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Chapter 61
Dragon and Immortality
Dian—no, Diana—rose from her seat. The chill of the autumn wind was biting.
When the library staff finished arranging the books, the sun was already setting, and Neustr Academy was dyed in the colors of a beautiful sunset. Diana liked that slow, peaceful moment.
As she was organizing books, her hand brushed against another volume. It was one of Adel’s favorites. Though he was not from Fanborough, where dragons were revered as God’s messengers, Adel was unusually fond of them.
When asked if it was because the king once slew a dragon, Adel had only smiled bitterly, saying it wasn’t so. The founding king of the Rodbrok Kingdom, Arunkel, had killed a dragon. His bloodline was that of the Dragon-Slayer. From the very beginning, forged in blood, the dynasty was violent, with royal kin fighting endlessly amongst themselves until the dynasty and even the kingdom’s name changed again and again.
Dragon.
Diana thought of that mysterious being. The legends told in Fanborough, and the ones told here.
God’s messengers, beings who wielded godlike power. Creatures who made enchanted nests wherever they pleased, exterminating all intruders—beings close to immortality. The divine beasts closest to the gods themselves. It was through this legend that Giscar, once a slave, became known as the “Returned Prince” and won the trust of the Rodbrok nobility.
One line in particular struck her as absurd: that he became immortal after killing a dragon and bathing in its blood. With a sigh, Diana closed the book.
Has it been two years since she came here? She was now at Neustr Academy, located in the northernmost domain of the Rodbrok Kingdom, the Duchy of Blake.
It was as if fate itself had led her to this land.
“No one will ever find you there. No one will hurt you.”
Philip’s voice still echoed in her ears.
The academy had been established two hundred years ago by the House of Blake, one of the royal branches of Rodbrok. In this nation where only strength was prized, they had insisted on the importance of scholarship and the arts, founding a place that celebrated culture over the sword.
The academy, also called “the Duke’s Court,” was an independent, respected institution. The Duke of Blake was practically a petty king within Rodbrok.
Through Philip’s help, Diana had deliberately taken refuge there.
Her days were peaceful. She sorted books, cataloged them, wrote down lending records… The heavy lifting was tiring, but tolerable.
She kept a polite distance from the staff, but no one treated her badly. Sometimes Adel came to help her. Diana smiled at the thought of him.
He was such a warm person. The staff all admired him. His tall height, broad shoulders, firm chest, and veined hands were what people swooned over—but Diana never paid much mind.
“I like you, Dian. You’re unbearably adorable.”
Wasn’t he a bit too forward?
Though he served as the duke’s aide, Adel often loitered around Diana like some idle gentleman. He was a strange man. She couldn’t fathom why he was so kind to her, a woman with no ties here.
Did he know what kind of person she truly was, and still show her kindness? She couldn’t tell. With a bitter smile, Diana left her room and walked down the corridor.
Stacks of newspapers lay scattered about. Stories of princes who slew dragons and returned triumphant, of the Hero King’s coronation, of Fanborough’s invasions… and the annihilation of House Brienne.
Leaving all of it behind, she stepped out of the suffocating library.
The cool wind felt refreshing. Wandering the academy grounds at sunset after work was her greatest respite. Autumn was nearing its end, and the chill carried a gentle warmth from the sun’s fading rays.
That was when a group of male students appeared on the path. Diana quickly bowed her head. By now, bowing had become second nature. After that incident, she had cast aside her pride. Bowing, even as a noble, no longer felt humiliating.
Fortunately, most students treated the staff with courtesy.
“Hey, you. Stop right there.”
Well, most of them. There were always exceptions.
Diana halted. She heard them snickering, and unease stirred inside her.
“What is it?”
“You’re that library lady, right? The one who’s supposed to be so high and mighty.”
“…”
Their blatant stares made her uncomfortable. Even disguised, she hadn’t been free from unwanted attention. She wasn’t breathtakingly beautiful, nor did her plain clothes stand out, yet it happened often enough.
“I’m Obern, son of Count Hylo.”
“…”
“And I’m kin to Duke Aislag, one of the kingdom’s pillars.”
“I see.”
When Diana replied with lowered eyes, Obern’s face twisted. Cruel excitement seemed to flicker within him. The students behind him snickered, feeding off his mood. Diana’s discomfort grew.
