I’d thought that once he got outside, he’d soar off into the sky. A dragon that can’t fly—how is that even possible?
Calm down. Right. Humans start with baby steps; dragons probably do too.
Still, knowing how proud he was, I tried to soothe him before he could get embarrassed.
“It’s fine, it’s fine. Don’t lose confidence. What dragon flies perfectly the very first time?”
“...”
“Then maybe change back into human form? You’ll be spotted easily like this.”
“Can’t. I’m out of strength.”
“...Yeah. Figures. You’ve been through a lot.”
If I opened my mouth, I was going to shout, so I clenched both fists tight and turned away from him.
What kind of dragon IS this!!!
The scream stayed buried in my chest.
***
The sky was gradually brightening, even as the future looked bleak.
Varen lay sprawled on the grass, sound asleep. The human watching over him through the night—me—had dark circles under his eyes.
I pressed my face into my palms and sighed deeply. This was entirely my mistake.
I should’ve considered the possibility that Varen couldn’t fly. Then we would’ve picked somewhere near a cave, not this open plain.
Even if I found one now, it’d still be a problem. After his first humanization, he’d needed a full week to recharge mana; it would take days again this time.
And if he couldn’t humanize, he’d have to walk to a cave—wobbling on those short legs under that massive body.
Adorable.
No, focus.
Every step he took shook the ground. Even deep in the mountains, Jed would figure it out soon.
Ugh... how was I supposed to hide something the size of a house?
“I can’t stay with you all day either...”
If I suddenly stopped visiting the basement after going every day, Jed would suspect something. And the empty cell couldn’t be discovered.
That meant I had to guard two locations at once: where Varen was lying, and the underground prison.
Until this baby dragon learned to fly, I needed to stall Jed somehow—keep him from noticing.
“Pfffhhh...”
“You’re seriously sleeping right now? Sleeping?!”
While I was racking my brain trying to keep him safe from humans, the idiot was snoring and smacking his lips in his sleep.
Then I felt something familiar wriggle out of my pocket.
“Hyung!”
It was Rami—recently more talkative after making new friends. Bright-eyed, tail wagging, full of energy after a night of play.
Her cuteness made me smile automatically. I pulled a dried apricot from my other pocket and handed it over. She hugged it with her little front legs.
“You’ve been snacking too much lately, huh?”
“Hyung.”
“At this rate you’ll turn into a pig-lizard.”
“Hyung, hyung.”
...Wait. That second voice echoed—from all around me.
I looked up to find myself surrounded by dozens of Noaks, identical to Rami. Shadow lizards chirping and wagging their tails, all crying hyung, kiyung, piyung in chorus.
Staring dumbly for a moment, I took out all the dried apricots and broke them into pieces, scattering them. Each one politely picked up a piece in its mouth.
“...Rami, you can do long-distance travel, right?”
Rami nodded, then hopped back into my pocket. When she came out again, she was holding the pen from my bedroom.
Noaks could store a location in memory and travel there through shadows—practically teleportation.
That was it. A flash of inspiration struck like lightning.
I snapped my fingers, calling their attention. Every tiny head lifted from its apricot piece to look at me.
“You guys ever had grapes? Strawberries?”
Rami raised her head proudly. The others drooped their tails.
“Good little ones who listen to me will get all the fruit they can eat. Got it?”
***
“Hyung!”
Rami popped out of my pocket, checked that I was alone, then jumped to the ground and began drawing in the dirt with her thin tail.
A semicircle.
“The basement?”
She nodded. My state-of-the-art monster security system was working beautifully.
I jumped onto Ella’s back. She sprinted without a sound—hooves not even touching the ground, floating by telekinesis.
When we neared the Facility, I hid Ella and went on foot. Two men were creeping toward the underground prison.
“Hey, you there!”
I burst out of the brush, making them jump. Both were strangers.
“What are you doing here? Don’t you know the basement’s under my jurisdiction?”
They exchanged glances and forced awkward smiles.
“Haha, of course we do. We weren’t going to the basement, just heading into the forest.”
“Never seen you before. State your division and name.”
“...”
“Division. Name.”
When I folded my arms and barked the order, they suddenly “remembered” urgent business and bolted.
I didn’t breathe out until they’d disappeared completely.
I hadn’t memorized every staff face, but there was no way I’d forget ones that unfriendly.
