FIDA 11

Chapter 11

“Misunderstanding? What a pathetic excuse.”

A sneer slipped from his lips. His eyes were as cold as frozen steel, his heart firmly sealed shut.

In that instant, Jaina realized. Diarmid had built an unshakable wall.

A wall that would not be swayed by persuasion, not yield to compromise, not hold anyone dear.

She didn’t need words to understand. Whatever she said now, he would never truly listen.

“……”

Jaina kept her mouth shut. Talking to someone unwilling to listen was pointless.

No matter what she said, to Diarmid it would sound like an excuse. At best, it would only irritate him further.

“All I heard from the dragonfolk was the worthless advice to seek protection under this kind of father…”

The unfairness of it burned inside her. At the same time, she couldn’t help but feel foolish for having harbored even the slightest hope toward the man before her.

Even young Taylor knew well enough: That man is ruthless and arrogant.
So what had she been expecting?

Jaina swallowed all unnecessary words and decided on a simple, honest apology.

“I’m sorry for entering without permission. But I only came to pick some flowers from the garden. I won’t come here again.”

She bowed her head politely. Diarmid was silent for a moment—clearly out of things to say.

But his gaze upon her was still rigid.

“How can I trust that? For all I know, you might be just like your mother—an unscrupulous fraud and a shallow opportunist.”

He stepped closer, reached out, and her small face fit entirely within one of his hands.

At a distance where a single breath could touch, two pairs of blue eyes stared directly into each other.

“I thought I might feel something, since you’re her daughter. But there’s nothing at all.”

The air in the garden was sharp, frozen.

The only thing that had drawn near was their physical distance.

What had moments ago seemed like a paradise of white blossoms now appeared stripped of all color, cold and indifferent.

“Even if you were my real daughter, nothing would change. Don’t ever approach me again. Don’t expect anything of me.”

Diarmid released her and turned away without hesitation. His steps were firm and merciless, leaving not a trace of regret.

As he walked, staring straight ahead, a thought crossed his mind:

She doesn’t seem like a child her age.

Very few humans could withstand Diarmid’s oppressive presence. For a child, fainting on the spot would have been expected.

Yet this girl hadn’t flinched. He had even tried provoking her, but she hadn’t cried, hadn’t even faltered in her breathing.

That alone made her strangely remarkable—enough to make him look back despite himself.

She was unusually quiet when we first met, too.

Unusual. His gaze lingered longer than it should.

But it ended there.

Because when he saw his own reflection in her unnervingly calm eyes, old memories began to surface.

Memories of happiness, of joy, of excitement… and of pain.

She truly resembles her mother.

Diarmid had no desire to face those scar-ridden days again.

That child, like her mother, was a dragon.

And dragons were never sincere toward humans.

No doubt, she had been raised by her relatives to manipulate him, to extract some benefit—just as her mother had, with extreme selfishness.

Could she really be his daughter?

The age matched, but aside from her black hair and blue eyes, there was no resemblance at all.

And above all else—Bezrichte would never have borne his child.

—A dragon can only bear a child with one they truly love. Every dragon offspring is born of love.

Back then, Bezrichte’s eyes had held no trace of falsehood when she said those words.

* * *

That evening, when Jaina met Mikael, he received a completely unexpected gift.

“It’s nothing much, but please accept it.”

“Huh…?”

“A bouquet of Leshanne flowers.”

Mikael blankly accepted the bundle held out to him.

Even with his towering frame—larger than many grown men—the bouquet was big enough to fill his arms.

The fragrance of Leshanne blossoms washed over him, making him blink slowly before opening his eyes again.

“It’s just a token of thanks. You’ve given me so much, and I’ve never given you anything in return.”

“…Did you… make this yourself?”

“Yes. You saw right away. It’s rather clumsy, isn’t it?”

Mikael examined the bouquet carefully.

Each flower arranged with delicate care, tied neatly with a pretty ribbon.

How long must it have taken such a small girl to put together something so large?

“Wait… what’s wrong with your hands?”

“It’s nothing.”

But his sharp eyes caught what she had tried to hide.

