I had grown up preparing for abduction and ambush since childhood. Because of that, I could at least protect my own body from threats.
And I knew exactly where the vital points were, how to grip a blade to cut off someone’s breath in a single motion, and how to kill with the smallest amount of force.
Because of that, I could kill injured or sick magical creatures instantly, without pain.
By sheer luck, at least.
There were many magical creatures who clung to me, begging me to just kill them. But instead of ending it right away, I watched them writhe in agony worse than death for days.
Because among them, there were some that miraculously recovered.
Only when I judged that there was truly no hope left did I grant them a peaceful death.
The first day my hands were stained with blood, I was tormented by nightmares for an entire week. I couldn’t even eat properly.
I swore I would never do such a thing again.
But the cries of magical creatures screaming in pain made that impossible.
One became two. Two became ten. My hands were gradually soaked in their blood. That thick, red liquid slowly gnawed away at my mind.
At some point, I even started to think that I was suffering more than the magical creatures trapped in cages, thrashing in agony.
But even that was arrogance.
---
“Is everything ready? I hope we get results today.”
---
Jade Kardo’s gray eyes gleamed as he walked ahead with light steps. A small group of managers he had personally selected followed behind him.
I was among them.
Whether it was because of the surname Aylos, my uncle’s influence, or the fact that I killed several magical creatures every week—
Jade Kardo, the highest authority of the facility, trusted me easily. At last, I had been given the chance to meet the dragon in person.
And yet, the moment I had long awaited arrived—
and I threw away the opportunity I had worked so hard to build.
When the door leading down to the basement opened, and I stood before a corridor as dark as pitch—
a weary voice echoed from somewhere very, very deep within.
‘...Here we go again. Are they cutting off my tail today? I’m so sick of this.’
If it had been screaming, writhing in pain, I might have pretended not to hear it.
But perhaps it had grown used to it.
That detached, indifferent voice—accepting torture as if it were nothing—
it broke me.
I froze at the entrance, unable to take a single step forward.
One of the managers who had gone ahead turned back. With a puzzled expression, he asked if I was alright.
I spoke instead.
“What... are you doing to that dragon today?”
“Well, last week we pulled out all its claws and it still didn’t open its mouth. Maybe today we should try cutting off its tail?”
The man shrugged, answering in a casual, everyday tone. Then he urged me to hurry up and come in so he could close the door.
Standing there, I barely managed to force out a single word.
I didn’t know whether I was saying it to those who tortured the dragon without a second thought—
or to myself, who stained his hands with countless lives under the excuse of granting eternal peace.
“...Disgusting.”
I turned around immediately and walked off, pushing through the forest.
I thought there was no reason or conscience left in my chest anymore.
And yet, the old stories my parents used to tell me in childhood still remained vividly in my memory.
‘Ceryl, dragons are companions of the soul to us. If you ever meet one, it will become the most precious being in your life.’
That gentle voice from long ago rang in my ears as if I had heard it yesterday.
Despite having already killed dozens of magical creatures with my own hands—
I still couldn’t bring myself to torture a dragon.
A revolting hypocrisy.
---
“Lord Aylos, you’ve got a letter.”
---
Someone’s voice reached me. For months, I had neither slept nor eaten properly, and I could only walk down the corridor in a daze.
A woman holding a letter hurried toward me.
“Lord Aylos! Ceryl Aylos!”
“...Ah, thank you.”
I still wasn’t used to the alias. That was why I often failed to respond immediately when someone called me.
The woman handed me the letter and left.
Left alone, I stared blankly at the envelope. It was a letter from my uncle, with whom I exchanged correspondence once a week.
I dragged a hand over my dried-out face, shoved the letter into my pocket, and headed toward my quarters.
There were people waiting for me in front of the building.
“Ceryl! Where have you been?”
Margon waved at me with a wide grin. Beside him, Leobin pointed to the basket he was holding.
“You haven’t eaten yet, right? I packed sandwiches you like.”
Perhaps unused to speaking casually to me, both of them sounded stiff.
I looked at them, pale-faced, as they approached me warmly.
“I’m fine. You eat.”
