MLWP 61

Chapter 61

The flow of air froze for a moment.

Instead of answering, Cilia spun quickly on her heel. The man chuckled under his breath.

“Do you not remember me?”

Stay calm, she reminded herself firmly before speaking.

“For a young lady, that’s quite an old-fashioned pick-up line.”

“Is it? Last time I came out, it was all the rage. I suppose trends change quickly.”

Even the way he spoke sounded outdated — his old-fashioned speech was almost comical. As the rhythm of the music shifted, the man’s head tilted slightly. Between the spins of the dance, he slipped in more words.

“My apologies if it’s unfashionable. I’m not very good with trends. I suppose I should study a bit before I go back — though it’ll change again soon anyway.”

“So your kind cares about fashion too?”

“It helps, blending in with human amusements.”

“…What about what you said earlier — about past lives?”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Cilia glanced around carefully and whispered,

“This doesn’t seem like the place for that sort of discussion.”

She spoke coolly, though her heart thumped harder. If he mentioned past lives, it wasn’t an empty comment.

Because this man is…

Then, making up her mind, Cilia deliberately stumbled. Not like she had simply misstepped — it looked more like she was unwell. Small cries rose from the people nearby.

“My lady, are you all right?”

“Perhaps you haven’t fully recovered yet…”

Officially, Cilia was known to have been gravely injured during the great fire in the capital while performing heroic deeds. Though she’d since recovered, it wasn’t entirely untrue.

Not much time had passed since the fire, so people would assume she’d come out too soon after her injury. Showing weakness here would draw no suspicion.

And about now…

“Everyone, please step back.”

Just as she expected, someone came forward to take charge of the situation.

“Good evening, Princess.”

A familiar round face peeked into view — the Fourth Princess, Marcella.

“Oh my, no need to stand for greetings,” Marcella said gently, smiling as Cilia started to rise.

“I’ll have a guest room in Garnet Palace prepared for you. If you don’t feel well by tonight, you may stay until morning.”

Hmm. I wasn’t quite aiming for this much.

“Your Highness, that’s far too kind.”

“No, not at all. I do have that much authority, you know. Rest a bit — the ball will go on late into the night.”

Her eyes sparkled warmly.

She really means it. Pure kindness.

The same warmth and admiration that once filled her gaze were still there. Cilia returned it with a polite smile instead of refusing.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

The man who’d been dancing with her supported her by the shoulder. From afar, Flier looked over, silently asking if she was all right. Cilia shaped the words with her lips, whispering:

We need to talk later.

Flier nodded slightly, then accepted another young lady’s request to dance — no doubt to divert attention. He was a desirable bachelor; attention would follow him easily.

Grateful for that, Cilia followed the royal attendant to the guest room. Even “guest rooms” in the royal palace were as luxurious as a noble’s private chamber.

“This is the room, my lady.”

Just as the attendant turned his head, the man suddenly stepped forward, placed a finger lightly on the attendant’s forehead — and the man fell still, eyes closed as if asleep while standing.

“What did you just do?” Cilia asked warily.

“He’s still here, but he can’t hear us now. I can’t send him away — an unmarried lady alone in a room with an unknown man would be scandalous.”

“Fair point, I suppose…”

“Don’t worry. It’s only a mild hypnosis. I’ve no intention of harming humans.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” she replied dryly.

If he had, he wouldn’t have made that ancient vow of protection over the kingdom.

“You’re the Guardian Dragon, Norrmungand, aren’t you?”

“That was quick. Not much fun when you figure it out so easily. How’d you know?”

“I just had a feeling.”

During the capital fire, she’d sensed an unfamiliar magic assisting the formation of the suppression sigil — power that wasn’t human. That same aura now emanated from him.

And with silver hair and golden eyes…

The Guardian Dragon she saw on the battlefield had those exact colors — silver scales, golden eyes. And his own words during the dance — his hints about living long — practically gave him away.

Cilia hesitated, wondering if she should pay proper respect to such an ancient being, then slightly bent her knee and said,

“With all due reverence, the Guardian Dragon of Ahaim, Norrmun—”

“That’s enough. No need for that now. You’re half a transcendent being yourself, after all.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I should be the one paying respects — to the famous hero of the capital.”

