The guard standing alone at the gate was a man I had never seen before. But he must have known Ceryl’s name, because the moment I finished speaking, he opened the gate.
We passed through and stepped into the Aylos family estate. It was a familiar place, yet neither Margon nor I felt like we had returned home.
Margon’s eyes, colder than I had ever seen them, swept over the building. His gaze settled on the small annex behind the main house.
“That’s it. The servants’ quarters.”
I gave a small nod in response.
As soon as news of my return spread, a middle-aged woman came rushing out from inside. Wearing an apron, she greeted me with a bright smile.
“Welcome back, Ceryl! I’m so glad you’re safe.”
Her high-pitched voice was unfamiliar, yet it stirred a strange sense of nostalgia.
I was about to return her greeting with a smile when Margon quickly cut in, leaning close to whisper in my ear.
“That’s Isabel. She’s been in charge of your meals since you were young.”
“Oh, right. I knew—”
“She makes excellent meat pie.”
I raised one eyebrow and looked at him, and Margon puffed out his chest proudly. At his look that clearly said leave it to me, I simply patted his shoulder without a word.
We followed Isabel into the main building. The two-story stone structure was modest in size and filled with worn furniture, but it was kept clean thanks to the servants’ diligent care.
Naturally, I sat down on the sofa in the sitting room and waited for Phiren. Margon stood behind me with his hands clasped behind his back, playing the role of a guard.
Isabel hurried around busily. She went into Phiren’s room at the end of the first-floor corridor, then quickly made her way to the kitchen.
Even for a fallen noble house, there should have been several servants handling the work. Yet, for some reason, Isabel was the only one in sight.
After a while, she returned carrying a tray with fragrant tea and neatly arranged cookies.
“Oh my, Ceryl. You have no idea how worried I was. Look at you.”
Without hesitation, Isabel leaned in close to examine my face. I flinched and leaned back, but she scrutinized me relentlessly.
After checking me over, she clasped her hands together, fussing over me. Perhaps because of all the work she did, her hands were rough and wrinkled compared to her face.
“I heard there was a big fire at the facility. You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”
“Ah... yeah, I’m fine.”
“Where have you been all this time? Have you been eating properly? Oh my, but you look healthier than I expected. You’ve even put on some weight since you left.”
This was me at my worst condition, already worn down.
Then again, the Ceryl in those memories had looked like a walking skeleton. Only after I took over this body and started eating regularly had it begun to resemble that of a proper person.
I smiled, my cheeks lifting slightly despite her worries.
“There’s nothing to worry about. I’ve been fine, eating well—”
“It’s good to hear you’ve been well, Ceryl.”
A middle-aged man’s unfamiliar voice cut me off.
The moment I heard it, I stood up without thinking.
It was not a conscious decision—my body moved on reflex.
I lowered my head toward the man I was finally facing: Phiren Lavier.
“Yes. I’ve returned.”
When I raised my head again, I met his gaze.
Phiren was tall and well-built. Like me, he had black hair and violet eyes.
His face carried a refined dignity, the kind that inspired both favor and trust. The corners of his lips curved into an elegant smile.
From appearances alone, there was no hint of the darkness lurking beneath.
“Sit comfortably. Welcome home.”
“Thank you, Uncle.”
Phiren sat at the head of the sofa, leaning back at ease.
Isabel quickly brought a fresh teapot and cup, pouring for him.
Phiren and I said nothing as we each finished a cup of warm tea.
Each time his gaze, as if trying to see through me, touched my face, it stung slightly. Still, I chose silence.
After setting down his empty cup, Phiren spoke first.
“So. How have you been? You gave no word for months. I was quite worried.”
I placed my own empty cup down and straightened my posture as I faced him.
“I apologize for not contacting you sooner. There were circumstances that made it difficult.”
“I hear the fifth magical creature management facility was attacked by a dragon.”
“...Yes. So you’ve heard.”
At my reply, Phiren let out a quiet chuckle and narrowed his eyes.
“Haha, a Dravergh appearing in the world for the first time in decades? Of course I’ve heard.”
“......”
“It seems it caused quite a disturbance the moment it appeared. Still young, I suppose.”