As I headed straight for my room, Leobin stepped in front of me to block my path. Lowering his head, he leaned in and whispered so quietly no one else could hear.
“Lord Ceryl, you didn’t eat yesterday either. If there’s something you want to eat—”
“I said it’s fine.”
At my refusal, Margon lowered his voice as well.
“Have you at least been sleeping? Your complexion is terrible...”
“I said it’s fine. Just... leave me alone.”
I was already too exhausted to even express emotion.
The two men finally stepped back and gave way.
As I walked alone toward my room, I crushed the letter in my pocket.
And I turned my pointless irritation toward those who didn’t deserve it.
Those idiots. Those fools. Why do they keep following me? What do they think they’ll get out of it?
Inside the cramped room, I sat down at the old desk and pulled out the crumpled letter, unfolding it.
A single sheet was filled edge to edge with that nauseating handwriting.
But not a single line was written for me.
***
[Ceryl, the surgery must be accelerated. The scarecrow is about to begin the game.
Preparation of the toy is nearly complete, but it will be delivered as late as possible.
Not long ago, I met a high-ranking mage from the academy. He said mental magic does not work on the treasure, so the brain must be destroyed from within. He claims that turning kin against kin is most effective...]
***
Before I could even finish reading the letter, I collapsed onto the desk.
Treasure. Toy.
The orders disguised in plausible codes made bile rise in my throat.
Tears fell onto the paper, smearing the ink. The lines I hadn’t yet read blurred beyond recognition.
“Ugh... ngh... I don’t want to....”
It wasn’t just the ink that dissolved in those tears.
The feelings I had hidden so carefully spilled out between clenched teeth.
“I don’t want to, I don’t want to... ngh, I don’t want to do it... ugh...”
I clenched my trembling fist.
But there was nothing in it.
I lifted my soaked face and hurriedly pulled out a fresh sheet of paper. Then I began scribbling like a madman a letter I would never send.
Help me. Please, someone help me. I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to kill. Please help me.
I filled the entire page repeating the same words dozens of times.
Why did such a simple act as writing feel so desperate?
Why did it make me want to cry just to watch?
Sitting alone in that dark, narrow room, Ceryl’s figure made my chest ache.
The grief and despair pouring out of him seeped directly into me.
I slowly approached him.
The closer I got, the more it felt like I was being swallowed by an overwhelming vortex of emotion.
Then I placed my hand on the shoulder of the man who was sobbing miserably.
At once, his tear-filled eyes lifted to look at me.
His dark violet eyes, like they were veiled in night fog, trembled helplessly.
With his pale, slender hand, Ceryl grabbed my collar.
“Ugh... help, help me... please, help me... you... you can do it, can’t you....”
“......”
“Please... ngh... save the magical creatures... the dragon... ugh, save the dragon...”
My gaze dropped to the desperate hand clutching me like a lifeline.
I raised my other hand and gently stroked his dry black hair.
When I opened my mouth, the voice that came out was the same as the man crying in my arms.
“Ceryl. It was you.”
The one who called me into this world.
The one who begged me to save the suffering magical creatures, to save the dragon trapped in the basement.
Only now did all my questions finally fall into place.
The answers I could never find, no matter how much I asked myself—
Ceryl had them.
I knelt on one knee before him and looked up, reaching out to wipe the tears from his ruined face, taking his fragile hand in mine.
A face that had become familiar—yet still felt strangely unfamiliar—looked back at me.
“It’s okay, Ceryl. I’ll help you.”
“...hng...”
“I can do it. I’ll save the dragon. So don’t worry anymore.”
Ceryl tightened his grip on my hand.
Even so, he didn’t take his eyes off me for even a moment.
Meeting those eyes filled with anxiety, I repeated the same words again and again without tiring.
Only after a long while did his expression soften.
And perhaps because he had been so exhausted—
his swollen eyelids slowly closed.
“I’m... going to sleep... don’t wake me...”
With those final words, Ceryl fell into a deep sleep.
Then, in the dark, narrow room—
water began to rise.
It was seawater.
Cold as ice, carrying a faint saltiness.
