The Observer’s Dilemma

“Chase is the only servant in the Crown Prince’s Palace right now. If I kick him out, who’s going to wait on me?”

“I can do it.”

“You’ve definitely lost your mind. Did you forget what I said?”

For five years, I had told Kyern repeatedly that I would never keep a dragon by my side in public. No, I didn’t even want others to know I was associated with a dragon. Kyern looked hurt by my firm tone, but some things were simply non-negotiable. He opened his mouth to argue, but a knock at the door sent him scurrying into invisibility.

“I’m coming in, Your Highness.”

Chase entered, pushing a trolley, and began setting the table. It felt wonderful to eat a meal prepared by someone else after years of my own cooking. After finishing the meal and enjoying a leisurely tea, I changed into my pajamas with Chase’s assistance. Wearing a long, gown-like pajama set for the first time in ages felt a bit surreal.

“You must be exhausted from the long journey, so please rest. If you need anything, just pull the bell cord and I’ll come running.”

With that, Chase bowed and left. I lay in bed, waiting for Kyern to reappear, but there was no sign of him.

“Kyern?”

I called out loud, but there was no response.

“Kyern? Dragon-y? …What’s going on? Where did he go?”

I wondered if he’d run away from home because I didn’t take his side. I was a bit flustered, but figuring he’d be back soon, I eventually fell asleep.

It had been about three days since my return to the Imperial Palace. Between handling matters I couldn’t touch during my exile and resuming my interrupted studies, those three days passed in a blur of activity. Though I was busy, I made time to talk to Chase.

“Chase, have you thought about what you want to do?”

I had long intended to let Chase pursue whatever he desired—whether that be as a scholar or a merchant—so I asked. Five years was more than enough time to consider his future. However, Chase’s answer was not what I expected.

“I don’t know. Right now, I simply wish to serve Your Highness.”

“But isn’t working in the palace inconvenient? There are so many restrictions.”

Chase just smiled and said it was fine. Since he wanted it and I wasn’t in a position to kick him out, I thought for a moment before making a suggestion.

“Then how about becoming the Head Chamberlain of the Crown Prince’s Palace?”

The position of Head Chamberlain comes with the title of Associate Baron. It’s called “Associate” because it isn’t a hereditary title. Most servants are nobles, but usually of the rank that struggles to inherit a title. Since it wouldn’t suit the dignity of the Imperial family to have a commoner or a title-less noble as a Head Chamberlain, the title is usually granted. Even if they step down, the title isn’t revoked.

I thought it would help him in whatever he did later, but he shook his head.

“I don’t want to. Being the Head Chamberlain involves too much work.”

It wasn’t that he was lazy; his main reason was that it would make it harder to serve me personally. A Head Chamberlain’s job was mostly managing and supervising subordinates rather than direct service. Since I couldn’t force a title on someone who didn’t want it, I had to let him have his way.

After the talk, I sat at my desk in the office and pondered.

‘Since Chase refused, I’ll have to find someone else to be the Head Chamberlain.’

I pulled out a sheet of paper and started a “To-Do List.” First: Find someone fit to be the Head Chamberlain and the Head Lady-in-Waiting. Second: Recruit personal guards. Normally, these would have been settled on my seventeenth birthday, but exile had prevented that.

I hesitated before writing the third item.

‘I need to hire an aide… but I don’t know who to choose.’

I’d only been back for three days; I had no idea who was reliable. I decided to look into that slowly. Then, I remembered what had been bothering me for the last few days.

“Ugh. That jerk, where did he go?”

Kyern, who had vanished the night we returned, hadn’t been seen since. On the first day, I thought he was just sulking, but by the third day, all sorts of thoughts were crossing my mind.

‘It’s not like he’s in danger… right?’

He acted like a fool, but he was a dragon. He wouldn’t be in danger. That meant he was staying away of his own volition.

‘…Did he finally leave for good?’

I had always known that one day he might get bored and leave. He’d only stuck to me because of a dragon’s fickle curiosity. Still, I thought we’d grown close over five years; it stung a little that he’d left without even a goodbye.

‘Well, what can you do.’

In a way, maybe it was better that he left now. At the monastery, it was just the two of us, so I could focus on him. But the palace was different. There were too many people to deal with, and since Kyern couldn’t show his face, it would have been difficult. It was just the natural order of things.

‘Humans live human lives; dragons live dragon lives.’

It was right for us to live our separate lives. Besides, my time was running out. There was no point in a long-lived dragon getting more entangled with someone who only had a few years left. With that thought, I left the office.

Five years was but a blink of an eye in the life of a dragon like Kyern. Nevertheless, the time spent with Aillen was a period that would never fade from his memory. For Kyern, who had spent his entire life in the Great Forest, everything involving Aillen was stimulating.

As a dragon, he was durable; even in poor environments, he could thrive as long as he tolerated a little annoyance. Yet, for the convenience of a single human, he had stayed and even manufactured tools. It was unthinkable for the dragon he used to be.

‘How can he be so fragile?’

In Kyern’s estimation, Aillen would have died shortly after arriving at the monastery if not for him. Aillen was wise and clever for a human, but he was still just an un-aged fledgling. When Aillen had collapsed back then, Kyern had been conflicted.

‘Should I go back, or not?’

In Kyern’s eyes, Aillen was a fascinating subject for observation. Though he’d spent his life in the forest, he had occasionally ventured into the human world for “play,” so he wasn’t entirely ignorant of mankind. He liked that Aillen didn’t fear him, and he was intrigued by the special secret Aillen carried, but he didn’t think staying by his side was a fair trade.

Normally, he would have felt the annoyance and turned away, but strangely, he didn’t want to. So he stayed, just to watch a little longer, and thus Aillen lived.

The Aillen who survived then began to pour out strange knowledge to Kyern. It was clearly the kind of thinking a human would do, yet no one in this world thought like that.

‘Underfloor heating… a range that creates fire without firewood…’

Kyern wondered if this was knowledge bestowed by a god. But upon reflection, that didn’t seem right.

‘Aillen’s knowledge isn’t complete.’

It was like a conceptual sketch on a canvas. He could explain roughly how it was used and how it worked, but he didn’t understand the underlying principles. If it were divine knowledge, the principles would have been included. Furthermore, Aillen didn’t find the finished products “alien” even though Kyern felt the dissonance of creating something never seen before. Rather, Aillen used them with the familiarity of someone who had used them before.

‘I’m curious about your secret.’

Kyern had known from the start that Aillen hadn’t told him everything. That was why he chose to remain; he would satisfy his curiosity by observing Aillen from a close distance. For five years, Kyern stayed glued to Aillen. For a dragon who knew nothing of patience, this was an immense concession.

There were other ways to solve the mystery besides observation. Humans were so fragile that a little “tinkering” could force a confession. If Kyern bound Aillen’s body with force and stirred his brain with mana, the human wouldn’t be able to help but vomit up every secret he held.

It would have been the easy, quick way to satisfy his curiosity.

‘But I don’t want to do that…’

Even though he knew it was the most efficient method, Kyern felt reluctant. It would be fast, but the human’s fragile mind would shatter. He would become an idiot—or if he was lucky enough to avoid that, he would never be able to live as he did now.

Of course, Kyern had nothing to lose whether Aillen became an idiot or not, yet a strange reluctance led him to spend five years in a way that didn’t fit his nature. Having someone this close for the first time, Kyern felt a strange sensation as he watched Aillen grow.