The Black Dragon’s Heir

The massive stone door, designed to slide open like an automatic gate, rattled and groaned before screeching open only halfway. Even amidst the pain and annoyance, the janky sight of it was so pathetic it made me laugh.

Lamierre immediately pulled my hand toward him to cast a healing spell, while Isaac pulled me into a protective embrace, staring intently at the door. In place of the pain, a localized itching sensation—the feeling of flesh knitting back together—took over as I clenched and unclenched my fist. Once finished, Lamierre held my healed hand close to his chest. Thick clouds of dust billowed from the doorway that had been sealed for ages.

“Ooh!” “Ah!” Exclamations of awe erupted from the crowd.

Hmm. It seemed I was the only one who heard that voice.

“Shall we go in, or are you coming out?”

“Pardon?”

I pulled my hand from Lamierre’s grasp. After tapping Isaac on the back to signal him to let go, I stepped forward, and a hesitant Isaac followed closely, still partially shielding me.

“Your Highness?”

“Let’s go. It’s inside.”

Whether it was the Black Dragon itself or some guardian of the Grave of Dreams, something was definitely there. Judging by the tone… I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

‘Wait a second!’

“Hmm?”

‘I just woke up, so…’

I stopped in my tracks and stared into the hazy dust ahead.

‘I’ll come out after I wash my face! Can you just stay there… please?’

“You little…”

The excavation team had been stationed here for at least half a day. And what? It hasn’t even washed its face yet? I suppressed the urge to snap. Isaac and Lamierre, who couldn’t hear the voice, stared at me with bewildered expressions.

‘I’m really sorry!’

Following the frantic apology, I heard the sound of splashing water. I never thought I’d experience that specific feeling again—the one you get when you bang on the door of a friend’s studio apartment after they’ve overslept for a hangout. Unbelievable. Seriously.

Once the dust settled, the excavation team—consisting of mages, historians, and architects—swarmed forward. I soothed those itching to rush in with a simple excuse (“The owner isn’t ready for guests yet”) and took a seat in front of the door. It was a bizarre feeling to watch a mat and a tea set being laid out right next to the altar still stained with my blood.

Then again, it felt awkward to ask them to clean up my pointlessly shed blood. The only person who could look at these people admiring the “beloved of the Fire Dragon” and tell them “it turns out the blood wasn’t even necessary” was probably Kallios. Of course, he wouldn’t have made such a blunder in the first place. Ah, seriously. I should have just tried talking to the door first. Or shouted “Open Sesame” or something.

I checked the palm I had cut so decisively. The long wound from my index finger to the outer wrist had vanished without a trace. I picked up my teacup, scratching at a bloodstain on my sleeve with a fingernail.

“Is it really alright to be doing this?”

Lamierre asked cautiously, looking back and forth between the relaxed excavation team and me. Even Isaac, who usually disagreed with Lamierre on principle, nodded in rare agreement and looked at me. I peered into the wide-open doorway. It was filled with a darkness as pitch-black as the “Grave of Dreams,” making it impossible to see inside. Was a Black Dragon’s dream buried there too? Or were all entrances to “Dragon Ruins” like this? Well, it was a question that would be resolved once the person washing their face came out. I took a calm sip of tea.

“It’s bitter.”

“Then would you like to try this?”

Jaeger Tephersa, the Young Duke who had been lingering nearby, approached with a teapot. I nodded. He nonchalantly claimed the seat next to me and filled my empty cup. Green tea swirled into the white porcelain.

“Oh.”

It was green tea, something I hadn’t seen in ten years. I wasn’t sure if the original “Kaian” preferred black tea or if the Imperial family simply encouraged its consumption, but I had only seen red tea until now. Not that I minded; I drank it all the same.

“It is Otrisa, a specialty of the Tephersa Estate.”

I took a sip.

“It’s a blend of tea leaves grown in our estate and roasted grains. How is it?”

“It’s not bad.”

It tasted like brown rice green tea—the kind where young leaves gathered in the morning dew are dried in the autumn sun and blended with organically grown roasted grains by a master… okay, it was basically Genmaicha. At my praise, the Young Duke beamed and set his teapot down right where the Academy team’s teapot had been. I told him I liked blunt people, and he was certainly taking it to heart. Quite cute.

“Did you attend the Academy as well, Young Duke?”

“Please, call me Jaeger. It’s been… three years since I graduated.”

“I can’t very well do that to the future Duke. What was your major?”

He scratched the side of his head, messing up his neatly combed brown hair.

“Ah… as I mentioned, I am the Young Duke, but…”

“Because Duke Tephersa won’t step down?”

He didn’t answer, only offered a smile.

“So what was the major? Management? Or Politics?”

“I graduated from the Knight Academy.”

“Oh.”

Come to think of it, his shoulders were broad, and his posture was impeccably straight. Since he approached with such a smooth, slippery smile—giving off the vibe of a “highly capable nepotism hire in the Ministry of Finance”—I figured he was the desk-job type.

“But you didn’t bring a sword?”

“My father isn’t particularly fond of them.”

I watched his hand touch his empty waist before turning my gaze away. Given how he spoke so casually in a crowded place, it seemed their poor relationship wasn’t exactly a secret, but I had no desire to pry into family matters regardless of public knowledge. It wasn’t something I needed to know.

When I ended the conversation, Jaeger turned to Isaac. Perhaps there was a common language between swordsmen; the two engaged in a quite familiar—though somewhat bickering—conversation.

By the way, why isn’t the guy who said he was just washing his face coming out yet? Is he now deciding he wants a shower since his bangs got wet, and then choosing a pretty outfit because he’s clean? Did I rush my first flower viewing with Kallios just to wait here? I felt a wave of self-pity, so I decided to start by giving him a flick on the forehead the moment he appeared.