Varen had only revealed his true dragon form twice.
Once when escaping the facility, and once when he came to rescue me from Jade’s tower.
There had also been the war in Beljena, where he fought in his true form—but not a single human had survived that battlefield.
I could not tell which incident Phiren was referring to, or whether he somehow knew everything. His reach was impossible to gauge.
I shifted the topic.
“I’m sorry. I lost the dragon at the facility. I tried to track it myself, but it wasn’t easy. It likely returned to Beljena already.”
Phiren studied my face with a lowered gaze, as if trying to read my intent. I met his eyes without letting my expression break.
After a moment, he let out a short laugh, his brows creasing as he leaned an arm over the velvet sofa.
“That’s fine. I never expected much from your weak nature anyway.”
The sudden coldness in his tone made my stomach churn. A wave of depression and fear surged up at the thought of disappointing him.
Suppressing emotions that were not mine, I clasped my hands together tightly.
Then Phiren brought up something unexpected.
“It’s not a Dravergh, but it seems the royal family has managed to capture a dragon hatchling.”
I nearly let out a gasp.
Grinding my teeth, I swallowed it down and barely maintained my composure.
The hatchling he spoke of had to be Kaldrok’s child.
The king had kidnapped Kaldrok’s child to threaten him, forcing that long-loyal servant of the Dravergh to betray Ordin.
And even as Ordin’s heart rotted away, he had worried about that child until the very end, asking if there was no way to save it.
As that final image of Ordin surfaced, my stomach twisted again—this time with a surge of rage and vengeance so strong it was hard to contain.
Two sets of violent emotions clashed within one body. I took slow, shallow breaths, careful not to let Phiren hear.
Only after several breaths could I speak steadily.
“What does the king intend to do with a dragon hatchling?”
Was Kaldrok’s child still alive? Could it be saved?
I probed carefully.
I kept my expression as neutral as possible, but Phiren’s sharp gaze returned.
I steadied myself, hiding the pounding of my heart.
“I’ve spoken with a dragon before, at the facility. That’s not something even royal mages often experience.”
“Hm...”
“I don’t know what plans the king has for the hatchling, but... perhaps I could be of use.”
At my carefully framed words, Phiren’s gaze relaxed slightly. He stared off into the distance, letting out a low hum.
After a brief calculation, he smiled.
“You’ve become quite sharp, Ceryl.”
“...Thank you.”
It was praise I did not want, but I accepted it anyway.
Phiren tapped the armrest lightly with his finger, organizing his thoughts before speaking again.
“This time, can you do it without making mistakes?”
“......”
“I mean, can you avoid ruining things with unnecessary sympathy?”
He seemed to believe I had let the dragon escape out of pity.
It came from his absolute confidence that Ceryl would never disobey him.
I did not like it, but it worked in my favor. I nodded, deliberately showing firm resolve.
Satisfied, Phiren continued without being asked.
“We’ll use the hatchling as bait. Dragons cherish their kind. It will come out eventually.”
“Where is the hatchling now?”
“At the royal palace. There’s no point hiding it in a facility that can be destroyed by a single dragon, so they moved it somewhere secure.”
A single dragon?
The way he dismissed Varen twisted something inside me. It was the strongest emotion I had felt since entering this house.
I tightened my clasped hands so the tremor would not show.
Otherwise, I might have punched him and demanded who he thought he was, speaking that way about my—
Before I could settle my emotions, Phiren stirred them again.
“You’ve changed quite a bit since I last saw you. You seem to have grown.”
He looked at me with the satisfied gaze of a well-fed beast. The disgust that rose nearly twisted my expression.
But there was still too much I needed to learn from him.
I forced my face into neutrality and answered.
“A lot has happened in a short time.”
“What happened?”
“I ran into bandits while tracking the dragon, and I clashed with dragon hunters. I barely survived.”
As if verifying my words, Phiren’s gaze shifted to Margon behind me.
Margon stood expressionless, like a carved wooden figure.
After examining him, Phiren tilted his head slightly.
“Oh. It seems the toy has lost an arm.”
...The more I listened, the more I wanted to beat that bastard to death.
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