“Hey, Obern, enough.”
“No. She needs a lesson.”
“They say this lady acts even more lofty than noblewomen.”
Rage welled inside Diana. She had tried to suppress her noble pride, but being made into their target was another matter. Clearly, they had been watching her for some time.
“How rude of you.”
“The Duke himself forbade using one’s status to intimidate staff.”
Yes, this had happened before. If Adel hadn’t happened upon the scene that time, it might have ended terribly. Afterwards, when the Duke heard the report, he had been furious and declared that any noble who mistreated staff would face immediate expulsion. Yet here was another one.
“Intimidate? Who says I’m intimidating you?”
“Then forgive me, but why bring up your lineage at all, Obern?”
Diana asked calmly, swallowing her anger. The nobles laughed again.
For once, Obern was at a loss for words. Unlike staff who cowered before nobles, she showed no fear. Her voice and bearing were refined, even elegant.
It infuriated him—and thrilled him. What would that proud face look like shoved into the dirt?
“I only wished to converse with you. If you felt pressured, that’s your sensitivity.”
“…”
“Now, tell me your name.”
The Duke was absent, and no one else here could restrain him. With Duke Aislag behind him, Obern felt untouchable. This woman was alone—one slap would teach her place.
“Arrogant, aren’t you? Your name—”
“Dian.”
Diana spoke quietly. Obern’s gaze swept over her face, then lower, to her clothes, her chest. Her skin crawled.
“For such a pretty face, you’ve got a sour expression.”
“…”
“Staff should serve the studies of nobles. Your demeanor is all wrong.”
He tapped her shoulder with his hand. When she glared at him, teeth clenched, he seized her face.
“Don’t push it, Obern.”
“No, go on. Let’s see.”
Her humiliation became their spectacle.
“This is training you how to behave. Now, smile.”
She bit her lip, trying to compose herself. This life was supposed to be heaven, unlike the last. She forced herself to smile gently—then froze.
Her face was no longer defiant, but terrified. Seeing her grow pale delighted Obern—until sudden agony made him scream.
“Arghhh!”
“How dare you.”
A massive man appeared, clad not in white like the students, but in black. A raven among doves. His presence was deathly, like a grim reaper.
The sunset caught his eyes, making them glow red. His chiseled face was both terrifying and beautiful, his once-round jaw now sharp, his black hair glossy, his lips pressed tight.
The man she had waited for—yet never wanted to see again—stood before her.
Diana reunited with Giscar amidst the stench of blood.
She had never believed in fate’s repetition. But when Giscar appeared as if summoned by destiny, despair gripped her.
“For harassing my wife, you will pay.”
What followed was chaos. Diana hardly knew how it ended. She only remembered one word: wife.
I tried to change everything. Why do you come for me? Yes, I know you hate me and my house. Because of you, I suffered that. Diana’s vision darkened.
She held countless feelings toward Giscar, but forced herself never to dwell on them. They were too vile, too filthy, like the beasts who tormented her.
Once, she had hated herself for waiting for him so long. But back then, he never came.
“I’d rather die than marry you.”
She wanted to say so much, yet nothing at all. Their bond was finished, and dragging it on would only be hellish. She had always been skilled at hiding her feelings, even from herself.
Don’t think about it.
If fate itself was grotesque, then death was reason enough. No other feelings were needed.
Clenching her teeth, she drove a dagger into her slender neck.
So this is my second death.
A hollow, pitiful end. Diana laughed coldly.
In that moment, she judged life void of hope. But before the blade could cut, a strong hand tore it from her grasp.
“Ah!”
The grip on her wrist was crushing, skin paling under his strength. She bit her lip as she saw the man restraining her.
“What are you doing, my lady?”
My lady?
Diana gave a bitter laugh.
“And what game is this, Your Majesty?”
“My lady.”
“Let me go! Who are you calling your wife?!”
She screamed. But no one paid her words any heed. She twisted desperately, but his grip did not relent.
Thrashing wildly, blood dripped from her neck. She tried to flee, soaked in red, but knights had already surrounded them. She barely even felt the pain.
“Let go! Let me go!”
Diana shrieked. All the comfort she had found vanished in an instant. Giscar had come for her.
Then, someone struck the back of her neck. Darkness swallowed her.