Strangers in Facility uniforms snooping near the dragon’s cell—there was only one conclusion.
Jed had ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) noticed.
I climbed back onto Ella. A distance that would take me three hours on foot took her ten minutes.
Dozens of Noaks ringed the plain. I set down a basket full of grapes under a tree, and they swarmed it.
“I’m back.”
“You’re late.”
I was the only one anxious every hour. Varen was sunbathing, utterly relaxed in the midday heat.
What a life.
I flopped down beside him. My neck muscles ached from all the tension.
“No humans passed nearby?”
“None.”
“Two strangers checked the basement. I think Jed’s onto us.”
“I see.”
His detached tone made me sit up straight.
“You still can’t humanize?”
“If I do?”
“I told you—ride Ella and flee. Once you reach the Silvern Plateau—”
“Can’t yet. Tired.”
How could he say that so shamelessly? Thick hide, thick face.
“This is serious. We can’t stay here forever.”
“Can’t help it if I don’t know how to fly.”
“I’m losing my mind. Who’s supposed to teach you to fly?”
“Don’t be absurd. What monster teaches a dragon to fly?”
“...Then why can’t the great dragon fly?”
He shot me a look full of indignation, like I’d wounded his pride again.
“Not dragon—Varen.”
“....”
“Varen Dravergh.”
I groaned. The adolescent dragon was throwing my own words back at me.
Running a hand through my hair, I looked around. The Noak security ring still stood guard, but with Jed now moving, there could be eyes or ears anywhere.
“Other humans can’t hear you anyway, but I still have to be careful using your name.”
“I still don’t like being called ‘dragon.’”
“You’re picky.”
Well, after realizing how important his name was, I couldn’t blame him for being attached to it.
Still, Dravergh was too long, and “hey you” felt too cold.
What nickname would fit?
“How about... Scaly?”
“Too weak.”
“Okay, then... Scalecrusher?”
“Sounds strong.”
Scalecrusher Dravergh.
I mouthed the full name to myself and burst out laughing. It had been a joke, but Varen looked genuinely pleased.
“Obviously I was kidding. What kind of dragon goes around named Scalecrusher?”
“I like it.”
“You’re ridiculous. Funniest dragon I’ve ever met.”
The Varen Dravergh who’d been depicted in the original story as a mad slaughterer—turns out he was a riot.
“Another dragon?”
“Hm?”
“You said ‘funniest.’ Do you know others?”
He turned his long, supple neck halfway around to face me. In the sunlight, his blue eyes gleamed like jewels—oddly intense.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I asked first. Do you know any other dragons besides me?”
What the hell was that? I pushed at his face as it leaned closer.
“And what if I do?”
“Who?”
“What’s it to you?”
Of course I knew other dragons—fictional ones. Plenty besides the Dravergh line.
But when I dodged the question, Varen drew his head back and glared. Not exactly threatening, but brimming with dissatisfaction.
Something about that look felt familiar. I’d seen eyes like that before—often.
Ah. Right.
“Pfft, you look just like Berry.”
Berry had been a jealous dog. If I so much as glanced at another dog during walks, she’d yank her leash and snarl.
After work at the clinic, she’d sniff every inch of me for an hour, then glare with the whites of her eyes showing—exactly like Varen was doing now.
I’d been so caught up with dragons lately I’d almost forgotten her. The memory left me unexpectedly sentimental.
“Who’s Berry? Another dragon you know?”
“Why do you keep asking? She’s not a dragon.”
“Then what is she?”
How should I even explain that? “Pet” wouldn’t mean anything here, and this world didn’t even use the word “animal.”
“Well... she was my companion monster.”
Varen’s jaw fell open, eyes wide with pure shock—as if he’d just lost his kingdom.
“You... already have... a companion?”
He’d never stammered before. The sight of it threw me off too.
“Uh, yeah. We lived together before. Not anymore, though.”
“...Really?”
“Yeah. She crossed the rainbow bridge a few months ago.”
“Where’s the rainbow bridge? When’s she coming back?”
“She can’t. It means she died.”
I didn’t know why I was explaining this to him, but my tone softened anyway.
Varen stared at me for a long moment, then closed his mouth tightly.
“So... you were bereaved.”
Technically, yes—death was parting. But hearing it phrased like that still sounded so wrong.
