leaving no room for compromise.
Varen tried to speak again. Seeing how this would devolve into an internal dispute, I waved my hands and stepped back first.
“Yeah, I get it. Talk it out and come back.”
“...Ceryl.”
“After the scene I caused yesterday, it won’t be easy to talk. I’m counting on you, Morpha.”
Once I backed down, Varen couldn’t insist any further. He only told us to wait somewhere safe before entering the tent.
Left behind, the three humans drew the attention of everyone around us. It wasn’t threatening, but being the center of so much curious scrutiny made my skin crawl.
Unsure how long the first negotiation between dragons and Rebels would take, I scratched the back of my head, wondering how to pass the time—when a woman cautiously approached.
“Um... You’re Ceryl Aylos, right?”
At a stranger calling my name, Margon immediately went on guard.
But I sensed no ill intent from her. After patting Margon’s shoulder to calm him, I nodded at the woman.
She clapped her hands together with a sharp sound and beamed.
“Nice to meet you, Aylos! The Drunkard is looking for you!”