Lamierre, ever the social butterfly, joined the conversation between Isaac and Jaeger.

“Did you two already know each other?”

Isaac gave a vague answer, but Jaeger confirmed it immediately.

“Our mothers were close. We’ve seen each other often since we were children.”

I felt a bit awkward joining the “kids’ table,” but the story was interesting, so I sipped my tea and listened. Lamierre let out a “Wow!” of admiration and unleashed a barrage of questions. Since you were kids? What was Sir Ipsent like back then? Were you two very close? They were all questions I was curious about too. Good job, Lamierre.

Isaac cleared his throat several times as if to cut the questions short, but the indomitable Lamierre didn’t stop. Enjoying the trip down memory lane, Jaeger provided very kind and detailed answers.

Through their Q&A session, I learned several new things about Isaac’s childhood. Isaac had been sickly until he was seven and stayed mostly within the manor. Back then, Isaac was (in Jaeger’s words) “very small and cute.” The reason Isaac started learning the sword… was because of Jaeger.

“That is correct. I desperately wanted to punch… that person, just once,” Isaac admitted. Jaeger held up both hands in mock surrender, stifling a laugh.

“I was a bit much back then. I’m sorry.”

Isaac did not accept the apology.

The “exposure” of their past continued. Isaac had been a sensitive child, prone to tears. The time he cried the most was when Jaeger accidentally ripped open the stomach of his teddy bear. Apparently, Isaac cried for three days and nights before holding a funeral and building a grave for the bear.

“You could have just put the stuffing back in and sewn it up. Why bury it?” I asked.

“If a person’s stomach is ripped open, they die,” Isaac stated firmly.

“A teddy bear isn’t a person…”

I sighed at the deep sorrow young Isaac must have felt, but he remained resolute.

“Loti was my precious friend.”

Jaeger covered his mouth with his hand and looked down. He was trying to hide his laughter, but his rising cheekbones made the effort useless. I took a deep breath to stay calm and offered my condolences for Isaac’s dear friend.

“Oh dear… his name was Loti…”

Pfft. I quickly inhaled and covered my eyes. Good lord. He’s adorable, but this is too funny. I rubbed my face to compose myself and looked up.

Suddenly, a loud Pop! echoed. Isaac and Jaeger jumped up to block my front, and Lamierre slammed both hands onto the ground, generating a translucent protective barrier.

“Sorry I’m late. I’m here!”

Standing where a cloud of white smoke had dissipated was a black-haired runt who looked like he’d stolen his dad’s clothes. Water dripped from his hair and clothes as if he’d stood under a shower fully dressed. I stood up. The brat beamed at me.

“Hi, Incarnation of Capre. I’ve been waiting a long, long time for you to come.”

The knights scurried forward to block the brat, who was coming toward me. The kid, who was barely half my size, was quickly hidden behind a wall of people.

“Huh? Why?”

When I tried to approach the child, Isaac and Lamierre stopped me. I nodded obediently and ordered the knights.

“I need to see the child, so move aside. And you… you stay right there.”

“Okay!”

I gave a chin gesture after hearing the spirited reply. The knights slowly stepped aside. The floor where the brat had been standing for just a moment was already soaked. I frowned, watching the water continuously dripping from his clothes. Jaeger stepped back, retreating toward the excavation team he had led.

The brat looked to be about the same age as Sierra. I looked into the black eyes that were staring only at me and offered a smile.

“Hi. I’m Kaian.”

“Yeah, Kaian! What’s my name?”

“Huh?”

The brat grinned and took a few steps toward me before stopping again.

“Oh. You told me to stay there, right?”

Jaeger ran over and handed me two thick towels. Mentally praising his quick wit, I approached the child, who was backing away as much as I advanced.

“Why are you all soaked?”

“I washed… I washed my face.”

“That doesn’t look like washing your face; it looks like you were hit by a tidal wave.”

I draped one towel over the brat’s shoulders and used the other to vigorously dry his face. The kid squeezed his eyes shut. Good. Praising his cooperative behavior, I also shook out his dripping hair. Lamierre ran over, saying, “I’ll do it!” I readily handed the towel to him.

“But why are you asking me for your name?”

Lamierre began squeezing the water out of the brat’s wet clothes. After a moment, the child looked back—specifically, toward the ruins he had emerged from.

“Dad said…”

“Yeah.”

“Dad said the Incarnation of Capre has to name me.”

“And who is your father?”

The brat smiled proudly.

“Arjen. The Black Dragon Arjen is my dad.”

“I see.”

But why did that man… no, that dragon, leave the naming of his son to someone else instead of doing it himself? Lamierre, who had plopped down on the ground, pulled the brat into his lap. His hands were surprisingly deft as he wiped the moisture and dust from the child’s small, bare feet. Jaeger brought over dry clothes and two more towels. I took them.

The brat was awkward at first, but he quickly got used to being in Lamierre’s arms. I watched him poke the hands that were drying him and giggle before I sat down across from Lamierre.

“Why do I have to give you a name?”

“I… uh, it’s a secret.”

“If it’s a secret, never mind.”

I patted the head of the brat, whose eyes were darting around.

“What’s inside there?”

“Our house.”

“Are there any adults?”

The brat shook his head.

“If it’s your house, we shouldn’t just barge in, right?”

“Mmm…”

The brat nodded vigorously and whispered.

“Cleaning… I tried to do it like Dad did, but it didn’t work very well.”

“I get it.”

“But, Dad said there’s something I have to give people when they come. That part… I didn’t touch that part, so it’s okay.”

The scholars, who had been holding their breath to listen to our conversation, began to murmur. I wiped away a stray water droplet that was trickling down the brat’s forehead toward his eye.