Why do humans do the same things no matter what world they’re in?
They were grateful for someone’s goodwill at first, then grew used to it, and eventually came to take that goodwill for granted—and in the end demanded more.
“Human” and “greed” might as well be synonyms.
“The village became a town, and the town became a nation. In a world where everyone once lived in harmony, the domain of humans grew wider and wider.”
The rest of the story was obvious.
“They must have begun destroying nature.”
“How did you know?”
“The world I lived in wasn’t much different.”
We quietly met each other’s eyes. We came from different worlds and different species, yet sharing the same emotion was strange and wondrous.
“Ha... why are humans like this. I’ll apologize on their behalf.”
“Not all humans are like that. You know this.”
With a gentle tone, he pointed out my hasty generalization. A small courtesy toward the human before him. Fitting for a Spirit of the river—deep to the core.
“Do you think such peaceful days will ever return? The war’s only just begun.”
“Tsks, that blasted war.”
The Spirit clicked his tongue and looked toward the cabin door. It felt as though he were looking at Varen asleep beyond it.
“Humans and dragons were once in a friendly relationship. Humans drew strength from dragons, and dragons saw the world through humans.”
That much, even I knew. It was the core premise of the novel: the Heart-Contract.
A dragon bestows power and divinity upon its contractor. And a contractor who shares a heart shares that dragon’s experiences as well.
Among them, contracts between the royal dragon bloodline and humans were special. Inheriting a Dravergh contract was the same as inheriting the throne.
“Dragons protected nature and monsters, and humans guarded the cities. They strengthened each other, but never crossed into one another’s territory.”
“Humans got greedy again, didn’t they.”
At my light retort, the Spirit’s expression froze.
The air inside the cabin grew heavy at once. Maybe it was just my nerves, but even the teacup in my hand felt weighty.
“No. To be precise—they began picking up blades.”
“Blades?”
“Yes. Blades spared no one. They ruined nature, slaughtered monsters, and even turned against one another.”
Well. Once the concept of wealth and prestige appears, competition between humans becomes inevitable.
“And the throne was soaked in blood, marking the beginning of war.”
It was metaphorical, but I understood what he meant. My mind flipped through its pages at speed.
“In the book I read, the era of King Laskar was described. Nothing earlier was written.”
The Spirit’s lip twitched. It was the first time I’d seen such a cynical expression on him.
“A king? That man?”
In that instant, Jed’s words flashed through my head like lightning.
Jed always tormented me with cryptic riddles. Talking to him meant listening to every word with a knife’s edge of attention.
“The Puppet King.”
“A Dravergh would never allow a Heart-Contract with someone who took up blades against them.”
“Ah...”
At last, all the pieces aligned.
Someone had seized Alberian’s throne by force. And when he tried to form a Heart-Contract with the Dravergh bloodline, he was rejected.
They couldn’t challenge an adult dragon—so they kidnapped one before it hatched. When it was most helpless, with no power at all.
Varen was the victim of a Puppet King who coveted divine authority.
“Ha... Varen...”
The name I must have spoken hundreds of times broke apart inside my mouth. My stomach churned.
At my words, the old man looked again beyond the cabin. His eyes—deep and clear like a river—turned moist.
“The Draverghs searched the entire world for that child.”
“...His family looked for Varen?”
“Of course they did. His mother cried with heartbreaking sorrow. Wherever she went, rain followed.”
A child who lost their parents feels the world collapse. How much more unbearable it must be for a mother who lost her child.
From the heat of my rising fury, my purpose sharpened. I ground my teeth, imagining the face of someone I didn’t even know.
A normal person of this world would have directed their anger toward the Puppet King—but the path of a transmigrator pointed elsewhere.
Damn that author. I don’t know why you dragged me into this, but now that I’m here, things won’t go the way you wanted.
“I’m going to take Varen to the Belzena Mountain Range. I’ll return him to his family.”
At my words, the Spirit narrowed his eyes, lost in thought. He combed through old memories and tilted his head.
“The last time I saw a Dravergh was twenty years ago. Then, they were already dying. They may not still be alive.”
I lifted the head I’d been lowering. At that ambiguous expression, I answered with certainty, firm and unshaken.
“Varen’s parents are still alive.”
“How do you know that?”
I couldn’t tell exactly where we were in the story’s timeline. But there was a decisive piece of evidence beside me—proof that ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) Varen’s parents could not yet be dead.