She quickly tucked her hands behind her back, but he’d already seen them.

Tiny hands—less than half the size of his own—were covered in fresh cuts.

Handling flowers with such fragile hands, injuries were inevitable.

Normally, Mikael would have laughed at her stupidity for cutting herself on flowers. But now, he found himself speechless.

Is it because it’s my fault?

Uncharacteristically at a loss for words, Mikael scratched his flushed cheek and muttered gruffly:

“…Well, it’s not bad. Definitely the first gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Really? Your first?”

When Jaina smiled shyly, Mikael’s breath caught.

His large eyes were fixed solely on her.

Is this… the first time I’ve seen her smile?

A soft dimple appeared on her left cheek. Her clear laugh was light, her eyes and lips curving gently, almost ticklishly sweet.

So she could smile like this…?

He had always thought her expressionless, indifferent, dry—like an old soul in a child’s body. Even when teased, she barely reacted.

But just from this?

The thought of threatening her not to cry in front of others suddenly felt absurd.

For some reason, her smile wasn’t unpleasant. In fact…

But why is she smiling? Because I said the bouquet was decent?

It made no sense to him. No matter how he turned it over, he couldn’t understand.

Then again, she had been strange from the start.

“You’d better earn the Tower Master’s recognition soon, so you’ll be under his protection.”

The words slipped from Mikael’s mouth before he realized.

“You’re not an official member of the Tower. If you suddenly disappeared, no one would be obligated to look for you. The Tower Master hates disturbances, so everyone’s holding back, but still…”

Jaina stared at him silently.

Had his eyes ever carried such weight before?

No laughter, no teasing, no mockery—just quiet seriousness.

“You don’t even have a mother. At least your father should be looking out for you.”

“There’s one thing I like about dragon culture, even if I don’t agree with the rest.”

For a moment, Mikael thought her eyes looked like clear ice.

“In dragon culture, the concept of a father doesn’t exist.”

“What? How can there be no fathers? Without fathers, children wouldn’t even be born.”

“If you think that way, then the ground I stand on, the food and water I’ve taken in—they’re what gave me life, too. The one who carried me for ten months wasn’t a father, so why give him a special title?”

Jaina thought back to her past life as Min Bobaee in Korea, where filial duty was considered sacred.

When she’d first learned of dragon customs, she’d been more shocked than Mikael.

But then, she began to question—was a father truly a special existence?

Especially when in her past life, her own father had been the one to kill her.

“So, it doesn’t matter to me if I have a father or not. He never existed for me in the first place.”

Her words were calm, unshaken.

“The only one keeping me alive… is myself.”

Mikael listened quietly, then frowned and turned away.

“…I don’t know about all that nonsense philosophy. I’ve said what I can.”

He spun around and strode off quickly.

Jaina only watched his back, making no move to follow.

Nothing had changed. Nothing ever would.

In seven years, when she turned seventeen, she would be killed by her own kind—a dragon.

And in that moment, Diarmid would say the words written in the book:

[Just as your birth stirred nothing in me, so too will your death hold no meaning for me.]

That was Diarmid Bellapanian—cold-blooded enough to remain unmoved even by his own daughter.

Jaina—his illegitimate child, a half-blood born of dragon and human—destined for rejection and death.

Their fates were already written.

So the mold in her cramped storeroom room, the nutritional deficiencies from her limited meals—none of it truly mattered.

Those are problems for people who live long lives.

She would die at seventeen, in the bloom of youth.

And after Mikael had completely disappeared from sight, some time later—

“Well, well. Who would’ve thought the great Mikael would accept something like a bouquet?”

The sudden voice made her skin crawl. A chill ran down her spine.

Jaina spun around.

A familiar face.

Among all the people of the Tower, she knew no one besides Mikael and Hilbenjia—except for him.

“It’s been a while. How long have you been standing there?”

“You remembered me. I’m honored. I thought I was nothing to you.”

“……”

“I really wanted to see you. I wanted to talk, but you were always surrounded by others.”

Something cold slid down her back.

“But now… you’re finally alone.”

And there stood Moven, in a place she hadn’t even realized was occupied.