He had deliberately changed the subject. Mimicking her, he bent his knee slightly, his mock gesture almost playful.

“What are you—”

Before she could finish, he cut her off.

“Jotun. That’s my nickname. Call me that. Norrmungand sounds too old and stuffy.”

Cilia restrained her irritation. Dragons were known for being willful; pressing him would get her nowhere. Seeing her hold her tongue, Jotun smiled with interest.

“I was right — I have seen you before, haven’t I?”

“You mentioned past lives first, didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t certain. But you said something before leaving that made me wonder.”

“What do you mean?”

As she asked, she suddenly remembered — when she was beneath the Mage Tower. Jotun mimicked her words exactly:

‘Indeed, even in my past life, the Guardian Dragon’s lair was never discovered.’

“You were there, listening?”

“I was.”

“Then why didn’t you show yourself during the Mage Tower attack?”

“By coincidence, I was away then. When I returned, things had already gone awry.”

He paused, then continued.

“Still, what you said stuck with me. There was something… off, even before then.”

“You mean a dragon’s intuition?”

“Something like that.”

He smiled faintly.

“A feeling that I’ve already done all this before.”

His golden reptilian eyes gleamed as they met hers.

“Dragons live long enough to get that feeling often, but lately it’s been… different.”

“…”

“It wasn’t like I’d done similar things — it was as if I’d done exactly the same things, in the same order, over and over again.”

Jotun slowly stepped closer, reaching out a hand.

“That sort of sensation isn’t common. And…”

His fingers brushed a strand of her neatly tied red hair. Carefully taking the end of it, he bent slightly closer and whispered,

“Strangely, I don’t remember this hair being red before.”

The black pupils within his golden eyes constricted. He lifted the strand closer to his face — close enough that it looked as though he were about to kiss it. Then, straightening, he murmured,

“No… it wasn’t even you who stood there before.”

Cilia raised her gaze and met his eyes.

“You mean… you remember?”

“Not perfectly. Just fragments — like flashes of a dream.”

“…”

“For a while, I wondered if it was a dream at all, until you said those words tonight.”

“If you remember anything, tell me.”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Black hair instead of red. Taller. Broader build. Does that sound right?”

“Yes. It wasn’t me. It was the Duke of Hynes’ heir.”

Jotun tilted his head and smiled slyly.

“Now that you mention it, that does feel right.”

“I’m looking for him now. Have you met him?”

“No. What do you plan to do when you find him?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Kill him, perhaps?”

“…I used to think so. But now, shaving his head bald might be satisfying enough.”

A faint chuckle escaped him.

“That’s all?”

Cilia sighed and spoke honestly.

“…There’s something I want answers to.”

“Good. Curiosity is healthy.”

Releasing her hair, Jotun whispered,

“I’m glad my own curiosity’s finally been settled.”

“I’m surprised dragons even have curiosity.”

“Of course we do. Live long enough without questions, and your soul dies.”

He spoke as though he’d already seen that happen before. Then, changing expression, he added cheerfully,

“I still have some questions left, though. But this was quite the discovery.”

“What kind of questions?”

“For example — what exactly is the royal family experimenting with in their magic research?”

Cilia froze. It was the same experiment that the straw puppet sorcerer had mentioned.

“You knew about that?”

“Only recently. It’s strange, though.”

He squinted his golden eyes beneath the mask.

“I can remember most events clearly — what I saw and heard. But that experiment… it’s hazy.”

“Hazy?”

“I can’t tell whether I actually experienced it or not. As if someone erased the memory. I can’t decide either way.”

Cilia paused, collecting her thoughts. That was strange indeed.

“Even you, a dragon, can’t be sure?”

“What can I say? Dragons aren’t omnipotent.”

“Hmm…”

Her questions had only multiplied.

“At this rate…”

“At this rate, what?”

“You’ve gotten your answers from me — but I haven’t gotten any from you.”

She’d hoped to learn something from him, but instead she only gained more mysteries.

Then, the ancient dragon lifted off his mask and looked directly at her. Beneath it was a young, strikingly beautiful face — yet there was something subtly inhuman about it.

“In that case, why don’t we confirm one thing right now?”

“…Confirm what?”

The moment Jotun spoke, Cilia felt a chill run down her spine.

“The royal magic experiment. Shall we go find a clue — right now?”