The novel didn’t describe the Dravergh Clan in detail. But one particular sentence had been unforgettable.
The imminent battle of Belzena Gorge. In that fight, humans and dragons wage a brutal war, and the mad dragon Varen stands at the forefront of the human army.
“To be exact—they’re not dead yet.”
In the original, Varen killed his own parents and annihilated the Dravergh Clan. That was how he became the last surviving royal descendant.
The Spirit’s gaze dimmed. He looked like he had countless questions but he did not ask any of them.
Instead, he slowly nodded, as if he understood enough.
“It’s fortunate he has such a reliable guardian.”
“I’m not sure how reliable I am. I couldn’t do anything when Varen collapsed.”
The air lightened again now that the topic had shifted back to Varen.
The Spirit let out another warm laugh. His eyes folded into deep, wrinkled crescents.
“The Draverghs are stronger than you think. Far beyond what humans can even imagine.”
“But...”
“So don’t fret so much. He’s just suffering through growing pains.”
Right then, Varen’s groan drifted in through the open window. The Spirit clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“Your baby dragon is whining again.”
I shot to my feet as if burned and rushed out of the cabin at once.
In that short time, the sun had fully set, and a moon as bright as the sun hung overhead. In the middle of the meadow, Varen lay curled, panting hard.
I sprinted to him and pressed my hand to his brow. Somehow, his fever felt even worse than before.
“Varen. Varen? Are you all right?”
The dragon’s eyelids fluttered violently. Beneath the thin membrane, his eyes darted left and right.
Ah... no... no...
He was even muttering the same words in a pained voice. So this was growing pains, and he was dreaming nightmares.
“It’s okay. I’m right here.”
Ugh... uuugh... no...
“Varen, wake up for a moment. Wake up and then you can sleep again, okay?”
With his brow scrunched in agony, I decided I had to wake him. Even if it was only a dream, I couldn’t let him wander alone in torment.
After calling his name several times and shaking his face, his eyelids finally lifted in slow motion.
His blue eyes were full of moisture, the vertical pupils contracting and relaxing in repeated cycles.
Haa... ha...
“What kind of dream did you have? Was it a bad one?”
Varen lifted the face that had been hanging limp. I thought he would pull away—but instead he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to mine, eyes shut tight.
Tears welled and streamed down his golden scales. Even a dragon’s tears were hot; a few drops were enough to warm my skin.
I... I, I... burned... everything...
Still half trapped in the dream, Varen rambled. He repeated only that he had burned everything, his voice steeped in guilt.
I’d thought he felt nothing about burning the Facility. Apparently, that wasn’t true.
I opened my arms and stroked his burning-hot forehead. And I coaxed the oversensitive adolescent dragon with all the gentleness I could muster.
“It’s all right, Varen. It’s over now.”
I... everything...
“Stop. Enough crying.”
I killed... my kin...
My hands froze in midair.
Varen had killed all the humans at the Facility—but he had not killed a single monster there.
I... I, I... my kin...
“......”
My... my family... even my parents... I killed... all of them...
The story from the original froze my heart solid.
Had Varen dreamed this? Or had he seen his other self from another world?
Whatever the scene he had witnessed, one thing was clear. I stepped back a small distance and faced him directly.
“Varen, listen carefully. That will not happen.”
I... I’ll kill them all...
“No. You’ll kill no one. Not your kin, not your family. That will never happen.”
I put force into every word, certainty in every syllable. Even so, those blue eyes trembled faintly.
Varen was confused by the vision he’d seen. He swallowed hard—loudly—and sniffed as he tried to catch scents.
Everything felt real... the flesh of my kin on my tongue... the smell of my parents’ blood...
“Calm down. It was all just a dream.”
I... I couldn’t control... my own will...
His voice broke at every syllable. Seeing him drowning in fear made my chest burn hot.
I had thought the reason I was dragged into this world was to save Varen. That if I got him out of that underground dragon cell, everything would be solved.
That was a foolish human delusion. Varen was not free yet.
The author’s meticulously built parameters were still binding the dragon.
If... if I go mad... if I kill... everyone...
But now I was certain of one thing: this place was no longer a novel.
This was the world where I would plant my feet, the future I would build with my own hands. And the designs of the past—I could overturn them myself.
“You won’t go mad. And you won’t kill anyone.”
